WINDSOR—EGYPT AND SYRIA

After our return to London in the spring I was greatly surprised when on meeting Sir Henry Ponsonby one day at a party he desired me to send my article on India to the Queen. He was at that time her Private Secretary and knew her deep interest in all things concerning India, but I never imagined that anything which I had written was sufficiently important to be worth her notice. However, I could but do as I was ordered, and I was still more surprised a little later at the result, which was a command that Jersey and I should dine and sleep at Windsor. Jersey had been there before, but it was novel to me and very interesting.

We were taken on arrival to a very nice set of rooms overlooking the Long Walk, up which we presently saw the Queen returning from her afternoon drive. An excellent tea was brought us and Lord Edward Clinton came to look after us—also another member of the Household, I forget who it was, but I recollect that an animated discussion took place in our sitting-room as to an omission on the part of somebody to send to meet the Speaker (Arthur Peel) at the station! It is always rather a comfort to ordinary mortals to find that even in the most exalted establishments mistakes do sometimes occur. We were told that dinner would be at a nominal 8.30, and that a page would take us down when we were ready. Of course we were dressed in excellent time, but just as I had finished my toilet Jersey came into my room in great agitation. He was expected to wear what we called “the funny trousers”—not knee-breeches, but trousers fastened just below the calf of the leg and showing the socks. Unfortunately his black silk socks were marked in white, and he said I must pick out the marking—which was impossible all in a minute, and the rooms somewhat dimly lit. However, my maid suggested inking over the marks, to my immense relief—and all was well.

When we went downstairs the Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Southampton, showed us a plan of the table, and it was explained that when the Queen went in to dinner we all followed—were not sent in with a man—and seated ourselves as directed. Then as time approached we were drawn up on either side of the door by which the Queen entered. She greeted each in turn kindly but quickly, and went straight in. It was not really stiff or formidable when we were once seated. After dinner the Queen established herself in a chair in the Long Gallery and each guest was called up in turn for a little conversation. She talked to me about India, and said that it was only her great age and the fact that she was a very bad sailor that prevented her going there. She was much interested in our having seen her Munshi at Agra, and he always formed a link between Her Majesty and ourselves. She had us to Windsor two or three times altogether, and always spoke of him and arranged that we should see him. He was quite a modest humble man to begin with, but I fear that his head was rather turned later on.

Two pieces of advice Her Majesty bestowed upon me, to keep a Journal, and wherever I travelled never to forget England.This school term we were greatly pleased at Villiers winning the Junior Oppidan Exhibition at Eton. He had not even told us that he was going in for it, and we saw the first announcement in The Times. His master, Mr. Donaldson, wrote that he took it “in his stride without quickening his space at all or making any special preparation for it.” It was certainly a creditable performance after missing a whole term while in India.

In February 1890 Lady Galloway and I set off on a fresh expedition. Jersey was anxious that I should escape the cold, and held out hopes—unfortunately not fulfilled—of joining us later. We went by a Messageries steamer—the Congo—to Alexandria, and thence to Cairo, where we found various friends, including Colonel Kitchener, who had meantime stayed at Osterley and who looked after us splendidly. He was very amusing, and when there was a difficulty about our cabins on the Nile boat he went off with us to Cook’s Office and said that we must have two cabins instead of two berths with which, despite our orders given in London, they tried to put us off. No one in Egypt could ever resist Kitchener’s orders. He declared that we represented two aunts whom he expected. I do not mean that he told Cook this.

He told us how he and other officers had looked after Mr. Chamberlain on a late journey up the Nile and how he felt sure that they had enlightened him a good deal. It was very shortly after this that Mr. Chamberlain made a famous speech in Birmingham wherein he said that he had seen enough of Egypt to realise that England could not abandon the country in its present condition. I do not remember the words, but that was what they conveyed, quite different from former Radical pronouncements. That was the great thing with Mr. Chamberlain. As I have already maintained, he had an open mind, and was ready to learn from facts and experience.

To return to our Egyptian experiences. We went to Luxor on the post boat, and spent about a week at the hotel there. We found all sorts of friends on dahabyahs and in other places, and were duly impressed by the mighty temples and tombs of the kings. I do not attempt any description of these marvels, never to be forgotten by those who have seen them.

While we were at Luxor the Sirdar, Sir Francis Grenfell, arrived on a tour of inspection with Lady Grenfell and others. We joined the same steamer, the Rameses, and having so many friends on board made the voyage as far as Assouan additionally pleasant. The direct military jurisdiction at that time began near Edfou, and a force of Ababdeh, or native guerilla police who were paid to guard the wells, came to receive the Sirdar on his reaching this territory. A number mounted on camels led by their Sheikh on horseback galloped along the bank as the ship steamed on. At Edfou itself there was a great reception of native infantry and others mounted on camels and horses.

