Then we come to the Christians, who number fourteen sects--Maronite

(Catholic), Greek Catholic, Greek Schismatic (styled "orthodox"),

Armenian Catholic, Armenian Schismatic (styled "orthodox"), Syrian

Catholic; Jacobite, which is Syrian "orthodox" or non-Catholic, Latin

Catholics (like the French, etc.), a few Protestants (from the missions

and schools of England, Chaldea, Prussia, and the United States, and

their converts), Copts, Abyssinians, Chaldean Catholic and Chaldean

Schismatics (styled "orthodox"). The Catholic rites have each a liturgy

different from the Latin Catholic Mass, and said in their own language;

they communicate under both kinds, but there is no heresy in their

belief. A French Catholic satisfies his obligations of hearing Mass on

Sunday with them, but of course he cannot receive their communion under

both forms.

Nineteen Europeans reside at Damascus. This is the residence of the

Consuls, whose districts extend to Baghdad on the east, and to Nablus

on the south, and who have all the real work to do. Some suppose that

they are subject to the Consulates-General at Beyrout, but this, though

the Turks desire it, is highly unadvisable, as Damascus work requires

prompt and decided action and no loss of time; moreover, any order

which might apply to Beyrout would be totally inapplicable at Damascus;

finally, in nine cases out of ten it would proceed from the advice of

a dragoman interested in the case, his superior not knowing Arabic, or

perhaps never having seen Damascus.

Upon the English Consul devolves the responsibility of the post for

Baghdad, and the protection of commerce, of travellers, and of some

half-dozen English residents. There are, besides the Consular corps,

four missions each with its school, three European religious houses

(Lazarists, Franciscans, and Sisters of Charity), an English engineer,

a French sanitary officer under his own Government, and, lastly, the

_employés_ of the French Road Company.

Whoever lives in Damascus must have good health and nerves, must be

charmed with Oriental life, and must not care for society, comforts, or

luxuries, but be totally occupied with some serious pursuit. Should he

be a Consul--an old soldier is best--he must be accustomed to command

a strong hand. The natives must be impressed by him, and know that,

if attacked, he can fight. He must be able to ride hard and to rough

it in mountain or desert, in order to attend to his own work, instead

of sending a dragoman or a _kawwás_, who probably would not really

go, or if he did might be bribed. He must have the honour and dignity

of England truly at heart, and he should be a gentleman to understand

fully what this means; not a man risen from the ranks, and liable to be

"bullied or bribed." He should speak Arabic, Persian, and Turkish, as

well as English, French, and Italian, so as not to take the hearsay of

his dragomans. He must be able to converse freely with Arabs, Turks,

Bedawi, Druzes, Kurds, Jews, Maronites, Afghans, and Persians, and

understand their religious prejudices. He must have his reliable men

everywhere, and know everything that goes on throughout the length

and breadth of the country. He should have a thorough knowledge of

Eastern character. He must keep a hospitable house. He should be cool,

firm, and incorruptible. He must not be afraid to do his duty, however

unpleasant and risky, and having done it, if his Chiefs do not back

him up, _i.e._ his Consul-General, his Ambassador, and the Secretary

of State for Foreign Affairs, the Turkish local authorities know he

has done his duty at his own risk; they admire and they fear the

individual, but they despise his Government whilst they fawn and cringe

to it. Thus the interests of England, and English pride, are trampled

in the dust. Such a man is Richard, and such a man is like a loadstone

to the natives. Were he in no authority the country would flock to

him and obey him of their own accord from his own personal influence

amongst them.

But this is exactly the man who does not suit the present _Wali_ and

his creatures, upon whose misrepresentations and falsehoods the Porte

has demanded his recall; it is no secret, for all Syria is ringing with

it, and the _Wali_ has it proclaimed in the bazars. I may add that

all Syria is looking on with anxiety and distress lest he _should_ be

removed. No other class of man could hold his own against the present

local Turkish authorities, and they would treat him like a kind of

upper servant. If the Porte knew its own interests, it would ask to

keep Richard, and discharge its own faithless _employé_. That troubles

will follow his removal, I may safely prophesy; and that his successor

will be insulted in the streets, and compelled by terror and sickness

to run away from his post, is very possible. That is what we may come

to. Let the name of England nevermore be mentioned--let her sons be

incorporated with the Turkish subjects, whilst Prussians and the French

keep their proper position and their national dignity.

_P. S.--A month later Mohammed Rashíd Pasha_ was _recalled, and Richard

was in England._

_This, then, was the moment to press for the immediate return of the

twelve unfortunates exiled to Murzuk, and to impress upon the Ottoman

Authorities, who, since the death of Russia's friend, Aali Pasha,

the Grand Vizier of pernicious fame, appear ready to reform a host

of abuses, that the friendship of England can be secured only by

scrupulous fidelity to treaties, especially to those which concern

religious toleration._

AN ACCOUNT OF RICHARD BURTON BY SALIH (NOM DE PLUME OF AN ENGLISH

MISSIONARY AT DAMASCUS).

[Sidenote: _Salih's Description of Richard._]

"Burton was sound at heart. The more I saw him alone the better I

liked him. At Damascus he was truly 'a brave, strong man in a blatant

land.' When you got down through the crusts, you found a fearless and

honest friend.

"But Burton was given to pantomime. He was always saying things to

frighten old women of both sexes, and to make servant-maids stare.

He took great delight in shocking goody people, and in effecting his

purpose he gave free rein to his imagination. People who knew Burton

partially, from meeting him at public dinners or in clubs, have

generally a number of gruesome stories to retail about his cruelty and

immorality. They often say truly that Burton told the horrible stories

against himself. I have no doubt he did, just as he represented

himself in the guise of a monster to my little boy. At the same time

I am certain that Burton was incapable of either monstrous cruelty or

gross immorality. I go farther, and I state it as my firm conviction

that Burton was constitutionally and habitually both humane and moral.

I knew Burton well, in sickness, in trouble, in disappointment, in his

home, in the saddle, under fire, and in the presence of almost every

condition of savage life, and I have noticed that acts of cruelty and

immorality always drove him into a white heat of passion. A young

English lady had been treated rudely at Damascus by a Persian, and

when Burton failed in securing official redress, I was in dread for

months that he would with his own hand kill the ruffian if he met him.

The scoundrel, however, met his fate at other hands. Shielding the

weak from cruelty and protecting the poor from oppression, constituted

Captain Burton's chief work at Damascus.

"Noticing the difference between Burton's real character and that for

which he got credit in many quarters, I often asked him how certain

specific stories had originated. It was interesting to learn how

the legends had grown. Some of them had been told of old Castilian

Hidalgos and 'British sea-dogs' before Burton's grandfather was born.

Others were founded on facts, but they had received so many artistic

touches at camp-fires and in mess-rooms that incidents innocent in

themselves had grown to monstrous dimensions. From observation and

much inquiry I have long come to the conclusion that the wild stories

in circulation about Burton were bogeys, partly borrowed and partly

invented--mere adaptations and travellers' yarns to shock and stun and

create a little boisterous fun.

"The impatience with which Burton treated my servant revealed a

characteristic that had much to do with his career. 'Genius is

patience,' said Sir Isaac Newton. If this definition be correct,

Burton must have lacked genius. 'The Prime Minister's secret is

patience,' said Pitt. If Pitt be right, Burton had no chance of

ever finding his way to the Premiership, for he never learned the

secret. I think Burton was not without genius. He was certainly a very

clever man, but he could not put up with stupidity in others. I am

afraid he sometimes delighted to stick pins in Government officials

who mistook the region of the world in which he was located, or who

failed to apprehend the facts communicated in his last despatch. I

am afraid he never got sufficiently into diplomatic training as to

overlook the weakness of his immediate superiors, and hence the higher

rounds of the diplomatic ladder were not to be trodden by his feet.

He was shuttle-cocked about from one pestiferous region to another

till at last the Foreign Office, in a lucid moment, sent the Oriental

enthusiast to Damascus.

"Burton's quarrel with missionaries was also an open sore. I do not

know the full merits of the original strife, but I believe it was a

somewhat mixed affair. Certain benevolent gentlemen have always had a

tendency to do proxy beneficence as cheaply as possible. In picking

up missionaries they have sometimes been guided more by the price

than the quality. Burton, it seems, came upon some of these job-lots,

and found them jobbing, as was to be expected, and, with his usual

impatience, 'went for them.' Then a great uproar ensued, in which the

original cause was lost sight of, and Burton received the stamp of an

anti-missionary Consul. The Consular dog had got a bad name, and that

was enough for some.

"When it became known that Burton was destined for Damascus, there

was a kind of panic among the missionaries of Syria, and active steps

were taken to prevent the appointment being carried out. The Damascus

missionaries held aloof from the organized opposition. The moral

character of some of Burton's immediate Christian predecessors had

not been of a sort to reflect much credit on Christian missionaries,

or even on British subjects; and from the missionary point of view it

seemed that a moral Consul who made no religious professions might,

on the whole, prove as satisfactory as an immoral one who read the

service to English travellers on Sundays. Besides, it was known to be

the constant aim of the Damascus missionaries to steer clear of all

diplomatic interference, and to keep the Consular finger out of their

pie. They gave Burton a cordial welcome as their Consul, but they

also gave him clearly to understand that any action of his, friendly

or unfriendly, bearing on their work, would be regarded by them as an

impertinent and unfriendly act.

"Burton appreciated their kindness, and frankly accepted their

conditions, and missionaries and Consul maintained the most cordial

relations, and it was understood that the whole missionary body at

Damascus deeply regretted Burton's recall. One fact regarding this

agreement may be noticed. The restless and energetic Burton maintained

the compact in the spirit, but broke it in the letter. He visited all

the mission schools in the most gracious manner, examined the children

thoroughly, and afterwards made some valuable suggestions to the

missionaries as to the perfecting of their educational organizations.

He ever after spoke of the teachers and the schools with great

cordiality and unstinted praise.

"The other missionaries of Syria, with solitary exceptions, maintained

their attitude of hostility to Burton, and never lost an opportunity

of speaking against him, and some of them not only embellished old

stories to his discredit, but invented new ones, _furor ministrat

arma_, to prove his deep-seated hostility to the missionary cause.

Many influential travellers pass yearly through Syria, deeply

interested in the splendid educational and religious efforts that

are being made to elevate that land. Everywhere they heard of the

anti-Christian Consul, and the constant drip made a deep impression.

Almost the only honest and praiseworthy efforts being made to lift

the Holy Land out of the slough of Oriental degradation stood to the

credit of the missionaries, and it was intolerable that their efforts

should be thwarted by a British Consul.

"Burton might, by patience and well-doing, have worn down and outlived

the hostility of these missionaries, but he had the misfortune to come

into sharp conflict with the Jews, and he had thus on his flank an

active, persistent, and powerful enemy.

"It would be interesting to narrate how a number of Russian and other

Jews at Damascus became British subjects, but the by-paths and crooked

ways would be too long and intricate for our space. Burton found

himself the official head and protector of a colony of British Jews.

Some of these were men of great wealth and affluence, and it was well

known that the official virtue of helping them was seldom left to be

its own reward.

"Burton, though always posing as an Oriental, thought fit to hew

Oriental prejudice against the grain. He might have seen his beautiful

wife flashing in brilliants, roped in pearls, and riding the best

blood Arab of the desert; but he threw away all these tokens of

appreciation in obedience to an occidental prepossession in favour of

common honesty.

"Burton found that his Jews were living by usury. Some of them were

known to charge as little as thirty per cent., but rates ran up to

sixty, or more. 'His mouth is full of water[6] and he cannot bark' is

a common Arab proverb, but Burton had nothing in his mouth, and he

barked ferociously. His official duty was to urge the recognition of

British claims, and insist on their being paid. That was the form that

'law and order' took at Damascus. What did it matter if the people

were starving! At the word of the Consul a band of Bashi-Bazouks

would swoop down on the defaulting villagers, eat their food, lie in

their beds, insult their wives and daughters, until the usurer was

satisfied. Should the villagers be unable to pay, they were not only

evicted, but driven like cattle to prison, there to rot till they had

paid the uttermost farthing. Burton did not like the business. He

grew fierce, declared in the strongest language at his command that

he would not be 'Bumbailiff' in such transactions. I am inclined to

think that in this case, as in most others, Burton's impatience led

him into doing the right thing in the wrong way. He was indignant,

his blood was up, and on being asked gently what was the use of a

Consul at Damascus if he did not enforce British claims, he lost the

composure befitting the diplomatic service.

"The storm broke. The _Alliance Israelite_ took up the case of '_poor

Israel_.' Noble, and humane, and generous Jews in England ranged

themselves on the side of 'their persecuted brethren.' Some of them

would have been more fierce than Burton had they known the truth.

Correspondence followed, and the archives of the Foreign Office now

contain Burton's splendid vindications, which may some day see the

light."

"THE RECALL OF CAPTAIN BURTON.

[Sidenote: _Letters showing the State of Syria after his Recall._]

"To the Editor of the _Civil Service Gazette_.

"Sir,--I have just seen some letters from Damascus, from which I

learnt a few facts that may interest you with reference to the recall

of Captain Burton.

"The Consulate was left in charge of Mr. Jago, who, however, was so

alarmed at certain demonstrations of dissatisfaction on the part of

the natives that he prudently took advantage of an opportune fever,

and left the town and the Consulate to take care of itself. The

English Government is, therefore, entirely unrepresented in Damascus.

"The Kurds who inhabit the suburb of Damascus, called the Salahíyyeh,

say that now Captain Burton has gone, there is no one who can protect

them from the extortions of the Governor-General, and have notified

their intention of leaving _en masse_. As they are about ten thousand

fighting men, they will not improve the pacific aspect of the country

when they are let loose over it, feeling that they have no protector

but their sword.

"The Mohammedans, whose 'fanatical aversion to Captain Burton' is the

ostensible pretext for his recall, have been holding mass meetings,

and even praying publicly in the mosques that God will send him back

to them. Letters are flowing in every day from village sheikhs and

Bedawin chiefs, asking that he may return to Damascus, as there is no

one else to whom they can appeal for help or succour.

"So strong is the feeling, that Mrs. Burton was obliged to slip away

secretly, as the people wished to retain her as a hostage in order to

make sure that Captain Burton would go back to them.

"In addition to these facts, which I can vouch for, I can tell you

that, from my own experience of the country, I feel sure that Captain

Burton's absence will be a source of great inconvenience (to put it

mildly) to intending travellers this next winter. If you have any

friends who propose visiting Syria, you cannot do better than advise

them not to do so, as there will assuredly be troubles before long.

"I cannot pretend to enter into the real reasons for this blunder on

the part of the Foreign Office (though they are not hard to guess),

but of one thing I feel assured, and that is that the mistake would

never have been made had Lord Stratford de Redcliffe been still at

Constantinople.

"I am, Sir, yours truly,

"E. H. PALMER.

"St. John's College, Cambridge."

"THREATENED TROUBLES IN SYRIA.

"To the Editor of the _Standard_.

"Sir,--Forewarned will not be forearmed in this case, for the mischief

is half done already by the actions of her Majesty's Government.

"I came to Syria in February last with a special mission from the

Palestine Exploration Fund. I have since been travelling over the

length and breadth of the land, and this, with several years' previous

acquaintance with the East, enables me to see more of the real state

of the country than falls to the lot of the ordinary tourist.

"In the early spring I found Syria in an abnormal state of excitement,

arising from many causes. That excitement has gone on increasing,

chiefly for five reasons: 1. The injustice and rapacity of the

Governor-General (_Wali_), Mohammed Rashíd Pasha, who now misgoverns

Syria. 2. The agitation kept up by Egypt, with whom Syria and its

Governor sympathize only too strongly, and with whom they will act

the moment opportunity offers. 3. The ruin of the peasantry, crushed

by exorbitant taxes, starved by a bad season, and devoured by Jewish

money-lenders. 4. The way in which the _Wali_ pits sect against sect

for his own political ends; and in this land, where party feeling runs

so high, nothing is easier. And, 5. The strong Christian movement,

none the less strong for being under the surface--this has already

been noticed in some English papers.

"There was but _one_ man in Syria who both saw and protested against

the many and glaring acts of injustice done by the _Wali_, and this

was her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Damascus, Captain R. F. Burton,

whom her Majesty's Foreign Office have thought fit to remove, giving

ear to the tale raised two years ago, by certain missionaries and

others, that Moslem fanaticism was working against him. Knowing the

people and the country as well as I do, I hesitate not one moment to

say that this is a deliberate lie (and I am ready to prove it such)

invented by Captain Burton's enemies. Few men, if any, would have got

on as well as he has with all classes here, Mohammedans and Metaweli,

Greek Catholics and Syrians, Protestants and Latins. He visited and

was visited by the religious sheikhs, and especially by the Emir Abd

el Kadir of Algerian fame. This prince is looked upon as the leader

of Mohammedan religion here. These facts are sufficient to show how

false is the plea of Captain Burton's not being able to deal with

Mohammedans on account of their fanaticism. Only to-day I have heard

numbers of Moslems deplore his removal, which pleased only the _Wali_

and his creatures, and a few Jews engaged in nefarious usury. I dwell

upon these points, as I feel convinced that unless his successor be a

man of _his_ stamp--which will be hard to find--he will sink to that

state of subserviency to the _Wali_ to which the Consuls of other

nations at Damascus have sunk. They are weak and timid, and completely

under the _Wali_. The English Consul was the only man of independence,

but now that Syria is becoming of vital importance to us on account

of the Euphrates Valley Railroad, our name and _prestige_ must go,

through her Majesty's Government recalling, at the instigation of a

Turkish Pasha, the only man fit to represent Great Britain in Syria.

The _Wali_, having succeeded by his vile intrigues in displacing one

of the most efficient of her Majesty's Consular officers, will feel

that there is no one to check his malpractices; the peasantry, sooner

or later, must rise; the great Christian movement will be crushed,

not without bloodshed, for the converts now number many thousands of

resolute men of all classes, and we must be prepared for the worst. I

venture to predict that before many months have passed, the troubles

of Syria will have drawn upon her the eyes of Europe, and when blood

has been shed England will see the error she has committed in throwing

her influence here to the dogs, and obeying the wishes of Rashíd Pasha,

"I am, Sir, etc.,

"CHAS. F. TYRWHITT-DRAKE.

"Damascus."

"THE DAMASCUS CONSULATE.

"The following letter, to which we have alluded in a leading article,

on the subject of Captain Burton's recall, has been addressed to the

Editor of the _Times_, by a well-known Syrian traveller:--

"Sir,--In a letter I addressed to you, dated August 17th, on the

state that Syria, especially in the Damascus district, was likely to

fall into in consequence of the recall, from his post as Consul at

Damascus, of the only man who had the courage to resist and check the

malpractices of the notoriously corrupt and cruel Governor-General

Mohammed Rashíd Pasha, I predicted that troubles would quickly ensue.

On the 18th of August--the day that Captain Burton left Damascus--a

raid was made into the Christian quarter by Mustafa Bey, Mir Alai

of Zabtiyeh (Chief of Police), a most fanatical Mahomedan, with two

hundred men, for the purpose of arresting certain Moslems suspected

of a leaning to Christianity, and who had been decoyed from their own

quarter by a police spy, Mahmud Bey Adham, a man who had by some means

become possessed of their secret. Happily, these suspects were able

to take refuge in the house of an English consular dragoman just as

they were being arrested, and though the _gérant_ of her Majesty's

Consulate ordered them to be given up, yet the matter became so public

that the _Wali_ feared to proceed to extreme measures, and released

them after a day's imprisonment. The affair, however, will not stop

here, though it may lie dormant awhile.

"On August 23, three days after Captain Burton's leaving Beyrout, the

Protestant missionaries were prevented by the _Kaimakam_ (Governor)

from making some small additions to their school at Rasheyya. The

Rev. Messrs. Wright and Scott requested the _gérant_ of her Majesty's

Consulate to procure them an order from the Government to enable them

to go on. A so-called order was immediately procured, but, of course,

it was utterly useless; a second produced no better effect.

"This is but the commencement, yet it serves to show the way in which

English missionaries will be hindered, and how English influence is

to be crushed. It would be, to any one unacquainted with Syria, an

incredible matter if I were to say how our national _prestige_ has

fallen since the last ten days. I have some twenty letters from Moslem

sheikhs of towns and villages, religious sheikhs and men of influence,

as well as from Druzes and Christians, which I have been asked to

forward to Captain Burton, as the writers think that their urgent

entreaties may favour his return.

"The Government organ, _El Hadikat el Akhbar_, has written a most

shameful article on Captain Burton's recall, stating that he was not

only on bad terms with the authorities, but also with his colleagues

and all British-protected Jews, and other lies equally base. A few

Jews, whom he refused to help in scandalous and illegal transactions,

of course detest him, and have been secretly aiding the _Wali_ against

him. A most fulsome article, too, appeared in another paper, _El

Suriva_ (The Syria), from the pen of the _Wali_ himself in praise of

the gentleman now in charge of her Majesty's Consulate here.

"I fear to take up too much of your valuable space by dilating on the

subject, but I am every day more convinced that there will be great

trouble in this unhappy land of misrule.

"I am, Sir, etc.,

"CHAS. F. TYRWHITT-DRAKE.

"Damascus, September."

"REVIVAL OF CHRISTIANITY IN SYRIA.

"To the Editor of the _Tablet_.

"Sir,--I have just seen the account published in the _Tablet_ of the

16th and 23rd of September, of the revival of Christianity in Syria. I

can only say that you have an exceedingly well-informed correspondent,

but one who seems hardly aware what enormous proportions this movement

is assuming in the districts of Hums, Hamáh, and even Aleppo. The

number of these diverts from Islam is almost impossible to calculate,

but I believe that in the whole, of Syria twenty to twenty-five

thousand is a moderate computation.

"Now that Rashíd Pasha, of infamous memory, is removed from Syria,

can nothing be done to bring back the twelve Sházlis banished to

Africa? Will neither England nor any other Christian Power say one

word in their favour? Is the policy of maintaining the unity of

Turkey to be so strictly adhered to, that not even a harsh word is

to be said to her though she deliberately breaks her treaties and

solemn obligations: when, after promising religious freedom to all

her subjects, she invariably persecutes those who dare to leave the

religion of Mohammed, not perhaps directly, but by some subterfuge, as

bringing against the so-called 'renegades' a charge of evasion from

conscription, or desertion from the army.

"Hoping that your advocacy may do something to bring about the return

of these twelve martyrs, whose wives and families would have been

starved here long ago had it not been for the liberality of their

co-sectarians,

"I remain, Sir, etc.,

"CHAS. F. TYRWHITT-DRAKE.

"Damascus, November 13."

Richard wrote at the end of his time in Syria, just before his recall--

"My time here is marked and rendered bitter by contact with tyranny

and an oppression which even this land of doleful antecedents cannot

remember. The politics of the unworthy _Wali_, Rashíd Pasha, are

alternately French and Russian, and, like all Orientals educated in

Europe, he hates Europeans. I have been brought into collision with

him, by his utterly ignoring the just claims and rights of British

subjects and _protégés_, and he was supported by those whose duty it

was to oppose him, so I had to battle alone with hands bound."

Later on, after his recall, he writes--

"But they, his powerful protectors, failed, and truth from my poor

pen and tongue prevailed, and Rashíd was recalled in disgrace and

degradation, and threatened with irons and fetters. Every measure

which I had ventured to recommend during my time was ordered to

be carried out. The reform was so thorough and complete that her

Majesty's Ambassador at Constantinople was directed officially to

compliment the Porte upon its newly initiated line of progress. But

Pashas soon fall into bad ways, and it is always the case of 'new

broom.' The irony of events is extraordinary. Damascus is the civil,

military, and ecclesiastical Capital of the country, the head-quarters

of the Government and the High Courts of Appeal, the residence of the

chief dignitaries, where the Consul-General ought to live, and the

Vice-Consul for the shipping duties at Beyrout. But Beyrout is safe;

Damascus is not always so. Persia has observed this long ago, and have

a Consul-General. Russia, Prussia, France, and Italy do not speak to

the Capital through Vice-Consuls, but Consuls; yet, to gratify the

F.O.'s most _un_distinguished servant Mr. Eldridge, as soon as I was

gone, a Vice-Consul was appointed for the Capital--a creature of his

own. Therefore, to the detriment of British interest, to the injury

of English residents, missionaries, and school-teachers, we took rank

after Spain, Portugal, and Greece, because their representatives are

often _rayyàhs_, or subjects of the Porte, and take precedence of the

British Vice-Consul. Yet the English public is now surprised to hear

from my successor that English travellers have been made prisoners at

Kerak."

[Sidenote: _The Interval I remained as a Hostage._]

I must now return, and finish my own Eastern career, more for the

sake of showing the goodness of the Syrian heart, than for any other

interest. I am bound, though late, to bear testimony to them.

After seeing Richard off, I had a cold eight hours' drive over the

Lebanon, arrived at the _khan_ at Shtora, found my horse in excellent

condition, and slept for a few hours. Early in the morning I rode to

see Miss Wilson, who kindly insisted on my remaining a day with her.

Mr. Tyrwhitt-Drake, a _kawwás_, and servants and horses, met me here,

and escorted me back to Bludán; but we lost our way in the mountains,

and had an eleven hours' hard scramble. I was ill, tired, and harassed,

and was thankful to find my friend Mrs. Rattray, who came over to keep

me company. She was as much troubled as I was myself. I do not care who

says to the contrary, but the world _in general_ is a good place; for,

although a _few_ bad people make everything and everybody as miserable

as they can--permitted, I infer, by an all-wise Providence, like

mosquitoes, snakes, and scorpions, to prevent our becoming too attached

to this life, and ceasing to work for the other, where they cannot

enter--the general rule is good, and whoever is in trouble, as I have

said, will always meet with kindness, comfort, and sympathy, from some

quarter or other.

I had every right to expect, in a land where official position is

everything, where love and respect accompanies power and Government

influence, where women are of but small account, that I should be,

morally speaking, trampled underfoot. I do not know how to describe

with sufficient gratitude, affection, and pleasure the treatment I

met with throughout Syria. The news spread like wild-fire. All the

surrounding villages poured in. The house and the garden were always

full of people--my poor, of course, but others too. Moslems flung

themselves on the ground, shedding bitter tears, and tearing their

beards, with a passionate grief for the man "whose life" they were

reported to wish to take. The incessant demonstrations of sorrow were

most harassing, the poor crying out, "Who will take care of us now?"

The Moslems: "What have we done that your _Díwan_ (Government) has

done this thing to us? They sent us a man who made us so happy and

prosperous, and protected us, and we were so thankful; and why now

have they taken him from us? What have we done? Were we not good and

thankful, and quiet? What can we do? Send some of us to go over to your

land, and kneel at the feet of your Queen." This went on for days,

and I received, from nearly all the country round, little deputations

of Shaykhs, bearing letters of affection, or condolence, or grief, or

praise. These sad days filled me with one gnawing thought--"How shall

I tear the East out of my heart by the roots, and adapt myself to the

bustling, struggling, everyday life of Europe?"

I broke up our establishment, packed up my husband's books, and sent

them to England, settled all our affairs, had all that was to accompany

me transferred to Damascus, and parted with the mountain servants. Two

pets--the donkey that had lost a foot, and a dog that was too ill to

recover--had to be shot and buried in the garden.

[Sidenote: _I leave the Anti-Lebanon--Wind up at Damascus._]

When all these sad preparations were finished, I bade adieu to the

Anti-Lebanon with a heavy heart, and for the last time, choking with

emotion, I rode down the mountain, and through the plain of Zebedáni,

with a very large train of followers. I found it hard to leave the spot

where I had hoped to leave my mortal coil.

I had a sorrowful ride into Damascus, and I met the _Wali_ driving

in State, with all his suite. He looked radiant, and saluted me. I

did not return his salute, and he told his Staff that he was afraid I

would shoot him. Somebody did that a little later on. He looked less

radiant when the news of his own recall reached him a few days later,

with a special telegram, that if he delayed more than twenty-four

hours, he was to be sent in chains. He fought hard to stay, and I do

not wonder, for he had a splendid position, and had bought lands and

built a palace, which he never lived in; and he had to give up all his

ill-gotten goods, lands, and palace, squeezed out of the peasantry.

At Damascus I had to go through the same sad scenes, upon a much larger

scale than I had gone through at Bludán. All our kind friends, native

and European, came to stay about me to the last.

I saw that Richard's few enemies were very anxious for me to go, and

that all the rest were equally anxious to detain me as a kind of pledge

for his return. I reflected that it would be right that I should coolly

and quietly perform every single work I had to undertake--to sell

everything, to pay all debts, and arrange every liability of any kind

incurred by my husband, to pack and despatch to England our personal

effects, to make innumerable friendly adieux, to make a provision

or find a happy home for every single being--man or beast--that had

been dependent upon us. This was rendered slow and difficult, as the

Government left us _pro tem._, without a farthing. A servant generally

gets a month's notice with wages and a character, but without any

defence we were annihilated as if by dynamite. At last I made our case

known to Uncle Gerard, who telegraphed to the Imperial Ottoman Bank,

"to let his niece have any money that she wanted." Before I left I

went and dressed our little chapel with all the pious things in my

possession.

On the day of the sale I could not bear to stay near the house, so

I went up to Arba'in, or "the Forty Martyrs," above our house, on

Jebel Kaysún, about fifteen hundred feet high, and I gazed on my dear

Salahíyyeh below, in its sea of green, and my pearl-like Damascus, and

the desert sand, and watched the sunset on the mountains for the last

time. I also met some Mogháribehs, who came up to pray there, and who

prognosticated all sorts of good fortune to me.

In one sense I was glad, because I was a kind of hostage, giving

the lie to his enemies. If there had been anything wrong, I should

assuredly have paid the forfeit. I had no anxiety, for though I had

magnificent offers--two from Moslems to shoot certain official enemies,

as they passed in their carriage, from behind a rock, and another

from a Jew to put some poison in their coffee--I slept in perfect

security, amongst my Moslem and Kurdish friends, with my windows and

doors open, in that Kurdish village, Salahíyyeh. Between us and the

City was a quarter of an hour's ride through orchards that were wild

and lawless--at least, in my time, no one would come there from sunset

to sunrise, and timid people, not even in the day, without a guard.

We had the house on a three years' lease, and my bedroom window and

the _Muezzin's_ Minaret were on a level, and almost joined, so that we

could talk to each other. I used to join him in the "call to prayer,"

and he used to try not to laugh. I never missed a pin; I never had

anything but blessings. All my work took me some time, but I resolved,

whatever the wrench would cost me, I would set out the moment it was

finished. My husband being gone, I had no business, no place there; I

knew it would be better taste to leave.

We all began to perceive that the demonstrations were beginning to be

of an excitable nature; the Moslems assembling in cliques at night, a

hundred here and a hundred there, to discuss the strange matter. They

were having prayers in the mosques for Richard, and making promises

of each giving so much to the poor if they obtained their wish. They

continually poured up to Salahíyyeh with tears and letters, begging

him to return, and I felt that my presence and distress only excited

them the more. I left more quickly because I was informed that my

presence was exciting the people, who lived in hopes of his return, and

his non-appearance was causing an irritability that might break out

into open mutiny and cause another massacre. They were beginning with

the usual signs of meeting in clusters in the streets, in discussing

the affair in the mosques, in the bazaars, in the _cafés_, and putting

up public prayers for his return.

As half the City wanted to accompany me on the road, and I was afraid

that a demonstration might result, I thought I should be wise to slip

away quietly. My two best friends, Abd el Kadir and the Hon. Jane

Digby el Mezrab (Lady Ellenborough), were with me till the last, and,

accompanied by Charley Drake and our two most faithful dragomans, who

had never deserted me and put themselves and all they possessed at my

disposal, Hanna Asar and Mr. Awadys, I left Damascus an hour before

dawn, sending word to all my friends that parting was too painful to me.

"Linger not out the hours of separation's day

Till for sheer grief my soul to ruin fall a prey."[7]

[Sidenote: _I get Fever._]

I felt life's interest die out of me as I jogged along for weary miles,

wishing mental good-byes to every stick and stone. I had been sickening

for some days with fever. I had determined not to be ill at Damascus,

and so detained. Pluck kept me up, but having braved the fatal 13th,

and set out upon it, I was not destined to reach Beyrout.

When I reached that part of the Lebanon looking down upon the sea,

near Khan el Karáyyeh, my fever had increased to such an extent that

I became delirious, and had to be set down on the roadside, where I

moaned with pain and could not proceed. Half an hour from the road was

the village of my little Syrian maid. I was carried to her father's

house, and lay there for ten days very ill, and was nursed by her and

by my English maid. Many kind friends, English and native, came to see

me from Beyrout and from the villages round about.

Mr. Tyrwhitt-Drake took our house, part of the furniture, the faithful

Habíb, and the _sais_, my two horses, which I could not bear to sell

into stranger hands, the dogs, and the Persian cat, "Tuss," who,

however, ran away the day after I left, and has never been seen or

heard of since. All the other servants and animals were well provided

for in other ways. I was offered £15 for my white donkey, but I could

not bear to sell him, so I left him also with Mr. Tyrwhitt-Drake,

and he eventually found a good home with our successor, Mr. Green

(afterwards Sir W. Kirby Green), and died. The bull-terriers also

died natural deaths with Mr. Drake. It was a great relief to know

that the former would never become a market donkey, nor the latter

pariahs, nor be beaten, stoned, and ill-used. I was obliged to sell

Richard's _rahwán_, and I sent it to the purchaser, the Vice-Consul who

succeeded, from the village where I was ill. He came to pay me a visit.

Although the poor horse had only been there one night, this gentleman

told me he had no trouble in finding the house, for as soon as the

_rahwán_ got near the turn leading off the diligence road, he started

off at full gallop, and never stopped till he reached the door, nor

would he go anywhere else.

I went down to Beyrout as soon as I was well enough to move, and,

assisted by Mr. Watkins of the Imperial Ottoman Bank, Mr. Drake, and

Mr. Zal Zal, embarked in the Russian ship _Ceres_, the same that had

brought me formerly from Alexandria to Beyrout. As we were about to

steam out, an English Vice-Consul in the Levant gaily waved his hand to

me, and said laughingly, "Good-bye, Mrs. Burton. I have been sixteen

years in the service, and I know twenty scoundrels in it who are never

molested; but I never saw a Consul 'recalled' except for something

disgraceful, and certainly never for an Eastern Pasha. You'll find it's

all right; they would hardly do such a thing to such a man as Burton."

We were a fortnight at sea, detained by fogs and two collisions.

[Sidenote: _Eventually reach Home._]

On reaching London I found Richard in one room in a very small hotel.

He had made no defence--had treated the whole thing _de haut en bas_,

so I applied myself for three months to putting his case clearly before

the Foreign Office in his own name. I went to the Foreign Office, where

I had thirteen friends, and knew most of its Masters, and I asked them

to tell me frankly what was the reason of his recall.

Firstly, I was told it had been represented that he was in danger from

the Mohammedans. That was _too easily_ disproved by fifty-eight letters

from every creed, nation, and tongue of the thirty-six in Syria, from

Bedawi tribes, Druzes, Moslems of all categories, from the Ulemá, from

Abd el Kadir; and, like proverbs, this homely correspondence sprung

from the heart illustrated the native character better than books,

and was a fair specimen of local Oriental scholarship. What the Press

and the Public thought about it in various nations was the same--in

forty-eight articles chiefly from the English Press and the Levant, and

five leaders. All that England has ever done to _him_ of neglect and

slight has never touched him in any man's mind. He was the brightest

gem in his country's crown, and his country did not deserve him. I went

the rounds of my friends repeatedly in the Foreign Office, and insisted

on having a reason for the recall.

When the Mohammedan question was disposed of, it was found that it

was because "Burton had written a letter to convoke the Druzes to

a political meeting in the Haurán." I asked if I might have a copy

of that letter, and, having kept the _original_ copy, I was able to

put them side by side in the report, showing it was forged by Rashíd

Pasha. He was then accused of opposing missionary work, because he had

written advising a schoolmistress, in the kindest spirit, to try and

prevent her husband entering into _mining_ speculations: as there was

so much cheating going on, he was afraid he would drop several thousand

pounds. "Mining," was _somehow_ changed to "missionary;" but that fact

was disposed of by the regretful and indignant letters at his recall

from all the _other_ missionaries. He was accused of being influenced

against the Jews because he protected the poor villagers from paying

their debts twice and thrice over to the usurers, who took their money

and refused receipts, leaving nothing to show. Amongst the letters one

Jew wrote home that Captain Burton "was influenced by his Catholic wife

against the Jews." I am proud to say that I have never in my life tried

to influence my husband to do anything wrong, and I am prouder still to

say that if I _had_ tried I should not have succeeded, and should have

only lost his respect. The Jews have never had a better friend than

me. I distinctly divide the usurers from the Jews, just as I divide

the good, honest, loyal half of the Irish Catholic nation from the

Fenians and the moonlighters, who are mostly Irish living in England

and America, and who go over for the purpose of fomenting disturbance.

I have suppressed many a thing that civilized and idealized Jews would

be ashamed to have known of their lower and fanatical brethren in the

East and elsewhere. He was accused by the Greek bishop of firing into

"harmless Greeks at play," because he fired a shot in the air to call

assistance when we were being stoned to death.

[Sidenote: _He gets an Amende._]

Mr. Eldridge, who was quite a Russian at heart, went on the plan of

never compromising himself by writing an official order to Richard;

he never wrote him anything but private notes. Richard said he could

not use private notes in official life as proofs. I thought this very

wrong. I saw a _plan_ in this mode of action, so I used to keep them

in a portfolio till wanted, so that when I put the case together I was

able to state the facts very correctly. I have got several packets of

that Blue Book now, if anybody wants to see one. It ended by Richard

getting the _nearest thing_ to an apology that one could expect out

of a Government office, and an offer of several small posts, which he

indignantly refused. In his journal I find he was offered Pará, but

would not take it--"Too small a berth for me after Damascus."

[Sidenote: _We become Penniless._]

Shortly after, Mr. L---- offered him, that if he would go to Iceland

to inspect some sulphur mines, he would pay his passage there and

back, and his expenses, and if he found he could conscientiously give

a good report of the sulphur mines, that he would give him £2000.

He went, and as we were at a very low ebb, and as Mr. L---- did not

pay for _me_, I was left with my father and mother, which was a very

fortunate circumstance, because my mother died shortly after. I may

put in a parenthesis that, though Richard was able conscientiously

to give a _splendid_ report of the mines, Mr. L---- did not pay him

the £2000. The trip resulted in a book called "Ultima Thule: a Summer

in Iceland"[8] (2 vols.), which was not published till 1875, and his

"Zanzibar City, Island, and Coast" (2 vols., 1872); and he wrote a

lecture for the Society of Antiquaries, a "History of Stones and Bones

from the Haurán," and "Human Remains and other Articles from Iceland."

We had ten months of great poverty and official neglect (but great

kindness from Society), during which we were reduced to our last £15,

and after that we had nothing to do but to sit on our boxes in the

street, for we had _nothing_, not a _prospect_ of anything; but we let

nobody know that. He remarked one day when we were out on business--

"Lunch, one shilling,

Soup not filling."

And I noticed afterwards, in his journal, that he had longed for

some oysters, and looked at them long; but he says, "They were three

shillings a dozen--awful, forbidden luxury!"

At last my uncle, Lord Gerard, asked us up to Garswood, and we debated

if we had a right to accept it or not. I begged him to do so, as

I thought it might bring us good luck. We were alone in a railway

compartment, when one of the £15 rolled out of my purse, and slid

between the boards of the carriage and the door, reducing us to £14. I

sat on the floor and cried, and he sat down by me with his arm round my

waist, trying to comfort me. Uncle Gerard kept us one month, paid our

fare up and down, and, without knowing that we wanted anything, gave

me £25, and from that time one little help or another came to keep us

alive without our asking for anything. We sold some of our writings,

and it was discovered that some back pay was due to Richard.

[Sidenote: _Small Jottings._]

During this ten months at home, we saw a great deal of Winwood Reade,

whom all know by his travels in Africa, his many literary works, of

which the cleverest, but the most harmful, was the "Martyrdom of

Man," of which he presented Richard with a copy, which was carefully

treasured till about six months before Richard's death. He told us the

following account of a ghost story:--

There was a place in Africa or in India (I forget at this distance

of time), where there was a haunted bungalow, and Winwood Reade was

longing to see a ghost, as he was very sceptical about the existence of

such things. In this particular bungalow there was a room on the ground

floor, with folding doors of glass that opened to the ground, leading

out into the compound. Every night at twelve o'clock these glass doors

(being locked) slowly opened outwards, and the ghosts of three surgeons

who had died of cholera appeared in their winding-sheets. Winwood

Reade engaged the bungalow for the night, it being quite empty, but he

could not induce anybody, for love or money, to go with him. At last

he tempted a black boy, by large promises of money, to pass one night

there, and the boy said _if he might sleep on the roof_ he would, but

nothing would induce him to go inside the house. So they started forth,

and Winwood took with him a good novel, his gun, his watch, and plenty

of brandy and water, and towards eleven o'clock made himself very

comfortable on some cushions in a corner of the room in full view of

the window. As his watch pointed to twelve, the doors slowly opened,

he seized his gun, and in a moment the three white figures appeared. I

said, breathless with excitement, "And what did you do, Winwood?" He

smiled and hesitated, and said, "To tell the honest truth, I dropped my

gun and fainted, and when I came to I got out of the house as quick as

I could, called the boy, went away, and never went back." He was such a

brave man he could afford to own this.

Richard writes at this time in his journal, "I called on some old

friends, and as I came out of the house I heard the servants whisper,

'Why, Captain Burton looks like an old gypsy.'" This was after his

recall.

We had one very pleasant evening at Lady Marian Alford's. She had been

building her house at Prince's Gate, and Miss Hosmer had sculptured

her fountain; it was the opening night. Lady Marian wanted to prepare

a little surprise for her friends, so she made Richard dress as a

Bedawin Shaykh, and Khamoor (my Arab girl) and me as Moslem women of

Damascus. I was supposed to have brought this Shaykh over to introduce

him into a little English society. He spoke Arabic to Khamoor and

me, and broken English with a few words of French to the rest of

the party. It was a delightful little party, and we enjoyed it very

much, and--though they all knew him--nobody recognized Richard, which

was very amusing; but presently the Prince of Wales and the Duke of

Edinburgh were announced, and Lady Marian had to go out to prepare them

for this little joke, which amused them immensely, and so it gradually

had to ooze out. There was a delightful supper, three tables each of

eight. Khamoor in her Eastern dress came in with coffee on a tray on

her head, and presented it kneeling to the Prince and the Duke, and

to the others standing. Everything that Lady Marian Alford did was so

graceful.

I see that Richard notices in his journal a correspondence between

himself and the Rev. Herbert Vaughan, D.D. (our present Cardinal),

which I imagine was about the Sházlis. And he also notices that his

name is again left out of Sir Roderick Murchison's address, and asks,

"Why? Old Murchison hates me."

Again speaking of Sir R. Murchison, Richard writes, "He was anxious to

pay due honour to our modern travellers, to Livingstone and Gordon,

Speke and Grant. He has done me the honour of not honouring me." Later

on: "Received a card from him to go and see him."

We also went to Ashridge, Lord Brownlow's, on a visit to Lady

Marian Alford, which visit we enjoyed immensely, where we met Lord

Beaconsfield and numbers of other delightful people.

He also notices in his journal: "Had the satisfaction of hearing of

Rashíd Pasha's disgrace and removal. Wonder if he wishes he had not

crossed swords with me."

This year was the Tichborne trial, and Richard was subpœnaed by him,

but his evidence did more good to the family. Amongst other things

the Claimant said to Richard, "That he had met me in Rio de Janeiro,

and that I had recognized him as a long-lost cousin; but, on fixing

the dates, it was proved that I had sailed from Rio for London a week

before the Claimant arrived there." We had one very lively meeting at

the Royal Geographical Society. He writes--

"Rassam stood up about a native message to Livingstone. Colonel Rigby

contradicted, and said there were no Abyssinians in Zanzibar. They

began to contradict me, so I made it very lively, for I was angry,

and proved my point, showing that my opponents had spoken falsely. My

wife laughed, because I moved from one side of the table to the other

unconsciously, with the stick that points to the maps in my hand, and

she said that the audience on the benches looked as if a tiger was

going to spring in amongst them, or that I was going to use the stick

like a spear upon my adversary, who stood up from the benches.[9]

To make the scene more lively, my wife's brothers and sisters were

struggling in the corner to hold down their father, an old man, who

had never been used to public speaking, and who slowly rose up in

speechless indignation at hearing me accused of making a misstatement,

and was going to address a long oration to the public about his

son-in-law Richard Burton. As he was slow and very prolix he would

never have sat down again, and God only knows what he _would_ have

said; they held on to his coat-tails, and were preparing, in event of

failure, some to dive under the benches, and some to bolt out of the

nearest door."

We went a great deal into Society those ten months, and we saw much of

the two best literary houses of the day, where one always met _la haute

Bohème_, the most interesting Society in London, mixed with the best of

everything, and those were Lord Houghton's and Lord Strangford's.

