Bibliography:
51. The Port of Trieste. 52. The Gypsy. Written in 1875. 53. Etruscan
Bologna. 1876. 54. New System of Sword Exercise for Infantry. 1876.
79. Visit to England, 12th May 1875.
On 8th December 1874, Burton sent his wife to England to arrange for the
publication of various of his works, and in May 1875, having obtained
leave, he followed her, arriving in London on the 12th. He took with him
"a ton or so of books" in an enormous trunk painted one half black the
other white--"the magpie chest" which henceforth always accompanied him
on his travels. At the various stations in England there were lively
scenes, the company demanding for luggage excess, and Burton vigorously
protesting but finally paying. He then took the value out by reeling off
a spirited address to the railway clerk, punctuated with expletives in
twenty odd African or Asiatic languages, on the meanness of the clerk's
employers.
80. Tonic Bitters.
Always suffering from impecuniosity, the Burtons were perpetually
revolving schemes for increasing their income. One was to put on the
market a patent pick-me-up, good also for the liver, to be called,
"Captain Burton's Tonic Bitters," the recipe of which had been "acquired
from a Franciscan monk." "Its object," observed Burton facetiously, to
a friend, "is to make John Bull eat more beef and drink more beer." Mrs.
Burton imagined naively that if it were put into a pretty bottle the
demand would exceed the supply. They had hopes, too, for the Camoens,
which had taken many years of close application and was now approaching
completion. Still, it was argued that a Translation of Camoens, however
well done, could not hope for the success of a well-advertised liver
tonic, seeing that while most people have a liver, it is only here
and there one who has a taste for Camoens. The tonic was placed on the
market, but the scheme, like so many others, proved a fiasco. Nobody
seemed to want to be picked up, and the indifference of a Christian
nation to the state of its liver, was to Burton extremely painful. So he
abandoned philanthropy, and took to lecturing before the Anthropological
and other societies, dining out, and calling on old friends. One
Sunday he visited the Zoo; but when he asked for a glass of beer at the
refreshment bar, the girl declined to serve him because he was "not a
bona-fide traveller!"
In 1875, Burton's portrait, painted by the late Lord Leighton, was
exhibited in the Academy; and on July 6th of the same year, Burton
started off on a second trip to Iceland, which occupied him six weeks,
but he and his wife did not meet again till October 6th. On December
4th (1875) they left London for the Continent. The morning was black as
midnight. Over the thick snow hung a dense, murky fog, while "a dull red
gleam just rendered the darkness visible."
"It looks," said Burton, "as if London were in mourning for some great
national crime."
To which Mrs. Burton replied, "Let us try to think, darling, that our
country wears mourning for our departure into exile."
On reaching Boulogne they sought out some of their old acquaintances,
including M. Constantin, Burton's fencing master. After a brief stay in
Paris, they proceeded to Trieste, ate their Christmas dinner, and then
set out for India, partly for pleasure and partly for the purpose of
collecting information about the abandoned diamond mines of Golconda.
81. A Trip to India, December 1875, 18th June 1876.
The Suez Canal, which had been finished some five years previous, gave
them much pleasure, and it was like living life over again to see the
camels, the Bedawin in cloak and kuffiyyah, the women in blue garments,
and to smell the pure air of the desert. On reaching Yambu, Burton
enquired whether Sa'ad the robber chief, who had attacked the caravan in
the journey to Mecca days, still lived; and was told that the dog long
since made his last foray, and was now safe in Jehannum. [284] They
landed at Jiddah, where Burton was well received, although everyone
knew the story of his journey to Mecca, and on rejoining their ship they
found on board eight hundred pilgrims of a score of nationalities. Then
a storm came on. The pilgrims howled with fright, and during the voyage
twenty-three died of privation, vermin, hunger and thirst. Says Mrs.
Burton: [285] "They won't ask, but if they see a kind face they speak
with their eyes as an animal does." At Aden Burton enquired after
his old Harar companions. Shahrazad was still in Aden, the coquettish
Dunyazad in Somaliland, the Kalandar had been murdered by the Isa tribe,
and The End of Time had "died a natural death"--that is to say, somebody
had struck a spear into him. [286] Bombay was reached on February 2nd.
