CHAPTER VI.

ON LEAVE IN LONDON.

[Sidenote: _A Remarkable Visit_.]

Then Richard gave a lecture at the Architects', and we made up a party

to go. We had a very curious visit one night from a gentleman who had

occupied a position in one of the Government offices. He was very well

known, and had had some malady of the brain, so I shall not name him

for fear that I should hurt any of his relatives or friends. We had

not met before, but he said he came on business, and appeared to be

a Spiritualist of high degree. We were just going down to an eight

o'clock dinner--rather a large family party--and as the butler showed

him into the dining-room, I could not do otherwise than say, "We are

just going to sit down to dinner; will you take some?" He accepted

very readily. When my father, who was a very old man, came down, I

introduced him, and said, "Father, Mr. So-and-so has kindly consented

to stay and dine with us." "Oh, I am very happy," said my father. The

family all flocked down and fell into their seats, and dinner went on

very well till about the second course, and then, looking round the

table and seeing nearly all of us had aquiline noses, he said, "What a

treat it is to me to be with Rosicrucians once more!" My father nudged

Richard, and whispered, "What does he mean?" "I don't know," said

Richard, with an amused smile.

Presently Mr. ---- pointed at me, and said, "You have been a Queen

countless times, and an Empress seven times, and you will be again; and

also your sister" (pointing to Blanche Pigott, who was exactly like me,

and is now dead) "has been very often a Queen, and will be an Empress."

There was a little pause after this. Father began to look rather

frightened. Mr. ---- went on to say that he hated people with snub

noses, and described how he fell amongst a party of that common ilk,

and how they had treated him--how they had put him under a pump till

he was nearly dead, and had tied him down, and several other acts with

which we are all familiar from reading. After dinner he asked Richard

for a map of Midian, and taking it, he marked all the spots where the

best gold existed, and the different spots which contained anything

valuable, and what they were, and said that was what he came for (I

have it now).

He then said he would like to brew a bowl of Rosicrucian punch, and

requested us to order a bottle of brandy, two bottles of rum, and

several other things to be brought to him, and he did brew the punch;

and when he gave us each some, we all put it down and said, "I cannot

drink that, for I feel it to the very tips of my fingers." He said,

"That is just what you _ought_ to feel; it is how the Rosicrucians

always felt." He prescribed for all of us, and I remember one

gentleman, who had rather a red nose, was directed to rub the tip

of it with cantharides. We could not ask him to go, but at eleven

o'clock my father retired, and we stayed up with him till two o'clock;

but in spite of having drunk all the punch himself, as we found it

_impossible_, he was perfectly sober, agreeable, and gentlemanly, and

took his leave and went away.

My father was very angry with me for asking a lunatic to dinner, which

of course I had done quite unconsciously, but it was worse for me when,

next morning, he arrived for half-past one lunch, quite naturally

"delighted to find again his new Rosicrucian family." He told us that

he lived at Primrose Hill, that the last night he had been borne there

on air in a few minutes, and that his feet had never touched the ground

the whole way. But what _did_ touch us immensely was, that he said

that "last night he had not known where to look for a dinner, and the

spirits had directed him to our house, and had urged him to come back

on the present occasion." We were all very nice and kind to him; but it

had such effect on my father's nerves, he being very aged, that we had

to tell the butler to say, when he called again, that Richard and I had

gone into the country--as it was _us_ he had come ostensibly to see. I

have still about twenty very clever letters that he wrote us.

[Sidenote: _On Leave in London_.]

All this time--the end of 1878, early 1879--the minerals were being

assayed. Richard had not packed his own minerals; there were cases

for France, and cases for England. Frenchmen had the selection of

them, and Richard's cases did not give such good results as were

expected. We could not understand it, but _he_ knew that the mineral

was in the ground, and he determined on the following Expedition to

choose and send his _own_ specimens, and prove a very different tale.

In early January Richard got an attack of pleurodynia, from which he

very speedily recovered. Dr. George Bird attended him. Amongst other

friends, we saw a good deal of Hepworth Dixon. We also went down to

Hatfield; Lady Salisbury had a house party. Richard gave lectures at

9, Conduit Street. On the 22nd of January he gave his lecture to the

Anthropological.

On Sundays we used to visit the studios; oftenest to Mr. Val Prinsep's

and Sir Frederick Leighton's.

We spent a delightful day with Richard's old friend, Mr. John Larking,

"The Firs," Lee, Kent, and his family, who lived in half-Oriental

style, so that it seemed like a day back at Damascus. We also saw a

great deal of Dr. Percy Badger, who was always delighted (and his

wife too) to get hold of Richard. Dr. Badger turned an old kitchen

into a comfortable studio, and there we used to find him, working

hard at his Dictionary. Mr. Henry Irving gave us a delightful supper

at 15A, Grafton Street. We went to Bethnal Green to look at the Free

Library, and saw the Museum. We frequently had many pleasant dinners

and evenings at my father's, where people would come accidentally as

a pleasant surprise. One night came Lord Houghton, Lord Arundell, Mr.

F. F. Arbuthnot, and Uncle Gerard; it is noted because it was a very

amusing evening.

On the 21st of February my book, "A.E.I.," came out. My publisher,

Mr. Mullan, was so pleased with it that he gave a large party in its

honour. We were seventeen invited. Mr. Mullan, being an Irishman,

ordered that everything on the table should be an Irish dish. A pyramid

of my books was in the middle of the table, one to be given to each

guest, which was a very pretty thought. The notables were my husband,

Lord Houghton, Mr. Irving, and Arthur Sketchley. There were a great

many short, friendly speeches made; the gaieties began at eleven and

terminated at five. We had a very pleasant dinner at General and Mrs.

Paget's, and a visit from Mr. Joyner, C.E., our old friend from Poonah,

and from the Montalbas, whom we had known in Venice. We came in also

for three of Lady Salisbury's Foreign Office parties, one at Lady

Derby's, and several parties at Lady Margaret Beaumont's.

On the 23rd of March, 1879, we drove down to Mortlake, where I now

live, to see the graves of my mother, and the uncle and brother who had

died in 1877. We called on Canon Wenham, who afterwards buried Richard

in 1891, and we went to look over the old house where my two aunts had

lived so many years and died.

On the 27th I went to the Drawing-room. We resumed writing and reading

part of Richard's memoirs. He also commenced writing letters to the

papers as Mirza Ali of London to his brother, Mirza Hasan of Shiraz,

describing what he saw in England; but, to his disappointment, they did

not take. He also wrote and published "A Visit to Lissa and Pelagosa;"

"Sosivizha, the Bandit of Dalmatia," translated from the Slav; two

papers on Midian, "Stones and Bones from Egypt and Midian;" "Flints

from Egypt;" Reports on two Expeditions to Midian; "The Itineraries of

the Second Khedivial Expedition;" "Report upon the Minerals of Midian."

One evening we had a masquerade dinner-party; everybody was to come

in some fancy dress, which was to be a surprise, and it was a great

amusement. Richard appeared as an Australian miner, I as Carmen; there

were huntsmen and Highlanders, and all sorts of funny people. There

seemed to be great astonishment in the street as the cabs in April kept

discharging their visitors at half-past seven.

We went to see Lord Archibald Douglas's (the English Don Bosco) Home

for Boys in Harrow Road.

In our early married life Richard had amongst his papers the following,

which was written between whiles in Somali-land and the Crimea, but

he never put them forward, nor should I do so, though perhaps it will

serve as a good map to his thoughts. But this year, in 1879, he gave a

copy of the Agnostic side only to a mutual woman-friend who is of that

persuasion, and she _now_ says, that to be _perfectly fair_, I ought to

bring it out--and I am nothing if not fair--nor do I see any reason or

object in being otherwise. She kindly lent me her copy, but after much

search in his private papers I have found his original, which I used to

chaff him unmercifully about, as his "Double Ten Commandments."

"EGO."

mapped out

The Frontiers

closed down upon open to the higher air

1. The so-called bad 1. The so-called good

2. The material part of me 2. The spiritualistic part

of me

3. Body 3. Soul

4. Nature 4. Grace

5. Reason 5. Heart

6. The outside of me 6. Inside of me

7. Mind and Matter 7. Faith

8. The World I live on 8. Home

I. I.

Intellectual Truth is one; Moral A Supreme Being.

or sentimental Truth varies with the

individual.

II. II.

Revealed religions consist of three The Trinity, Father, Son,

parts, all more or less untrue. (1) A and Holy Ghost.

Cosmogony more or less absurd. (2)

An Historical sketch, more or less

falsified. (3) A System of morality

more or less pure.

III. III.

The Higher Law of Humanity bids Jesus Christ, born of the

us cast off the slough of old creeds, Virgin Mary.

especially the obsolete and the debasing

doctrine of degradation; the Fall of

Man, Original Sin, Redemption, Salvation,

and so forth.

IV. IV.

Reason, while suggesting the idea Salvation and Hope.

of a First Cause, a God, forbids us, in

the present stage of humanity, to

inquire further into the subject.

V. V.

The description of the Devil and Good and bad deeds and

his Angels, of Hell, Heaven, and expiation.

Purgatory given by "Revealed Religions"

are equally dishonouring to the Creator,

and debasing to the Creature, if at least

the latter be the work of the former.