On this trip we saw beautiful PhilÆ in perfection; and also had the experience, while at Assouan, of shooting the cataract, really a succession of rapids among rocks. The boatmen took care to make this appear quite dangerous by getting close to a rock and then just avoiding it with loud shouts. An Austrian, Prince Schwarzenberg, who was one of our fellow-passengers, looked pretty anxious during the process, but there was no real cause for alarm. Last time we visited Egypt the Dam, though of enormous benefit to the country, had destroyed much of the charm of PhilÆ and of the excitement of the cataract.

From Assouan the Grenfells and their party went on to Wady Halfa, and Lady Galloway, Mr. Clarke of the British Agency, and I set off on our return journey to Cairo. Prince Schwarzenberg and his friend Count Westfahlen were our fellow-passengers. The Prince was very melancholy, having lost a young wife to whom he was devoted; also he was very religious. Count Westfahlen admired him greatly. The Prince was quite interesting and cheered up considerably in the course of our voyage. He was a good deal impressed by the ordinary fact, as it seemed to us, that the English on board the steamer had left a portion of the deck undisturbed for the Sirdar’s party without having been officially requested to do so. According to him, Austrians of the middle-class would not have done so under similar circumstances. On the other hand, he was astonished to learn that English boys of our own families were in the habit of playing games with the villagers. If his views of Bohemian society were correct, “democracy” for good and for evil was at a distinct discount!

Meantime the most amusing part of our down-river voyage occurred at Assiout, where the steamer anchored, and where we spent the afternoon with the Mudir Choucry Pasha and dined with him in the evening. He received us with a splendid cortÈge of donkeys (quite superior to the ordinary race) and attendants; and showed us the hospital—where there were some women among others who had been wounded at Toski—the prison, and American schools. What entertained us most, however, was an Italian Franciscan convent where the nuns trained girls. The Prince was quite scandalised because, he said, they ought to have been strictly cloistered—whereas they admitted him, Mr. Clarke, and the Mudir, whom they declared was “un bon papa”; and one of the nuns played “Il Bacio” and the Boulanger Hymn for our amusement.

Choucry Pasha then took Lady Galloway and me to visit his wife and married daughter, who, though their charms were by no means dangerous, were much more particular in secluding themselves than the nuns, for the men of our party had to keep out of the way until our interview was over and they had retired. Then the Mudir sent a messenger to ask the Prince and Mr. Clarke to join us. They declared that they were taken aback when the black servant conveyed the summons thus: “Pasha, ladies, harem,” not feeling sure but that they would have to rescue us from an unknown fate. What they did find in the house was the dusky host on his knees unpacking his portmanteau before us in order to produce for our inspection some antiquities which he had stowed away amongst his socks and other garments!

The dinner, later in the evening, consisted of various oriental dishes, and a large turkey appearing after sweet pastry.

While at Cairo we paid a visit to the well-known Princess Nazli, a relation of the Khedive’s who received Europeans, both men and ladies, but not altogether with the approval of her vice-regal relatives. She said that the doctor wanted her to go to the Kissingen baths, but the Khedive did not like her to go alone, would prefer that she should marry someone. The Khedive had told her in speaking of some other relations that Sir Evelyn Baring might interfere with anything else but not with the members of his family. She had retorted, “You had better let him interfere with the family, as then he will resign in three weeks.”

She told us of the cruelties which she knew were inflicted on their slaves by the old ladies of Ibrahim Pasha’s and Mehemet Ali’s family, and of how her English governess would send her to try to obtain mercy when the screams of the victims were heard. She remembered when she was a child how the ladies taught their attendants to use the kourbash, and how she saw the poor women covered with blood.

Among other notable people then in Cairo was the explorer Henry Stanley (afterwards Sir Henry), who had not long returned from his expedition to relieve Emin Pasha, and had visited the Pigmies. We met him at dinner at Colonel Kitchener’s, and as I sat near him we talked a good deal. My impression was that he did not easily begin a conversation, but was fluent when once launched. He was engaged on his book, In Darkest Africa, in which he declared that there were to be three pages devoted to a beautiful white lady fragrant with the odours of Araby whom he met under the Equator! If I subsequently identified her I fear that I have now forgotten her.