82. Arbuthnot Again. Rehatsek.
The first person Burton called on was his old friend, Forster FitzGerald
Arbuthnot, who now occupied there the important position of "Collector."
Arbuthnot, like other people, had got older, but his character had
not changed a tittle. Business-like and shrewd, yet he continued to be
kindly, and would go out of his way to do a philanthropic action, and
without fuss of parade. A friend describes him as "a man of the world,
but quite untainted by it." He used to spend the winter in Bombay, and
the summer in his charming bungalow at Bandora. In a previous chapter we
referred to him as a Jehu. He now had a private coach and team--rather
a wonder in that part of the world, and drove it himself. Of his skill
with the ribbons he was always proud, and no man could have known more
about horses. Some of the fruits of his experience may be seen in an
article [287] which he contributed to Baily's Magazine (April 1883) in
which he ranks driving with such accomplishments as drawing, painting
and music. His interest in the languages and literatures of the East
was as keen as ever, but though he had already collected material for
several books he does not seem to have published anything prior to 1881.
He took his friends out everywhere in his four-in-hand, and they saw to
advantage some of the sights of Burton's younger days. With the bungalow
Mrs. Burton was in raptures. On the eve of the Tabut feast, she tells
us, the Duke of Sutherland (formerly Lord Stafford) joined the party;
and a number of boys dressed like tigers came and performed some native
dancing with gestures of fighting and clawing one another, "which," she
adds oddly, "was exceedingly graceful."
The principal event of this visit, however, was Burton's introduction
to that extraordinary and Diogenes-like scholar, Edward Rehatsek. Lady
Burton does not even mention Rehatsek's name, and cyclopaedias are
silent concerning him; yet he was one of the most remarkable men of his
time, and henceforward Burton was in constant communication with him.
Born on 3rd July 1819, at Illack, in Austria, Edward Rehatsek was
educated at Buda Pesth, and in 1847 proceeded to Bombay, where he
settled down as Professor of Latin and mathematics at Wilson College.
He retired from his professorship in 1871, and settled in a reed-built
native house, not so very much bigger than his prototype's tub, at
Khetwadi. Though he had amassed money he kept no servants, but went
every morning to the bazaar, and purchased his provisions, which he
cooked with his own hand. He lived frugally, and his dress was mean and
threadbare, nevertheless, this strange, austere, unpretentious man was
one of the greatest linguists of his time. Not only could he speak most
of the languages of the East, including Arabic and Persian, but he wrote
good idiomatic English. To his translations, and his connection with the
Kama Shastra Society, we shall refer later. He was visited in his humble
home only by his principal friend, Mr. Arbuthnot, and a few others,
including Hari Madhay Parangpe, editor of Native Opinion, to which he
was a contributor. The conversation of Rehatsek, Burton, and Arbuthnot
ran chiefly on Arbuthnot's scheme for the revival of the Royal Asiatic
Translation fund, and the translation of the more important Eastern
works into English; but some years were to elapse before it took shape.
On February 4th, Burton wrote to his cousin, St. George
Burton--addressing his letter, as he was continually on the move, from
Trieste. He says:
"My Dear Cousin, "You need not call me 'Captain Burton.' I am very sorry
that you missed Woolwich--and can only say, don't miss the Line. I don't
think much of Holy Orders, however, chacun a son gout. Many thanks for
the details about the will. Assist your mother in drawing up a list of
the persons who are heirs, should the girl die without a will. [288] Let
'the party' wash his hands as often as he pleases--cleanliness is next
to godliness. As the heir to a baronetcy [289] you would be worth ten
times more than heir to an Esquireship--in snobby England. Write to me
whenever you think that I can be of any service and let me be
"Yr. aff. cousin,
"R. F. Burton."
83. In Sind.
From Bombay, the Burtons journeyed to Karachi, which had grown from
3,000 to 45,000 [290] and could now boast fine streets and noble houses.
