Bibliography:
80. Priapeia. 1890.
168. The Priapeia.
The share that Sir Richard Burton had in the translation of the Priapeia
has been the subject of dispute; but we are able to state positively
that he was the author of the metrical portion. Indeed, he made no
secret of it among his intimates. For some reason or other, however,
he did not wish to have his name publicly associated with it; so the
following passage was inserted in the preface: "The name of Sir Richard
Burton has been inadvertently connected with the present work. It is,
however, only fair to state that under the circumstances he distinctly
disclaims having taken any part in the issue." We have no other ground
for the assumption, but this passage seems to point to a quarrel of
some kind. It certainly does not alter the fact that every page bears
evidence of Burton's hand. The preface then goes on to say that "a
complete and literal translation of the works of Catullus, on the
same lines and in the same format as the present volume, is now in
preparation." A letter, however, written [621] by Burton to Mr. W. F.
Kirby, sets the matter entirely at rest. "I am at present," he says,
"engaged in translating the Priapeia, Latin verse, which has never
appeared in English, French, or German garb; it will have the merit of
novelty."
The Priapeia, in its Latin form Priapeia sine Diversoreun poetarum in
Priapum Lusus, is a work that has long been well known to scholars, and
in the 16th and 17th centuries editions were common. The translation
under consideration is entitled "Priapeia, or the Sportive Epigrams of
divers Poets on Priapus: the Latin text now for the first time Englished
in verse and prose (the metrical version by Outidanos) [Good for
Nothing], with Introduction, Notes, Explanatory and Illustrative and
Excursus, by Neaniskos [a young man]," whose name, we need hardly say,
is no secret.
The image of Priapus, the god of fruitfulness, was generally a grotesque
figure made of rough wood painted red and carrying a gardener's knife
and a cornucopia. Placed in a garden it was supposed to be a protection
against thieves. "In the earliest ages," observes the writer of the
preface, "the worship of the generative energy was of the most simple
and artless character... the homage of man to the Supreme Power, the
Author of Life.... Afterwards the cult became depraved. Religion became
a pretext for libertinism." Poets wrote facetious and salacious epigrams
and affixed them to the statues of the god--even the greatest writers
lending their pens to the "sport"--and eventually some nonentity
collected these scattered verses and made them into a book. Everybody
knows Catullus's contribution, which begins:
"A log of oak, some rustic's blade
Hewed out my shape; grotesquely made
I guard this spot by night and day,
Scare every vagrant knave away,
And save from theft and rapine's hand
My humble master's cot and land."
The chief complaint to be made against the writers of these verses is
that they so rarely strayed from their subject. The address entitled "A
Word to the Reader," is padded with citations from Burton's Camoens and
his Supplemental Nights, including the well-known passage concerning
his estimate of a translator's office, [622] and the whole work
bears evidence of extreme haste. We are assured that it will be "most
interesting to anthropologists and humanists."
169. Catullus and the Last Trip, July--September 1890.
Burton, as we have seen, had commenced his translation of Catullus, 18th
February 1890, at Hammam R'irha. He finished the first rough copy of
Trieste March 31st, and commenced a second copy on May 23rd. "He would
bring his Latin Catullus," says Lady Burton, "down to the table d'hote
with him, and he used to come and sit by me, but the moment he got a
person on the other side who did not interest him he used to whisper to
me 'Talk, that I may do my Catullus.'" "Sir Richard," says Mr.
Leonard Smithers, upon whom had devolved the task of making the
prose translation that was to accompany it, "laid great stress on the
necessity of thoroughly annotating each translation from an erotic and
especially pederastic point of view." [623]
On July 1st the Burtons, accompanied as usual by Dr. Baker, Lisa and the
magpie trunk, set out on what proved to be their last trip--a journey
through the Tyrol and Switzerland. They arrived at Zurich just in time
for "the great Schiefs-Statte fete, the most important national function
of Switzerland," which was held that year at the neighbouring town of
Frauenfeld. Seven thousand pounds had been set aside for prizes for
shooing, and forty thousand persons were present. Next day there was
a grand Consular dinner, to which Burton was invited. Dr. Baker having
expressed regret that he also had not been included, Burton remarked,
"Oh, I'll manage it. Write a letter for me and decline." So a letter was
written to the effect that as Sir Richard Burton made it a rule not to
go anywhere without his medical attendant he was obliged to decline
the honour, &c., &c. Presently, as had been expected, came another
invitation with Dr. Baker's name added. Consequently they went, and a
very grand dinner it proved--lasting, by Lady Burton's computation, six
hours on end. At St. Mortiz-Kulm, and often after, they met Canon Wenham
of Mortlake, with whom both Sir Richard and Lady Burton had long been on
terms of friendship.