I remarked on the loss of my brother-in-law’s relative Mr. Powell, who had gone up in a balloon and never been heard of again, whereat Stanley’s comment was, “That would be someone to look for!” We had already met his companion, Dr. Parkes, at the Citadel, who had shown some of us the little darts used by the dwarfs. Years later Mr. James Harrison brought several of the Pigmy men and women to England, and they performed at the Hippodrome. He kindly offered to bring them down to one of our Osterley garden parties, where they created great interest and amusement. They were about as big as children five to seven years old, and quite willing to be led by the hand. We had a long, low table arranged for them on the lawn near some tall trees, and one of the little men said, through the interpreter, that he thought that “there must be good shooting in this forest.” We gave them some children’s toys; when the little woman first saw a doll she shrank away quite frightened, but was subsequently much pleased. The chief little man appropriated a skipping-rope, and appeared with it tied round his waist at the Hippodrome that evening. We were told that the price of a wife among them was two arrows, and one who had previously lost an arrow was distressed at having lost “half a wife.” The Pigmies did not seem to mind the company, but when one rather big man had inspected a little woman more closely than pleased her she waited till he had turned his back and then put out her tongue at him!

To return to our travels in 1890. We left Port Said on a Russian boat on the afternoon of March 19th and reached Jaffa early the following morning and Jerusalem the same evening. It was very thrilling, and I am always glad that we were there before the days of railways. The whole place was pervaded with Russian pilgrims, many of whom arrived on our boat. Jerusalem has inspired painters, scribes, and poets for hundreds of years, so I will only mention one or two of the scenes which struck us most.

Naturally the Church of the Holy Sepulchre made a deep impression upon us. The Sepulchre may or may not have been the original tomb in which our Lord was laid, but it has been consecrated by the vows and prayers of countless generations, thousands have shed their blood to win that spot from the infidel, and if warring Churches have built their chapels around it at least they cluster under the same roof and bow to the same Lord. The then Anglican Bishop, Dr. Blyth, took us over the church. We entered by the Chapel of the Angels into the little chapel or shrine containing the Sepulchre. There indeed it was impossible to forget the divisions of Christendom, as the altar over the Holy Tomb was divided into two portions, one decorated with images to suit the Latins, the other with a picture to meet the views of the Orthodox Church. Other chapels of the Roman and various Eastern Churches surround the Sanctuary, the finest being that of the Greeks, who seemed when we were there to exercise the chief authority over the whole building. The Greek Patriarch was a great friend of Bishop Blyth, and had allowed one or two English and American clergymen to celebrate in Abraham’s Chapel, a curious little chapel in an upper part of the mass of buildings included in the church. Near it was the bush in which the ram substituted for Isaac was supposed to have been caught.

Comprised in the church building are the steps up to Calvary, the place of the Crucifixion, and the cleft made by the earthquake in the rock.

The Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem is also very interesting. The Grotto, said to be on the site of the Stable, is under the church and the place of our Lord’s Birth is marked by a silver star let into the pavement. Beyond are caves formerly inhabited by St. Jerome, dark places in which to have translated the Bible. As usual there are chapels for the different sects, and blackened marks on the wall of a cave showed where they set it on fire in one of their quarrels. While we were in the church a procession passed from the Latin Chapel to the Grotto, and a Turkish soldier was standing with a fixed bayonet opposite the Armenian Chapel to keep the peace as it went by. The Armenians had been forced to fold a corner of the carpet before their altar slanting instead of square, that the Latin processions might have no pretext for treading on it. I suppose Indian Mohammedans are now enlisted as ecclesiastical police, unless indeed the warring Churches trust to the impartiality of English Tommies.

From Jerusalem we had a delightful excursion to Jericho. A carriage road over the mountain pass was in course of construction, but we had to ride horses as it was not yet ready for vehicles. On the way we passed the usual Russian pilgrims with their greasy ringlets, plodding on foot, but the most interesting party was one we saw at the Khan or Inn at the top of the pass. This Inn was no doubt on the site of that where the Good Samaritan left the traveller whom he had treated as a neighbour. Even if our Lord was only relating a parable, not an historic incident, this must have been the Inn which He had in mind, as it is the one natural stopping-place for travellers between Jerusalem and Jericho. While we were seated in the courtyard resting awhile in the open-air in preference to the primitive room within, there rode in a group exactly like the pictures of the Flight into Egypt—a man leading a donkey or mule (I forget which) on which was seated a woman carrying a baby, evidently taking it to baptize in Jordan. “The Madonna and Child,” exclaimed Lady Galloway, and we felt thrilled to see a living Bible picture before our eyes.

