The Life of Sir Richard Burton - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel The Life of Sir Richard Burton Part 33 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
From June 19th to 22nd there were rejoicings at Trieste on account of Queen Victoria's Jubilee. At the banquet, which took place at the Jager, Sir Richard occupied the chair, and he and the Rev. C. F. Thorndike, the chaplain, made speeches. During the summer Sir Richard's health continued to cause grave anxiety, but he was well enough by July 15th to set out for the usual summer holiday. Accompanied by Lady Burton, Dr.
Leslie and Lisa, he first visited Adelsburg, and then Sauerbrunn, where he got relief by drinking daily a cup of very hot water. In a letter to Mr. Ellis written from Sauerbrunn, 14th September 1887, Burton refers to Professor Blumhardt's contribution to his Supplementary Nights, and finishes: "Salute for me Mr. Bendall and tell him how happy I shall be to see him at Trieste if he pa.s.s through that very foul part."
After the Burtons' return to Trieste (at the end of September) Dr.
Leslie obtained another post, and Dr. Baker was invited to take his place.
Dr. Baker consented to do so, only on the condition that Sir Richard would not dispute his medical orders. This, Dr. Baker explained to me, was a very necessary stipulation, for Sir Richard now looked upon the time spent over his meals as so many half-hours wasted. He never ate his food properly, but used to raven it up like an animal in order to get back quickly to his books. So a treaty was made, and Dr. Baker remained a member of the household the rest of Burton's life.
To this period belong the following unpublished anecdotes. Of Burton's interest in Ancient Etruria and especially in the archaeological discoveries at Bologna [547] we have already spoken. Once when he and Dr. Baker were visiting Bologna they took a long walk outside the town and quite lost their bearings. Noticing a working man seated on the roadside, Burton asked him in French the way back. In reply the man "only made a stupid noise in his throat." Burton next tried him with the Bolognese [548] dialect, upon which the man blurted out, "Je don't know savez." Sir Richard then spoke in English, and the man finding there was no further necessity for Parisian, explained in his own tongue that he was an English sailor who had somehow got stranded in that part.
To Burton's delight in shocking people we have already alluded. Nor did age sober him. He would tell to open-mouthed hearers stories of his hair-breadth escapes, and how some native plotted against his life.
"Another moment," he would say, "and I should have been a dead man, but I was too quick for my gentleman. I turned round with my sword and sliced him up like a lemon." Dr. Baker, who had heard many tales about the Austrians and duelling, was exercised in his mind as to what ought to be done if he were "called out." "Now," said Burton, "this is one of the things in life worthy of remembrance. Never attack a man, but if he attacks you, kill him." Sometimes the crusted tale about the Arab murder would come up again. "Is it true, Sir Richard," a young curate once innocently inquired, "that you shot a man near Mecca?" "Sir," replied Burton, tossing his head haughtily, "I'm proud to say that I have committed every sin in the Decalogue."
In after years Dr. Baker was often asked for reminiscences of Burton.
"Can you remember any of his sayings?" enquired one interlocutor. "Yes,"
replied Dr. Baker. "He once said, 'Priests, politicians and publishers will find the gate of Heaven extremely narrow.'" "I'm sorry for that,"
followed the interlocutor, "for I've just been elected M.P. for the ---- Division of Yorkshire."
For Mrs. Lynn Linton, the novelist, whom he described as a "sweet, womanly woman," Burton had a sincere regard, but he used to say that though she was an angel in the drawing-room, she was a raging, blood-thirsty tigress on the platform. One day, while Sir Richard, Mrs.
Linton and Dr. Baker were chatting together, a lady to whom Mrs. Linton was a stranger joined the group and said "Sir Richard, why don't you leave off writing those heavy books on Bologna and other archaeological subjects, and do something lighter? Couldn't you write some trash--novels, I mean?" Sir Richard look sideways at Mrs. Linton, and kept his countenance as well as he could. On another occasion when Sir Richard, Lady Burton, Dr. Baker and an aged Cambridge Professor were chatting together, Burton unconsciously glided into Latin--in which he asked the professor a question. The old man began a laboured reply in the same language--and then, stopping suddenly, said, "If you don't mind, Sir Richard, we'll continue the conversation in English."
