Bibliography:
11. The Kasidah (commenced). 12. El Islam (commenced).
22. The Man Wants to Wander.
Much of his time at Boulogne Burton devoted to fencing; and to his
instructor, M. Constantin, he paid glowing tributes. He thoroughly
mastered the art, defeated all antagonists, whether English or French,
earned his "brevet de pointe for the excellence of his swordsmanship,
and became a Maitre d' Armes." As horseman, swordsman, and marksman,
no soldier of his day surpassed him, and very few equalled him. But of
fencing, flirting and book-writing, he soon got heartily tired. Like
his putative ancestors, the gipsies, he could never be happy long in one
place. He says, "The thoroughbred wanderer's idiosyncrasy, I presume to
be a composition of what phrenologists call inhabitiveness and locality
equally and largely developed. After a long and toilsome march, weary
of the way, he drops into the nearest place of rest to become the most
domestic of men. For a while he smokes the pipe of permanence with an
infinite zest, he delights in various siestas during the day, relishing
withal a long sleep at night; he enjoys dining at a fixed dinner hour,
and wonders at the demoralisation of the mind which cannot find means
of excitement in chit-chat or small talk, in a novel or a newspaper. But
soon the passive fit has passed away; again a paroxysm on ennui coming
on by slow degrees, viator loses appetite, he walks bout his room
all night, he yawns at conversations, and a book acts upon his as a
narcotic. The man wants to wander, and he must do so, or he shall die."
[107]
23. Haji Wali, 1853.
As we have seen, Burton, even before he had left Sind, had burned to
visit Mecca. Four years had since elapsed, and his eyes still turned
towards "Allah's holy house." Having obtained another twelve months'
furlough, in order that he "might pursue his Arabic studies in lands
where the language is best learned," he formed the bold plan of crossing
Arabia from Mecca to the Persian Gulf. Ultimately, however, he decided,
in emulation of Burckhardt, the great traveler, to visit Medina
and Mecca in the disguise of a pilgrim, a feat that only the most
temerarious of men would have dared even to dream of. He made every
conceivable preparation, learning among other usefulnesses how to forge
horse shoes and to shoe a horse. To his parents and Lady Stisted and her
daughters, who were then residing at Bath, he paid several visits, but
when he last parted from them with his usual "Adieu, sans adieu," it
did not occur to them that he was about to leave for good; for he
could not--he never could--muster up sufficient courage to say a final
"Good-bye." Shortly after his departure his mother found a letter
addressed to her and in his handwriting. It contained, besides an
outline of his dangerous plans, the instruction that, in case he should
be killed, his "small stock of valuables" was to be divided between her
and his sister.
Once more Burton had the keen pleasure of putting on disguise. Richard
F. Burton ceased to be, and a muscular and powerful Mirza Abdullah, of
Bushire, took his place. "I have always wished to see," he explained to
a friend, "what others have been content to hear of." He wore long hair
and Oriental costume, and his face and limbs were stained with henna.
Accompanied by Captain Henry Grindlay of the Bengal Cavalry, he left
London for Southampton, 3rd April 1853, and thence took steamer for
Egypt, without ever a thought of Isabel Arundell's blue eye or Rapunzel
hair, and utterly unconscious of the sighs he had evoked. At Alexandria
he was the guest of Mr. John Thurburn and his son-in-law, Mr. John
Larking [108], at their residence "The Sycamores," but he slept in an
outhouse in order the better to delude the servants. He read the Koran
sedulously, howled his prayers with a local shaykh who imparted to
him the niceties of the faith, purified himself, made an ostentatious
display of piety, and gave out that he was a hakim or doctor preparing
to be a dervish. As he had some knowledge of medicine, this role was
an easy one, and his keen sense of humour made the experience enjoyable
enough. On the steamer that carried him to Cairo, he fraternized
with two of his fellow-passengers, a Hindu named Khudabakhsh and an
Alexandrian merchant named Haji Wali. Haji Wali, whose connection with
Burton lasted some thirty years [109], was a middle-aged man with a
large round head closely shaven, a bull neck, a thin red beard, handsome
features which beamed with benevolence, and a reputation for wiliness
and cupidity. Upon their arrival at Boulak, the port of Cairo.
Khudabakhsh, who lived there, invited Burton to stay with him.