As to falling among thieves, we had been assured that there was every chance of our doing so unless we paid the Sheikh of an Arab tribe to accompany us as escort. This was a simple and generally accepted form of blackmail. The plundering Arabs agreed among themselves that any tourist giving a fixed sum to one of their leaders should be guaranteed against the unwelcome attentions of the rest. As a special tribute to “Lord Salisbury’s sister,” we were also provided with a Turkish soldier, but I doubt his utility. Anyhow the Arab was more picturesque and probably a more effectual guardian.

We had also with us our dragoman Nicholas, whom we had brought on from Egypt. I do not think that he knew much about Palestine, but he was always ready with an answer, and generally asserted that any spot we asked for was “just round the corner” of the nearest hill. I maliciously asked for Mount Carmel, knowing that it was far to the north. With a wave of his hand he declared, “Just round there.” When we reached the bituminous desert land surrounding the Dead Sea I gravely asked for Lot’s wife. “Lot’s wife?” said Nicholas, hopelessly perplexed. “Don’t you know, Nicholas?” said Lady Galloway. “She was turned into a pillar of salt.” “Oh yes,” he replied pointing to the nearest salt-like hillock, “there she is.” No doubt if he ever took later travellers to those parts they had the benefit of our identification.

We stopped for luncheon at Jericho, and having inspected the strange land surrounding the Dead Sea, we went on to the Jordan, a small, rapid river flowing among alders and rushes. There we washed our rings and bracelets and then returned to the Jordan Hotel at Jericho, a solitary building kept by a Hungarian, very comfortable in a simple way—though possessing a perfect farmyard of noisy animals. As is well known the Dead Sea lies over 1,300 feet below the level of the Mediterranean and the Jordan discharges its water into it, without any outlet on the other side. Hence evaporation leaves all the saline deposits of the river in this inland Sea and causes its weird dead appearance and the heavy, forbidding nature of its waters.

It is impossible to dwell on all the spots named as scenes of Gospel history and tradition. As Lady Galloway truly remarked, the difference between the story as simply told by the Evangelists, and the aggregation of subsequent legend, deepened our conviction of the truth which we had learnt in childhood. For myself I had heard so much of the disappointment which I should probably feel at finding Jerusalem so small and thronged with so much that was tawdry and counter to all our instincts, that I was relieved to find the city and its surroundings far more beautiful and impressive than I had expected. To look from the Mount of Olives across the Valley of Jehoshaphat to where the Mosque of Omar rises on Mount Zion is in itself a revelation of all that stirred the souls of men of three Faiths who fought and died to win the Holy City. On the wall of rock on the city side of the Valley a spot was pointed out to us on which Mohammedan tradition foretold that Jesus would stand to judge mankind at the Last Day. I asked why Mohammedans should believe that our Lord would be the Judge. My informant hesitatingly replied that “He would judge the world for not believing in Mohammed”—but I think that the answer was only invented on the spur of the moment.

The one sacred spot inside the city about which there appeared to be no dispute was Pilate’s House, as from time immemorial this building had been the abode of the Roman Governor. When we saw it it formed part of the Convent of the Sisters of Zion, very nice women who educated orphans and carried on a day school. In a basement was the old pavement with marks of some kind of chess or draught board on which the Roman soldiers played a game. One of the arches of the court, now included in the Convent Chapel, is called the Ecce Homo Arch, as it is probable that our Lord stood under it when Pilate said “Behold the Man.”

On our way back to Jaffa we slept at Ramleh and again embarked on a Russian steamer, which sailed on the evening of March 25th and reached Beyrout on the following morning. Jaffa was known as a very difficult port in rough weather, but we were lucky both in landing and embarking. One of the rocks which impeded the entrance to the port was believed to have been the monster which Perseus petrified with the head of Medusa. I only hope that no engineer has blown up this classic rock for the sake of any improvement to the harbour!

Palestine must have entirely changed since we were there thirty-one years ago, and it is curious to look back on the problems exercising men’s minds at that time. The Jewish population was then stated to have nearly trebled itself in ten years. We were rather entertained by a sermon delivered by a very vehement cleric in the English Church. He prophesied that the Empire of Israel was bound to attain its ancient magnificent limits, but he said that he was not asking his congregation to contribute to this achievement (though he gave them the opportunity), as it was certain to be effected; only any of us who held back would not share in the ultimate triumph. I do not know what he would have said now, but if alive and holding the same views he must be a kind of Zionist.The Sultan had given the old Church of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem to the Emperor Frederick for the Germans, and the performances of his son are only too familiar, but in our day the fear was of Russian machinations. Russian pilgrims, as a pious act, were carrying stones to assist in building the Russian church, of which the tall minaret dominated the Mount of Olives, and the Russian Government was erecting large buildings for pilgrims just outside the city walls which, as we were significantly told, would be equally available for troops.