VI. VI.

Death, physically considered, is not The Catholic Church and

annihilation, but change. Sacraments.

VII. VII.

Man's individuality, his Ego, survives Resurrection of body and

the death of the body. Soul.

VIII. VIII.

To most races of men, the idea of Communion with the Saints

annihilation is painful, whilst that of and the Dead.

eternal parting is too heavy to be

borne.

IX. IX.

A next world, a continuation of Passing over al-Sirat, the

this world, is against our Reason, but bridge as fine as a hair, to

it is supported by sentiment, and by El Mathar, or Purgatory--to

the later traditions of both the Aryan Heaven.

and the Semitic races.

X. X.

The only idea of continuation acceptable Hell--Eternity.[1]

to man, is that the future

world is a copy of this world, whilst

the law of Progress suggests that it is

somewhat less material and not subject

to death or change.

[Sidenote: _We leave London--I get a Bad Fall_.]

Richard now, intending to make a little tour, and to meet me at Trieste

in two or three weeks, went to Hamburg, to Berlin, and to Leipzig to

see Tauchnitz, and to Dresden. I packed up and started on my journey

Triestewards. As I was about to get into the cab at my father's door a

beggar woman asked me for charity, and I gave her a shilling, and she

said, "God bless you, and may you reach your home without an accident!"

These words made an impression on me afterwards. I slept in Boulogne

that night, and went on to Paris the following day. The day after, the

30th of April, I ordered a _voiture de place_, and was going out to do

a variety of visits and commissions. They had been waxing the stairs

till they were as slippery as ice. I had heels to my boots, and I took

one long slide from the top of the stairs to the bottom, with my leg

doubled under me, striking my head and my back on every stair. When

I arrived at the bottom I was unconscious, picked up, and taken back

to bed. When I came to I said, "I have no time to lose. Don't send

the carriage away; I must get my work done and go on;" but, when I

attempted to get out of bed, I fell on the floor and fainted again. A

doctor was fetched, I was undressed, my boot and stocking had to be cut

away; the whole of my leg was as black as ink, and so swollen that at

first the doctor thought it was broken. However, it proved to be only a

bad sprain and a twisted ankle.

Instead of stopping there six weeks, as the doctor said I must, I had

myself bound up and conveyed to the Gare de Lyons on the fourth day,

where, with a _wagon-lit_, I arrived at Turin in twenty-four hours.

There I had to be conveyed to the hotel, being too bad to go on; but

next day I insisted on being packed up again, and having another

_coupé-lit_ in the train to Mestre. I suffered immensely from the heat,

for the first time since leaving England. At Mestre I had to wait four

hours in the wretched station, sitting on a chair with my leg hanging

down, which gave me intense pain, and then to embark in the _Post-Zug_,

a slow train, where there were no _coupé-lits_ to be had, arriving

at half-past eight in the morning, where I found Richard waiting to

receive me on the platform, and I was carried home and put into my own

bed. In spite of pain I was as charmed as ever with the run down from

Nabresina to dear old Trieste.

I cannot say how thankful I was to be safe and sound in my own home at

Trieste with Richard, and how sweet were the welcomes, and the flowers,

and the friends' visits. I was a very long time before I could leave

my bed. It was found that I had injured my back and my ankle very

badly, and I went through a long course of shampooing and soap baths,

but I never got permanently quite well. Strong health and nerves I

had hitherto looked upon as a sort of right of nature, and supposed

everybody had them, and had never felt grateful for them as a blessing;

but I began to learn what suffering was from this date. Richard took me

up to Opçina for a great part of the summer, and used to invite large

parties of friends up to dinner. We used to dine out in the lit-up

gardens in the evening, overlooking the sea, which was very pleasant;

and often itinerant Hungarian gypsy bands would come in and play. This

summer we had the usual annual _fête_ for the cause of humanity, and

speeches and giving of prizes.

"GOLD IN MIDIAN.

"To the Editor of the _Globe_.

"Sir,--The _Globe_ of the 25th of May has printed from the _Sheffield

Telegraph_ a very serious misstatement on the subject of the

twenty-five tons of mineral brought by Captain Burton from Midian,

and I beg you to allow me a little space to refute it. The moment

a lion leaves a place the jackals generally set up a bark; we left

Egypt only on the 12th of May. There is a Spanish proverb which

says, 'No one ever pelts a tree unless there is fruit upon it;' if

this discovery were worth so little as its enemies assert, no one

would take the trouble to attack it. We are only too glad to court

discussion, but we want truth. Captain Burton will have to suffer for

Midian what M. de Lesseps had to go through for his canal. There are

plenty of drowning men in Cairo, who are only too happy to catch at

any straw. Let me note the two principal blunders in the _Sheffield

Telegraph_. Firstly, Captain Burton reported to his Highness the

Khedive, and to the public, only what the Egyptian Government's own

geologist and engineer, appointed by them to the Expedition, reported

(of course, officially) to Captain Burton, and to the Government in

whose employ he (M. George Marie) is. Secondly, close examinations and

analysis show none of the evil results mentioned in the _Sheffield

Telegraph_. On arriving in Trieste, Captain Burton was careful to have

his own little private collection analyzed by Dr. L. Karl Moser, an

able professor of geology, who declares that the turquoises are not

malachites, but pure crystals of turquoise. Moreover, he has found

metals in three several rocks where, till now, they were not known

to exist--dendritic gold in chalcedony; silver lead in a peculiar

copper-bearing quartz, and possibly in the red veins traversing the

gypsum; and, lastly, worked coppers in obsidian slag. In fact, the

collection has only gained, and will gain, by being scientifically

examined. The Khedive has sent a quantity of each sort of mineral

to London for analysis, and as soon as Captain Burton receives a

telegram from his secretary, in whose charge it is, to say that it

has arrived, he will, if permitted, hasten home to superintend the

operation personally, and forward the official report to his Highness

the Khedive. Meanwhile we only ask every one to suspend judgment till

the results are known, instead of publishing and believing every

gossiping bit of jealousy and intrigue that may issue from Cairo,

thereby injuring the interest of future companies, of his Highness,

and of Egypt, and lastly, but not least, casting a slight upon the

noble and arduous work of my husband.

"I have the honour to be, sir, yours obediently,

"ISABEL BURTON.

"Her Britannic Majesty's Consulate, Trieste, May 30."

[Sidenote: _The Austrian Scientific Congress_.]

From Opçina we went to Sessana, a village about half an hour's drive in

the interior, which is very good for the nerves, and from there back

to Adelsberg, and thence to Laibach. There was a scientific Congress

(like our British Association) at the Redouten Sala, and lectures on

the Pfalbauten, tumuli, etc., a public dinner, a country excursion, and

then a concert and supper, which exhausted me considerably, and these

things went on for two or three days.

We visited the Pfalbauten, the excavated villages built upon piles in

a peat country, and all the treasures excavated therefrom. Richard was

received with great honour, surrounded by all the Austrian scientists.

The Pfalbauten, or Pine villages, yielded excavations, which

illustrated the whole age of Horn that preceded the age of Stone, and

weapons made of Uchatius metal, which is wrongly called _bronze-steel_.

It is compressed bronze and easily cuts metal. This settles the old

dispute of how the Egyptians did such work with copper and bronze.

Richard then took me on to Graz, where we saw a good deal of Brugsch

Bey. Then we went to Baden, near Vienna, where I had twenty-one days'

bathing and drinking, which we varied with excursions to Vienna,

sometimes to breakfast with Colonel Everard Primrose, to see people,

and to hunt up swords in the Museum for Richard's "Sword" book. We went

to Professor Benedict, nerve specialist, where Richard had his back

electrified for lumbago. Mr. Egerton and Everard Primrose accompanied

us to a place we were very fond of making an excursion to, Vöslau, and

then back to Baden with us.

On the 31st of May I find in Richard's journal, "Poor Tommy Short dead,

ninety years old;" he was his master at Oxford. After Richard's death I

found one of the Rev. Thomas Short's cards kept amongst his treasures.

One day we had a delightful journey over the Semmering to Fröhnleiten.

The Badhaus was on a terrace, with the running river under it in

front, a plain and grand mountains all around. The night air was

perfectly delightful, with a beautiful starlight. We had gone there to

see the family of Mr. Brock, our dear old Vice-Consul. We then went to

Römerbad. The Pension Sophien Schloss was beautifully situated, and we

were well lodged. The baths there are like a gentle electric battery

for nerves--the water turns a magnet a hundred and thirty-five degrees;

the woods are lovely; the forestfull of squirrels come and play about

you. We had delightful walks, and visits from several friends in the

neighbourhood, Prince and Princess Wrede and others.

We had a most charming family of neighbours, who were some of our

best friends in Trieste; they had a lovely property, an old castle

called Weixelstein, near Steinbrück (Monsieur and Madame Gutmansthal

de Benvenuti). He was a Trieste-Italian gentleman, and she was the

daughter of a Russian, by an American wife, and is far away the most

charming woman I know, and so clever. Their place is to be got at

through a mountain gorge, and a river which you cross by ferry-boats.

It is an old-fashioned-monastery-like-looking house in a gorge, with

the river Save running through its park, and here we paid frequent

visits. We had a pleasant excursion also to Mark Tüffer; a delightful

moonlight drive back.

[Sidenote: _A Ghost Story_.]

After we had been there about a fortnight, the _avant courier_ of the

Crown Princess of Germany, now Empress Frederick, came to engage rooms.

Seeing that her Imperial Highness wished to be _incog._, that I was

the only Englishwoman there, and had been presented to her, that I had

got the only rooms in the place that were very nice, that I had the

only bath, we thought it would be good taste to vanish, which we did

next morning, and we went to our friends at Weixelstein. They received

so perfectly, making us at home, like part of the family, and they

let us do exactly what we liked without any effort at entertaining.

Here Madame Gutmansthal, who is a first-rate artist amongst many other

talents, began to paint Richard's picture, which was a great success,

and which is now on view at the Grosvenor Gallery, in the little room

to the left, with a pretty bronze medallion by Henry Page. Meantime he

translated the Weixelstein ghost story from Old German to English, as

he was very much taken with it. He writes--

[Illustration: SIR RICHARD BURTON IN 1879. By Madame Gutmansthal de

Benvenuti (Trieste).]

"VERITABLE AND SINGULAR ACCOUNT OF AN APPARITION, AND THE SAVING

OF A SOUL, IN CASTLE WEIXELSTEIN, IN KRAIN.

"I send you one of the best ghost-stories, and one which your

readers have certainly never seen. We were lately paying a visit

to the Castle of Weixelstein, near Steinbrück, Krain (Carniola),

the country-house of our hospitable friends Monsieur and Madame

Gutmansthal de Benvenuti. My attention was drawn to two old and portly

folios, entitled 'Die Ehre des Herzogthum's Krain'('The Honour of the

Dutchy of Carniola'). An awful title-page of forty-six lines declares

that it was written by Johann Weichard, Freiherr (Baron) Valvásor, or

Walvásor, Lord of Wazemberg, and printed at Laibach in M.DC.LXXXIX.

[Illustration.]

"The author, a Fellow R. Soc. London, who was Governor of the Duchy

and Captain of the Frontier, then an important post, is portrayed with

long hair, _à la Milton_, shaven face, and laced cravat (Croatian)

falling over his breastplate. The book is full of curious episodes,

and above I give you the 'tune' it recommends for catching crabs.

Amongst other things it gives a valuable disquisition on the bell

(lib. xi.), which it dates from the days of Saint Jerome (A.D. 400).

Volume I., which is historical, contains 836 pages (lib. i.-viii.);

Volume II., 1007 (lib. ix.-xv.), besides the register (appendix,

index, etc.). It is profusely illustrated by the author's hand with

maps and plans, genealogies and coats of arms, scenery and castles,

costumes and portraits; and, lastly, with representations of battles,

sieges, hangings, roastings, and hurlings headlong from rocks. The

tailpiece is a duello between a Christian man-at-arms and a 'turban'd

Turk.' The plates are on metal, and remarkably good. A new edition of

this notable old historic-topographical monograph is now being issued

from Laibach (Labacus). 'Carniola antiqua et nova,' is happy in her

'Memoirs;' Valvásor has a rival in Johann Ludovicus Schönleben, whose

folio appeared Labaci M.DC.LXXXI., Œmoniæ Labaci Conditæ, MM.DCCC.IV.

Of the latter, however, only the Tomus Primus, ending about A.D. 1000,

appeared: the Secundus was not printed, and the fate of the manuscript

is unknown.

"Valvásor gives a view of Castle Weixelstein, 'Cherry-tree Rock,'

which the Slavs call Novi Dvor (New Court). There is some change in

the building since 1689. The square towers at the angles appear lower,

from the body of the house having been raised. The _hof_, or hollow

court to the south, has been surrounded by a second story; and the

fine linden-tree in the centre is a stump, bearing a large flower-pot.

The scene of the apparition is a low room with barred windows and

single-arched ceiling, which is entered by the kitchen, the first door

to the right of the main gate. The old families mentioned in the story

have mostly disappeared. Enough of preliminary.

"The following is a literal translation of Valvásor's Old German:

"'_Veritable and Singular Account of an Apparition, and the Saving of a

Soul, in Castle Weixelstein, in Krain._

"'At the castle above-named, strange noises (_rumor_) were heard

during the night for several years; but the origin of the same was

a subject of (vain) research and speculation. After a time a new

servant-wench (_mensch_), engaged in the house, whose name was

Ankha (i.e. _Anna_) Wnikhlaukha, had the courage, on hearing these

mysterious sounds, to address the ghost in the following manner:--

"'The 15th of January, A.D. 1684.--Firstly, at night a noise arose in

the servant-wenches' room, as though some one were walking about clad

in iron armour and clanking chains. The women being sorely frightened,

some stable-hands were brought to sleep with them. They were struck

upon the head, and one was like to die of terror.

"'The 16th January.--In the evening, as the lights still burnt, a

rapping was heard at the room door, but when they went to see what

caused it, nothing was found. Presently those inside put out the

lamps, and lay down to rest. Thereupon began a loud clatter; the two

servant-wenches, Marinkha (Marian) Samanoukha and Miza (Mitza, Mary)

Sayeschankha, were seized by the head, but they could distinguish no

one near them.'

"The whole account is strictly 'spiritualistic.' Ankha is the chosen

medium, and nothing is done till she appears on the scene. The ghost

will hardly answer the officious and garrulous steward; and has

apparently scant respect for the reverend men who were called in.

One of the latter somewhat justified the ghost's disdain by telling

a decided 'fib.' The steps by which the apparition changes from hot

to cold, from weariness to energy, from dark to white robes, and from

loud noises to mild, are decidedly artistic.

"'_On the 17th of January nothing happened._

"'On the 18th, the servant-wenches being in great fear, five others

joined them. One, Hansche Juritschkno Suppan, put out the light when

all lay down, locked the door, and endeavoured to sleep. Thereupon

arose a dreadful noise. After it had ended, Ankha, by the advice of

those present, thus bespake the ghost:

"'"All good spirits, praise the Lord."

"'(This is the recognized formula throughout Germany for addressing

apparitions.)

"'The ghost answered, "I also; so help me God, and Our Blessed Lady,

and the holy Saint Anthony of Padua!"

"'Anna resumed, "What wantest thou, O good spirit?"

"'The ghost replied, "I want thirty _Masses_." It added, "This castle

was once mine," and it disappeared.

"'_On the 19th of January the ghost was present, but nothing unusual

occurred._

"'_On the evening of the 20th,_ the servant-wenches being still

affrighted, the steward (Schreiber), one Antoni Glanitschinigg, and

the man Hansche, before mentioned, with six other persons, were in

the chamber. When all lay down to rest, the steward locked the door

and put out the lamp. The ghost at once came and violently dragged a

chair backwards. Whereupon quoth Antoni: "I confess that I am a great

sinner; nevertheless, I dare address thee, and ask thee, in God's

name, what more dost thou want?"

"'To this question no answer was vouchsafed by the ghost, although

the steward repeated it a second time and a third time. He then rose

up and advanced towards the apparition, which was seen standing near

the window, thinking to discover whether it was a true ghost, or some

person playing a trick. It vanished, however, before he could lay hand

upon it. The steward went out with one of the servant-wenches to fetch

a light; and, whilst so doing, he heard the ghost speaking in the room

he had left. When the lamp came nothing was found. Then all those

present knelt down and prayed. After their devotions the light was

extinguished, and the ghost reappeared, crying out, with weeping and

wailing, "Ankha! Ankha! Ankha! help me." The wench asked, "How can I

help thee, O good spirit?" Whereupon the ghost rejoined, "With thirty

Masses, which must be said at the altar of St. Anthony, in the church

of Jagnenz," which church is in the parish of Schäffenberg.'

"Jagnenz is a church in the valley of the Sapotka, a small stream

which falls into the Save river, about half a mile west of

Weixelstein. Schäffenberg is the hereditary castle of the well-known

county of that name. Wrunikh is another little church, remarkably

pretty, near Weixelstein. Apparently the ghost served to 'run' Jagnenz

against all its rivals.

"'Hearing these words from the ghost, the steward again inquired, "O

thou good spirit, would it not be better to get the Masses said sooner

by dividing them, part at Jagnenz, the other at the altar of Saint

Anthony in Wrunikh?" Whereto the ghost made an answer, "No! Ankha!

Ankha! only at Jagnenz, and not at Wrunikh!" The steward continued,

"As this ghost refuseth to answer me, do thou, Ankha, ask it what and

why it suffers, etc." Then Ankha addressed it: "My good spirit! tell

me wherefore dost thou suffer?" It replied, "For that I unrighteously

used sixty gulden (florins); so I, a poor widow body, must endure this

penalty." Ankha further said, "Who shall pay for these thirty Masses?"

The ghost rejoined, "The noble master" (of the castle), and continued,

"Ankha! Ankha! I am so weary, and dead-beat, and martyred, that I can

hardly speak."

"'Then cried the steward, "My good spirit! when the thirty Masses

shall have been said, come back and give us a sign that they have

helped thee." The ghost rejoined, "Ankha, to thee I will give a sign

upon thy head." Ankha replied, "God have mercy upon me, that must

endure such fright and pain!" But the ghost thus comforted her: "Fear

not, Ankha. The sign which I will show to thee shall not be visible

upon thy head, nor shall it be painful." It added, "Ankha! Ankha! I

pray thee, when thou enterest into any house, tell the inmates that

one unjust kreutzer (farthing) eats up twenty just kreutzers." Then

the ghost began to scratch the wench's cap, or coif; and she, in her

terror, took to praying for help. The ghost comforted her, bade her

feel no fear or anxiety, took leave (_sic_), and was seen no more that

night.

"'_Late on the 21st of January_ the ghost reappeared, and made a

terrible noise with a chair in presence of the lord of the castle,

Sigmund Wilhelm Freiherr, (Baron) von Zetschekher, and of two

ecclesiastics, Georg André Schlebnikh and Lorenz Tsichitsch. Several

others, men and women, were present, and nothing took place till the

candles were put out. Whereupon the said Schlebnikh began to exorcise

the apparition, beginning with the usual formula, "All good spirits,

praise the Lord." The ghost replied, "I also." It would not, however,

answer any questions put by the ghostly man, but began to speak with

Ankha, saying, "Ankha, help me!" She rejoined, "My dear good spirit,

all that lies in my power will I do for thee; only tell me, my spirit,

if the two Masses already said have in any way lessened thy pain."

The ghost answered, "Yea, verily" (_freilich_). Ankha continued,

"How many more Masses must thou still have?" and the reply was,

"Thirty, less two." Then Ankha resumed, "Oh, my good spirit, tell me

thy family name." Quoth the ghost, "My name is Gallenbergerinn." The

wench further asked for a sign of salvation when all the thirty Masses

should have been said; the ghost promised to do so, and disappeared.

"'_On the night of the 22nd of January,_ when the lights were put

out, the ghost reappeared, passing through the shut and tied door.

This was in presence of Wollf Engelbrecht, Baron Gallen, of the lord

of the castle, and of three priests, namely, Georg Schiffrer, curate

of Laagkh, Georg André Schlebnikh, and Lorenz. There were several

others. This time the ghost did not make a frightful noise as before,

the reason being that eight Masses had been said. So at least it

appeared from its address, "Ankha, Ankha, I thank thee; I shall soon

be released." The wench rejoined, "O my good spirit, dost thou feel

any comfort after the eight Masses?" The apparition replied, "Yea,

verily, my Ankha;" and, when asked how many were wanted, answered,

"Twenty-two." As it had declared its family name, it was now prayed

to disclose its Christian name, in order that the latter might be

introduced into the Masses by the four reverends. It said, "My name is

Mary Elizabeth Gallenbergerinn." Further it was asked whether, being a

Gallenberg, the thirty Masses should be paid by the Lord of Gallenberg

or by "Zetschkher" of Weixelstein. It ejaculated, "Zetschkher"

(without giving the title); and added, "A thousand, thousand, and a

thousand thanks to thee, dear Ankha." The latter said, "O my good

spirit, tell me what wrong didst thou do with the sixty gulden, that

we may make restoration to the rightful owner." The ghost replied,

"Ankha, this must I tell thee in secret." The wench begged that the

matter might be disclosed in public, so that men might believe it; but

the ghost answered, "No, Ankha; in private." It then took leave and

disappeared, promising to come back for three more evenings.

"'On the 23rd of January the lord of the castle, with three priests,

prayed at the altar of Saint Anthony of Jagnenz, and five more Masses

were said. They all lodged that night with Georg André, of Altenhoff,

not far from the church. When the lamps were put out Ankha was placed

sitting upon a chest, or box, between two ecclesiastics, Georg

Schiffrer, of Laagkh, and André Navadnikh. Then after three raps, the

ghost came in, and pulled the hair of one of these reverends. He stood

up from the chest, whereupon it struck Ankha so violent a box on the

ear (_ohrfeige_) that it sounded like a sharp clapping of hands, and

could be heard over all the dwelling-place (_Läben_). Lights were

brought, and showed the print of a left hand burnt in the coif on the

right side of the wench's head; she was not hurt, but the cap remained

heated for some time. Nothing else occurred that night.

"'On the evening of the 24th of January, after prayers by the priests,

and the lamps being extinguished, the ghost rapped once and came in.

As the wench again sat on the same chest between the priests, the

curate of Laagkh felt his hair tugged, and he rose up. Ankha at the

same time exclaimed, "Oh dear! oh dear! whose cold hand is that?" The

priest, who was sitting near, said, "Don't be afraid, the hand is

mine;" but this was not true. He wished to do away with her fright,

and with the impression caused by the touch.

"'On the 25th of January, when all the required Masses had been said

at the altar of Saint Anthony of Jagnenz, the Lord of Weixelstein and

the priests engaged in the ceremony returned to pass the night at the

castle, and to receive the thanksgiving of the Saved Soul. While they

were supping the housemaid, carrying the children's food, was crossing

the hall to the dining-room, when the ghost seized her arm. She

started back, and saw behind her the form of a woman robed in white.

As the family were retiring to rest, the lord of the castle ordered

two of his dependents, Christop Wollf and Mathew Wreschek, to pass

the night with the servant-wenches in the haunted room. As the lamps

were put out the ghost entered and struck a loud rap upon the table,

and said, "Ankha, now I am saved, and I am going to heaven." The

wench rejoined, "O blessed soul, pray to Heaven for me, for the noble

master, the noble mistress, and all the noble family, and for all

those who helped thee to (attain) thine eternal salvation," whereto

the ghost answered, "Amen, amen, amen." It then went towards Ankha,

and privily told her the promised secret, strictly forbidding her to

divulge it.

"'Finally, it should be noted that before all these events Ankha had

confessed and communicated.'

"Trieste, September 8, 1879."

The walks in the woods were delightful, and when the picture was

sufficiently advanced we went to Trieste to meet Mr. and Mrs.

Arthur Evans. We also went with a large party to meet the Prince of

Montenegro, who arrived at Trieste, who was one of the handsomest men I

ever saw, of the dark mountaineer type. This September we had a great

blow. Our favourite Governor, Baron Pino, was transferred to Linz, and

he and his wife were so very popular that the whole town was in mental

mourning. We all went to see them off, and it was a very heart-breaking

scene. We all cried. I have seen such departures three times. One was

for the Spanish Consuless Madame Zamitt, a lovely and popular woman,

who a year or two later died of cancer in the tongue, and the third

was my own departure (though I say it who should not), on the 27th of

January, 1891.

Richard went for a little trip on the 29th of September to Fiume, and

afterwards we went to Albona.

I also induced the _podestá_, the Mayor, and several of the authorities

of the town to go round with me to become eye-witnesses of the

cruelties and the places where people kept their animals, and the

Mayor told me that, though he had been born and lived all his life in

Trieste, he was quite unaware that it contained such holes and slums as

I was able to show him.

We had the pleasure of being asked by one of our great friends, Baronne

Emilio de Morpurgo, to meet the great painter from Paris, Monsieur

d'Hébert, and I note a pleasant dinner with Monsieur and Madame Dorn,

editor of the _Triester Zeitung_, to meet Faccio the _maestro_; and

Signor Serravallo introduced to us Professor Giglioli, of Florence.

Then we went on again to Opçina, and from there we got a letter from

Uncle Gerard, to say that he and my aunt and cousins were coming to

Venice for ten days, and that we were to go and join them; which

summons we obeyed joyfully, and had a most happy time. After they left,

we went off to Chioggia, the fishing village near Venice, and we had

the pleasure of unearthing Mr. Jemmy Whistler and Dr. George Bird. Mr.

Whistler was a great find for us.

Dr. George Bird had appointed to meet me in Venice on his way to India,

as I was not well and wanted to see an English doctor (I had never got

over my fall); but I forgot to ask him what hotel he would stay at, he

forgot to tell me, and Venice is a place you might be months in, and

never meet a person you wanted to see. Consequently, when I got there,

I did not know how to meet him; so I went to the police, told them my

difficulty, gave them his photograph, and told them he did not know a

word of anything but English. The consequence was that the moment he

arrived the police brought him straight off to me; all the way he kept

wondering what law he had transgressed, and what they were going to

do with him. When he saw me, he gave what _we_, his intimate friends,

call one of his "smiles." He has a habit of roaring with laughter, so

loud that the whole street stops and looks, and he then says gently,

"Oh, excuse my smiling." He said, "Have you done this?" "Why," I said,

"of course; how else could I get at you?" The police spoke a few words

to me, and then, to his astonishment, I turned to him and said, "You

travelled with a young lady; you parted with her at such a station;

you came on alone, and you lost your luggage." "But how, in the name

of goodness, do you know all this?" "Ah," I said mysteriously, "secret

police!" We went off and immediately looked after the luggage, and

recovered it before he had to go on board his Indian steamer, and I had

my consultation.

[Sidenote: _Excursions_.]

It was now November, and very cold weather, with frequent _Boras_,

but we nevertheless managed a quantity of excursions in search for

_castellieri_ and inscriptions. One we took in a frightful _Bora_--I

don't know how we did it. We had a little country cart about the size

of a tea-cart, and two rattling good horses, and we drove for two

hours, passing four villages and reaching San Daniell, a fortified

village on a hill with an old castle under the big mountains. It was

owned by a primitive learned old man of seventy-four, and active as a

boy, a queer old housekeeper of a wife, sons who shoot, and daughters,

and three old brothers, who played cards with him in the evening. It

is a large landed property in the Karso, of no use because it is all

stones; the castle is draughty, all the windows and doors are open and

half unused; there is no idea of comfort. It has two heavy gateways

for entrance, an old wall for defence, and a Roman inscription. We got

a shelter with them, lunched in a primitive way in an old chimney in

an inn with the villagers; then we got another country cart and had

twenty minutes' more drive, and half an hour's rough climbing over

stones to get at the object of our search, which was a Troglodyte cave

fifty metres deep, the entrance in a side field, and said to have

been inhabited by ancients. There we stood for forty minutes in a

_Bora_ that made us hold on, taking squeezes of the inscriptions. Once

finished, we tumbled back over the stones till we reached our cart,

had twenty minutes' drive back, were glad to get near the fire and the

chimney, and have some hot coffee. There was a struggling quarter-moon,

and we drove back at a rattling pace to Opçina, encountering two

snowstorms on our way. When we arrived, after eight hours out, we were

frozen and had to be assisted out of the cart; there was a large china

stove in the dining-room, and we sat down, one on each side of it,

on the floor with our backs to it, and the landlord gave us some hot

brandy-and-water with spice in it. We were a great many hours before we

got any feeling at all, far less warm.

I have known a weak horse and man die on such a night on that road

in the _Bora_. We had fearful weather that year, something like the

present one (1892-3), but with our _Bora_ added on to it. We dined out

one night in Trieste, and forbid our coachman to go on to the Quai,

for fear of being blown into the sea; but he disobeyed us, and, to our

horror, we saw by degrees our cab got nearer and nearer the edge. When

it was about a yard or two from the edge, we opened the door and jumped

out on the other side, and the man had to jump down and lead his horse

into the back streets.

Richard now wrote a letter on the subject of the Indo-Mediterranean

railway, and he objected to the route of his friend Captain Cameron;

the object was to give the Indian mails seven days instead of three

weeks for letters to reach. Richard stood out stoutly for a line which

should start from Tyre in Syria, tap the very richest lands in Syria,

pass Ba'albak, and the once glorious valley plain of the Orontes,

reaching Aleppo.

During some part of this year (I cannot exactly say what day, as the

letter bears only the date Thursday) Richard was invited to come to

some place to meet the King of the Belgians, who had asked repeatedly

for him, calling him "the Pioneer of all these African travels," and

saying, "Where did you disappear to? nobody could find you;" which was

just like Richard's extreme modesty, going out of the way when any

honour or notice was going on.

I was very unhappy at Richard's determination to go once more to Egypt

to try his luck about the mines; still, as there were such great hopes

depending on it, and there was not enough money for both of us, he had

to go and I had to stay. There was nothing for it but to go and see him

off.

He desired me to give our usual Christmas-parties, so the poor children

had their feast at one o'clock on one day, the servants inviting all

their friends--had a supper and a dance; then I gave my English party,

which we all enjoyed very much, and passed my usual San Silvester night

(in English, seeing the old year out and the new year in) at Madame

Gutmansthal's, which was a settled thing whenever they and we were in

Trieste.

Whenever I was alone, I tried to introduce giving supper-parties only

to my intimate women-friends in tea-gowns; but it did not succeed very

well, as the husbands did not like not being asked.

On the 11th of January I gave a party to eighty-seven of our intimate

Triestine friends. The English and foreigners never assimilated; they

separated into different rooms, and they both spoilt each other's

pleasure.

A very amusing practice, which lasted some time in the good Society of

Trieste, was meeting to recite plays, French, German, and Italian,

everybody taking a part, sitting round a table and each reading our

part as if we were acting it. It was a very intellectual way of passing

the evening, and it ended by supper. Each house took its turn. Then we

used to have singing meetings on the same principle--sort of musical

classes, where we went in for glees, choir music, and particular

masters, such as Mendelssohn, Rubenstein, and so on.

[Sidenote: _Richard sends me Home to a Bone-setter_.]

I began to get ill again (I had never recovered my fall of nine months

ago), and the doctors advised me to see a bone-setter. I wrote and told

Richard, and he ordered me off by telegram; so I started on the 17th

of February to meet a woman-friend who remained in Vienna, of whom

more later. At last I went on to Linz to see our old friends Baron

and Baroness Pino, where I had a delightful visit, and in a few days

had been introduced to all the great Austrian Society there; went on

to Paris, and reached London on the 1st of March. I was nearly three

months under clever Dr. Maclagan, the father of salicin. I went as

advised to Hutton, the bone-setter, who found something wrong with

my ankle and my back and my arm, in consequence of the fall, and set

me straight, and what he did to my back lasted me for a long time in

the way of pain. I went through a long course of vapour-baths and

shampooing. My chief pleasure was a spontaneous visit from dear old

Martin Tupper, since dead, who gave me a copy of his "Proverbial

Philosophy."

I also had several interesting visits from Gordon, who happened to

be in London at this time. I remember on the 15th of April, 1880, he

asked me if I knew the origin of the "Union Jack," and he sat down on

my hearth-rug before the fire, cross-legged, with a bit of paper and a

pair of scissors, and he made me three or four Union Jacks, of which I

pasted one into my journal of that day; and I never saw him again--that

is thirteen years ago. The flag foundation was azure; on the top of

that comes St. George's cross _gules_, then St. Andrew's cross _saltire

blanc_, St. Patrick's cross _saltire gules_.

[Sidenote: _Richard meets with Foul Play_.]

Since Richard's last visit, great changes had taken place in Egypt, for

Ismail Pasha had abdicated, who believed in and needed these mines;

and Tewfik Pasha had succeeded, and Tewfik did not consider himself

bound by anything his father had done; and if the English Government

gave a man a chance, it certainly would not have been given to Richard

Burton. Hence he got no further than Egypt, and ate his heart out in

impotent rage and disgust at his bad luck. On the 2nd or 3rd of May,

as he was returning home from dining rather late in Alexandria, he was

attacked by nine men, and hit over the head from behind with some sharp

instrument. He fell to the ground, and on coming to, staggered to the

hotel, and was all covered with blood. He turned round and struck out

at them, as his knuckles were all raw. It was supposed to be foul play

with a motive, as the only thing they stole was his "divining rod" for

gold which he carried about his person, and the signet ring off his

finger, but left his watch and chain and purse. He kept it a profound

secret in order that it should be no hindrance to his going back to

work the mines in Midian; but he came home in May, and never let me

know that he was hurt until I came up to him. I was ill in London; the

woman friend whom I had left at Vienna, now came over to London to

bring me back, but stayed in London, and did not accompany me back at

all. I quote this letter prematurely because it regards the subject of

Midian.

"GOLD IN WESTERN ARABIA.

"Rohitsch-Sauerbrunn, August 5th, 1887.

"After an unconscionable delay, the following letter was received

by me, dated Jeddah (Red Sea), from Mr. A. Levick, son of my old

friend the ex-postmaster of Suez, whose name is known to a host of

travellers. It will be shown that, even without action on the part of

Europeans, the cause of discovery is thriving, and the public will

presently ask why, in our present condition, when there is almost a

famine of gold, England pays no attention to these new fields.

"'From inquiries I have made at Jeddah, I learn on good authority

that gold quartz has been found in great quantities at Táif (the

famous summering-place among the highlands to the east of Mecca), or

rather on the mountain range between that place and Mecca. The person

who gave me this information at the time of the discovery went to

Constantinople and sundry other capitals, but the results obtained

were not very encouraging. I was also told that Mr. Moel Betts (of the

defunct company, Betts, Wylde, and Co.) has at Suez specimens of this

quartz, which he took away with him from Jeddah when he went north.

All this information is trustworthy, and you may thoroughly rely on

its being correct, as I got it from a man in whom I can confide. An

old Oriental traveller like yourself can understand how hard it always

is to arrive at the truth in a place like this. However I am assured

that the Government engineer of this district (Jeddah), a certain

Sádik Bey, can also give me valuable details regarding the specimens

found and the results obtained. Meanwhile you can confidently rely on

the details which I have so far managed to obtain. I should also add

that the person who so kindly gave me the news has further promised

that he will do his utmost to provide me with specimens when he goes

to Mecca. I have seen Mr. Consul Jago, and asked him if he could help

me with anything. I shall be very glad to learn from you that the gold

mines of Midian are likely to be coming on again, and I should think

this a most favourable time to bring forward your most wonderful

discoveries near Al-Muwaylah.'

"So far Mr. Levick. I am not astonished to hear that the results of

the gold quartz were 'unsatisfactory.' These opinions were probably

picked up from the surface, or broken off from some outcrop. But the

fact of their being found is all-important; and the outcome of the

work would be very different were it carried out by a scientific

engineer, or, better still, by a practical miner from the gold

diggings. I have heard now of auriferous discoveries extending from

between the mountains of Northern Midian, along the line of the West

Arabian Gháts, until they meet the volcanic region about Aden. They

have been reported to me from behind Yambu, and Mecca, Mocha, and

Hodaydah; and I have a thorough conviction that some day they will be

found exceedingly valuable.

"RICHARD F. BURTON."

When Richard was leaving Egypt for good, Mr. Cookson, the brother of

our Consul at Alexandria, Sir Charles Cookson, between whom and Richard

there existed a great friendship, wrote his "Good-bye" in the following

terms, which pleased Richard beyond everything:--

"Farewell to thee, Richard; we bid thee adieu.

May Plutus and Crœsus their treasures lay bare;

May their storehouse on earth be revealed unto you,

So that wealth may be added to merits so rare!

"May nuggets as big as the hat on your head

Be strewn in your path as you journey at will;

And veins of rich gold 'neath the ground as you tread

Lie hidden perdu, to be won by your skill.

"And when thou hast made a fabulous haul,

And flooded the market with shares,

On thy virtuous life may a blessing befall,

To gild thy declining years."

Some time after this, some thoughtless youngsters played a practical

joke on Mr. Cookson, and pretended to him that it came from Richard,

who, on learning it a long time afterwards, felt sorely hurt and

mortified that his old friend should have been left in error, and

thought him capable of such a thing.

To my horror, I had found Richard with a secretly broken head, raw

knuckles, and gout in his feet, but he soon got round under my care,

and then I took him off to Opçina. He was afraid of meningitis, as they

had wounded him just in the _nuque_. The doctor put him under a course

of salicin, and at last he had an attack of healthy gout in the feet,

which did him good. I got the best doctor, but he knew less about it

than we did. Nubar Pasha came over about this time, and came up and

stayed with us, and that did him good. He was soon able to breakfast

down in the garden. He now began to walk about freely, and to take long

drives, even to climb hills.

The first excursion that he made was to a _foiba_. This means one of

the great pot-holes in the Karso, some of which are a hundred, two

hundred, five hundred, or two thousand feet deep. Some of the most

brutal amongst the peasant Slavs have the habit of throwing their

animals down, when they want to get rid of them, and it was said that

a dog was thrown down there, and we thought we could hear its moans,

so we started off with a large party with endless ropes and grappling

irons. He sounded the depths, and at last we seemed to get hold of

something, at which all the men pulled and hoisted up a tree. This

frightened all the owls who had taken refuge in this hole, and they

flew out, and then we found that what we thought was the moaning of the

dog was the hooting of these owls. Then our fencing-master, Herr Reich,

came up to us frequently, and we had numberless drives over the Karso.

"IT."

"If all the harm that women have done

Were put in a bundle and rolled into one,

The earth could not hold it, the sky not enfold it,

It could not be lighted nor warmed by the sun!

Such masses of evil would puzzle the devil

And keep him in fuel while Time's wheels run."

We had once to pass through a very uncanny trial, which may be said to

have lasted from 1877 to the end of 1880, and somewhat (though in a

less degree) to 1883. We suddenly began to be inundated with anonymous

letters; then our private papers and writings would disappear; a great

fuss of finding them was made, and when all fuss and hope of recovery

was over, they would reappear. There was always some mystery hanging

about, and once we found on the floor a copy-book with some very good

imitations of my handwriting, or what my handwriting _would_ be if I

tried to disguise it a little backwards, and some very bad and easily

recognizable attempts at my husband's very peculiar hand. The anonymous

letters generally tried to set us against each other, if possible, and

I was always finding love-letters thrust into his pockets, whenever I

cleaned or brushed his clothes, which I generally did when he was ill,

in order not to have the servants in the room. Fortunately we told each

other everything, and he used to carry his letters to me, and I mine to

him, but we could make nothing of it.

At last he said, in 1879 (when he was going away to Midian), "You must

be _quite sure_ not to make yourself uncomfortable about any of this

sort of thing, and to tell me everything that occurs; because I am

_sure_ this is an intrigue, and a woman's intrigue, which has something

to do with money. When we were poor everybody left us in peace, but

ever since 1877 nothing has been talked about but the enormous riches

that I am _going_ to make in these mines, and you have been offering

parures of turquoise to all your friends in my name. So somebody is

working to try and separate us. You keep your 'weather eye' open, and

believe nothing, nor shall I, and you will see that one day or another

it is bound to ooze out." It did ooze out--after it did not matter.

Ever after these annoyances began, whenever we were going to make

the smallest remark which might be unlucky, we always used to say,

"Hush! '_IT_' will hear you;" and then we used to laugh. This became

so habitual with us, that everybody else thought we were alluding to

Providence, or evil spirits, or such like; but we were really alluding

to our uncanny, fleshly evil genius, who, though we did not know it,

was nestling close to us and heard it all. It was, therefore, with a

doubly heavy heart that I saw him depart on his third and last journey

for Midian, and was thankful when it was over.

[Sidenote: _Camoens_.]

Richard and I now went to Opçina a great deal alone, and we were

working together at his Camoens, beginning at the two volumes of the

"Lusiads."

In early 1880, he brought out a little bit of the first canto of the

"Lusiads," and the episode of "Ignez de Castro," his favourite bit, as

samples. I can never remember to have had a more peaceful and happy

time with Richard than in Opçina, where we led a Darby and Joan life,

and principally 1879, 1880, 1881, and part of 1882. We did all the six

volumes of Camoens, he translating, I helping him and correcting. I

wrote the little sonnet for him, my preface, and the Glossary, and his

"Reviewers Reviewed."

"TO MY MASTER CAMOENS.

"(_Tu se' lo mio maestro, è lo mio autore._)

"Great Pilgrim-poet of the Sea and Land;

Thou life-long sport of Fortune's ficklest will;

Doomed to all human and inhuman ill,

Despite thy lover-heart, thy hero-hand;

Enrollèd by the pen what marvellous band

Of god-like Forms thy golden pages fill;

Love, Honour, Justice, Valour, Glory thrill

The Soul, obedient to thy strong command:

Amid the Prophets highest sits the Bard,

At once Revealer of the Heaven and Earth,

To Heaven the guide, of Earth the noblest guard;

And, 'mid the Poets, thine the peerless worth,

Whose glorious song, thy Genius' sole reward,

Bids all the Ages, Camoens, bless thy birth!"

----ISABEL BURTON.

He was quite upset about the Glossary. When he had used archaic words,

which belonged to Chaucer and Spencer, he said, "Do you mean to say

that they won't understand me?" When I produced my glossary of three

hundred and fourteen words, he said, "You are never going to insult the

English public with that?" I said, "But, indeed, I am; and I know very

well that you have not fifteen readers that will know them without, but

they will pretend they do, and be very much offended, whilst internally

they will thank their God that they have got it, and are able to look

grand on the strength of it." But he curtailed it, and in this he was

encouraged by our old friend Bernard Quaritch.

Camoens is splendidly and literally translated. No one was so well

fitted as Richard to bring out this epic and heroic life. He divided

his work into six heads: Biographical, Bibliographical, Historical

and Chronological, Geographical, and Annotative--it was the result

of a daily act of devotion of more than twenty years, from a man of

_this_ age, who has taken the hero of a _former_ age for his model,

his master, as Dante did Virgil; and between whose two fates--master

and disciple--exists a strange similarity. The two volumes of "Life

and Commentary" show a profundity of learning and intelligence which

would be quite enough to make the name of any other man, if he had

never written anything else, but though Camoens has not taken hold of

the public yet, he will. Richard lived to do six volumes; he would

have done four more had he lived. His little letter of dedication to

Swinburne, in vol. i of the "Lyrics," is a masterpiece.

"To

"The Prince of the Lyric Poets of his day,

"ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.

"MY DEAR SWINBURNE,

"Accept the unequal exchange--my brass for your gold. Your 'Poems and

Ballads' began to teach the Philister what might there is in the music

of language, and what the marvel of lyric inspiration, far subtler and

more ethereal than mere poetry, means to the mind of man.

"Without more ado, allow me to excuse this 'transaction' by a

something which comes from the East--

"'A poor man, passing by one day when his King travelled, brought him

a little water with both hands, saying, "Drink, my lord, for the heat

is great." He accepted it gladly from him, not looking to the small

quality of that service, but only to the good will with which it was

offered.'

"Believe me ever,

"Your old friend and fellow-traveller,

"RICHARD F. BURTON.

"Desterro, Trieste,

"September 25th, 1884."

* * * * *

"The Pines, Putney Hill, S.W.,

"November 7th, 1884.

"MY DEAR BURTON,

"Your dedication makes me very proud, and the kindness of its terms

gives me still a heartier pleasure than that of mere pride in your

friendship. Thanks to you both, and notably to Frances H----" [me]

"for her letter, or rather your joint one of the 10th, which has now

been followed by the arrival of the two volumes. They are yet more

interesting (naturally) to me than their precursors....

"The learning and research of your work are in many points beyond

all praise of mine, but not more notable than the strength and skill

that wield them. I am hungrily anticipating the 'Arabian Nights.' You

both know how we look forward to our next meeting with you, when you

_shall_ not run away so soon as you did last time.

"Both of yours always,

"A. C. SWINBURNE."

* * * * *

"The Pines, Putney Hill, S.W.,

"April 13th, 1881.

"MY DEAR MRS. BURTON,

"I am horribly ashamed to find that my letter of thanks to you on

the arrival of the 'Lusiads,' which I quite thought had been at once

written and despatched (this is the real honest truth, and not a

lying after-thought to excuse myself), never went or existed at all,

but remained in the limbo of good intentions. I cannot tell how, for

I distinctly remember the very words I meant to send, and thought I

had sent, of congratulations to Burton on having in that translation,

as I think, matched Byron on his own chosen ground as a translator,

and beaten him at his own weapon. The version of Pulci's 'Morgante,'

on which Byron prided himself so greatly as being, in his own words,

the best translation that ever was or will be made, is an infinitely

less important, and I should think less difficult attempt on exactly

the same lines of work, and certainly, to say the least, not more

successful, as far as one can judge, without knowledge of Camoens in

the original language.

"With best remembrances to both of you.

"Ever faithfully yours,

"A. C. SWINBURNE."

I prefer the "Lusiads," but the Portuguese think that if Camoens had

never written the "Lusiads," his sonnets would have immortalized him,

and prefer his to Petrarch's.

Besides this, we used to fence a great deal during those years. We

set up a _tir au pistolet_, and used to practise every morning after

breakfast. When snow was deep we drove in a sledge. We attended the

school feast annually, and sometimes we had village serenades. At

Opçina, on the Eve of St. John's, the peasants light fires all over the

country, and the superstition is that you must see eleven fires burning

at the same time in order to have a lucky year. When we went up there,

we lived absolutely alone, without any servants, and we used to take

long walks and drives.

"GERALD MASSEY TO RICHARD F. BURTON.

"'_Englished by Richard Burton._' And well done,

As it was well worth doing; for this is one

Of those old Poets, who are always new,

That share eternity with all that's true,

And of their own abounding spirit do give

Substance to Earth's dead Shadows; and make men live

Who in action merely did but flit and pass;

Now fixed for ever in thought's reflecting-glass.

This is the Poet of weary wanderers

In perilous lands; and wide-sea Voyagers,

And climbers fall'n and broken on the stairs.

A man of men; a master of affairs,

Whose own life-story is, in touching truth,

Poem more potent than all feignèd truth.

His Epic trails a story in the wake

Of _Gama, Raleigh, Frobisher,_ and _Drake_.

The poem of Discovery! sacred to

Discoverers, and their deeds of derring-do,

Is fitly rendered in The Traveller's land,

By one of the foremost of the fearless band."

----GERALD MASSEY.

"BURTON'S CAMOENS.

(A cutting from the Press.)

"In his wanderings afar from the world's highway, he made Camoens his

companion, and discovered a peculiar sympathy of mind between himself

and the noble Portuguese--an affinity which Mrs. Burton seems inclined

to trace even in the fortunes of the two men (_absit omen!_)."

* * * * *

The _Daily Telegraph_, February 21, 1881.

"'Camoens,' he says, 'is the perfection of a traveller's study. A

wayfarer and a voyager from his youth; a soldier, somewhat turbulent

withal, wounded and blamed for his wounds; a doughty sword and yet

doughtier pen; a type of the chivalrous age; a patriot of the purest

water, so jealous of his country's good fame, that nothing would

satisfy him but to see the world bow before her perfections; a genius,

the first and foremost of his day, who died in the direst poverty

and distress.' These are good titles to admiration in any case, and

we cannot wonder that a great English traveller, himself too a poet,

should have been captivated all these long years by the charms of that

beautiful Portuguese tongue, and those noble and stirring sentiments

which stand enshrined in Camoens' deathless pages. If it be true that

Chapman's 'Iliad' is a great work because of the intense love and

admiration which its author had for the blind old bard of Greece, then

certainly Captain Burton's labour, which has taken up twenty years of

a much-occupied life, ought, for the same reason, to be able to stand

the test of time, inasmuch as it is the fruit of genuine and heartfelt

devotion on the part of the translator to the author and his poetic

masterpiece."

* * * * *

The _Daily Telegraph_, February 21, 1881.

"'My master, Camoens,' Captain Burton calls him, and goes on to pay

his tribute of gratitude for the real solace which the much-loved

volume has been to him in many wanderings. 'On board raft and canoe,

sailing vessel and steamer, on the camel and the mule, under the tent

and the jungle tree, on the fire-peak and the snow-peak,' writes the

accomplished 'Hadji,' 'Camoens has been my companion, my consoler, my

friend;' and we may remark that a study of Camoens, who is an ideal

patriot, as well as a constant lover, whose fair one was snatched away

by death at the age of twenty, would be useful in the present day as

an antidote to schools of thought which banish both patriotism and

romance, as far as they can, into the region of forbidden sentiments.

Indeed, so intensely patriotic is the bard, that in the opening of

his epic he bids Achilles, Alexander, and all other ancient warriors

and travellers, cease to 'vaunt long voyages made in bygone day,' as

if the 'better bravery' of the Lusitanian explorers fairly threw into

the shade all attempts in the same line which had been made before.

This may be going a little too far, but, at all events, it is a fault

in the right direction, which deserved better treatment than King

Ferdinand's annual dole of five golden sovereigns."

[Sidenote: _A Little Anecdote about a Capuchin_.]

One day, as we sat at our twelve o'clock breakfast at Opçina, on a very

hot day, a poor barefooted Capuchin came in, looking hot, jaded, dusty,

and travel-stained. He sat down in another part of the restaurant at

a table, and humbly asked for a glass of water. We were waiting for

our breakfast, and I slipped out of the room and said to the landlord,

"Every time you bring us up a dish, put a third portion, with bread

and vegetables, and in due course sweets and cheese, before the poor

Capuchin who has just come in, and a bottle of the same wine you give

us, and tell him to pray for the donors." I slipped back into my place,

and I saw Richard kept staring at him, when he was not looking, with

an amused smile, and finally he turned round to me and whispered,

"There, just look! You say that those fellows starve, and I declare

to you that he has eaten, mouthful for mouthful, everything _we_ have

eaten, and a good bottle of wine like ours." So I laughed and I said,

"Yes; but with _your_ money!" "Oh, you blackguard! am I paying for

_his_ dinner?" "Yes," I said, "you are; and he is going to pray for

_us_." He was far from being vexed; he was too kind, and he enjoyed

the joke very much. I said to him, "That man has been catering all

over Istria for provisions for the convent, and the rule at table is

that they eat whatever you put on their plates, but they must not ask.

Seeing the state he is in, you would not like to have seen him go away

with a glass of water." "No," he said, "that I should not; I am glad

you did it."

[Sidenote: _The Passion Play--Ober-Ammergau_.]

We now determined, and fortunately, to see the Passion Play at

Ober-Ammergau. I say fortunately, because we could scarcely have

done it in 1890, just before his death; the fatigue would have been

too great for him. We had a delightful trip from Venice to Padua, to

Vicenza, and thence to Verona. There the country is simply lovely,

and the train begins to mount to Ala, which is the frontier of Italy

and the Austrian Tyrol. It seems like getting out of a picturesque

desert--so far are the Italians behind Austrian civilization. You

pass Trento, and reach Botzen, which is really only nine hours and

fifty-eight minutes' actual train from Venice if you do not stop on the

road. From Botzen to Munich is nine hours and twenty-three minutes'

delightful journey, breakfasting at Franzensfeste. You are examined

at Kufstein, the frontier between the Austrian Tyrol and Bavaria.

The scenery of the Brenner is simply glorious, and Brenner-Bad is a

delightful little place to stay at. Munich is certainly a lovely city;

its buildings are magnificent, but its art is very, very new. We saw

everything in the City inside and out, and enjoyed the society of

General and Mrs. Staunton, our Consul, and certainly we must own that

the Hôtel des Quatres Saisons is the most delightful and comfortable in

the world.

The next station for Ober-Ammergau is two hours and a half to Mürnau,

where you go to the Pantelbraü Hotel. There is beautiful mountain

scenery, and the hurry-scurry to get to Ober-Ammergau is quite like

the Derby Day, with every sort of vehicle and horses. The village is

otherwise peaceful, a rural inn, with a nice family containing at least

one pretty girl, and the wine is very good, especially Zeller I. and

Schwarzer Herr-Gott; the beds and the food are excellent. Being Sunday

we went to Mass, and noticed a very curious picture in the church. A

head was peeping out of the ground as if the body were buried in it;

near it was a book with "Lehren" inscribed upon it; also near were

dice, a money-bag, a serpent, and smoke. A new-comer advances towards

the head; but his guardian angel is remonstrating with him, as if

he were saying to him, "Let him be--it is none of _your_ business,"

and a Madonna appears in the skies. After breakfast we started for

Ober-Ammergau. The scenery was magnificent, the Ettalberg very steep,

and two extra horses were obliged to be put on. Richard liked walking,

and with only me in the carriage, they appeared to be almost crawling

on their stomachs. Halfway was a rural inn, where the peasants were

playing, dancing, and drinking beer. In four hours from leaving Mürnau

we were deposited at a pretty cottage, where rooms were let by a Frau

Haüser.

I understand that a great many improvements exist now; but at that time

we had two whitewashed little rooms, no sheets, one spoon, one glass,

no table, and a pint of water in a pie-dish; but our windows looked out

on the church, which is surmounted by a spire and a plain iron cross,

and the Kofel, a sugar-loaf peak, which seems to guard the mountain

gorge.

We wandered about the village, and picked up some food as we could

at a small eating-house called the "Stern," for Frau Haüser did not

undertake to board us. We were up at dawn. At Ober-Ammergau the day

begins with Mass and Communion. The play begins at eight in the

morning, and lasts eight hours (eighteen acts), with an hour and a

half interval for food and rest. The play over, Richard and I both

sat down at once, and described minutely Ober-Ammergau, the Play,

and our impressions. I think, perhaps, that there have been so many

descriptions, that it would be a pity to load this book with them.

We both sent them to the same man, and Richard was anxious that they

should be produced together, under the heading, "Ober-Ammergau, as seen

by Four Eyes." He wrote the cynical and I the religious side, but as

the man who printed them was too poor to produce the two, he published

Richard's; but I will now bring them out together in the "Uniform

Library" of my husband's works, just as he wished it.

Suffice it to say, that the simplicity of a theatre in the open air was

most realistic, and made one think of the old early Latin and Greek

plays, and the miracle-plays of early Christianity. The men acted

beautifully; the women were cold or shy, and therefore uninteresting.

I can only say that I thanked God for having been allowed to see it,

and as we sat together Richard watched me closely to see what affected

me, and I did the same with him. What affected him immensely--and

he owned it--was Christ on the Cross. He said, "I never could have

_imagined_ Christ on the Cross without _seeing_ it; it made me feel

very queer." Now, as to _me_, what broke my heart was the repentances

of the sinners, and I am not ashamed to say that I sobbed bitterly--not

Magdalen's, for she was too cold, but Peter's, when Christ came forth

with the Cross, after he had denied Him and Christ looked at him. The

penitent thief on the Cross, and Judas's despair, I shall never forget

all my life. With all Richard's cynicism, he was right glad to have

seen it.

We went to visit the _Pfarrer_, or priest, the only really paramount

influence in Ober-Ammergau. We saw Josef Maier, who acted the Christ,

and with his permission went to inspect the scenes behind the theatre,

where they were practising fastening to the Cross, and, under strict

secrecy, we saw how it was done.

On the 25th was the _fête_ of St. Louis, when they celebrate the

foundation of Bavaria, _then_ seven hundred years before. On return

to Munich we dined at the Embassy. We met in Munich the Dowager Lady

Stanley and Mrs. John Stanley (now Lady Jeune), and found to our great

annoyance that we had just missed Lord Houghton, who had been staying

in the same hotel with us and we had never known it. We then went to

Innsbrück, where we saw everything in and about, and on to Toblach,

from whence three hours' drive takes you into the Dolomites into lovely

scenery, beginning at Cortina di Ampezzo. Here we found actual winter

weather, though it was only the 30th of August. From this we went on to

Villach, a delightful place, where it was very difficult to get rooms;

but we got some beds at a _Braüerei_. Here we saw, as usual, everything

in and about, and then we went by the glorious new road Tarvis and

Pont' Ebba (not so very long open), with scenery unrivalled, and

reached Udine, where we were on the main line for our own home. Here we

stayed to visit the tomb of Fra Oderico, a Franciscan monk, who went to

China and wrote a book three centuries ago--a very holy man--and then

we went home to Trieste to receive our old friends Mr. Aubertin, Sir

Charles Sebright, the Dowager Lady Stanley of Alderley, with Mrs. John

Stanley, who stayed a couple of days _en route_ for Corfu. The Dowager

Lady Stanley was one of Richard's oldest and best friends, and she has

proved herself one to me since his death. I cannot say how much we

enjoyed their visit.

On the 15th of September the _Pandora_ came in with Mr. W. H. Smith and

his family, and we took excursions together, showed them all the lions

in a couple of days, and dined on board with them. We had visits also

from Abbate Bey and Brugsch Bey from Egypt. Baron Marco Morpurgo, the

director of Lloyd's, used sometimes to give us a charming supper-party

on board one of the Lloyd's vessels anchored in the harbour. A great

friend and admirer of Richard's, and my now true friend, Miss E. H.

Bishop, who resides, like myself, in a little cottage near Redbridge,

Hants, came to stay with us.

On the 9th of November, 1880, we had an earthquake at 7.30 in the

evening, which demolished half Agram, injured Graz, and shook us

terribly. Richard and I were writing, and our table ran away, and it

made us feel very uncomfortable. Graeffe saw three earthquake waves

come in and out.

[Sidenote: _Celebrating a Vice-Consul's Jubilee_.]

On the 11th we had a great pleasure in celebrating our dear old

Vice-Consul Mr. Brock's fiftieth year at Trieste. He was so loved and

respected, that everybody wished to contribute some little proof, and

Mrs. Craig, the wife of Mr. George Craig, a merchant of Trieste, our

principal English lady, and I, received the demonstrations of their

good will, which were even more pronounced amongst the old Triestine

families than amongst the English, who were less wealthy, though not

less well disposed towards him; and on the 11th of September Mrs. Craig

and I were able to put a purse of £170 into his hands. The dear old man

was so much affected that I was afraid he would have a fit. He could

not sign a Consular report for two hours after.

On the 10th of December my publisher, poor Mr. Mullan, died, and

my boys' books were returned to me, to begin afresh with another

publisher, which was, unhappily, Mr. Bogue. On the 15th, Richard

lectured at the English Engineers' Club, which was very well attended,

much applauded, and was noticed largely in the foreign Press, in

most gratifying terms, speaking of him as dear and respected for his

learning, merits, and philanthropy, and I had my third _fête_ for

humanity to animals.

[Sidenote: _Monfalcone_.]

We went to the baths of Monfalcone, supposed to be excellent for gout

and rheumatism, heading round the gulf to the shore opposite Trieste,

and I must say they did Richard a great deal of good, though it was

slow.

"THE BATHS OF MONFALCONE.

"To the Editor of the _Medical Times and Gazette_.

"SIR,

"Will you allow me to make known to you a bathing-place which is never

recommended in England by medical men, because it is so little known?

Two hours' drive from Trieste, one by rail, two hours' drive from

old classical Aquileja, close to the river Isonzo, and almost on the

borders of Austria and Italy, a townlet of four thousand inhabitants

lies seething in the plain, under a burning July sun. You may perhaps

see it on the map, half an hour's distance from the sea, at the very

head of the Adriatic. In 1433 it existed, and the baths in those days

were thirty feet long and twelve broad. They have been perpetually

bettered and destroyed from that period until a year ago; and I am not

going to enter into any interesting or tedious details, but take them

up at 1879, when the property was bought by a personal friend of ours,

a gentleman of Trieste, named Dr. Rabl, D.C.L. He has put the baths in

perfect condition and working order, and he will go on improving and

bettering according as a more numerous and a better class of visitors

are attracted here. At present there are a hundred and fifty bathers,

but of the most uninteresting description--just the people 'you

don't want to meet,' as _Judy_ says. There are rows of rooms for the

mud-baths, and opposite corresponding rooms for the water-baths, and a

large basin for those who like to swim or bathe in company. There are

douches, and we are going to have vapour-baths. The same arrangements

exist on the men's side of the establishment as on that for the women.

The work of pumping up the water and collecting the mud by machinery

is carried out with a sufficient staff of servants in attendance. The

mud and the water in their natural state show 34° Réaumur. The water

is beautifully clear, is mixed with sea-water, and contains lots of

things, of which the principal are sulphate of soda. The baths are

very powerful, and are resorted to for all bone pains--rheumatism,

gout, neuralgia, lumbago, sciatica. The treatment ranges from twelve

to eighteen baths; and in three years 1315 cures have been effected.

The doctor is beginning to hang up the crutches the people leave

behind, as they do _ex votos_ in a church. His name is Tamburlini; he

is well informed and very efficient. We naturally take an interest in

the works, as it is in our Consular district, and it might draw some

nice English visitors here in summer-time. The baths are open from May

to September. As I write now it is 83° F. in the rooms; going out is

not possible (except to sit under the trees) from, say, 9 a.m. till 6

or 7 p.m.

"I am, etc.,

"ISABEL BURTON.

"Monfalcone, July 10th."

("We have much pleasure in publishing the above letter from the

enterprising wife of the still more adventurous 'Hadji.' It seems the

fate of well-known travellers and men of science to be relegated to

parts unknown, to wear out their days in what is supposed to be rest.

If we remember aright, Charles Lever was banished to the dulness of

Trieste. They sent Palgrave to Guiana, and James Hannay to Barcelona.

We are glad to see that Mrs. Burton, at all events, continues to keep

up those active spirits which so often and so well bestead her.--Ed.

_Med. Times and Gaz._")

[Sidenote: _Richard's Metal and Colour_.]

Richard had quite a _grande passion_ for silver. He declared that

everybody had some particular metal which influenced them, and also

colour. His metal was silver, and silver applied to his pains cured

him; he would put florins on his eyes if they ached from over reading

or study; he would apply them to his pains where he had gout; and after

he got the "'Arabian Nights" earnings, everything he bought was silver.

A heavy six-guinea knob of silver to a huge stick, his toilette box,

his pencil-case, his snuff-box, his roll to put his pens and pencils

in, everything was silver. His theory was that every man has some metal

which affects his illness, and, after frequent trials, found his. So we

used to bind silver florins round his feet and legs when he had gout,

and though it did not cure him, it always relieved him. He had the same

theory about colours, and his was the royal cramoisie, or blood-red,

which soothed him. We continued our work, and we used to take drives,

such as to Villa Vicentina, and to Aquileja, ancient Aquila, to the

museum and church, and up the Campanile Tower.

[1] Richard used always to say that, psychologically speaking, he was

convinced that he was a spoiled twin, and that I was the broken or

missing fragment.