Barnes. Pdf

 
Chapters 
48
her father if he believed in the reality of Mr Bullock's Pantherion of stuffed wild beasts at his Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, 
London. The Colonel, taken aback, responded that naturally he did; whereupon his daughter exhibited a humorous 
astonishment. She believed in the reality of something ordained by God and described in a book of Holy Scripture read and
[p. 149]
remembered for thousands of years; whereas he believed in the reality of something described in the pages of Saunder's News-
Letter & Daily Advertiser, which people were unlikely to remember the very next morning. Which of them, she insisted upon 
knowing, with a continuing and unnecessary mockery in her eye, was the more credulous? 
It was in the autumn of 1839, after long meditation, that Amanda Fergusson proposed to Miss Logan the expedition to 
Arghuri. Miss Logan was a vigorous and seemingly practical woman some ten years older than Miss Fergusson, and had been 
fond of the Colonel without any zephyr of indiscretion arising. More to the point, she had travelled to Italy a few years 
previously while in the employment of Sir Charles B––– . 
`I regret that I am unacquainted with the place,' replied Miss Logan when first interviewed. `Is it far beyond Naples?' 
`It is on the lower slopes of Mount Ararat,' Miss Fergusson responded. 'The name Arghuri is derived from two Armenian 
words signifying he planted the vine. It is where Noah returned to his agricultural labours after the Flood. An ancient vine 
stock planted by the Patriarch's own hands still flourishes.' 
Miss Logan concealed her astonishment at this curious lecture, but felt bound to enquire further. `And why might we be 
going there?' 
'To intercede for the soul of my father. There is a monastery upon the mountain.' 
`It is a long way to go.' 
'I believe it to be appropriate.' 
`I see.' Miss Logan was pensive at first, but then brightened. `And shall we drink the wine there?' She was remembering her 
travels in Italy. 
`It is forbidden,' replied Miss Fergusson. 'Tradition forbids it.' 
`Tradition?'
`Heaven, then. Heaven has forbidden it, in memory of the fault into which the grapes betrayed the Patriarch.' Miss Logan, 
who would complaisantly allow the Bible to be read to her but was not diligent in turning the pages herself, exhibited 
[p. 150]
a momentary confusion. `Drunkenness,' explained Miss Fergusson. `Noah's drunkenness.' 
`Of course.' 
`The monks of Arghuri are permitted to eat the grapes, but not to ferment them.' 
`I see.' 
`There is also an ancient willow tree, sprung from one of the planks of Noah's Ark, which grows there.' 
`I see.' 
And thus it was agreed. They would depart in the spring, to avoid the malarial menace of the later seasons. Each would 
require a portable bedstead, an air mattress and a pillow; they would take some Oxley's essence of ginger, some good opium, 
quinine and Sedlitz powders; a portable inkstand, a match-box and supply of German tinder; umbrellas against the sun and 
flannel belts to ward off cramps of the stomach during the night. After some discussion they decided not to travel with either a 
portable bath or a patent coffee-machine. But they counted as necessary a pair of iron-pointed walking sticks, a clasp-knife, 
stout hunting-whips to beat off the legions of dogs they were prepared to encounter, and a policeman's small lantern, since they 
had been warned that Turkish paper lanterns were useless in a hurricane. They took mackintoshes and heavy greatcoats, 
anticipating that Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's dream of perennial sunshine was unlikely to be fulfilled for lesser voyagers. 
Miss Logan understood gunpowder to be the most acceptable offering for the Turkish peasant, and writing-paper for the 
superior classes. A common box-compass, she had further been advised, would afford pleasure by directing the Mussulman to 
the point of his prayers; but Miss Fergusson was disinclined to assist the heathen in his false adorations. Finally, the ladies 
packed two small glass bottles, which they intended to fill with grape juice crushed from the fruit of Noah's vineyard. 
They travelled by Government steam-packet from Falmouth to Marseilles, thereafter entrusting themselves to the French 
conveyances. In early May they were received by the British Ambassador in Constantinople. As Miss Fergusson explained 
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the extent and purpose of their journey, the diplomat studied her: a dark-haired woman in early middle age, with protuberant 
black eyes and rather full, reddish cheeks which pushed her lips forward into a pout. Yet she was in no wise a flirt: her natural 
expression appeared to mix prudishness with certainty, a combination which left the Ambassador indifferent. He grasped most 
of what she was saying without ever quite bestowing upon her his full attention. 
`Ah,' he said at the finish, `there was a rumour a few years ago that some Russo had managed to get to the top of the 
mountain.' 
`Parrot,' replied Miss Fergusson without a smile. `Not a Russo, I think. Dr Friedrich Parrot. Professor in the University of 
Dorpat.' 
The Ambassador gave a diagonal nod of the head, as if it were slightly impertinent to know more than he did about local 
matters. 
`It seems to me appropriate and just,' went on Miss Fergusson, `that the first traveller to ascend the mountain upon which 
the Ark rested should bear the name of an animal. No doubt part of the Lord's great design for us all.' 

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J
ULIAN 
B
ARNES
: A History of the World in 10 ½