From Beyrout we had a two days’ drive, sleeping at Shtora on the way to Balbec. The road was over Lebanon, and a wonderful piece of French engineering. The HÔtel de Palmyra at Balbec was very comfortable. We found close by some of the first tourists of the season in tents supplied by Cook. They were very cheerful, but I think must have been rather cold, as March is full early for camping out in those regions and there was plenty of snow on the mountain tops. The women in that region wear a kind of patten in winter to keep them above the snow. It is a wooden over-shoe with raised sole and high wooden heel instead of the iron ring under English pattens. We were amazed at the splendour of the ruined Temples of Balbec, where the Sun was worshipped at different periods of ancient history as Baal or Jupiter. Most astonishing of all was the enormous Phoenician platform or substructure of great stones, three of which are each well over 60 feet long. In a quarry near by is another stone, 68 feet long, hewn but not cut away from the rock.

From Balbec we drove to Damascus, and met on the way an escort sent to meet Lady Galloway. We did not take the escort beyond Shtora, where we had luncheon, but at Hemeh we found the Vice-Consul, Mr. Meshaka, and a carriage and guard of honour sent by the Governor, so we drove into the town in state.

The result of these attentions to “the Prime Minister’s sister” was comic. A weird female had, it appears, seen us at Jerusalem and followed our traces to Damascus. We saw her once coming into the restaurant smoking a big cigar, and heard that she drank. She was reported to have had a difference with her late husband’s trustees on the subject of his cremation. Whether he, or she, or the trustees wanted him cremated I forget, and am uncertain whether she was carrying about his ashes, but anyhow she had vowed vengeance against Lady Galloway because we had been provided with an escort on more than one occasion and she had not. The maids said that this woman had armed herself with a revolver and sworn to shoot her rival! I will record our further meeting in due course.

Meantime we were delighted with Damascus, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen, standing amidst orchards then flowering with blossom, among which run Abana and Pharpar, so picturesque in their windings that we were inclined to forgive Naaman for vaunting them as “better than all the waters of Israel.” The men wore long quilted coats of brilliant colours, red, green, and yellow, and the women brightly coloured cotton garments. The whole effect was cheerful and gay.

Being an Oriental city, it was naturally full of intrigue and various citizens, notably the Jews, tried to claim European nationality so as to evade the exactions of the Turkish Government, but as far as we could judge they seemed very prosperous. We visited several houses, Turkish, Christian, and Jewish, very pretty, built round courts with orange trees and basins of water in the centre. The rooms were painted, or inlaid with marble—one of the Jewish houses quite gorgeous with inlaying, mother-of-pearl work, and carved marble; in one room a marble tree, white, with a yellow canary-bird perching in its branches. I think it was this house which boasted a fresco of the Crystal Palace to show that its owner lived under the “High Protection of the British Government.” Perhaps the family has now substituted a painting of the Eiffel Tower to propitiate the French.

We went to a mountain-spot overlooking the town below the platform called Paradise, from which tradition says that Mohammed looked down on the city, but thought it so beautiful that he refrained from entering it lest having enjoyed Paradise in this life he should forfeit a right to it hereafter. It is a pretty story, but I fear that history records that he did visit Damascus, for which I trust that he was forgiven, as the temptation must have been great.

We were much interested while at Damascus in hearing more about Lady Ellenborough, who had lived in the house occupied by the Consul, Mr. Dickson, who was very kind to us during our stay.

Lady Ellenborough was quite as adventurous a lady as Lady Hester Stanhope, and her existence on the whole more varied. She was the daughter of Admiral Sir Henry Digby, and when quite a young girl married Lord Ellenborough, then a widower. After six years’ experience of matrimony she was divorced, it was said in consequence of her flirtations with the then Prince Schwarzenberg. However, that may have been, she was at one time married to a Bavarian Baron Venningen. How she got rid of him I do not know, but she was well known as the “wife” of Hadji Petros the brigand, whose son I have mentioned as among our friends at Athens. While in Greece she fell a victim to the fascination of the handsome Sheikh Mejmel el Mazrab, who had brought over Arab horses for sale. She went off with him, and her marriage to him is duly recorded in Burke’s Peerage. She lived with him partly at Damascus and partly in the desert, evidently much respected by her neighbours, who called her “Lady Digby” or “Mrs. Digby” as being sister of Lord Digby. She was a good artist and is said to have been very clever and pleasant. She dressed like a Bedouin woman, and when she attended the English church service came wrapped in her burnous; but Mr. Dickson’s father, who was then the clergyman, always knew when she had been there by finding a sovereign in the plate. She died in 1881. I never heard that she had a child by any of her husbands.