Here Burton regaled his eyes with the sights familiar to his youth; the
walks he had taken with his bull-terrier, the tank or pond where he used
to charioteer the "ghastly" crocodile, [291] the spot where he had met
the beautiful Persian, and the shops which had once been his own; while
he recalled the old familiar figures of hook-nosed Sir Charles
Napier, yellow-bearded Captain Scott, and gorgeously-accoutred General
J-J-J-J-J-J-Jacob. His most amusing experience was with a Beloch chief,
one Ibrahim Khan, on whom he called and whom he subsequently entertained
at dinner spread in a tent. [292] The guests, Sind fashion, prepared
for the meal by getting drunk. He thoroughly enjoyed it, however, and,
except that he made impressions with his thumb in the salt, upset his
food on the tablecloth, and scratched his head with the corkscrew,
behaved with noticeable propriety. Having transferred from the table
to his pocket a wine-glass and some other little articles that took his
fancy, he told his stock stories, including the account of his valour at
the battle of Meeanee, where at imminent risk of his life, he ran away.
Tea he had never before tasted, and on sampling a cup, he made a wry
face. This, however, was because it was too strong, for having diluted
it with an equal quantity of brandy, he drank it with relish.
After a visit to the battlefield of Meeanee [293] the Burtons returned
to Bombay in time for the feast of Muharram, and saw the Moslem miracle
play representing the martyrdom and death of Hassan and Hossein, the
sons of Ali. Then Mirza Ali Akbar, Burton's old munshi, called on them.
As his visiting card had been printed Mirza Ally Akbar, Burton enquired
insultingly whether his old friend claimed kin with Ally Sloper. In
explanation the Mirza said that the English were accustomed to spell his
name so, and as he did not in the least mind what he was called, he had
fallen in with the alteration.
84. Golconda.
On February 21st the Burtons left Bombay and journeyed by way of Poona
to Hyderabad, where they were hospitably entreated by Major Nevill, the
Commander-in-Chief of the Nizam's troops, and Sir Salar Jung, the Prime
Minister. They rode through the town on elephants, saw the Nizam's
palace, which was "a mile long and covered with delicate tracery," an
ostrich race, an assault-at-arms, and fights between cocks and other
creatures. At "Hyderabad," says Mrs. Burton, "they fight every kind of
animal." "A nautch," which Sir Salah gave in their honour, Mrs.
Burton found tame, for the girls did nothing but eat sweetmeats and
occasionally run forward and twirl round for a moment with a half-bold,
semi-conscious look. [294]
Then followed the visit to Golconda and its tombs of wax-like Jaypur
marble, with their arabesqued cupolas and lacery in stone. Here Burton
accumulated a good deal of miscellaneous information about diamond
mining, and came to the conclusion that the industry in India generally,
and especially in Golconda, had been prematurely abandoned; and
endeavoured by means of letters to the press and in other ways to enlist
the sympathies of the British capitalists. But everything that he wrote
on the subject, as on kindred subjects, has a distinctly quixotic ring,
and we fear he would not have been a very substantial pillar for the
British capitalist to lean against. He was always, in such matters, the
theorist rather than the practical man--in other words, the true son of
his own father.
The Burtons then returned to Bombay, which they reached in time to take
part in the celebrations in honour of the Prince of Wales, who had just
finished his Indian tour. Honouring the Guebres--the grand old Guebres,
as he used to call them--and their modern representatives, the Parsees,
Burton paid a visit to the Parsee "burying place"--the high tower where
the dead are left to be picked by vultures, and then he and his wife
left for Goa, where they enjoyed the hospitality and company of Dr.
Gerson Da Cunha, [295] the Camoens student and enthusiast.
Mrs. Burton was as disgusted with Goa as she had been charmed with
Dr. Da Cunha. She says, "Of all the God-forgotten, deserted holes, one
thousand years behind the rest of creation, I have never seen anything
equal it." They left India at the end of April, and were back again at
Trieste on June 18th.