170. At Maloja, July 1890.
At Davos they found John Addington Symonds, and at Maloja Mr. Francis
R. S. Wyllie, Mr. and Mrs. (Sir and Lady) Squire Bancroft, the Rev. Dr.
Welldon and Mr. and Mrs. (Sir and Lady) Henry Stanley. Mrs. Stanley,
apparently at Lady Burton's suggestion, took a sheet of paper and wrote
on it, "I promise to put aside all other literature, and, as soon as I
return to Trieste, to write my autobiography." Then doubling the paper
she asked for Burton's autograph; and her request having been complied
with, she showed him what he had put his hand to. The rest of the
company signed as witnesses.
For some days, though it was early autumn, the party was snow-bound, and
Burton relieved the wearisomeness of the occasion by relating some of
his adventures. Mrs. Bancroft told him many amusing stories as they
walked together in a sheltered covered way.
"He had interested me so greatly," writes Lady Bancroft to me, [624]
"that I felt myself in his debt, and so tried by that means to make it
up to him. He laughed heartily at them. Indeed, I never knew anyone who
more enjoyed my stories. One morning early I played a practical joke
upon him. He politely raised his hat and said: 'I will forgive you, dear
friend, on one condition. Play the same trick on Stanley when he comes
down and I will watch.' I agreed, and fortunately brought down my
second bird. Both victims forgave me. One day I posed the Burtons, the
Stanleys, Captain Mounteney Jephson (Stanley's friend and companion),
with Salah (Stanley's black servant) for a photograph, which was taken
by a young clergyman. I have the delightful result in my possession. I
remember on a splendid morning, when the weather had mended and the sun
was dancing over a neighbouring glacier, my husband saying to the
black boy, 'Salah, isn't this a lovely day--don't you like to see the
beautiful sun again?' 'No, sir,' was the answer, 'ice makes him cold.'
Both Stanley and Sir Richard interested me more than I can say; they
were wonderful personalities, and those were, indeed, happy days."
Almost every day during the trip Sir Richard brought the Catullus to the
table d'hote, and on 21st July he had finished his second copy. He then
wrote in the margin, "Work incomplete, but as soon as I receive Mr.
Smithers' prose, I will fill in the words I now leave in stars, in order
that we may not use the same expressions, and I will then make a third,
fair and complete copy." [625] During this trip, too, Burton very kindly
revised the first half of Dr. Baker's work The Model Republic. The
second half was revised by John Addington Symonds after Burton's death.
Burton was back again at Trieste on 7th September. He and the magpie
trunk were never again to make a journey together. The melancholy fate
of the Catullus, which Burton had put aside in order that he might
finish The Scented Garden, will be recorded in a later chapter.
171. The Golden Ass.
Another work that Burton left unfinished was a translation of The Golden
Ass of Apuleius--a work known to Englishmen chiefly by Bohn's edition,
[626] and the renderings of the episode of Cupid and Psyche by Adlington
and Walter Pater (in Marius the Epicurean). The manuscript of Burton's
translation is now in the possession of M. Charles Carrington, the Paris
publisher, who is arranging for its completion by a competent hand. The
portions due to Burton will, of course, be indicated. These consist of
"The Author's Intent," about two pages small 4to; nearly all the story
of Cupid and Psyche; and fragments of Books 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 and 11.
[627]
On 30th September Burton wrote again to Mr. W. F. Kirby. "Your
collaboration," he says, "has been most valuable to me. Your knowledge
of Folk Lore is not only ample, it is collected and controlled by the
habit of accuracy which Science gives and which I find in all your
writings upon imaginative subjects.... Let me hope that new scenes will
not cause you to forget old subjects, and remind you of the infinite
important fact that I am a subscriber to the Kalevala."