Believing that Burton was overworking himself, Dr. Baker recommended him to order "a little rubbish in the shape of novels," from London, and so rest his brain for an hour just before bedtime. Burton demurred, but the novels were ultimately sent for, they duly arrived, and Burton went through a course of "chou-chou," as he called it. After a while, however, he gave up what he had never taken to kindly, and henceforward he nightly "rested his brain," by reading books in the modern Greek dialects.
151. Three Months at Abbazia. 1st Dec. 1887-5th March 1888.
On the 1st of December 1887, in order to avoid the fearful boras of Trieste, and to shelter in the supposed mild climate of "the Austrian Riviera," Burton, accompanied, as always, by his wife, Dr. Baker, and Lisa, went to stay at Abbazia. The subscriptions for his Supplemental Nights were now pouring in, and they put him in great jollity. Jingling his money in his pockets, he said to Dr. Baker, "I've always been poor, and now we'll enjoy ourselves." Henceforth he spent his money like a dissipated school-boy at a statute fair. Special trains, the best rooms in the best hotels, anything, everything he fancied--and yet all the while he worked at his books "like a navvy." Abbazia was a disappointment. Snow fell for two months on end, and all that time they were mewed up in their hotel. Burton found the society agreeable, however, and he read German with the Catholic priest. Most of his time was spent in finishing the Supplemental Nights, and Lady Burton was busy preparing for the press and expurgated edition of her husband's work which, it was hoped, would take its place on the drawing-room table.
Mr. Justin Huntly McCarthy, son of the novelist, gave her considerably a.s.sistance, and the work appeared in 1888. Mr. Kirby's notes were to have been appended to Lady Burton's edition of the Nights as well as to Sir Richard's, but ultimately the idea was abandoned. "My wife and I agreed," writes Burton, "that the whole of your notes would be far too learned for her public," [549] so only a portion was used. Lady Burton's work consisted of six volumes corresponding with Burton's first ten, from which 215 pages were omitted.
Owing to the stagnation of Abbazia, and the martyrdom which he endured from the gout, Burton was very glad to get back to Trieste, which was reached on March 5th. When his pain was acute he could not refrain from groaning, and at such times, Lady Burton, kneeling by his bedside, use to say "Offer it up, offer it up"--meaning that prayer alone would bring relief.
To Mr. Payne, 14th March 1888, Burton writes, "I have been moving since yours of March 5th reached me, and unable to answer you.... Delighted to hear that in spite of cramp, [550] Vo. V. [551] is finished, and shall look forward to the secret [552] being revealed. You are quite right never to say a word about it. There is nothing I abhor so much as a man intrusting me with a secret."
On March 19th, Sir Richard finished his last volume of the Supplemental Nights, and in May he was visited at Trieste by his old friend, F. F.
Arbuthnot.
On the 15th of April (1888) occurred the death of Matthew Arnold, who had for some years enjoyed a Civil List pension of 250 a year; and the event had scarcely been announced before Lady Burton, without consulting her husband, [553] telegraphed to the Government to "give Burton Arnold's pension." This step, characteristic as it was indiscreet, naturally did not effect its purpose.
Chapter x.x.xIII. 19th March 1888-15th October 1888, The Last Visit to England "The Supplemental Nights"
Bibliography:
76. 1st Vol. Supplemental Nights, 1st December 1886. 6th Vol. 1st August 1888.
152. Meeting with Mr. Swinburne and others, 18th July 1888-15th October 1888.
Burton's health continuing weak, he again endeavoured to induce the Government to release him from his duties. Instead of that, they gave him what he calls "an informal sick certificate," and from the following letter to his sister (26th May 1888) we may judge that it was not given gracefully.
"Yesterday," he says, "I got my leave accompanied by some disagreeable expressions which will be of use to me when retiring. We leave Trieste in June and travel leisurely over the St. Gothard and expect to be in England about the 10th.... The meteorologists declare that the heat is going to equal the cold. Folky [554] folk are like their neighbours, poor devils who howl for excitement--want of anything better to do. The dreadful dull life of England accounts for many British madnesses. Do you think of the Crystal Palace this year? We have an old friend, Aird, formerly the Consul here, who has taken up his abode somewhere in Sydenham. I don't want cold water bandages, the prospect of leave makes me sleep quite well. With love and kisses to both, [555] Your affectionate brother, R. F. B."
