85. Ariosto.
Shortly after his return from India, Burton commenced a translation of
the Orlando Furioso [296] of Ariosto, a poet, to whom, as we have seen,
he had been drawn ever since those far-off days when with his father and
the rest of the family he had meandered about Italy in the great yellow
chariot. Reggio, the poet's birthplace, and Ferrara, where the Orlando
Furioso was written and Ariosto died, were sacred spots to him; while
the terrific madness of the hero, the loves of Ruggiero and Bradamante
and the enchanted gardens with their Arabian Nights atmosphere, lapped
him in bliss much as they had done in the old days. Only a small portion
of this translation was ever finished, but he had it in mind all the
rest of his life, and talked about it during his last visit to England.
86. Death of Rashid Pasha, 24th June 1876.
In June came the news of the murder of Rashid Pasha; and a thousand
memories, sweet and bitter, thrilled the Burtons. Mrs. Burton recalled
that "cool and aromatic housetop," the jewel-blue Chrysorrhoa, the
saffron desert, and then it was "Oh, Rashid Pasha! Oh, Rashid Pasha!"
Still she found it in her woman's heart to forgive the detested old
enemy, now that he was gone, but Burton could not restrain a howl of
triumph such as might have become some particularly vindictive Bible
hero.
Writing on 24th June to his cousin, Dr. Edward John Burton, he says,
"We returned here on the 18th inst., and the first thing I heard was
the murder of my arch-enemy, Rashid Pasha. Serve the scoundrel right.
He prevented my going to Constantinople and to Sana'a, in Arabia. I knew
the murderous rascal too well to trust him. Maria wrote to me about poor
Stisted's death. [297] A great loss for Maria and the chicks. I suppose
you never see Bagshaw. [298] What news are there of him? Is Sarah
(What's her name? Harrison?) [299] still to the fore. It is, I fear,
useless to write anything about poor Edward [300] except to thank you
most heartily for your disinterested kindness to him. I will not bother
you about our journey, which was very pleasant and successful. You will
see it all, including my proposals for renewed diamond digging, written
in a book or books."
"United best love to my cousin and the cousinkins."
Burton made frequent enquiries after Edward, "Many thanks," he writes
on a post card, "for the news of my dear brother," and all his letters
contain tender and warm-hearted references to him.
87. Colonel Gordon 1877.
In July 1875, Burton heard from Colonel (afterwards General) Gordon, who
wanted some information about the country south of the Victoria Nyanza;
and the friendship which then commenced between these brilliant men was
terminated only by death. In every letter Gordon quoted Burton's motto,
"Honour, not honours," and in one he congratulated his friend on its
happy choice. For several years Gordon had been occupied under the
auspices of the Khedive, in continuing the work of administering the
Soudan, which had been begun by Sir Samuel Baker. He had established
posts along the Nile, placed steamers on the Albert Nyanza, and he
nursed the hope of being able to put an end to the horrid slave trade.
In January 1877, he was appointed by the Khedive Governor of the entire
Soudan. There were to be three governors under him, and he wrote to
Burton offering him the governor-generalship of Darfur, with L1,600 a
year. Said Gordon, "You will soon have the telegraph in your capital, El
Fasher.... You will do a mint of good, and benefit those poor people....
Now is the time for you to make your indelible mark in the world and in
these countries." [301]
Had such an offer arrived eight years earlier, Burton might have
accepted it, but he was fifty-seven, and his post at Trieste, though not
an agreeable one, was a "lasting thing," which the governor-generalship
of Darfur seemed unlikely to be. So the offer was declined. Gordon's
next letter (27th June 1877) contains a passage that brings the man
before us in very vivid colours. "I dare say," he observed, "you wonder
how I can get on without an interpreter and not knowing Arabic. I do not
believe in man's free will; and therefore believe all things are from
God and pre-ordained. Such being the case, the judgments or decisions
I give are fixed to be thus or thus, whether I have exactly hit off all
the circumstances or not. This is my raft, and on it I manage to float
along, thanks to God, more or less successfully." [302]
On another occasion Gordon wrote, "It is a delightful thing to be a
fatalist"--meaning, commented Burton, "that the Divine direction and
pre-ordination of all things saved him so much trouble of forethought
and afterthought. In this tenet he was not only a Calvinist but also a
Moslem." [303]
88. Jane Digby the Second.
The patent Pick-me-up having failed, and the Burtons being still in
need of money, other schemes were revolved, all more or less chimerical.
Lastly, Burton wondered whether it would be possible to launch an
expedition to Midian with a view to searching for gold. In ancient times
gold and other metals had been found there in abundance, and remains of
the old furnaces still dotted the country. Forty cities had lived by the
mines, and would, Burton averred, still be living by them but for the
devastating wars that had for centuries spread ruin and destruction. He,
reasoned, indeed, much as Balzac had done about the mines of Sardinia
as worked by the Romans, and from no better premises; but several of his
schemes had a distinctly Balzacian aroma, [304] as his friend Arbuthnot,
who was writing a life of Balzac, might have told him. Burton himself,
however, had no misgivings. His friend, Haji Wali, had indicated, it
seems, in the old days, the precise spot where the wealth lay, and
apparently nothing remained to be done except to go and fetch it.
Haji Wali had some excellent points. He was hospitable and good-natured,
but he was also, as Burton very well knew, cunning and untrustworthy.
The more, however, Burton revolved the scheme in his mind, the more
feasible it seemed. That he could persuade the Khedive to support him
he felt sure; that he would swell to bursting the Egyptian coffers and
become a millionaire himself was also taken for granted, and he said
half in earnest, half in jest, that the only title he ever coveted was
Duke of Midian. There were very eager ears listening to all this castle
building. At Trieste, Mrs. Burton had taken to her bosom another Jane
Digby--a creature with soft eyes, "bought blushes and set smiles." One
would have thought that former experiences would have made her cautious.
But it was not so. Mrs. Burton though deplorably tactless, was innocence
itself, and she accepted others at their own valuation. Jane Digby the
Second, who went in and out of the Burton's house as if she belonged to
it, was in reality one of the most abandoned women in Trieste. She was
married, but had also, as it transpired, an acknowledged lover.
Like women of that class she was extravagant beyond belief, and
consequently always in difficulties. Hearing the everlasting talk about
Midian and its supposed gold, the depraved woman [305] made up her mind
to try to detach Burton's affections from his wife and to draw them to
herself. To accomplish this she relied not only on the attractions of
her person, but also on glozing speeches and other feminine artifices.
Having easy access to the house she purloined private letters, papers
and other writings, and after all hope of recovery was over, she would
put them back. She slipped love letters, purporting to be from other
women, into Burton's pockets; and whenever Mrs. Burton brushed his coat
or dried his clothes she was sure to come upon them. Mrs. Burton also
received pseudonymous letters.
But whatever Mrs. Burton's faults, she, as we have seen, passionately
loved, trusted and even worshipped her husband; and whatever Burton's
faults, he thoroughly appreciated her devotion. They were quite
sufficient for each other, and the idea of anyone trying to come between
them seemed ludicrous. Consequently Mrs. Burton carried her letters to
her husband and he brought his to her. Amazing to say, neither of them
suspected the culprit, though Burton thought it must be some woman's
intrigue, and that need of money was the cause of it.
The real truth of it did not come out till after Burton's death, and
then the unhappy woman, who was near her end, made Lady Burton a full
confession, adding, "I took a wicked pleasure in your perfect trust in
me."
89. The Old Baronetcy. 18th January 1877.
Repeated enquiry now took place respecting the old baronetcy in the
Burton family, and Mrs. Burton in particular made unceasing efforts,
both in the columns of Notes and Queries and elsewhere, in order to
obtain the missing links. Several of Burton's letters at this period
relate to the subject. To Mrs. E. J. Burton, 18th January 1877, he
writes: "My dear cousin, I write to you in despair: That 'party,'
your husband, puts me off with a post-card to this effect, 'Have seen
W-----ll, no chance for outsiders,' and does not tell me a word more. I
wish you would write all you know about it. Another matter. Had the old
man left me his money or any chance of it, I should have applied for
permission to take up the old baronetcy. But now I shall not. Your
husband is the baronet and he can if he likes assume the "Sir" at once.
Why the devil doesn't he? Of course I advise him to go through the usual
process, which will cost, in the case of a baronetcy, very few pounds.
Neither he nor you may care for it, but think of the advantage it will
be to your children. Don't blink the fact that the British public are
such snobs that a baronet, even in the matrimonial market, is always
worth L50,000, and it is one of the oldest baronetcies in the kingdom.
Do take my advice and get it for your eldest son [St. George Burton]. As
I said before, your husband might assume it even without leave, but he
had better get 'the Duke' to sanction it. And don't fail to push the
man, who won't even claim what is his right. Que diable! Am I the
only article named Burton that has an ounce of energy in his whole
composition."