Among the glories of Damascus is the great Mosque, once a Christian church, and hallowed by both Christian and Moslem relics. When we were there it still had an inscription high up, I think in Greek characters, stating that the Kingdoms of this World should become the Kingdoms of Christ. There was a fire some time after we saw it, but I trust that the inscription is still intact. Among the many other places which we saw was the wall down which St. Paul escaped in a basket, and as we looked thence into the desert Mr. Dickson told us that until a short time before, a camel post started regularly from a gate near by, bearing an Indian mail to go by way of Bagdad. Before the Overland Route was opened this was one of the speediest routes, and was continued long after the necessity had ceased to exist.

Time was some difficulty in Damascus, as Europeans generally reckoned by the usual clock, while the natives, Syrians and Arabs, counted, as in Biblical days, from sunrise to sunset and their hours varied from day to day—not that punctuality worried them much. In making an appointment, however, in which men of East and West were both involved it was necessary to specify which sort of time was approximately intended. Mr. Meshaka kindly took us to make some purchases, and he introduced us to one shop in which the proprietor—an Oriental, but I forget of exactly what nationality—had really established fixed prices on a reasonable scale. While we were looking round some Americans came in and began asking prices. The shopkeeper told them his principle of trade, whereupon said one of them: “That will not do at all. You must say so much more than you want and I must offer so much less. Then we must bargain until we come to an agreement.”

While they were considering their purchases I asked the price of some tiny models, in Damascus ware, of the women’s snow-shoes. The man answered me aloud, and then came up and whispered that they were a fifth of the price, but he was obliged to put it on nominally “because of those people”! How can dealers remain honest with such inducements to “profiteering”? However, there is not much risk of their abandoning their ancient methods of trade. I recollect Captain Hext (our P. and O. fellow-traveller) telling me of one of his experiences somewhere in the Levant. While his ship stopped at a port one of the usual local hawkers came on board and showed him a curio which he wished to possess. Captain Hext and the man were in a cabin, and the man reiterated that the object in question was worth a considerable sum, which he named. While Captain Hext was hesitating a note for him was dropped through the cabin-window by a friend well versed in the habits of those regions. Acting on the advice which it contained, he said to the hawker, “By the head of your grandmother is this worth so much?” The man turned quite pale, and replied, “By the head of my grandmother it is worth”—naming a much lower sum—which he accepted, but asked Captain Hext how he had learnt this formula (which of course he did not reveal) and implored him to tell no one else or he would be ruined. I am not quite sure whether it was the “head” or the “soul” of his grandmother by which he had to swear, but I think head.

We drove back from Damascus via Shtora to Beyrout, where the Consul told us of the strange requirements of visitors. One told him that he had been directed to pray for some forty days in a cave—and expected the Consul to find him the cave!

At Beyrout we took an Austrian boat and had a most interesting voyage, stopping at Larnaca (Cyprus) and at Rhodes, where I had just time to run up the Street of the Knights. Early on Easter Eve we reached Smyrna, where we stayed at the British Consulate with Mr. Holmwood till the following afternoon. There was a considerable population of mixed nationalities, amongst them English whose children had never been in England. Some of the young women whom we saw in church on Easter Sunday were plump, white-skinned, and dark-eyed like Orientals. Mr. Holmwood said that many were sent for education to Constantinople, and apparently an Eastern life, necessarily with little exercise or occupation, had even affected their appearance.

It was by no means safe in those days to venture far outside the town, for brigands were dreaded, and only some two years previously had carried off the sons of one of the principal English merchants and held them to ransom. They sent word that they would let them go free if the father would come unarmed and unattended to a certain spot and bring £500. On his undertaking to do so they liberated the boys without waiting for the actual money, but the youngest died from the effects of exposure, their captors having had constantly to move to avoid pursuit. Mr. Holmwood would not let us out of the sight of himself and his dragoman, for he said that the Turks, unlike the Greeks, had no respect for women.

