Bibliography:
5. Goa and the Blue Mountains, 1851. 6. Scinde; or the Unhappy Valley,
2 vols., 1851. 7. Sindh, and the Races that Inhabit the Valley of
the Indus, 1851. 8. Falconry in the Valley of the Indus, 1852. 9.
Commencement with Dr. Steinhauser of The Arabian Nights, 1852. 10. A
complete System of Bayonet Exercise, 1853.
19. A Motto from Ariosto.
When "The Elisa" approached Plymouth, with its "turfy hills, wooded
parks and pretty seats," Allahdad opened his eyes in wonderment. "What
manner of men must you English be," he said, "to leave such a paradise
and travel to such a pandemonium as ours without compulsion?" On
arriving in London, Burton called on his Aunt Georgiana, [91] flirted
with his pretty cousins Sarah and Elisa, attended to business of various
kinds, and then, in company with Allahdad, set out for Italy to see his
father and mother, who were still wandering aimlessly about Europe, and
inhaling now the breath of vineyard and garden and now the odours of
the laboratory. He found them, his sister, and her two little daughters,
Georgiana and Maria (Minnie) at Pisa, and the meeting was a very
happy one. Burton's deep affection for his parents, his sister and his
brother, is forced upon our notice at every turn; and later he came to
regard his nieces just as tenderly. Quoting Coleridge, he used to say:
"To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love I love indeed." [92]
If Burton was thus drawn to those nearest of kin to him, so also his
warm heart welled with affection for his friends, and for those who
did him kindnesses. "If you value a man or his work," he said, "don't
conceal your feelings." The warmth of his affection for his friends
Drake, Arbuthnot, and others, will be noticed as this book proceeds. On
one occasion, after a spontaneous outburst of appreciation, he said
in palliation of his enthusiasm, "Pardon me, but this is an asthenic
age--and true-hearted men are rare." Presently we find him revisiting
some of his old haunts. In his youth he had explored Italy almost from
end to end; but the literary associations of the various towns were
their principal charm. To him, Verona stood for Catullus, Brindisi for
Virgil, Sorrento for Tasso, Florence for "the all Etruscan three," [93]
Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, Reggio and Ferrara for Ariosto. It was
from Ariosto, perhaps through Camoens, who adopted it, that he took his
life motto, "Honour, not honours"--
"'Tis honour, lovely lady, that calls me to the field,
And not a painted eagle upon a painted shield." [94]
All the Burton servants obtained some knowledge of Italian, even
Allahdad being soon able to swear fluently in it, and his aptitude,
joined to a quarrelsome temper and an illogical prejudice against all
Italians, caused innumerable broils.
By and by the family returned to England and Miss Stisted thus describes
the progress: "One of the earliest pictures in my memory is of a
travelling carriage crossing snow-covered Alps. A carriage containing my
mother and uncle, sister and self, and English maid, and a romantic
but surly Asiatic named Allahdad. Richard Burton, handsome, tall and
broad-shouldered, was oftener outside the carriage than in it, as the
noise made by his two small nieces rendered pedestrian exercise, even
in the snow, an agreeable and almost necessary variety." Now and then he
gave them bits of snow to taste, which they hoped might be sugar. [95]
On reaching England he sent Allahdad back to Bombay.
Much of the year 1850 was spent at Leamington and Dover, and in 1851,
Burton, accompanied by his brother Edward, crossed to Boulogne, where he
prepared for publication his books, Goa, Scinde, Falconry in the
Valley of the Indus, and Bayonet Exercise. Love of a sort mingled
with literature, for he continued various flirtations, but without any
thought of marriage; for he was still only a lieutenant in the service
of John Company, and his prospects were not rosy. We said "love of a
sort," and advisedly, for we cannot bring ourselves to believe that
Burton was ever frenziedly in love with any woman. He was, to use his
own expression, no "hot amortist." Of his views on polygamy, to which
he had distinct leanings, we shall speak later. He said he required two,
and only two qualities in a woman, namely beauty and affection. It
was the Eastern idea. The Hindu Angelina might be vacuous, vain,
papilionaceous, silly, or even a mere doll, but if her hair hung down
"like the tail of a Tartary cow," [96] if her eyes were "like the stones
of unripe mangoes," and her nose resembled the beak of a parrot, the
Hindu Edwin was more than satisfied. Dr. Johnson's "unidead girl" would
have done as well as the blue-stocking Tawaddud. [97]
20. Isabel Arundell & "My Dear Louisa." 1851.
It was during Burton's stay at Boulogne that he saw the handsome girl
who ten years later became his wife--Isabel, daughter of Mr. Henry
Raymond Arundell. She was the eldest of a very large family. Just
twenty, fair, "with yards of golden hair," dark blue eyes and a queenly
manner, Isabel Arundell everywhere attracted attention. No portrait, it
was said, ever did justice to her virginal beauty. "When she was in any
company you could look at no one else," the charm of her manner exceeded
even the graces of her person, but her education was defective, and she
was amusingly superstitious. She could be heard saying at every turn:
"This is a good omen; that a bad one; oh, shocking! the spoons are
crossed;
By the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes."
Though not themselves wealthy, the Arundells were of noble lineage, and
had rich and influential relations who prided themselves on being "old
English Catholics." Among Miss Arundell's ancestors was Henry, 6th Lord
Arundell of Wardour; her grandfather and the 9th Lord were brothers; and
her mother was sister to Lord Gerard.
Isabel Arundell and Burton could have conducted their first conversation
just as well had they been deaf and dumb. Strolling on the ramparts he
noticed a bevy of handsome girls, one of whom, owing to her exceptional
looks, particularly fired him, and having managed to attract her
attention, he chalked on a wall, "May I speak to you," and left the
piece of chalk at the end of the sentence. She took it up and wrote
under it, "No, mother will be angry."
She had, however, long pictured to herself an ideal husband, and on
seeing Burton, she exclaimed under her breath: "That is the man!" She
describes him as "five feet eleven inches in height, very broad, thin
and muscular, with very dark hair, black, clearly defined, sagacious
eyebrows, a brown, weather-beaten complexion, straight Arab features,
a determined-looking mouth and chin, nearly covered by an enormous
moustache; two large, black, flashing eyes, with long lashes," and a
"fierce, proud, melancholy expression." [98] In the words of one of his
friends, he had the eye of an angel, the jaw of a devil. Also staying
at Boulogne was a young lady for whom Burton entertained a sincere
affection, and whom he would probably have married but for the poorness
of his outlook. "My dear Louisa," [99] as he called her, was a relative
of Miss Arundell, and hearing what had occurred, she did Burton and Miss
Arundell the kindness of formally introducing them to each other, Miss
Arundell never tried to attract Burton's attention--we have her word
for that--but wherever he went she went too; and she never lost an
opportunity of accidentally crossing his path. She considered sacred
a sash which she wore when dancing with him, and she remembered him
specially in her prayers. Henceforward, one devouring desire occupied
her mind. She wished--and praiseworthily--to be Burton's wife. To him,
on the other hand, she was but an ephemeral fancy--one of the hundred
and fifty women--his fair cousins in England and the softer and darker
beauties of France and Italy--to whom he had said tender nothings.
Later, when Miss Arundell saw him flirting with another girl, a certain
"Louise" [100] (not to be confused with "my dear Louisa"), she bridled
up, coloured to her brow-locks, called "Louise" "fast" and Louise's
mother "vulgar." Naturally they would be. [101] With "myosotis eyes,"
peachy cheeks and auburn hair, rolling over ivory shoulders [102],
"Louise" was progressing admirably, when, unfortunately for her, there
came in view a fleshy, vinous matron of elephantine proportions, whom
she addressed as "mother." The sight of this caricature of the "Thing
Divine," to use Burton's expression, and the thought that to this the
"Thing Divine" would some day come, instantly quenched his fires, and
when the mother tried to bring him to a decision, by inquiring his
intentions regarding her daughter, he horrified her by replying:
"Strictly dishonourable, madam." "Englishmen," he reflected, "who are
restricted to one wife, cannot be too careful." Miss Arundell was
also jealous of "My dear Louisa," though unwarrantably, for that lady
presently became Mrs. Segrave; but she and Burton long preserved for
each other a reminiscitory attachment, and we shall get several more
glimpses of her as this book proceeds. [103]
Isabel Arundell was herself somewhat cheered by the prophecy of a gipsy
of her acquaintance--one Hagar Burton--who with couched eyes and solemn
voice not only prognosticated darkly her whole career, but persistently
declared that the romance would end in marriage; still, she fretted
a good deal, and at last, as persons in love sometimes do, became
seriously indisposed. Without loss of time her parents called in a
skilful physician, who, with his experienced eye, saw at once that it
was indigestion, and prescribed accordingly. Residing at Boulogne in
1851, was a French painter named Francois Jacquand, who had obtained
distinction by his pictures of monks, and "a large historical tableau
representing the death chamber of the Duc d'Orleans." In an oil painting
which he made of Burton and his sister, and which is here reproduced for
the first time, Burton appears as a pallid young military man, heavily
moustached, with large brown eyes [104]; and his worn and somewhat
melancholy face is a striking contrast to the bright and cheerful looks
of his comely sister. Our portraits of the Misses Stisted are also from
paintings by Jacquand. Burton's habit of concealing his ailments which
we noticed as a feature of his boyhood was as conspicuous in later life.
"On one occasion," says Miss Stisted, "when seized with inflammation of
the bladder, a fact he tried to keep to himself, he continued to joke
and laugh as much as usual, and went on with his reading and writing as
if little were the matter. At last the agony became too atrocious, and
he remarked in a fit of absence 'If I don't get better before night, I
shall be an angel.' Questions followed, consternation reigned around,
and the doctor was instantly summoned."
21. Forster FitzGerald Arbuthnot 1853.
When Burton first became acquainted with Forster FitzGerald Arbuthnot is
uncertain; but by 1853, they were on terms of intimacy. Burton was
then 32, Arbuthnot 20. Of this enormously important fact in Burton's
life--his friendship with Arbuthnot--no previous writer has said a
single word, except Lady Burton, and she dismisses the matter with a few
careless sentences, though admitting that Arbuthnot was her husband's
most intimate friend. Of the strength of the bond that united the two
men, and the admiration felt by Arbuthnot for Burton, she had little
idea. F. F. Arbuthnot, born in 1833, was second son of Sir Robert
Keith Arbuthnot and Anne, daughter of Field-Marshal Sir John Forster
FitzGerald, G.C.B. Educated at Haileybury, he entered in 1852 the
Bombay Civil Service, and rose subsequently to the important position of
"collector." A man of a quiet and amiable disposition, Arbuthnot
never said an unkind word either to or about anyone. The sweetness and
serenity of his manner were commented upon by all his friends; but like
so many of your quiet men, he had a determination--a steady heroism,
which made everything give way. Oppose Burton, and you would instantly
receive a blow aimed straight from the shoulder, oppose Arbuthnot
and you would be pushed quietly and amiably aside--but pushed aside
nevertheless. A great idea had early possessed him. He wanted to see as
much attention paid to the literatures of India, Persia and Arabia as to
those of ancient Greece and Rome. All the famous books of the East,
he said, should be translated into English--even the erotic, and he
insisted that if proper precautions were taken so that none but scholars
could obtain them, no possible harm could ensue. [105]
"England," he wrote long after (1887), "has greater interests in the
East than any other country in Europe, and ought to lead the way in
keeping the world informed on all subjects connected with Oriental
literature. Surely the time has not arrived for her to take a back seat
on that coach, and to let other nations do a work which she ought to do
herself." [106] The expression "on that coach," by the by, was eminently
characteristic of a man who plumed himself on being a Jehu of Jehus.
Hundreds of invaluable manuscripts written by poets and sages, he said,
require to be translated into English, and the need of the day is an
Oriental Translation Fund. A man of means, Arbuthnot was sometime later
to apply his money to the cause he had at heart; and year in, year out,
we shall find him and Burton striking at the self-same anvil. Though
there was a considerable difference in their ages, and though thousands
of miles often separated them, their minds were ever united, and they
went down the stream of life together like two brothers.