Volume 1 - Sir Richard Francis Burton (1821-1890)

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ISABELTHE ROMANCE OFTHE STORY OFLADY BURTONHHER LIFEWITH PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONSVOLUME INEW YORKDODD MEAD & COMPANY1897

Copyright 1897BY DODD MEAD AND COMPANYJlntotrsttg l)mtsJOHN WILSON AND SON CAMBRIDGE USA

SOHER SISTERMRS.IGERALD FITZGERALDDEDICATE THIS BOOK

PREFACET ADY BURTON began her autobiographya few-* ' months before she died, but in consequenceof rapidly failinghealth she made little progress withit. After her death, which occurred in the spring oflast year,it seemed good to her sister and executrix,Mrs. Fitzgerald, to entrust the unfinished manuscriptto me, together with sundry papers and letters, witha view tomy compiling the biography. Mrs. Fitzgeraldwished me to undertake this work,as I had thegood fortune to be a friend of the late Lady Burton,and one with whom she frequently discussed literarymatters ;we were, in fact, thinking of writing aromance together, but her illness prevented us.The task of compiling this book has not been aneasy one, mainly for two reasons. In the first place,though Lady Burton published comparatively little,

MIIprefaceshe was a voluminous writer, and she left behindher such a mass of letters and manuscripts that thesorting of them alone was a formidable task. Thedifficulty has been to keep the book within limits.In the second place, Lady Burton has written theLife of her husband ;and thoughin that book shestudiously avoided putting herself forward, and gaveto him all the honour and the glory,her life was soabsolutely bound up with his, that of necessity shecovered some of the ground which I have had to goover again, though not from the same point of view.So much has been written concerning Sir RichardBurton that it is not necessary for me to tellagainthe story of his life here, and I have therefore beenable to write wholly of his wife, an equally congenialtask. LadyBurton was as remarkable as a womanas her husband was as a man. Her personality wasas picturesque,her individuality asunique, and,allowing for her sex, her life was as full and variedas his.It has been my aim, wherever possible, throughoutthis book to letLady Burton tell the storyof herlife in her own words, and keep my narrative in thebackground. To this end I have revised and incorporatedthe fragment of autobiography which was

jpretacei*cut short by her death, and I have also pieced togetherall her letters, manuscripts, and journals which havea bearing on her travels and adventures. I havestriven to givea faithful portfait of her as revealedby herself. In what I have succeeded,the credit ishers alone : in what I have failed, the fault is mine,for no biographer could have wished for a moreeloquent subject than this interesting and fascinatingwoman. Thus, however imperfectly Imay have donemy share of the work, it remains the record of a goodand noble life a life lifted up, a life uniquein itsself-sacrificeand devotion.Last December, when this book was almost completed,a volume was published callingitself 'The 'True Lifeof Captain Sir Richard F. Burton, written by his niece,Miss Georgiana M. Stisted, stated to be issued "withthe authority and approval of the Burton family."This statement is not correct at any rate not whollyso ;for several of the relatives of the late Sir RichardBurton have written to Lady Burton's sister to saythat they altogether disapprove of it.The book containeda number of cruel and unjust charges againstLady Burton, which were rendered worse by the factthat they were not made until she was dead and couldno longer defend herself. Some of these attacks were

xprefaceso paltry and malevolent, and so utterly foreigntoLady Burton's generous and truthful character, thatthey may be dismissed with contempt. The manyfriends who knew anti loved her have not creditedthem for one moment, and the animus with whichthey were written is so obvious that theyhave carriedlittle weight with the general public.charges call for particular refutation,But three specificas silence on themmightbe misunderstood. I refer to the statementsthatLady Burton was the cause of her husband's recallfrom Damascus ;that she acted in bad faith in thematter of his conversion to the Roman Catholic Church ;and to the impugningof the motives which led her toburn 'The Scented Garden. I should like to emphasizethe fact that none of these controversial questionsformed part of the original scheme of this book, andthey would not have been alluded to had it notbeen for Miss Stisted's unprovoked attack upon LadyBurton's memory.It isonly with reluctance, andsolely in a defensive spirit, that they are touched uponnow. Even so, I have suppressed a good deal, forthere isno desire on the part of LadyBurton's relativesor myself to justifyherat the expense of the husbandwhom she loved, and who loved her.But in vindicatingher it has been necessary to tell the truth. If therefore,