A Canon Cazenove who was in our ship officiated on Easter Sunday. The British Government having ceased to subsidise a chaplain for the Consular Church, there was only service when a travelling clergyman could be annexed, but the congregation rolled up joyfully at short notice. While we were in church we heard cannon discharged outside in honour of the Sultan’s birthday, and the impression was somewhat strange—an English service in the precincts of one of the Seven Churches of the Revelation, a congregation partly of travelling, partly of orientalised British, and without the echoes of Mohammedan rule. Poor Smyrna! still the battleground of warring races.

We resumed our voyage and I was thrilled when we passed Tenedos, touching at Besika Bay and seeing in the distance the Plains of Troy. We entered the Dardanelles in rain and mist, and I think it was fortunate that we got through safely, as our Austrian captain, though a mild lover of little birds, was also credited with an affection for drink. A fine morning followed the wet evening; Sir Edgar Vincent sent a boat from the Bank to meet us, and received us most hospitably in his charming house. During a delightful week at Constantinople we saw all the “lions” of that wonderful city, under his auspices.

Despite its unrivalled position and the skill and wealth lavished upon it by Christendom and Islam, I do not think that Constantinople takes the same hold upon one’s affection as Athens or Rome. Many of the buildings seem to have been “run up” for the glory of some ruler rather than grown up out of the deep-rooted religion or patriotism of a race. St. Sophia is glorious with its cupola and its varied marble columns, but greatly spoilt by the flaunting green shields with the names of the companions of the Prophet; and the whole effect is distorted because the prayer carpets covering the pavement have to slant towards the Kebla, the niche or tablet indicating the direction of Mecca; whereas the Mosque, having been built as a Christian church, was destined to look towards Jerusalem—at least it was built so that the congregation should turn to the East.

There was, however, one beautiful object which we were delighted to have seen while it retained a brilliance which it has since lost. There were in a new building in process of erection opposite the Museum four tombs which had lately been discovered near Sidon and brought to Constantinople by Hampdi Bey, Director of the School of Art. All were fine, but the finest was that dignified by the name of Alexander’s Tomb. The attribution was doubtful, but not the beauty. They had been covered up while the building was in progress, but were just uncovered and we were allowed to see them. The unrivalled reliefs on “Alexander’s Tomb” represented Greeks and Persians first as fighting, and then as having made friends. The two nations were easily distinguished, as the Greeks had hardly any garments, while the Persians were fully clothed. The tombs having long been buried in the sand, the vivid colours, and particularly the purple worn by the Persians, had been perfectly preserved, but I understand that, exposed to the light, all soon faded away.

The streets of Constantinople were not nearly so gay as those of Cairo or of many other Eastern towns which I have seen. Things may have altered now, but during our visit hardly any women walked about the city, and the men were mostly dressed in dark European clothes with red fezes, not at all picturesque. At the Sweet Waters, a stream in a valley rather like Richmond, where we drove on Friday afternoon, it was different. The ladies celebrated their Sabbath by driving in shut carriages, or walking about near the water, in gay-coloured mantles, often with parasols to match, and with transparent veils which did not at all conceal their very evident charms.

Sir William White was then Ambassador, and he and his wife were very kind to us. Among other things Lady White invited us to join a party going over to Kadikeui on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. It was a quaint expedition. The Embassy launch and the French launch each carried guests. The French launch, “mouche” as they called it, started first, but the sea was rapidly rising, and the few minutes which elapsed before we followed meant that the waves were almost dangerous. It was impossible, however, that the British should show the white feather when France led the way. Lady Galloway and I sat silent, one or two foreign ladies, Belgians, I think, screamed and ejaculated; the Swedish Minister sat on the prow like a hardy Norseman and encouraged the rest of us, but the Persian Minister wept hot tears, while Lady White stood over him and tried to console him with a lace-trimmed handkerchief and a bottle of eau de Cologne.

Having landed as best we could, Sir Edgar Vincent, Lady Galloway and I drove to Scutari, where we saw the howling dervishes. There was a band of little children who were to lie on the floor for the chief, and specially holy, dervish to walk upon at the conclusion of the howling ceremony. The building where this took place was so hot and crowded that I soon went outside to wait for my companions. Immediately a number of dishevelled inhabitants began to gather round me, but I dispersed them with my one word of Turkish pronounced in a loud and indignant tone. I do not know how it is spelt, but it is pronounced “Haiti” and means “go away.” I make it a point in any fresh country to learn if possible the equivalent for the words “hot water” and “go away.” I suppose as we were not in an hotel I found the Turkish for “hot water” unnecessary, but “go away” is always useful.