About this time we went to visit Mr. ----, our then publisher, at

his country-house, where he showed us all that was comfortable and

luxurious, with ten horses in the stable--everything else to match. He

gave us a large literary dinner, at which Lord Houghton, with his quiet

chuckle, called out across the table, "I say, Burton, don't you feel as

if we were drinking out of poor authors' skulls?" Upon which Richard

laughed, and tapped his own head for an answer.

Richard was very anxious that Alexandretta should be the chief port

in Syria, into whose lap the railway would pour the wealth of the

province, for it is the only good port the country possesses on the

eastern coast of the Mediterranean. Alexandretta, if freed from its

stagnant marshes, would be magnificent; the railway should go to

Damascus, Jerusalem, and Aleppo.

With regard to Sir Roderick Murchison, his journal again contained the

following, speaking of one of his books:--

"Since these pages went to print Sir R. I. Murchison has passed away,

full of years and of honours. I had not the melancholy satisfaction

of seeing for the last time our revered Chief, one of whose latest

actions was to oppose my reading a paper about the so-called Victoria

Nyanza before the Royal Geographical Society; whilst another was to

erase my name from the list of the Nile explorers when revising his

own biography. But peace be to his manes! I respect the silence of a

newly made grave."

We went, for the first time in our lives, and the last, to a great

banquet at the Mansion House, which amused us very much. Whenever we

wanted to make any remarks at dinner-time we made them in Arabic,

thinking that probably no one would understand us. Curiously, the

people who sat next to us turned round, and said in Arabic, "Yes,

you are perfectly right; we were just thinking the same thing;" and

Richard said, "We spoke Arabic thinking nobody would understand us;"

and they said, "It is most probable that out of all this huge crowd we

are the only four people who happen to speak Arabic, and happen to sit

together."

Another very interesting visit we paid was to the Surrey County Lunatic

Asylum, Wandsworth Common, where the doctor, who was a friend of my

husband's, invited us to spend the day and dine with him, and he showed

us over everything; but I know that I, for one, felt awfully glad when

we left it; some of the faces that I saw there I can see now if I shut

my eyes and think.

In 1872, we were on a visit at Knowsley, the Earl of Derby's, and we

planted there a cedar of Lebanon, which we had brought; and we went

over the alkali works at St. Helen's, very interesting to Richard, who

did not know so much of the "Black Country" as we did. We then went to

Uncle Gerard's, where we met the Muriettas (now Marchesa de Santurce),

and many other pleasant people. Here we went down some coal-pits (265

fathoms) for further information, and we planted more cedars of Lebanon

and a bit of Abraham's oak, which we brought from Mamre, some distance

from Hebron.

That year my mother got very ill, and we all assembled in town to be

with her. She had been paralyzed for nine years, and, nevertheless, had

been strong, active, and cheerful, and enabled in some fashion to enjoy

life. Her strong brain kept her alive.

At this time the public, answering an appeal of mine in the _Tablet_,

describing the poverty and destitution of the Syrian Inland Churches,

sent me wherewith to furnish six of them, which has never been

forgotten out there.

In 1872, poor General Beatson died at New Swindon. Richard sent

thirty-two species of plants from the summit of the Libanus to the

British Museum; and this year he got the news from Syria that he had

gained his cause about the stoning at Nazareth. The Greek Bishop had

brought an action against him before the Tribunal, and Richard won it

with honour.

He wrote and lectured on the "Stones and Bones of the Haurán," March,

1872, and "Human Remains in Iceland" in late 1872.

I attended the Tichborne trial, and saw Sir John Coleridge examine

my cousin, Katty Radcliffe. Richard whispered to me, "The next thing

plaintiff will do, will be to call himself Lord Aberdeen." I came home

from there, and found the other brother, Father Coleridge, S.J., giving

my mother Communion. At this time, too, we attended all the learned

societies, where Richard generally made speeches. We also went down to

the Duke and Duchess of Somerset's, where we met Lady Ulrica Thynne,

the Brinsley Sheridans, and afterwards, at their house, brilliant and

fascinating Mrs. Norton.

Charles Reade, the well-known author, who was a great friend of ours,

gave us a delightful dinner and pleasant evening, asking a great many

actors and actresses to meet us. Sir Frederick Leighton began to paint

Richard on the 26th of April, and it was very amusing. Richard was so

anxious that he should paint his necktie and his pin, and kept saying

to him every now and then, "Don't make me ugly, don't, there's a good

fellow;" and Sir Frederick kept chaffing him about his vanity, and

appealing to me to know if he was not making him pretty enough. That is

the picture that Sir Frederick has now, and is going to leave to the

nation; and both Richard and I always retained the pleasantest memory

of the many happy hours we passed in his studio. Richard was examined

on the Consular Committee, and made them all laugh. He complained that

the salary of Santos had been very inadequate to his position; he had

been obliged to use his own little capital to supplement. He was asked

how his predecessor (a baronet) had managed, and he answered, "By

living in one room over a shop, and washing his own stockings." Richard

attended the Levée on May 13th.

We went to a Foreign Office party, where Musurus Pasha explained to

Richard why he was obliged to go against him, by the order of the

Turkish Government about Syria, and Richard said to him, "Well, Pasha,

I did not know that you had; but I can tell you that, though I never

practically wish evil to my enemies, they all come to grief, and you

are bound to have a bit of bad luck on my account." The next day

Musurus Pasha fell down and broke his arm. It is an absolute fact that

everybody who did my husband an injury had some bad luck.

Richard tried to get Teheran, which was one of the places that he

longed for and was vacant, and we knew that three names were sent up

to her Majesty for approval; but we also knew, _sub rosa_, that Mr.

(afterwards Sir Ronald) Thompson, a personal friend in their youth of

Mr. and Mrs. (afterwards Lord and Lady) Hammond, of the Foreign Office,

was to get it.

I brought out "Unexplored Syria" (2 vols.), in which Richard and I and

Charley Drake collaborated, on the 21st of June, 1872, while Richard

was in Iceland.

[Sidenote: _Death of my Mother._]

Richard sailed on the 4th of June from Leith for Iceland. The 5th of

June was one of my most unhappy days. I got up early, and passed the

day with my mother. She received Communion at a quarter to one; at 9.30

p.m. she asked to see everybody. We said prayers to her, but did not

think her in any danger. At eleven some instinct made me refuse to go

home to my lodging. We were summoned suddenly. I ran in and took her

in my arms; she turned her head round upon my shoulder, looked at me,

breathed a little sigh, and died like a child at a quarter to twelve

p.m. All the week she lay in state, the room dressed like a chapel,

with flowers and candles, and we, her children, passed all day by her,

and had all our religious services in her room. (Richard notes in his

journal, "Poor mother died about midnight, June 5th.")

On the 12th of June, attended by all the people she liked best, we

buried her at Mortlake.

[Sidenote: _Richard accepts Trieste._]

At last, Lord Granville wrote to me, and asked me if I thought Richard

would accept Trieste, Charles Lever having died; and he also advised

me to urge him to take it, because they were not likely to have

anything better vacant for some time. And I was able to send Richard's

acceptance of Trieste to Lord Granville on July 15th. We knew that

after a post of £1000 a year, with work that was really diplomatic, and

with a promise ahead of Marocco, Teheran, and Constantinople before

him, that a commercial town on £600 a year, and £100 office allowance,

meant that his career was practically broken; but Richard and I could

not afford to starve, and he said he would stick on as long as there

was ever a hope of getting Marocco.

Finally we were taken into some sort of favour again. Lord Granville

_had not understood_ Richard's letter about wanting to have the Sházlis

baptized, and feared that it might result in a _Jehád_, or religious

war, if the baptisms had taken place. Richard told him "he knew it

_would not_." He knew he could carry it through; he was not a man to

risk such a matter. His plan was to buy a tract of land, to give these

people the means of building themselves cottages, choose their own

Shaykh, their own Priest, and make for themselves a little Church.

The village _was to belong to him_, and he would have put it under the

protection of his friends amongst the Mohammedans. He would have taken

no taxes from them, and no presents or provisions, as other people do,

and the consequence is they would have been now a flourishing colony.

_That was the real cause of the recall_; and, as I have said before,

Richard said, "That is suffering persecution for justice' sake with

a vengeance; but we won't have anything more to do with this subject

until I am free from an enlightened and just-minded Government in

March, 1891."

On the 26th of August I was going a round of country-house visits

in Richard's absence, and arriving at ten o'clock at night at Uncle

Gerard's, met the sad news that our youngest and favourite brother,

the flower of our flock, Jack Arundell, commanding the _Bittern_, had

died of rheumatic fever between the West Coast of Africa and Ascension,

where he is buried--that is to say, he did not die of rheumatic

fever, but it was a question of sleep saving him. A very slight dose

of opiate had been administered to him to ensure this boon. He had

never mentioned the peculiarity in our family of being very sensitive

to opiates; he went to sleep and never woke again, to the grief and

distress of all on board. He was only thirty-one years of age, was

bright and good-looking; he was a dashing officer, with his heart in

his profession, and a fine career was before him. He had not had time

to hear of our mother's death before he joined her. It was a terrible

blow to us.

Richard arrived on the 8th of June in Iceland, embarked for return on

1st of August, and arrived in England from Iceland at eleven at night

on the 14th of September.

On the 5th of October, 1872, the day was fixed for Richard to have a

tumour cut out of his shoulder or back. He had got it from a blow from

a single-stick, when he was off guard and his back was turned. It was

an unfair blow, only the man did it in fun; anyway, he said so. He had

had it for a long time, and it had frequently opened and discharged of

itself, but now it was getting troublesome. Dr. Bird, of 49, Welbeck

Street, performed the operation. It was two inches in diameter, and

from first to last occupied about twelve minutes. I assisted Dr. Bird.

He sat astride on a chair, smoking a cigar and talking all the time,

and in the afternoon he insisted on going down to Brighton. He did not

wish me to go with him, but I accompanied him to the station. I always

liked to wait on him, so I got him his ticket, had his baggage put in,

and took him a place in a _coupé_ whilst he went off to buy his book

and paper, and then I called the guard. I said, "Guard, my husband is

going down to Brighton. I wish you would just look after him, he is

not very well;" and I gave him half a crown. Presently an old man of

eighty hobbled by on crutches, "Is that him, ma'am?" "No," I said. Next

a consumptive boy came by, "Is this him, ma'am?" "No," I said; "not

yet." Many passed, and of all those who he thought looked as though

they wanted taking care of, he asked the same question, and he got the

same answer. Presently Richard came swaggering along, as if the whole

station belonged to him--all fencers know the peculiar walk a soldier

has who is given much to fencing and broadsword--and I whispered to the

guard, "There he is," and I stood by the carriage till the train went,

and I heard him whisper to a comrade, "She would never ask me to take

care of such a chap as that, unless he was a raving lunatic. I'll take

devilish good care I don't go near him; he would probably pitch me out

of the carriage."

After this we had a large family party at Wardour Castle, which we

enjoyed immensely.

A Greek priest from Syria came to see us, and we took him to a

spiritualistic _séance_. He was dreadfully frightened, and said his

prayers out loud all the time.

On his way up to Iceland he went to see Holyrood in Edinburgh, and,

visiting Queen Mary's room, exclaimed, "No wonder she sighed for

France." He went to the Levée held there by Lord Airlie (the present

Earl's father).

[Sidenote: _The Old Story of shooting People, and a Newer One._]

Before I finish with Syria, there is a question I want to set at rest

on behalf of both Richard and myself. During my husband's life, from

his journey to Mecca in 1853, till his death in 1890, a period of

thirty-seven years, a story was current about him, which he had no

idea of, and when he did hear it, treated it as a good joke--that when

he was on the road to Mecca he killed two Mohammedans, who suspected

him of being a Frank and a Christian. He told me it was absolutely

false; and, if any one knew what a horror he had of any one taking the

life of _anything_, they would not doubt it for a moment. He would

not allow even an animal to be killed, saying that "we had no right

to destroy life." One of his greatest remorses was shooting a monkey

in his younger days; "it cried like a child," he said, "and I can

never forget it." This story did happen to two Englishmen, who were

travelling in the desert about this time; and who, in consequence of

their unfortunate necessity, never appeared before the public, nor gave

an account of their travels.

Now, I mention this incident in connection with Syria (instead of

Mecca), because, after my husband died, his mantle in this respect

descended upon my shoulders. Mrs. Mentor Mott had assured me on

leaving Syria "that I did not leave a single enemy behind me," but

it issued from the British Syrian schools long afterwards, that the

cause of my husband's recall was that I had shot two men, and wounded

a third, because they did not stand up and salute me, and that I was

afterwards abandoned and neglected; though it never reached my ears

till five days after Richard's death, and that through a missionary's

letter to the _Newcastle Daily Chronicle_, owing, I suppose, to my

being a Catholic. He waited twenty years, till my husband could not

contradict it, and then did not lose a single instant in publishing

this utter fabrication. The fact is, these missionaries get to know

a little Syrian Christian Arabic--some more, some less--and perhaps

unintentionally they get hold of some wonderful stories, and make

mistakes and mischief. This is the true story.

[Sidenote: _The Truth._]

It was in a time of great excitement between Moslems and Christians.

I was riding through a village of about thirty-five thousand Moslems.

There was a feud between two local Shaykhs, the two principal men

of the village. The Consulate favoured one and not the other, who

were bullies. I rode through this village alone, having sent the men

in attendance on me to do a commission. The son of the _un_friendly

Shaykh, a youth of twenty-two, wanted to commence the row by attacking

me--spat at me, and tried to pull me off my horse. This in the East

means volumes, my position there being that of a very great personage.

If I had been cowardly, fainted, and screamed, there would not have

been a Christian left alive by the evening in that village. In fact,

as it was, all the villagers were upon their knees in deprecation of

the outrage, but were afraid to interfere with the village bully;

so I reined in my horse, and slashed him across the face with my

hunting-whip, and he howled and roared as if he were about five years

old. The noise brought my men up sharply, whom he had not seen, having

thought I was alone; seeing what was going on, they flung themselves

upon him, and I think he was very sorry for himself when they had done

with him. There was a general scuffle, in which somebody's pistol went

off in his belt, because they have the bad habit of keeping the trigger

down on the hammer, instead of at half-cock; but the ball fortunately

went into a wall, and nobody was hurt.

When I got home, a strong body of people from the village came up to

tell me that the youth, to revenge his beating, had collected all

the most riotous people of the village and was coming up at night to

burn our house (Sir Richard Wood's house in the Anti-Lebanon, by the

way, which he lent to Richard). I had not enough people about me for

defence, my husband having ridden a little distance in the desert

and taken most of our men; so I sent a mounted messenger over to the

_Wali_, and the next morning at dawn I was horrified at my husband's

confidential Afghan, in full _kawwás_ uniform, armed to the teeth,

coming to tell me that my horse was saddled at the door, and that I

must get up and ride down to the plain; he would explain as we went. I

found the plain covered with troops, who saluted me as I rode down, and

then the Colonel rode up to me, and told me that the _Wali_ had ordered

him to burn and sack the village. I told him that if he did such a

thing my husband and I would leave the country at once; that these

things were quite contrary to our English ideas. He said, "Then I put

myself at your orders." I told him that since he was so kind as to let

me have what I wanted, he was to assemble the principal Moslems of the

village, and to bind them over by an oath not to touch the Christians,

who were chiefly very poor, Greek Orthodox by religion, and Fellahín of

the Anti-Lebanon, and he should take the youth and put him in prison

for a while--say, a month.

This was carried out, and at my request he drew off the troops, and

there was great rejoicing in the village. For this conduct, for

which the writer to the _Newcastle Daily Chronicle_ has induced

many people to believe that my husband was recalled, I received a

complimentary letter from the Consul-General, Mr. Eldridge, who did

not like me because I hated his way with Richard, and the thanks of

the Governor-General, the Wali Rashíd Pasha, for having saved them a

great deal of trouble, both then and in the expected riot which Richard

prevented. Richard was also very pleased with me. I should be ashamed

to mention these things, but I do not mean to die and to leave any

attack upon my husband not cleared up, nor any on myself, if I happen

to hear of them.

When the youth was let out of prison, he became my most devoted

servant. The year after we left, his mother, who was very fond of me,

did some trifling thing which he had forbidden her; they say it was

selling eggs in the market. His father was absent, and, be the offence

what it may, we received a letter to tell us that he called his mother

into the courtyard, assembled the household, and with his own hands

he strangled her, and buried her in the courtyard under the stones. I

never heard whether his father said anything when he came home, but I

did hear that while she was dying, she extended her arms to our house,

and that she called piteously, "Ah, Ya Sitti! ah, Ya Sitti! if thou

wert here this abomination never could have been done."

It is monstrous for any missionary of the British Syrian schools or

otherwise, to pretend that my husband was recalled, because I defended

myself against the man who attacked me. The real cause was very

different; it was his one endeavour to do what England professes to

admire (theoretically, anyway), what Richard did in practice, namely,

sacrifice himself for Christianity's sake!

[Sidenote: _Difficulty of English Officials doing their Duty._]

And here I must be allowed a by-word. People in small official life

are always subject to these trials, and, knowing this, how careful

a Minister at home should be in listening to complaints! The lower

an officer's grade, the lower the people he has to contend with.

The Consul deals with all classes; when he rises to be Minister or

Ambassador, he is above the mob, which cannot touch him. The enemies of

the Consul will crawl in the dust to the Minister. Meantime the junior

official has to run the gauntlet of the mud pelted at him, and if his

Chief at home listens to it, a weak man dare not do his duty for fear

of losing his post; the strong man does his duty, but he knows he has

no chance of rising. Only the bad man succeeds.

He arrives at a new place, and all the bad people make a dead set at

him to take up and protect their evil doings and to join them against

their local enemies. If he does it he is upheld by them, but loses

caste with the decent classes; if he does not, they form a cabal, and

even pay people to write home complaint after complaint against him,

till the Minister for Foreign Affairs, who knows nothing of these

matters, says, "There must be something wrong about this man, or I

should not get bad reports of him right and left. It is evident he

won't do for the place." He recalls his good, honest, brave servant,

who was doing his Master credit, and he puts him on a shelf to pine in

useless inactivity, and breaks his spirit, and sends out another, who

naturally says, "I am duly warned what to do. I will take care not to

do what my unfortunate predecessor did, but the reverse." He has learnt

that the "decent people" only looked on, or if one or two did take his

part, they were not believed, or not listened to. He does as the others

bid him--"wins golden opinions"--and the Minister at home thinks it is

all as it should be. Who shall blame the man? He has, perhaps, a wife

and children to support, and he yearns for promotion. If he sees but

one road to his Chief's favour, that of "hearing no complaints of him,"

what shall he do? What consolation has he when he is driven out of the

world by penury, and has to earn his pittance in some out-of-the-way

settlement? How easy are the sacrifices of an independent man, who can

afford to bide his time!

I have seen many cases of this kind during thirty years of Consular

life, and personally I was always acting the part of Job's wife, but

unsuccessfully. Richard had no chance of rising to his proper position;

he was much too good. The "light of God" was upon him. The Home

Authorities heard all the complaints; _he_ did not report to them the

good he did, but _I_ will cry it from the house-tops until all hear it.

He gained respect and influence over all classes. All the good and the

poor loved and trusted him; the bad feared him. He had pre-eminently

the Divine gift of pity. He had some talisman for attracting the

people; and when they got a written order from him, they would kiss it

and put it on their heads as if it were a Sultan's Firman. He was more

than equal to his position if he had been only commonly backed up at

home.

With so many races, creeds, and tongues, all at variance, in an

Oriental intriguing focus, it is impossible to please everybody. You

cannot well walk down the street without treading upon somebody's toes.

It is difficult for a man who does his duty in a hotbed of corruption

to be universally popular, and there are _some_ whose _disapproval_

is a _proof of integrity_. One must have a straight line of duty. If

a person wants you to do something wrong, and you act uprightly and

refuse, they are sure to write to some great personage at home, to ask

them to complain at head-quarters. They never mention what _they asked

you to do_--what bribe they offered--but invent something against you.

If they are listened to, they can always keep you in hot water, as

_cela encourage les autres_.

"To R. F. B.

"Ever remember, 'tis Pretension rules

Half men, three-thirds of women--to wit, the fools.

In yonder coterie see, my friend, yon pair

Of vapid witlings waging wordy war,

While female senates hear, in trembling awe,

This thing and that thing laying down the law.

Murmured applause shall fill each greedy ear,

Of 'Charming man!' 'Delightful, clever dear!'

And Lady Betty lends her sweetest smile

T' inflame their ardour and their toils beguile.

Yet those same lips no word of worth afford

To thy true heart, strong brain, quick pen, sharp sword.

Pine not, brave soul! he whom such trifles vex,

Unfit to serve, much less can rule the sex.

Ask not the remedy--go, win a name,

Famous or infamous, 'tis much the same;

For silly girls and shallow youths make game

Of God-like nature, all unknown to fame;

But souls select, instinctive, recognize

Congenial spirits unmarked to vulgar eyes.

You asked what caused this egotistic strain--

The fit is on me; let me here explain.

Fools, seeing in youth a hero's value spurned,

Ignored a heart and soul that fondly yearned

And burned for honours honourably earned;

His teens long passed, exiled in distant land,

A noble heart held out the long-sought hand,

Taught him to labour, strengthened him to wait

The turn of fortune's tide that makes us great.

Nor years' long lapse, nor change, nor fate can raze

From Mem'ry's page those words of kindly praise.

If one man's name on our heart's page be penned,

'Tis his--no need to name our true best friend."[10]

----ISABEL BURTON.

Some of us are left in the world to fight our battle. There are strong

souls who can resist all attacks; nothing overthrows them, nothing can

even hurt them. The devil makes war upon the world, but especially upon

them. Nevertheless, it is as hard for a brave spirit to hold its own,

and see its fancied treasures falling away from it in the hour of need,

as for a gallant and successful general, on the eve of victory, in the

turn of the battle, to be deserted by his troops, and left, in spite of

his own qualities, to disgrace and death.

[Sidenote: _Conclusion of his Damascus Career._]

Richard's character presented a singularity in the Levant, wondered

at by all, condemned by many, approved of or not by those who would

suffer or rejoice under his rule. He was a perfectly honest man--I

do not allude only to money. His enemies rejoiced at it, his friends

trembled for him, whilst indifferents were only astounded at his folly.

An attempt was made to console him with the hazy promise of a future,

which seemed, however, rather to consist in the good opinion of good

men than in anything tangible or useful. For him, truth to a principle

meant self-annihilation. He had always done the noble thing, and now,

because he did those noble things, he was virtually regarded as unfit

for the very employment for which God and Nature and his own life had

peculiarly fitted him.

My old friend Charles Reade told us that "in less than two hundred

years the first stone of _honesty in biography_" will have to be laid,

and then he proceeds to relate how _his_ "hero and martyr" has been

treated by the world; how he had earned the gold medal of the Humane

Society twice, and the silver twelve times; how he has never received

either, but is a blind and destitute old man, living in a chimney

corner, deserted and forgotten by the world, and shunned by those he

has saved; how his only public honour is being permitted to cross a

certain bridge without paying the common toll, from whose waters

beneath he has saved so many lives at the risk of his own. He describes

his hero as one of Nature's gentlemen, fit company for an Emperor, a

man without his fellow, who adorns our country. He was earning thirty

shillings a week when charity towards his fellow-creatures induced him

to throw away his sight for the public good, and the parish allows him

three and sixpence a week. He tells us that he better deserves every

order and decoration the State can bestow than does any gentleman or

nobleman whose bosom is a constellation; "yet," he says proudly, "not a

cross or ribbon has ever ascended from the vulgar level. Why? because,"

he adds, "this world, in the distribution of glory, is a heathen in

spite of Christ, a fool in spite of Voltaire." I quote Charles Reade's

story to show that nowadays England does not confer honour on merit in

any class of life. The higher and lower orders share the same fate.

Honours follow a certain red-tape routine, not noble deeds, and often

mock their wearer; whilst many a noble brow looks up to heaven with

patient, uncomplaining dignity, adorned only by God and Nature, and by

a life of chivalrous actions. The English public are, however, seldom

wrong _when once they know the truth_, and perhaps the best and truest

honour is their good verdict.

* * * * *

Whilst here, we saw the Oriental papers every fortnight, and all the

accounts we read of our old home were of "Arab raids, of insults to

Europeans, of miserable, starving people, of sects killing one another

in open day, of policemen firing recklessly into a crowd to wing a

flying prisoner, and a general fusilade in the streets; of sacked

villages, and plundered travellers." We read of Salahíyyeh spoken of

as a "suburb of Damascus, which enjoys an unenviable reputation;" of

innocent Salahíyyeh men being shot down by mistake for criminals,

"because the people of Salahíyyeh are such confirmed ruffians, that

they are sure to be either just going to do mischief or just returning

from it." That is the place where for two or more years we slept with

open doors and windows, and I freely walked about alone throughout

the twenty-four hours, even when my husband was absent, and left with

Moslem servants.

* * * * *

Having lifted any possible cloud which may have hung over the real

history of Richard's removal from his Eastern post--the only suitable

one he ever held--it is unnecessary for me to enter into any further

explanation of the causes of the base detractions from which he has

suffered. His case is not altogether a new one in the human history,

and the true explanation--the only real explanation--of it, which

can face the light of day, has been admirably expressed in the lines

written by the most brilliant statesman the Foreign Office ever

sent to the East--the "great Eltchi," whom I and all lovers of the

Orient speak of with admiration, respect, and pride--Lord Stratford

de Redcliffe--and which are applicable to Richard in every sense,

except that, so far from ever "spurning the gaping crowd," he always

sacrificed himself for the poor, the ignorant, and the oppressed.

"Nay, shines there one with brilliant parts endowed,

Whose inborn vigour spurns the gaping crowd?

For him the trench is dug, the toils are laid,

For him dull malice whets the secret blade.

One fears a master fatal to his ease,

Or worse, a rival born his age to please;

This dreads a champion for the cause he hates,

That fain would crush what shames his broad estates.

Leagued by their instincts, each to each is sworn;

High on their shields the simpering fool is borne."[11]

[1] Lord Granville, a courteous and easy-going peer, complaisant to the

great and unmindful of the little officials, soon found an excuse to

recall him. When he did recall him, he did so without the trial usually

allowed to accused people to prove their guilt or innocence, or to

defend themselves, and from that date began the ruin of Damascus and

the visible and speedy decline of Syria.--I. B.

[2] Men who know the ground will know what that ride means over

slippery boulders and black swamps in the dark.--I. B.

[3] All Consuls, especially men who live in the East, will understand

me.--I. B.

[4] I have had to endure the same since I have been a real widow.--I. B.

[5] I wrote this on the spot, end of 1871.--I. B.

[6] Meaning bribes.--I. B.

[7] Charles T. Pickering, "The Last Singers of Bukhára."

[8] It is a valuable book, chiefly for its philosophical transactions,

antiquarian proceedings, and philological miscellanies, and the mineral

resources of the island.--I. B.

[9] I never saw Richard so angry in my life; his lips puffed out with

rage.--I. B.

[10] The just departed Earl of Derby.

[11] From Lord Stratford de Redcliffe's "Shadows of the Past."

END OF VOL. I.