Hindu-like, Khudabakhsh wanted his guest to sit, talk, smoke, and sip
sherbet all day. But this Burton could not endure. Nothing, as he
says, suits the English less than perpetual society, "an utter want of
solitude, when one cannot retire into one self an instant without being
asked some puerile questions by a companion, or look into a book without
a servant peering over one's shoulder." At last, losing all patience, he
left his host and went to a khan, where he once more met Haji Wali.
They smoked together the forbidden weed hashish, and grew confidential.
Following Haji Wali's advice, Burton, having changed his dress, now
posed as an Afghan doctor, and by giving his patients plenty for their
money and by prescribing rough measures which acted beneficially upon
their imaginations, he gained a coveted reputation. He always
commenced his prescriptions piously with: "In the name of Allah, the
compassionate, the merciful, and blessings and peace be upon our
Lord the Apostle"; and Haji Wali vaunted him as "the very phoenix of
physicians." According to his wont, he never lost an opportunity of
learning the ways and customs of the various people among whom he was
thrown, or of foisting himself on any company in which he thought he
could increase his knowledge. His whole life indeed was a preparation
for "The Arabian Nights." Thus at Cairo he had the good fortune to
cure some Abyssinian slave-girls of various complaints, including the
"price-lowering habit of snoring," and in return he made the slave
dealer take him about the town and unfold the mysteries of his craft. He
also visited the resting-place of his hero, Burckhardt; [110] indeed, in
whatever town he sojourned, he sought out the places associated with the
illustrious dead. It was now the Ramazan, and he observed it by fasting,
reading the Koran, and saying countless prayers with his face turned
devoutly to the Kiblah. [111] He heartily rejoiced, however, with
the multitude when the dreary month was over, and he describes [112]
amusingly the scenes on the first day following it: "Most people," he
says, "were in fresh suits of finery; and so strong is personal vanity
in the breast of Orientals... that from Cairo to Calcutta it would be
difficult to find a sad heart under a handsome coat. The men swaggered,
the women minced their steps, rolled their eyes, and were eternally
arranging, and coquetting with their head-veils." In the house of a
friend he saw an Armenian wedding. For servant he now took a cowardly
and thievish lad named Nur, and, subsequently, he made the acquaintance
of a Meccan youth, Mohammed, who was to become his companion throughout
the pilgrimage. Mohammed was 18, chocolate brown, short, obese,
hypocritical, cowardly, astute, selfish and affectionate. Burton
not only purchased the ordinary pilgrim garb, but he also took the
precaution to attach to his person "a star sapphire," the sight of which
inspired his companions with "an almost reverential awe," and even
led them to ascribe to him thaumaturgic power. [113] His further
preparations for the sacred pilgrimage reads rather like a page out of
Charles Lever, for the rollicking Irishman was as much in evidence as
the holy devotee. They culminated in a drinking bout with an Albanian
captain, whom he left, so to speak, under the table; and this having got
noised abroad, Burton, with his reputation for sanctity forfeited, found
it expedient to set off at once for Mecca. He sent the boy Nur on to
Suez with his baggage and followed him soon after on a camel through a
"haggard land infested with wild beasts and wilder men." At Suez he
made the acquaintance of some Medina and Mecca folk, who were to be
his fellow-travellers; including "Sa'ad the Demon," a negro who had two
boxes of handsome apparel for his three Medina wives and was resolved
to "travel free;" and Shaykh Hamid, a "lank Arab foul with sweat," who
never said his prayers because of the trouble of taking clean clothes
out of his box. "All these persons," says Burton, "lost no time in
opening the question of a loan. It was a lesson in Oriental metaphysics
to see their condition. They had a twelve days' voyage and a four days'
journey before them; boxes to carry, custom houses to face, and stomachs
to fill; yet the whole party could scarcely, I believe, muster two
dollars of ready money. Their boxes were full of valuables, arms,
clothes, pipes, slippers, sweetmeats, and other 'notions,' but nothing
short of starvation would have induced them to pledge the smallest
article." [114] Foreseeing the advantage of their company, Burton
sagaciously lent each of them a little money at high interest, not for
the sake of profit, but with a view to becoming a Hatim Tai, [115] by a
"never mind" on settling day. This piece of policy made "the Father
of Moustaches," as they called him, a person of importance among
them. During the delay before starting, he employed himself first in
doctoring, and then in flirting with a party of Egyptian women the most
seductive of whom was one Fattumah, [116] a plump lady of thirty "fond
of flattery and possessing, like all her people, a voluble tongue." The
refrain of every conversation was "Marry me, O Fattumah! O daughter!
O female pilgrim." To which the lady would reply coquettishly, "with a
toss of the head and a flirting manipulation of her head veil," "I
am mated, O young man." Sometimes he imitated her Egyptian accent and
deprecated her country women, causing her to get angry and bid him
begone. Then, instead of "marry me, O Fattumah," he would say, "O old
woman and decrepit, fit only to carry wood to market." This would bring
a torrent of angry words, but when they met again all was forgotten and
the flirtations of the day before were repeated.
24. The Pilgrim Ship, 6th July 1853.
Burton and his party now embarked on the sambuk which was to take them
to Yambu, the port of Medina. As ninety-seven pilgrims were crowded on
a vessel constructed to carry only sixty, most extraordinary scenes
occurred. Thanks to the exertions of Sa'ad the Demon, Burton and his
friends secured places on the poop, the most eligible part of the
vessel. They would not be very comfortable anywhere, Sa'ad explained,
but "Allah makes all things easy." Sa'ad himself, who was blessed with
a doggedness that always succeeds, managed to get his passage free by
declaring himself an able seaman. Disturbances soon commenced. The chief
offenders were some Maghrabis, "fine looking animals from the deserts
about Tripoli," the leader of whom, one Maula Ali, "a burly savage,"
struck Burton as ridiculously like his old Richmond schoolmaster, the
Rev. Charles Delafosse. These gentry tried to force their way on to the
poop, but Sa'ad distributed among his party a number of ash staves six
feet long, and thick as a man's wrist. "He shouted to us," says Burton,
"'Defend yourself if you don't wish to be the meat of the Maghrabis!'
and to the enemy 'Dogs and sons of dogs! now shall you see what the
children of the Arab are.' 'I am Omar of Daghistan!' 'I am Abdullah
the son of Joseph!' 'I am Sa'ad the Demon! [117]' we exclaimed." And,
Burton, with his turbulent blood well stirred, found himself in the
seventh heaven. "To do our enemies justice," he continues, "they showed
no sign of flinching; they swarmed towards the poop like angry hornets,
and encouraged each other with cries of 'Allaho Akbar!' But we had a
vantage ground about four feet above them, and their short daggers could
do nothing against our terrible quarter staves. Presently a thought
struck me. A large earthen jar full of drinking water, in its heavy
frame of wood stood upon the edge of the poop. Seeing an opportunity, I
crept up to the jar and rolled it down upon the swarm of assailants. Its
fall caused a shriller shriek to rise above the ordinary din, for heads,
limbs and bodies were sorely bruised by the weight, scratched by
the broken potsherds, and wetted by the sudden discharge. [118] The
Maghrabis then slunk off towards the end of the vessel, and presently
solicited peace."
The beauties of the sunrise baffled description. The vessel sailed over
a violet sea, and under a sky dappled with agate-coloured clouds.
At noon the heat was terrible and all colour melted away, "with the
canescence from above." The passengers were sympathetic with one
another, notwithstanding their recent factiousness, and were especially
kind to a poor little brown baby, which they handed round and nursed
by turns, but the heat, the filth, and the stench of the ship defied
description. At Mahar, one of the places where they landed, Burton
injured his foot with a poisonous thorn, which made him lame for the
rest of the pilgrimage. Presently the welcome profile of Radhwa came
in view, the mountain of which the unfortunate Antar [119] sang so
plaintively:
"Did Radhwa strive to support my woes,
Radhwa itself would be crushed by the weight,"
and on July 17th, after twelve days of purgatory, Burton sprang on shore
at Yambu.
25. Medina.
He now dressed himself as an Arab, that is to say, he covered his head
with a red kerchief bordered with yellow, his body with a cotton
shirt and a camel's hair cloak, while a red sash, a spear and a dagger
completed the outfit. Then, having hired some camels, he joined a
caravan, consisting of several hundred men and beasts, which was bound
for Medina; but his injured foot still incommoded him. Determined,
however, to allow nobody to exceed him in piety, he thrice a day or
oftener pounded the sand with his forehead like a true Mussulman.
While passing through one of the mountain gorges the pilgrims were
attacked by a number of predatory Bedouin, led by a ferocious chief
named Saad, who fired upon them from the rocks with deadly effect, but,
at last, after a journey of 130 miles, they reached Medina, with the
great sun-scorched Mount Ohod towering behind it--the holy city where,
according to repute, the coffin of Mohammed swung between heaven and
earth. [120] Medina consisted of three parts, a walled town, a large
suburb, with ruinous defences, and a fort. Minarets shot up above the
numerous flat roofs, and above all flashed the pride of the city, the
green dome that covered the tomb of Mohammed. Burton became the guest of
the dilatory and dirty Shaykh Hamid. The children of the household, he
says, ran about in a half nude state, but he never once set eyes upon
the face of woman, "unless the African slave girls be allowed the title.
Even these at first attempted to draw their ragged veils over their
sable charms." Having dressed themselves in white, Burton and Hamid
sallied out for the Prophet's Tomb, Burton riding on a donkey because of
his lameness. He found the approach to the Mosque choked up by ignoble
buildings, and declares that as a whole it had neither beauty nor
dignity. Upon entering, he was also disillusioned, for its interior
was both mean and tawdry. After various prayers they visited first
the "Hujrah," where they saw the tombs of Mohammed, Abu Bakr, Omar
and Fatimah; and afterwards El Rauzah, the Garden situated between the
Hujrah and the Prophet's Pulpit, both very celebrated spots. Of the
latter, Mohammed said: "Between my house and my pulpit is a garden of
the gardens of paradise." [121] After more prayers they wandered round
to the other sights, including the fine Gate of Salvation, the five
minarets, and the three celebrated pillars, called respectively,
Al-Mukhallak, the Pillar of Ayishah, and the Pillar of Repentance. They
then made their way to the Mosque of Kuba, some two miles out of the
town, and witnessed the entry into Medina of the great caravan from
Damascus, numbering 7,000 souls--grandees in gorgeous litters of green
and gold, huge white Syrian dromedaries, richly caparisoned horses and
mules, devout Hajis, sherbet sellers, water carriers, and a multitude of
camels, sheep and goats. [122] Lastly Burton and his friends pilgrimaged
to the holy Mount Ohod with its graves of "the martyrs;" and to the
celebrated Al-Bakia, or Saints' Cemetery, where lie ten thousand of the
Prophet's companions. On entering the latter they repeated the usual
salutation: "Peace be upon ye, O People of Al-Bakia," and then sought
out the principal tombs--namely those of the Caliph Othman, [123] "Our
Lady Halimah," [124] the Infant Ibrahim, [125] and about fourteen of
Mohammed's wives. [126] The cemetery swarmed with clamorous beggars, who
squatted with dirty cotton napkins spread on the ground before them for
the reception of coins. Some of the women promised to recite Fatihahs
for the donors, and the most audacious seized the visitors by their
skirts. Burton laid out three dollars in this way, but though the
recipients promised loudly to supplicate Allah in behalf of his lame
foot, it did not perceptibly benefit. Burton's companions hinted that he
might do worse than settle in Medina. "Why not," said one, "open a shop
somewhere near the Prophet's Mosque? There thou wilt eat bread by thy
skill, and thy soul will have the blessing of being on holy ground."
Burton, however, wanted to be going forward.
26. Mecca.
On 31st August, after praying "a two-bow prayer," he bade adieu to
Shaykh Hamid, and with Nur and the boy Mohammed, joined the caravan
bound for Mecca, the route taken being the celebrated road through the
arid Nejd made by Zubaydah, wife of Harun al Rashid. The events of the
journey were not remarkable, though Mohammed very nearly killed himself
by feeding too liberally on clarified butter and dates mashed with
flour. Sometimes Burton cheered the way and delighted his companions by
singing the song of Maysunah, the Arab girl who longed to get back from
the Caliph's palace to the black tents of her tribe. Everybody got into
good humour when he began:
"Oh take these purple robes away,
Give back my cloak of camel's hair,"
and they laughed till they fell on their backs when he came to the
line where the desert beauty calls her Royal husband a "fatted ass." In
truth, they needed something to cheer them, for the sky was burnished
brass, and their goats died like flies. Simoon and sand-pillar threw
down the camels, and loathsome vultures ready for either beast or man
hovered above or squabbled around them. To crown their discomforts they
were again attached by the Bedouin, whom they dispersed only after a
stubborn fight and with the loss of several dromedaries. After passing
the classic Wady Laymun, sung by the Arab poet Labid [127] in lines
suggestive of Goldsmith's Deserted Village, they very piously shaved
their heads and donned the conventional attire, namely two new cotton
cloths with narrow red stripes and fringes; and when the Holy City came
in view, the whole caravan raised the cry, "Mecca! Mecca! the Sanctuary!
O the Sanctuary! Labbayk! Labbayk!" [128] the voices being not
infrequently broken by sobs.
On entering the gates, Burton and Nur crossed the famous hill Safa and
took up their abode with the lad Mohammed. Early next morning they rose,
bathed, and made their way with the crowd to the Prophet's Mosque in
order to worship at the huge bier-like erection called the Kaaba, and
the adjacent semi-circular Hatim's wall. The famous Kaaba, which is
in the middle of the great court-yard, looked at a distance like an
enormous cube, covered with a black curtain, but its plan is really
trapeziform. "There at last it lay," cries Burton, "the bourn of my long
and weary pilgrimage, realising the plans and hopes of many and many
a year,"--the Kaaba, the place of answered prayer, above which in the
heaven of heavens Allah himself sits and draws his pen through people's
sins. "The mirage of fancy invested the huge catafalque and its gloomy
pall with peculiar charms." Of all the worshippers who clung weeping
to the curtain, [129] or who pressed their beating hearts to the sacred
black stone built into the Kaaba, none, thought Burton, felt for the
moment a deeper emotion than he. But he had to confess the humbling
truth that while theirs was the high feeling of religious enthusiasm,
his was but the ecstasy of gratified pride. Bare-headed and footed and
in company with Mohammed, he first proceeded to the holy well, Zem-Zem,
said to be the same that was shown by God to Hagar. [130] They found the
water extremely unpleasant to the taste, and Burton noticed that nobody
drank it without making a wry face. It was impossible at first to get
near the Black Stone owing to the crush of pilgrims. However, they
occupied the time in various prayers, blessed the Prophet, and kissed
the finger tips of the right hand. They then made the seven Ashwat or
circuits, and from time to time raised their hands to their ears, and
exclaimed, "In the name of Allah and Allah is omnipotent!" The circuits
finished, and it was deemed advisable to kiss the Black Stone. For some
minutes Burton stood looking in despair at the swarming crowd of Bedouin
and other pilgrims that besieged it. But Mohammed was equal to the
occasion. Noticing that most of those near the Stone were Persians,
against whom the Arabs have an antipathy, he interpolated his prayers
with insults directed against them--one of the mildest being "O hog
and brother of a hoggess." This having small effect he collected
half-a-dozen stalwart Meccans, "with whose assistance," says Burton, "by
sheer strength, we wedged our way into the thin and light-legged crowd.
...After reaching the stone, despite popular indignation testified by
impatient shouts, we monopolised the use of it for at least ten minutes.
While kissing it and rubbing hands and forehead upon it, I narrowly
observed it, and came away persuaded that it was an aerolite." Burton
and his friends next shouldered and fought their way to the part of the
Kaaba called Al Multazem, at which they asked for themselves all that
their souls most desired. Arrived again at the well Zem-Zem, Burton had
to take another nauseous draught and was deluged with two skinfuls of
the water dashed over his head. This causes sins to fall from the spirit
like dust. He also said the customary prayers at the Makam Ibrahim or
Praying Place of Abraham [131] and other shrines. At last, thoroughly
worn out, with scorched feet and a burning head, he worked his way out
of the Mosque, but he was supremely happy for he had now seen:
"Safa, Zem-Zem, Hatim's wall,
And holy Kaaba's night-black pall." [132]
The next day he journeyed to the sacred Mount of Arafat, familiar to
readers of The Arabian Nights from the touching story of Abu Hasan and
Abu Ja'afar the Leper and [133] he estimated that he was but one of
50,000 pilgrims. The mountain was alive with people, and the huge camp
at its foot had booths, huts and bazaars stocked with all manner of
Eastern delicacies, and crowded with purchasers. Instead, however, of
listening to the sermons, Burton got flirting with a Meccan girl with
citrine skin and liquescent eyes.
