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Updated: May 12, 2025
One man, for instance, complained to the Foreign Office that I had been heard to say that I had "finished my dispatches," meaning that I had finished the work of copying Richard's. Imagine a man noting down this against a woman, and twisting it the wrong way. I think that the first shadow on our happy life came in July of this year, 1870, when I was at Bludan.
As Damascus began to be very hot about this time we moved to our summer quarters at Bludan, about twenty-seven miles across country from Damascus in the Anti-Lebanon. It was a most beautiful spot, right up in the mountains, and comparatively cool.
The last thing was to go round the premises and see that everything was right, and turn out the dogs on guard. And so to bed. Richard used to ride down into Damascus every few days to see that all was going well; so I was often left alone. I must not linger too long over our life at Bludan. Mr. E. H. Palmer, afterwards Professor of Arabic at Cambridge, and Mr.
Food or sleep was impossible to us. Every one who could fled from Damascus. I refused to go to summer quarters because Richard could not go too, and I would not shirk anything he had to bear. At last, however, I fell ill of fever, and Richard sent me away to Bludan. One night, when I was sitting alone, I heard a great noise against the door. I seized the only thing handy, a big stick, and ran out.
By that time I had to repair to my litter again, but I felt so happy at coming near home that I thought I was cured. As we neared Bludan I was carried along in the litter, and I lay so still that everybody thought that my corpse was coming home to be buried. The news spread far and wide, so I had the pleasure of hearing my own praises and the people's lamentations.
Richard and I made our plans and arrangements in ten minutes, and then saddled the horses and cleaned the weapons. Richard would not take me to Damascus, however, because, as he said, he intended to protect Damascus, and he wanted me to protect Bludan and Zebedani. The feeling that I had something to do took away all that remained of my fever. In the night I accompanied Richard down the mountain.
I used to ride down to Zebedani, the next village to Bludan, to hear Mass, attended by only one servant, a boy of twenty. The people loved me, and my chief difficulty was to pass through the crowd that came to kiss my hand or my habit, so I might really have gone alone.
A few hours later a mounted messenger came back to Bludan with these few written words: "Do not be frightened. I am recalled. Pay, pack, and follow at convenience." I was not frightened; but I shall never forget what my feelings were when I received that note. Perhaps it is best not to try to remember them. The rest of the day I went about trying to realize what it all meant.
Night was coming on, and of course I had not the slightest idea of what had happened at the previous massacre of Christians at Damascus; and flying, excited stragglers dropped in, and from what they said one would have supposed that Damascus was already being deluged in blood, and that eventually crowds of Moslems would surge up to Bludan and exterminate us also.
Early next morning I rode to see a friend, who kindly insisted on my staying a day with her. Here Charles Tyrwhitt-Drake, a kawwass, and servant and horse met me, and escorted me back to Bludan. I arrived home ill, tired, and harassed. I was thankful to find there a woman friend who had come over to keep me company. She was as much grieved as I was myself, and we wept together.
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