The Romance of Isabel Lady Burton, vol 2 | Page 7

to be
considered, and the etiquette in receiving each guest was different
according to the rank. The dragoman in attendance upon me would
whisper until I knew it, "One step," or "Two steps," or "Half across the
room," or "The door." I thus knew exactly the visitor's rank, and by
what term to address him, from the lowest to the highest. Of course, in
receiving natives, the method of receiving men and women was
different. I advanced to meet the women; we mutually raised our
finger-tips to our hearts, lips, and foreheads. They then seized my hand,
which I snatched away to prevent their kissing it (it sounds rude, but it
isn't; it is the essence of politeness), and I kissed them on both cheeks. I
personally removed their veils and their izars. When they took their
leave, I reveiled them, and accompanied them to the door. With the
men I did not shake hands: we saluted at a distance. If my visitor was a
well-bred man, he would not expect me to rise, but would come and
kiss my hand, and had to be pressed two or three times before he would
consent to sit down. The only man I was in the habit of rising for was
the Wali, or Governor- General of Syria, because he represented the
Sultan, and he in his turn paid me a similar respect. When he left, I
accompanied him to the door of the room, but never to the street door.

Moreover, it was de rigueur every time a visitor came that coffee, tea,
or sherbet should be offered him, and that I should take it with him and
drink first. It was a custom with the natives, and I could not omit it; but
when I first held my receptions I found it a great tax upon me, and
mixing so many drinks gave me indigestion. Afterwards I grew more
wary, and merely moistened my lips. Another thing I used to do at my
earlier receptions was to make tea and coffee and carry them round
myself, while the dragomans would lazily sit and look on. I didn't
understand this at all, so I told them to get up and help me, and they
willingly handed tea and coffee to any European, man or woman, but
not to their native ladies, who blushed, begged the dragomans' pardon,
and stood up, looking appealingly at me, and praying not to be served.
So I found it the easiest thing to wait on the native women myself,
though I felt very indignant that any man should feel himself degraded
by having to wait on a woman.
I must now mention three of my principal visitors, each of whom
afterwards played a large part, though a very different part, in our life at
Damascus.
First of all was the Wali, or Governor-General of Syria. I received him
in state one day. He came in full uniform with a great many attendants.
I seated him in proper form on a divan with pipes and coffee. He was
very amiable and polite. He reminded me of an old tom-cat: he was
dressed in furs; he was indolent and fat, and walked on his toes and
purred. At first sight I thought him a kind-hearted old creature, not very
intelligent and easily led. The last quality was true enough; for what
disgusted me was that Syria was really governed by dragomans, and the
Wali or other great man was a puppet. For instance, if the Consul
wanted to see the Wali, he had to send one of his dragomans to the
Wali's dragomans, and they arranged between them just what they liked.
The two chief men met each other, attended by two dragomans, who
reported every word of the conversation round Damascus. These men
easily made people enemies; and the lies, mischief, and scandal they
originated were beyond imagination. I have said that my first
impression of the Wali was as of a well-fed cat; but I soon discovered
that the cat had claws, for he quickly became jealous of Richard's
influence, and during our two years' sojourn at Damascus he was one or
our worst enemies.

Another, and the most interesting of all the personages who attended
my receptions, was Lady Ellenborough, known at Damascus as the
Honourable Jane Digby El Mezrab.[1] She was the most romantic and
picturesque personality: one might say she was Lady Hester Stanhope's
successor. She was of the family of Lord Digby, and had married Lord
Ellenborough, Governor-General of India, a man much older than
herself, when she was quite a girl. The marriage was against her wish.
She was very unhappy with him, and she ran away with Prince
Schwartzenburg when she was only nineteen, and Lord Ellenborough
divorced her. She lived with