On the third day, mounted on an ass, he made for Muna and took part in
the ceremony called Stoning the Devil. He was, however, but one of a
multitude, and, in order to get to the stoned pillar a good deal
of shouldering and fighting was necessary. Both Burton and the boy
Mohammed, however, gained their end, and like the rest of the people,
vigorously pelted the devil, saying as they did so, "In the name of
Allah--Allah is Almighty." To get out of the crowd was as difficult
as it had been to get in. Mohammed received a blow in the face which
brought the blood from his nose, and Burton was knocked down; but by
"the judicious use of the knife" he gradually worked his way into the
open again, and piously went once more to have his head shaved and
his nails cut, repeating prayers incessantly. Soon after his return to
Mecca, Mohammed ran up to him in intense excitement. "Rise, Effendi,"
he cried, "dress and follow me; the Kaaba is open." The pair then made
their way thither with alacrity, and, replies to the officials in charge
being satisfactory, Mohammed was authoritatively ordered to conduct
Burton round the building. They entered. It was a perilous moment; and
when Burton looked at the windowless walls and at the officials at the
door, and thought of the serried mass of excited fanatics outside, he
felt like a trapped rat. However safe a Christian might have been at
Mecca, nothing could have preserved him from the ready knives of the
faithful if detected in the Kaaba. The very idea was pollution to a
Moslem. "Nothing," says Burton, "is more simple than the interior of
this sacred building. The pavement is composed of slabs of fine and
various coloured marbles. The upper part of the walls, together with the
ceiling, are covered with handsome red damask, flowered over with gold.
The flat roof is upheld by three cross beams, supported in the centre
by three columns. Between the columns ran bars of metal supporting many
lamps said to be of gold." The total expense was eight dollars, and when
they got away, the boy Mohammed said, "Wallah, Effendi! thou has escaped
well! some men have left their skins behind."
The fifty-five other wonders of the city having been visited, Burton
sent on Nur with his heavy boxed to Jeddah, the port of Mecca, and he
himself followed soon after with Mohammed. At Jeddah he saw its one
sight, the tomb of Eve, and then bade adieu to Mohammed, who returned to
Mecca. Having boarded the "Dwarka," an English ship, he descended to his
cabin and after a while emerged with all his colouring washed off and in
the dress of an English gentleman. Mirza Abdullah of Bushire, "Father
of Moustaches," was once more Richard Francis Burton. This extraordinary
exploit made Burton's name a household word throughout the world, and
turned it into a synonym for daring; while his book, the Pigrimage
to Al-Madinah and Meccah, which appeared the following year, was read
everywhere with wonder and delight. Had he been worldly-wise he would
have proceeded straight to England, where, the lion of the hour, he
might have obtained a reward more substantial than mere praise. But he
did not show himself until the commotion caused by his exploit had been
half-forgotten, and we shall find him making a similar mistake some
years later, after his return from Tanganyika. [134]
It seems that Burton was known in the army as "Ruffian Dick"--not by way
of disparagement, but because of this demonic ferocity as a fighter, and
because he had "fought in single combat more enemies than perhaps any
other man of his time." One evening soon after his return from Mecca,
a party of officers, including a friend of Burton's named Hawkins, were
lounging outside Shepherd's Hotel at Cairo. As they sat talking and
smoking, there passed repeatedly in front of them, an Arab, in his loose
flowing robes, with head proudly erect, and the peculiar swinging stride
of those sons of the desert. As he strode backwards and forwards he drew
nearer and nearer to the little knot of officers, till at last, as he
swept by, the flying folds of his burnous brushed against one of the
officers. "D---- that nigger's impudence!" said the officer; "if he does
that again, I'll kick him." To his surprise the dignified Arab suddenly
halted, wheeled round, and exclaimed, "Well, d---- it, Hawkins, that's
a fine way to welcome a fellow after two year's absence." "It's Ruffian
Dick!" cried the astonished officer. [135]
Perhaps to this period must be assigned the bastinado incident. Burton
used to tell the tale [136] as follows: "Once, in Egypt, another man
and I were out duck shooting, and we got separated. When I next came in
sight of the other man some Turkish soldiers had tied him up and were
preparing to administer the bastinado. As I hurried to his assistance he
said something to the Turks which I could not catch, and pointed to me.