Burton and his wife reached Folkestone on July 18th. Next day they went on to London, where they had the pleasure of meeting again Commander Cameron, Mr. Henry Irving, M. Du Chaillu, Mr. A. C. Swinburne, and Mr.
Theodore Watts[-Dunton]. What Burton was to Mr. Swinburne is summed up in the phrase--"the light that on earth was he." [556]
153. H. W. Ashbee.
His princ.i.p.al place of resort, however, during this visit was the house of Mr. H. W. Ashbee, 54, Bedford Square, where he met not only Mr.
Ashbee, but also Dr. Steinga.s.s, Mr. Arbuthnot, Sir Charles Wingfield and Mr. John Payne, all of whom were interested, in different ways, in matters Oriental. Ashbee, who wrote under the name of Pisa.n.u.s Fraxi (Bee of an ash), was a curiously matter-of-fact, stoutish, stolid, affable man, with a Maupa.s.santian taste for low life, its humours and laxities.
He was familiar with it everywhere, from the sordid purlieus of Whitechapel to the bazaars of Tunis and Algiers, and related Haroun Al-Raschid-like adventures with imperturbably, impa.s.sive face, and in the language that a business man uses when recounting the common transactions of a day. This unconcernedness never failed to provoke laughter, even from those who administered rebukes to him. Of art and literature he had absolutely no idea, but he was an enthusiastic bibliophile, and his library, which included a unique collection or rare and curious books, had been built up at enormous expense.
Somebody having described him as "not a bad old chap," Mr. Payne added characteristically, "And he had a favourite cat, which says something for him."
154. A Bacon Causerie.
The serenity of these gatherings, whether at Mr. Ashbee's or at Mr.
Arbuthnot's, was never ruffled unless somebody happened to introduce politics or the Shakespere-Bacon Question. Arbuthnot the Liberal was content to strike out with his back against the wall, so to speak, when attacked by the Conservative Burton, Ashbee and Payne; but Arbuthnot the Baconian frequently took the offensive. He would go out of his way in order to drag in this subject. He could not leave it out of his Life of Balzac even. These controversies generally resolved themselves into a duel between Mr. Arbuthnot and Mr. Payne--Burton, who loved a fight between any persons and for any reasons, looking on approvingly. Mr.
Ashbee and Dr. Steinga.s.s were inclined to side with Mr. Payne. On one of these occasions Mr. Payne said impatiently that he could not understand "any sensible man taking the slightest interest in the sickening controversy," and then he pointed out one by one the elements that in his opinion made the Baconian theory ridiculous.
"But," followed Mr. Arbuthnot, "Shakespere had no education, and no person without an extremely good education could have written the play erroneously published under the name of William Shakespere."
"If," retorted Mr. Payne, "Shakespere had been without education, do you think the fact would have escaped the notice of such bitter and unscrupulous enemies as Nash, Greene, and others, who hated him for his towering superiority?"
Upon Mr. Arbuthnot admitting that he studies Shakespere merely from a "curio" point of view, and that for the poetry he cared nothing, Mr.
Payne replied by quoting Schopenhauer: "A man who is insensible to poetry, be he who he may, must be a barbarian."
Burton, who regarded himself as a poet, approved of the sentiment; Dr.
Steinga.s.s, who wrote execrable verses in English which neither rhymed nor scanned, though they were intended to do both, was no less satisfied; Mr. Ashbee, who looked at matters solely from a bibliographical point of view, dissented; and Mr. Arbuthnot sweetly changed the conversation to Balzac; with the result, however, of another tempest, for on this subject Burton, who summed up Balzac as "a great repertory of morbid anatomy," could never see eye to eye with Balzac's most enthusiastic English disciple.
At Oxford, Burton met Professor Sayce, and did more literary work "under great difficulties" at the Bodleian, though he escaped all the evil effects; but against its wretched accommodation for students and its antediluvian methods he never ceased to inveigh. Early in August he was at Ramsgate and had the amus.e.m.e.nt of mixing with a Bank Holiday crowd.
But he was amazingly restless, and wanted to be continually in motion.
No place pleased him more than a day or two.