Among the people we met in Constantinople was a venerable Pasha called Ahmed Vefyk, who used to govern Brusa and part of Asia Minor, and was noted for his honest energy, and for doing what he thought right irrespective of the Sultan. He talked English well, and his reminiscences were amusing. He told us that fifty-five years previously he had taken thirty-nine days to travel from Paris to Constantinople and then everyone came to see him as a curiosity. He introduced us to his fat wife and to a daughter, and offered to make all arrangements for us if we would visit his former Government.

Alas! time did not admit, neither could we wait to dine with the Sultan, though we received messages desiring that we should do so. We were told, however, that the Sultan always wished to retain known visitors in Constantinople, and to effect this would ask them to dine and then keep postponing the date so as to delay their departure. We could not chance this, so were obliged to leave without having seen more of His Majesty than his arrival at the ceremony of the Selamlik—a very pretty sight, but one which has often been described. We were at a window just opposite the Mosque and were edified, among other incidents, by the way in which the ladies of the harem had to perform their devotions. They were driven up in closed carriages, their horses (not themselves) were taken out, and they remained seated in the vehicles for the duration of the service, which lasted about three-quarters of an hour. Imagine Miss Maud Royden left in a taxi outside a church while the ministers officiated within! The Sultan was driven up with brown horses, and drove himself away in another carriage with white ones. I do not know if this had any symbolic significance.

We left Constantinople by the Orient Express on the evening of April 14th, and had quite an exciting journey to Vienna, which we reached on the afternoon of the 16th. Sir Edgar Vincent accompanied us, and there was also on the train Captain Waller, a Queen’s Messenger, and these were each bound to have a separate sleeping compartment. There were various passengers of different nationalities, including our maids.

A compartment with four berths had been reserved for Lady Galloway and myself—but when the maids looked in to arrange it they came back in alarm, announcing that our Damascus foewoman of the revolver and the cigar had installed herself in our compartment and refused to move! Of course Sir Edgar, being Governor of the Imperial Ottoman Bank, was all-powerful and the lady had to give way—but there was another sufferer. Later on a Greek who shared a compartment with a German wanted to fight him; they had to be forcibly separated and the Greek shut up for Tuesday night in the saloon while the German was left in possession—which further reduced the accommodation. When we stopped at Budapest, about midnight, the sister of the Queen of Servia was escorted into the train with flowers and courtesy, but the poor woman had to spend the night in the passage, as the alternatives were sharing the compartment of the revolver woman, who, we were told in the morning, terrified her by barking like a dog, or going into the saloon with the Greek, equally uncomfortable.

These were not all the excitements. Previously, at Sofia, Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria got into the train accompanied by an imposing-looking man who we thought was Stambuloff, the Prime Minister afterwards assassinated. It appeared that Prince Ferdinand’s pastime was to join the train in this way, have his dÉjeuner on board, get out at the frontier, and return to his capital by the next train. It seemed a curious mode of enjoyment, but probably Bulgaria was less lively than it has become since. We heard afterwards that he was annoyed because Sir Edgar and ourselves had not been presented to him, but he might have given a hint had he wished it.

Anyhow, we presently saw some apricot omelettes walking about and asked for some, but were told that this was a dÉjeuner commandÉ and we could not share it, to which deprivation we resigned ourselves. When the repast was over, however, an American solemnly addressed Sir Edgar saying, “Did you, who were near the royal circle, have any of that asparagus?” (I think it was asparagus—may have been French beans.) “No,” replied Sir Edgar. “Very well then,” said the Yankee; “since you had none I will not protest, but we were refused it, and if you had had any I should certainly have made a row.” It was lucky that we had not shared any of the Princely fare, for there was hardly space for more rows on that train.

At Vienna Lady Galloway and I parted. She went to her relatives at Berlin, and I returned via Cologne and Flushing to England, where I was very glad to rejoin my family after these long wanderings.

We had some very happy parties at Osterley during the succeeding summer. I have already mentioned Mr. Henry James’s description of the place. Our great friend Sir Herbert Maxwell, in his novel Sir Lucian Elphin, also adopted it under another name as the background of one of his scenes, and I have quoted Mr. Ashley’s verses written in 1887. I love the place and its memories so dearly that I cannot resist adding the testimony of another friend, Mr. Augustus Hare. He knew it well both in the days of the Duchess of Cleveland and after we had taken up our abode there, and mentions it several times in The Story of my Life, but he tells, in an account of a visit to us including the Bank Holiday of August 1890, of our last party before we went to Australia. From that I extract a few lines, omitting the over-kindly portraits of ourselves which he was apt to draw of his friends: