Chapter XII (2)

Innsbrück has a good hotel (Europa), but ridiculously dear. Here we found some old Trieste friends, Baron and Baroness von Puthon, _née_ Comtesse de Bombelles; so we decided to pass a whole day at Innsbrück, and to go on to Bâle the following day. Here in the Cathedral are the bronze antique statues of the Imperialties of Austria from earliest times, which I have before mentioned. We left the next day, and went through the Arlberg tunnel, running through a most picturesque country. The carriages are high and good, the ventilation excellent. Landeck is the last station before entering the tunnel--it occupies eighteen minutes by the express--and Arlberg is the station at which you come out. The tunnel is lighted by a lamp at every mile. In going through the Arlberg Richard remarked that the ground was rotten, and later on this was more than confirmed. Feldkirch is the last Austrian, and Bocks is the first Swiss station. The road is pretty, but not equal to the other passes. The train then runs all along the lakes until Zurich, after which the country is very common till Bâle. The Euler is an old-fashioned but good hotel close to the Bâle station. We now went in for a nineteen hours' journey by express from Bâle to Boulogne and Folkestone--baggage is visited on the frontier at Delle. The train _had wagon-lits_, but it shook and lurched as if the carriages were very badly coupled. We stayed at Folkestone, as usual, to see Richard's sister and niece, and found the local Exhibition going on.

In London we simply resumed our work of a few months before. Richard attended the _levée_ on the 25th. He notices some pleasant dinners that were given to us by Mr. Christie, and the poet Mr. St. Clair Baddeley at Albert Mansions, at Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft's, where we met the Oscar Wyldes, and lots of other pleasant people.

My so-called edition of the "Arabian Nights" was now being brought out. It was a very melancholy time for me, my father being dead, and we were, as is usual, dividing the property, packing up, and breaking up the old home, which had been our refuge on all the holidays of our married life.

[Sidenote: _Oxford_.]

He wrote--

"Arrived in London, we had to realize the blow that had befallen us. The good old father, Henry Raymond Arundell, had quietly passed away, little short of eighty-seven, and we met to dine and drink a silent toast to his memory on his eighty-seventh birthday; the home, which had been the family _point de réunion_ since 1861, was now to be given up. This house was the link that held the family together, and once separated, people hardly ever reunite upon the same terms. All will understand how painful are such final breakings-up. On returning home, nothing so saddens the heart of the exile as the many empty chairs round the table. After a few visits to country houses, we found ourselves compelled to make sundry trips to Oxford. I had already memorialized the vice-chancellor and the curators of the Bodleian Library for the loan of the Wortley Montagu manuscripts of the 'Arabian Nights.' Not a private loan, but a temporary transference to the India Office under the charge of that excellent librarian, Dr. R. Rost. This led to the usual long delays, and finally, on November 1st, came a distinct refusal, which was the more offensive because a loan had been lately made to another applicant, an Anglo-Indian coloured subject. The visits were essentially unpleasant. The Bodleian is the model of what a reading library should _not_ be, and the contrast of its treasures with their mean and miserable surroundings is a scandal. In autumn the University must be closed at three p.m., lights not being allowed; the student must transfer himself to its Succursale, the Ratcliffe, which as a _salle de lecture_ is even worse. The 'Rotunda' is damp in the wet season, stuffy during the summer heats, and the cave of Eolus in windy weather. Few students except the youngest and strongest can endure its changeable nerve-depressing atmosphere. Nor did Oxford show well in point of climate; the air is malarious, and the resolute neglect of sanitation is a serious obstacle to students at this so-called Seat of Learning. Moreover, the ancient University had now become a mere collection of finishing schools, or rather a huge board for the examination of big boys and girls.

"The old Alma Mater had always been to me a _durissima noverca_. Although the late Mr. Chandler, of Pembroke College, had stoutly opposed all lending of Bodleian books and manuscripts, he thoroughly sympathized with me, and he said to my wife, 'Who could have foreseen, when opposing all loans and laying down laws to limit the facilities of students, that directly afterwards Richard Burton would turn up and want an Arabic manuscript, a manuscript, moreover, which no man in the University can read, although it boasts of two Arabic professors?'

"It was in vain to seek for a copyist at Oxford, and those who offered themselves in London I found by no means satisfactory. At last my wife hit upon the bright idea of photographing the pages required, and imparted her idea to Mr. Chandler, and Chandler thought it was a most valuable hint to the University. He not only carried it out, but he insisted on bearing all the expenses himself, despite my earnest wish to do so. The University should be grateful for this solution of the question. Books are now no longer lent, but photographs can always be obtained."

[Sidenote: _His Last Appeal to Government_.]

On the 1st of July we went to a party at Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Wylde's, and there Richard met a man with whom he used to play chess thirty-five years ago. Richard arrived at playing three games blindfold; but after he left the Army he gave it up, because he wanted his brain for other things. I have already said that Richard, after his recall from Damascus, never tried but for four things. He wanted to be made a K.C.B. in 1875, and I exerted myself very much, in writing to all the Ministers and getting it backed up by all our big friends (some fifty), and again in 1878; but it was refused. He wanted to be Commissioner for the Slave Trade in 1880. He then asked for Marocco in 1885, which we considered was as good as promised; and on the 2nd of July, 1886, we had the mortification of finding that Lord Rosebery had given it away to Mr. (afterwards Sir) William Kirby-Green. Richard said on hearing it, in his usual generous way, "Next to getting it one's self, the best thing is to know that a friend and a good man has got it;" but when he came home and told me, he said, "There is no rise for me _now_, and I don't _want_ anything; but I have worked forty-four years for _nothing_. I am breaking up, and I want to go free." So this year (1886) we occupied ourselves in entreating the Ministry to allow him to retire on his pension four years before his time. It was backed up by the usual forty-seven or fifty big names, and it was not _pretence_ in _any_ of the _three cases; they did write,_ but it was _refused_. One Minister, in friendly chaff, wrote and said, "We don't want to annex Marocco, and we know that you two would be Emperor and Empress in about six months."

THE LAST APPEAL.

"23, Dorset Street, Portman Square, London, W.,

"October, 1886.

"I have represented to Lord Salisbury and to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Lord Iddesleigh, that after passing fourteen years and a half in an unwholesome post, I find that the climate of Trieste, as a constant residence, undermines my health, and incapacitates me from work; also that I have not had the promotion which would encourage me to hope, nor do I see a prospect of any post which I could accept with profit to the public and pleasure to myself. I have therefore come to the determination, after forty-four years and a half in the public service (nineteen years in the Indian Army, and in the Consular Service twenty-five years and a half, which counts as thirty years, on account of eight to nine years in officially dangerous climates), to request that I may retire, at the age of sixty-five, on full pension, but to retain my post until such arrangement be made. I represented that if there were a difficulty from the Treasury, to make up full Consular pension, perhaps their lordships might recommend my services to the Civil List, on the ground of literary and linguistic labours and services. I do not wish to be so tedious as to quote all my services, but I venture to note a few of the facts which would seem to suggest my claims to some unusual consideration on the part of her Majesty's Government, and which I venture to say will obtain the approval of the public at large. I am about to ask you whether you will give me the great benefit of your support and good word on this occasion with Lord Salisbury, and my Chief, Lord Iddesleigh, who will have the decision of my case.

"I am,

"RICHARD F BURTON."

Here is the modest list, which does not contain half of what he did during his life of seventy years--

"SERVICES.

"(1) Served nineteen years in the Bombay Army, nearly ten years on active service, chiefly on the staff of Sir Charles Napier, on the Sind Survey, at the close of the Afghan War, 1842-49. In 1861 was compelled to leave, without pay or pension, by Sir Charles Wood, for accepting the Consulship of Fernando Po.

"(2) Served in the Crimea as Chief of the Staff of Bashi-Bazouk (Irregular Cavalry), and was chiefly instrumental in organizing it.

"(3) Was the author of the Bayonet exercise now used at the Horseguards.

"(4) Have made several difficult and dangerous expeditions or explorations in unknown parts; notably, the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medinah, and afterwards to Harar, now opened up to Europeans, and the discovery and opening up of the Lake Regions of Central Africa, and the sources of the Nile, a country now well known to trade, to missionaries, and schoolmasters.

"(5) Have been twenty-five years and a half in the Consular Service, eight to nine years in official bad climates.

"(6) Was sent in 1864, as H.M.'s Commissioner, to the King of Dahomé, and resided with him for three months.

"(7) Was recalled at a moment's notice from Damascus, under a misrepresentation, and suffered heavy pecuniary losses thereby. My conduct was at last formally approved by the Government, but no compensation was given.

"(8) Was sent in 1882 in quest of the unfortunate Professor Palmer and his companions, who were murdered by the Bedawi.

"(9) Have learnt twenty-nine languages, passed official examinations in eight Eastern languages, notably Arabic, Persian, and Hindostani.

"(10) Have published over forty-six works, several of which, like 'Mecca,' and the 'Exploration of Harar,' are now standard."

* * * * *

"23, Dorset Street, Portman Square, London, W.,

"October, 1886.

"I have now written to Lord Salisbury, that since the Treasury declines to concede to me full pay before full time of service, and that the £300 a year to which I think I am entitled by regulation, were I to resign the service, is hardly an equivalent of forty-five years' hard work in anything but wholesome climates, to beg of him to favour me by placing my name upon the Civil List for a pension of £300 a year.

"There are precedents for such a privilege, but I would not quote names unless called upon to do so. I have told his Lordship that I have had several kind letters from all quarters, expressing their conviction of the reasonable nature of my request, and professing themselves willing to strengthen his hands by their support, in the hopes that such a favour may be conceded, the general idea being that mine is an exceptional case. I have ventured to assure his Lordship that I have every reason to hope that (this being no political question) the Press on both sides will be in favour of this act of grace, should it meet with _his_ approval.

"I suggested that _if_ there be any difficulty about my drawing Consular pension and Literary pension, that the Literary pension might be put in my wife's name, she being also an authoress and my coadjutor.

"I now beg to thank you for your kind expressions on my behalf, and to ask you whether you will crown them by writing to Lord Salisbury in such terms as will win this petition for me.

"I am,

"RICHARD F BURTON."

WHAT THE WORLD THOUGHT ABOUT IT.

(Press cuttings from many papers.)

"Richard Burton, four years before his death, wrote to the Government that the climate of Trieste was killing him, and begged that he might, after forty-five years of public service (nineteen in the Indian Army, and twenty-six in the Consular Service, always in bad climates), be allowed, at the age of sixty-six, to retire on full pension. He said if there were any difficulty from the Treasury to make up full Consular pension, that perhaps his services might be recommended to the Civil List, so as to make up £600 a year; and that if _that_ could not be granted, that the latter might be put in his wife's name, she being an authoress, and his coadjutor in all his services.

"He said he would not be so tedious as to quote all his services, but would venture to lay a few facts before their lordships which might earn some consideration. That this being no political question, he was sure the public and the press would endorse it heartily as an exceptional case.

"Over forty-seven of the greatest names in the kingdom supported this petition, as well as the press on both sides, but it was refused."

PENSION.

_Court and Society Review._

"The many friends of Sir Richard Burton are endeavouring to obtain for him permission to retire from the Consular Service with his pension a few years before the usual time, and, considering the services rendered by the veteran explorer to his country and to the world at large, and the ludicrous inadequacy of the rewards meted out to him, there is nothing very extravagant in such a request. How great his claims to generous treatment really are is a matter of which most people are probably but ill informed. Thus, within the last few weeks it has been stated in a score of newspapers that Sir Richard Burton was 'the author of the system of bayonet exercise in use in the British army.' Quite true. But how is it that no one has added the trifling fact that Sir Richard Burton's reward for that work was a severe official 'wigging,' and, when the necessity for a system of bayonet exercise could no longer be concealed, permission to draw upon the Treasury for the munificent sum of _one shilling_?

"In 1861, again, Sir Richard Burton was treated with egregious injustice. He had dared to hint in the days of John Company that the Court of Directors had been guilty of neglect of duties, and the truth of his view was proved by the fact that, had his counsel been followed, the massacre of Christians at Jeddah in 1851 would never have occurred. This was quite enough. He had been in the right, and his official superiors in the wrong. A black mark was, therefore, put against his name; and when the Indian Army passed, three years afterwards, from the Company to the Crown, the grudge was paid off. He being then on half-pay, had been appointed by Lord Russell Consul at Fernando Po. There are scores of instances of officers being allowed to take civil appointments whilst still upon the cadre of the Staff Corps in India. But the opportunity was too tempting. Burton had offended the 'big-wigs,' and, without the chance of appeal, his nineteen years of service were wiped out, and he was left without pay or pension. Even the Whigs of a quarter of a century ago recognized the injustice with which he had been treated, and so, after his famous expedition to Dahomé, he was appointed Consul at Damascus. There, unfortunately, he was found to be in the way. He would not sit by and watch threatened massacres or injustice to the Christian population, and so, at the request of Rashid Pasha, was removed by Lord Granville, who, as Lady Burton says, with some bitterness, 'is always complaisant and polite to foreigners.' A few months later Lord Granville found out his mistake, and made such reparation as he could by appointing Sir Richard Burton Consul at Trieste, where he has since remained, in the enjoyment of the colossal income of £600 a year, less official outgoings.

"It is surely not too much to ask that a man who has been thus treated--who has served his country for forty-four years, and always under the most arduous conditions--should be allowed to pass the evening of his days in retirement in the enjoyment of the very modest pittance to which his latter official services entitle him. He has sown, and others have reaped; and there can surely be no impropriety in allowing the very small boon which his friends ask for him. If he had associated himself with the South Kensington ring in 1851, he would have received his knighthood a dozen years ago, and there would have been no necessity for his friends to be troubling themselves now about his pension."

_The Bat_, December 7th.

"I do most sincerely trust that Sir Richard Burton's friends will be successful in obtaining for him an adequate retiring allowance from his post at Trieste. Wherever modern deeds of daring are known, there is the name of Burton held in honour; and even in these days of exploration and travel, I stand amazed opposite a shelf containing the record of Burton's travels. In literature and scholarship he is not less distinguished than in geography; and yet he has been left to languish, year after year, in a place like Trieste, which is precisely one of those places which would suit the intellect and capacity of the average Foreign Office hack. After forty-five years of most eminent public service Sir Richard wants to come home to live in peace, and the question is whether he is to have a proper pension to enable him to do so. He is within four years of completing the term which would entitle him to a retiring allowance, for he has been in the Consular Service only since 1861."

Cutting from _Truth_, October 7th, 1886.

"There is a rumour that Sir Richard Burton wants to retire and take his pension, but that after forty-five years' service (nineteen military and nearly twenty-six consular) the pension is so small that he is driven to choose between losing his health in the pestilential drainage of Trieste, or retiring on something less than the necessaries of life. He might receive a pension for soldierly services, one for consular and diplomatic, and one for literary and linguistic services. This is not a political question, and it is one of those exceptional cases in which the country would willingly see the rigour of departmental law suspended, and a fair pension granted."

[Sidenote: _Chow-chow_.]

In August we went up to the Exhibition at Edinburgh to see our dear old friend Mr. Mackay Smith, to whom we wished good-bye on the 26th of August, and we never saw him again; and Mr. David Herbert, also a friend of Richard's.

From thence we went to Glasgow to see Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, Mr. Clouston, who was contributing some notes to the "Arabian Nights," Mr. Gibbs, and Mr. David Main, publisher, bookseller, and poet.

From Glasgow we went to stay with Mr. Alexander Baird at Urie, Stonehaven, where we met a very pleasant party: amongst others Sir Samuel and Lady Baker. We returned to Edinburgh, thence to London.

In Edinburgh we looked after publishers and "Swords."

On the 18th of September Mr. H. Irving gave us a very agreeable supper at the Continental Hotel, and Mr. Arbuthnot a pleasant dinner at Richmond. Mr. George Paget was with us. We sauntered on the bridge and watched the boats.

Richard notices a lunch at "dear old Larking's, aged eighty-five," who sheltered him when going to Mecca; and that we had a very pleasant dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Labouchere at Twickenham, and Richard dined with the "Odd Volumes;" also a delightful lunch with G. A. Sala, and one pleasant party at the Dowager Lady Stanley's of Alderley.

We saw a good deal of Count Téleki, who was starting on his African travels, and we had a pleasant lunch with Mrs. (now Lady) Jeune.

On return we went to Wardour, where there had been a great storm; some big oaks had been torn up in the pheasant copse near the Castle, a shepherd's hut had been lifted up and dashed to pieces, and a ploughshare had been blown along. We came in for an amusing village dance. Thence we went to Bournemouth for two days, where we met a good number of friends, dining with Sir Richard and Lady Glyn; then to Eastbourne to see an old friend of my girlhood, the Comtesse de Noailles, where we met Captain Jephson, who afterwards went with Mr. Stanley to Africa.

Lord Iddesleigh was now our Chief at the Foreign Office, and both he and Lady Iddesleigh were extremely kind to us, and we had a delightful dinner at their house.

My father's dear old home was quite empty, and before the keys were given up, Richard and I went all over it on the 18th of September, and took a solemn leave of it. On the 27th of September Richard had his last (independent) jolly night with his men-friends. He dined at Boodle's to meet Prince Salms, and then he went to Mr. Deutsch's, and he came home at half-past one, having had a very agreeable evening, but it was for the last time in that kind of way. We had a dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Ashbee's to say good-bye to Count Téleki before going to Africa, and I gave him a talisman.

On the 6th of October we went to hear Mr. Heron Allen's lecture on palmistry at the Vestry Hall, Hampstead.

[Sidenote: _His Third Bad Attack of Gout without Danger_.]

Richard had been having little attacks of gout off and on--bad one day, and better and well within two days--and had been plying up and down between Oxford and London. On the 19th of October I had a cab at the door to take me to Liverpool Street to go on a visit to my convent in Essex, but most fortunately, before I stepped into it, a telegram was put into my hands, saying, "Gout in both feet; come directly;" so I started for Oxford there and then, arriving in one hour and a half after I received the telegram. I found him quite helpless, not being able to put either foot to the ground, and very feverish and restless. It was a misty, muggy day, and there was thunder and lightning, and buckets of rain all that day and night till twelve o'clock the following day. The morning after my arrival I ambulanced him up to town, everything being prearranged by telegraph, and Dr. Foakes, his gout doctor, to meet us at our lodgings.

This was his third _bad_ attack of gout since 1883--eight months, three months--and this time he was in bed several weeks. All his friends used to come and sit with him; amongst others, I remember Lord Stanley of Alderley, Mr. James Cotton of the Academy, St Clair Baddeley, Mr. Arbuthnot, Miss Bird, J. H. McCarthy, junior, Mr. Anderson the author, African traveller, and discoverer of the third movement of the Earth, used to come and amuse him.

On the 10th of November, 1886, the first volume of my "Nights" came out.

After nearly six weeks' confinement to the house, Richard thought that he should like to try Dr. Kellgren, of Eaton Square, who went in for shampooing, and gives a kind of athletic treatment for these complaints, and I went down to Eaton Square first to see what it was like. On the 29th of November he came, and it was a very curious experience. He arrived with a young lady called Miss Alice, who is his right hand. They first treated _me_ for quite a different malady, and my yells amused Richard very much, because he did not know that it was not a joke. He was afraid to let anybody come into the room, for fear that they should shake his foot, and he was presently being driven round the room like a wild beast. This was kept up for several days, and there is no doubt that, awful as it seemed, he was able to go down to Dr. Kellgren's in Eaton Square in a brougham with me, with restoratives in the carriage, on that day week, and he got gradually better. We were able to drive to Putney and lunch with Swinburne and Mr. Watts.

_This_ is his own account of it--

"Three short visits to Oxford and one long one in a single month were sufficient to bring on a disabling attack of gout--my third attack of gout, which threatened to last. It was made as pleasant to me as it could be, by the kindness and attention and sympathy of such men as Professors Chandler, Sayce, and many other kind friends; and, helpless in both feet, 20th of October, I was ambulanced up to London by my wife, men to carry me from bed to train at each end, and bed in train. I went through my first treatment by Dr. Foakes, the rhubarb and magnesia man, but though the drugs formed a good prophylactic, they failed to subdue a sharp attack. After six weeks of bed, I determined upon a neck-or-nothing treatment, and sent my wife to fetch me Dr. Kellgren, the celebrated Swede, concerning whom there is such a variety of opinions in London. The treatment is simply horrible; the gouty limb, which can hardly bear the noise of a person passing over the carpet, is shampooed and twisted and pumped up and down till the patient is in absolute agony, and as soon as he is able to stand upon it he is driven round the room like a wild beast. There seems to be some danger in the practice; the lithic acid expelled from the joint is absorbed into the circulation, and in the protean malady no one can tell when or where the mischief may break out--in stomach, brain, or heart. However, the treatment was for _the moment_ most successful, and after a week I was able to crawl downstairs, limp into a cab, and visit Mr. Kellgren's establishment, No. 1, Eaton Square.[3]

"The improvement continued, and we determined to pass our Christmas at Garswood with our uncle, the late Lord Gerard. He had always been both to me and to my wife a kind and generous friend, and a second father. It was her second home, and it was with heartfelt sorrow that we saw him fast declining, and felt sadly sure that we should not see him again; and so it proved, for after much difficulty he was persuaded to go up to town and take the best medical advice, but two days after was found dead in his bed. He belonged to that old school of good and gallant English gentlemen, which in its time made the name of Englishmen a word of honour throughout the civilized world. We took the opportunity of going over to Knowsley, which is a mere drive, where we found a large party, and we then returned to London, and were invited to Hatfield, where we also found a large Christmas party. On the 1st of November we said good-bye to Lady Marian Alford, who was declining in health, and we had a fear that we should not see her any more."

Richard notices on the 11th of November the death of our old friend the Dublin philanthropist, Sir John Lentaigne, and on the 8th of December he writes feelingly about the death of Lady Orford at Florence.

The day before we left London for good (January 4th, 1887), we saw and said good-bye to "Ouida" for the last time, and on the 5th he notices the death of Sir Francis Bolton.

[1] It might be remarked, "Why did he ever leave me behind?" Sometimes it was a press of double business, requiring two people in different places, but mostly it was lack of money. If there was enough for one, he went; when there was enough for two, we both went.--I. B.

[2] Richard's retiring pension--full pension for his four last years.

[3] N.B.--I could often wish that that treatment had never taken place. I cannot help connecting subsequent misfortunes with it.--I. B.