prefacexiin defending Lady Burton against these accusations,certain facts have come to light which would otherwisehave been left in darkness,those who havewantonly attacked the dead have onlythemselves toblame.In conclusion, I should like to acknowledge myindebtedness to those who have kindly helped me tomake this book as complete as possible.Iam especiallygrateful to Mrs. Fitzgerald for much encouragementand valuable help, includingher reading of theproofs as they went through the press,so that thebook may be truly described as an authorized biography.I also wish to thank Miss Plowman, the late LadyBurton's secretary, who has been of assistanceinmanyways. Iacknowledge with gratitude the permissionof Captain L. H. Gordon to publish certain letterswhich the late General Gordon wrote to Sir Richardand Lady Burton, and the assistance which GeneralGordon's niece, Miss Dunlop, kindly gave me inthis matter.My thanks are likewise due to theExecutors of the late Lord Leighton for permissionto publish Lord Leighton's portrait of Sir RichardBurton; to Lady Thornton and others for manyillustrations ;and to Lady Salisbury, Lady GuendolenRamsden, Lord Llandaff, SirHenry Elliot, Mr.

uiprefaceW. F. D. Smith, Baroness Paul de Ralli, Miss Bishop,Miss Alice Bird, Madame de Gutmansthal-Benvenuti,and others, for permission to publish sundrylettersin this book.W. H. WILKINS.8, MANDEVILLE PLACE, W.,April, 1897.

CONTENTS OF VOL.IBOOKWAITINGIBIRTH AND LINEAGE .......CHAPTER IPAGE3CHAPTER IIMY CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 13CHAPTER IIIMY FIRST SEASON 26CHAPTER IVBOULOGNE : I MEET MY DESTINY . . . . .4OCHAPTER VFOUR YEARS OF HOPE DEFERRED . . . ,62CHAPTER VIRICHARD LOVES ME ..... 8O

XIVContentsCHAPTER VIIMY CONTINENTAL TOUR : ITALY .MY CONTINENTAL TOUR :CHAPTER VIIISWITZERLANDCHAPTER IXTHEY MEET AGAIN ....117140CHAPTER XAT LAST ,157BOOKWEDDEDIICHAPTER IFERNANDO POCHAPTER IIMADEIRA ......CHAPTER IIITENERIFFE ...... 184198A TRIP TO PORTUGALCHAPTER IV226

ContentsCHAPTER VBRAZIL .CHAPTER VIOUR EXPEDITION INTO THE INTERIOR . . ..2/1CHAPTER VIIMORRO VELHO AND ITS ENVIRONS .... 2Q5MY LONELY RIDE TO RIO ......HOME AGAIN ......CHAPTER VIII$22CHAPTER IX. 342CHAPTER XMY JOURNEY TO DAMASCUS . . . . . 360

LISTOF ILLUSTRATIONSVOL.ILADY BURTON AT THE AGE OF 17 (FROM AN UNPUBLISHEDPAGEDRAWING)FrontispieceWARDOUR CASTLE . 6NEW HALL, CHELMSFORD . . . . . . . 1 8RICHARD BURTON IN 1848 (IN NATIVE DRESS). . .50THE RAMPARTS, BOULOGNE . . . . . .52BURTON ON HIS PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA . . . .70VENICE . . . . 112LADY BURTON AT THE TIME OF HER MARRIAGE. . . 1 66THE BAY OF FUNCHAL, MADEIRA . . . .IQOTHE PEAK OF TENERIFFE, FROM THE VALE OF OROTAVA . 212SANTOS 248PETROPOLIS 258SAO PAULO 264THE BAY OF RIO 272THE SLAVE MUSTER AT MORRO VELHO . . . .296LADY BURTON IN 1869 ....... 350THE BOULEVART, ALEXANDRIA 364DAMASCUS, FROM THE DESERT 37 2

BOOK IWAITING(18311861)I have known love and yearning from the yearsSince mother-milk I drank, nor e'er was free.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's "Arabian Nights").VOL. I.

CHAPTER IBIRTH AND LINEAGEMan is known among men as his deeds attest,Which make noble origin manifest.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAHT SAB EL, Lady Burton, was by(Burton's "Arabian Nights").birth an Arundell_ of Wardour, a daughter of one of the oldestand proudest houses of England. The Arundells ofWardour are a branch of the great family of whomit was sung:Ere William fought and Harold fellThere were Earls of Arundell.The Earls of Arundell before the Conquest aresomewhat lost in the mists of antiquity, and they donot affect the branch of the family from which LadyBurton sprang. This branch traces its descent in astraight line from one Roger de Arundell, who, accordingto had estates in Dorset and Domesday', Somerset,and was possessed of twenty-eight lordships.TheKnights of Arundell were an adventurous race. Oneof the most famous was Sir John Arundell, a valiant3

4 tlbe "Romance of Isabel Xaos 3Burtoncommander who served Henrygrandson of this doughty knight, also Sir JohnArundell, was made a Knight Banneret by Henry VII.VI. in France. Thefor his valour at the sieges of Tiroven and Tournay,and the battle that ensued. At his death his largeestates were divided between the two sons whomhe had byhis first wife, the Lady Eleanor Grey,daughter of the Marquis of Dorset, whose half-sisterwas the wife of Henry VII. The second son, SirThomas Arundell, was given Wardour Castle inWiltshire, and became the ancestor of the Arundellsof Wardour.The House of Wardour was therefore founded bySir Thomas Arundell, who was born in 1500. Hehad the good fortune in lifeearlyto become thepupil, and ultimately to win the friendship, of CardinalWolsey. He played a considerable part throughoutthe troublous times which followed on the King'squarrel with the Pope, and attained great wealth andinfluence.He was a cousin-german of Henry VIII.,and he was allied to two of Henry's ill-fated queensthrough his marriage with Margaret, daughter ofLord Edmond Howard, son of Thomas, Duke ofof AnneNorfolk. His wife was a cousin-germanBoleyn and a sister of Catherine Howard. Sir ThomasArundell was a man of intellectual powers and administrativeability.He became Chancellor to QueenCatherine Howard, and he stood high in the favourof Henry VIII. But in the following reign evildays came upon him. He was accused of conspiringwith the Lord Protector Somerset to kill the Earl of

Btrtb anfc Xtneaê 5Northumberland, a charge utterly false, the real reasonof his impeachment being that Sir Thomas had beenchief adviser to the Duke of Somerset and hadidentified himself with his policy. He was beheadedon Tower Hill a few days after the execution of theDuke of Somerset. Thus died the founder of theHouse of Wardour.In Sir Thomas Arundell's grandson, who afterwardsbecame first Lord Arundell of Wardour, the adventurousspiritof the Arundells broke forth afresh.When a young man, Thomas Arundell, commonlycalled "The Valiant," went over to Germany, andserved as a volunteer in the Imperial army in Hungary.He fought againstthe Turks, and in an engagementat Grau took their standard with his own hands. Onthis account Rudolph II., Emperor of Germany, createdhim Count of the Holy Roman Empire, and decreedthat "every of his children and their descendantsfor ever, of both sexes, should enjoythat title." Soruns the wording of the charter. 1 On Sir ThomasArundell's return to England a warm dispute aroseamong the Peers whether such adignity,so conferredby a foreign potentate, should be allowed place orprivilege in England. The matter was referred to1The name of Arundell of Wardour appears in the officialAustrian lists of the Counts of the Empire. The title is stillenjoyedby Lord Arundell and all the members of the Arundell family ofboth sexes. Lady Burton always used it out of England, and tookrank and precedence at foreign courts as the Countess IsabelArundell (of Wardour). She used to say, characteristically:"Ifthe thing had been bought, I should not have cared ;but since itwas given for a brave deed I am right proud of it. ' '