Instantly they untied him and pouncing upon me, tried to put me in his
place, while my companion took to his heels. As they were six to one,
they succeeded, and I had the very unpleasant experience of being
bastinadoed. The first dozen or two strokes I didn't mind much, but at
about the ninetieth the pain was too excruciating for description. When
they had finished with me I naturally enquired what it was all for. It
seems that my companion when firing at a duck had accidentally shot an
Egyptian woman, the wife of one of the soldiers. Upon my appearance he
had called out in Turkish to the soldiers: 'It was not I who fired the
shot, it was that other fellow,' pointing to me. The blackguard has
taken good care to keep out of my way ever since."
27. Burton's Delight in Shocking.
The story of Burton's adventures having spread abroad, people now took
the trouble to invent many incidents that were untrue. They circulated,
for example, a grisly tale of a murder which he was understood to have
committed on a man who had penetrated his disguise, [137] and, the
tale continuing to roll, the murder became eventually two murders.
Unfortunately, Burton was cursed with a very foolish habit, and one that
later did him considerable harm. Like Lord Byron, he delighted to shock.
His sister had often reproved him for it after his return from India,
but without effecting a change. Kindly listeners hardly knew how to take
him, while the malicious made mischief. One day, in England, when, in
the presence of his sister and a lady friend, he had thought fit to
enlarge on a number of purely fictitious misdeeds, he was put to some
shame. His sister having in vain tried by signs to stop him, the friend
at last cut him short with: "Am I to admire you, Mr. Burton?" And he
accepted the reproof. Still, he never broke himself of this dangerous
habit; indeed, when the murder report spread abroad he seems to have
been rather gratified than not; and he certainly took no trouble to
refute the calumny.
On another occasion he boasted of his supposed descent from Louis XIV.
"I should have thought," exclaimed a listener, "that you who have such
good Irish blood in your veins would be glad to forget your descent from
a dishonourable union."
"Oh, no," replied Burton vehemently, "I would rather be the bastard of a
king than the son of an honest man."
Though this was at the time simply intended to shock, nevertheless
it illustrated in a sense his real views. He used to insist that the
offspring of illicit or unholy unions were in no way to be pitied if
they inherited, as if often the case, the culture or splendid physique
of the father and the comeliness of the mother; and instanced King
Solomon, Falconbridge, in whose "large composition," could be read
tokens of King Richard, [138] and the list of notables from Homer to
"Pedro's son," as catalogued by Camoens [139] who said:
"The meed of valour Bastards aye have claimed
By arts or arms, or haply both conjoined."
The real persons to be pitied, he said, were the mentally or physically
weak, whatever their parentage.
28. El Islam.
Burton now commenced to write a work to be called El Islam, or the
History of Mohammedanism; which, however, he never finished. It opens
with an account of the rise of Christianity, his attitude to which
resembled that of Renan. [140] Of Christ he says: "He had given an
impetus to the progress of mankind by systematizing a religion of the
highest moral loveliness, showing what an imperfect race can and may
become." He then dilates on St. Paul, who with a daring hand "rent
asunder the ties connecting Christianity with Judaism." "He offered to
the great family of man a Church with a Diety at its head and a religion
peculiarly of principles. He left the moral code of Christianity
untouched in its loveliness. After the death of St. Paul," continues
Burton, "Christianity sank into a species of idolatry. The acme of
stupidity was attained by the Stylites, who conceived that mankind had
no nobler end than to live and die upon the capital of a column. When
things were at their worst Mohammed first appeared upon the stage of
life." The work was published in its unfinished state after Burton's
death.
With The Kasidah we shall deal in a later chapter, for though Burton
wrote a few couplets at this time, the poem did not take its present
shape till after the appearance of FitzGerald's adaptation of The
Rubaiyat Oman Khayyam.
Having spent a few weeks in Egypt, Burton returned to Bombay, travelling
in his Arab dress. Among those on board was an English gentleman, Mr.
James Grant Lumsden, senior member of the Council, Bombay, who being
struck by Burton's appearance, said to a friend, "What a clever,
intellectual face that Arab has!" Burton, overhearing the remark,
made some humorous comment in English, and thus commenced a pleasant
friendship.