6 zrbe IRomance of Isabel Xafcg EurtonQueen Elizabeth, who answered," that there was aclose tie of affection between the Prince and subject,and that as chaste wives should have no glances butfor their own spouses, soshould faithful subjects keeptheir eyes at home and not gaze upon foreign crowns ;that we for our part do not care that our sheep shouldwear a stranger's marks, nor dance after the whistleof every foreigner." Yet it was she who sent SirThomas Arundell in the first instance to the Emperorin which sheRudolph with a letter of introduction,spoke of him as her " dearest cousin," and stated thatthe descent of the family of Arundell was derivedfrom the blood royal. James I., while followingin the footsteps of Queen Elizabeth, and refusingtoacknowledge the title conferred by the Emperor,acknowledged Sir Thomas Arundell's worth by creatinghim a Baron of England under the title of BaronArundell of Wardour. It isworthy of note thatof the title of CountJames II. recognized the rightof the Holy Roman Empireto Lord Arundell andall his descendants of both sexes in a document ofgeneralinterest to Catholic families.Thomas, second Baron Arundell of Wardour,married Blanche, daughter of the Earl of Worcester.This Lady Arundell calls for special notice, as she wasinmany ways the prototype of her lineal descendant,Isabel. When her husband was away serving withthe King's armyin the Great Rebellion, Lady Arundellbravely defended Wardour for nine days, with onlya handful of men, against the Parliamentary forceswho besiegedit.Lady Arundell then delivered up

JBirtb anfc Xfneage 7the castle on honourable terms, which the besiegersbroke when they took possession. They were, however,soon dislodged by Lord Arundell, who, on hisreturn, ordered a mine to be sprung under his castle,and thus sacrificed the ancient and stately pile to hisloyalty.He and his wife then turned their backs ontheir ruined home, and followed the King's fortunes,she sharing with uncomplaining love all her husband'strials and privations.Lord Arundell, like the restof the Catholic nobility of England,was a devotedRoyalist.He raised at his own expense a regimentof horse for the service of Charles I., and in thebattle of Lansdowne, when fightingfor the King, hewas shot in the thigh by a brace of pistol bullets,whereof he died in his Majesty's garrisonat Oxford.He was buried with great pomp in the family vaultat Tisbury. His devoted wife, like her descendantIsabel Burton, that other devoted wife who stronglyresembled her, survived her husband barely six years.She died at Winchester ;but she was buried by hisside at Tisbury, where her monument mayseen.still beHenry, third Lord Arundell, succeeded his fatherin his titles and honours. Like m?ny who had madegreat sacrifices to the Royal cause, he did not find anexceeding great reward when the King came into hisAs Arundell of Wardour was one of theown again.strictest and most loyal of the Catholic families ofEngland, its head was marked out for Puritan persecution.In 1678 Lord Arundell was, with four otherCatholic lords, committed a prisoner to the Tower,

Ubc "Romance of Isabel Xaos JBurtonupon the information of the infamous Titus Gates andother miscreants who invented the " Popish Plots."Lord Arundell was confined in the Tower until 1683,when he was admitted to bail. Five years' imprisonmentfor no offence save fidelity to his religion andloyalty to his king was a cruel injustice but in those;days,when the blood of the best Catholic familiesinEngland ran like water on Tower Hill, LordArundell was lucky to have escaped with his head.On James II.'s accession to the throne he was swornof the Privy Council and held high office. On KingJames's abdication he retired to his country seat,where he lived in great style and with lavish hospitality.Among other things he kept a celebrated packof hounds, which afterwards went to Lord Castlehaven,and thence were sold toHugo Meynell, and became theprogenitors of the famous Quorn pack.Henry, the sixth Baron, is noteworthy as being thelast Lord Arundell of Wardour from whom Isabelwas directly descended (see p. 9),and with him ourimmediate interest in the Arundells of Wardour ceases.Lady Burton was the great-granddaughter of JamesEverard Arundell, his third and youngest son. Herfather, Mr. Henry Raymond Arundell, was twicemarried. His first wife died within a year of theirmarriage, leaving one son. Two years later, in 1830,Mr. Henry Arundell married Miss Eliza Gerard, asister of Sir Robert Gerard of Garswood, who wasafterwards created Lord Gerard. The following year,1831, Isabel, the subjectof this memoir, was born.I have dwelt on Lady Burton's lineagefor several

P-?'M

ioUbc "Romance of Isabel Zaos JSurtonreasons. In the firstplace,she herself would havewished it. She paid greatattention to her pedigree,and at one time contemplated writinga book on theArundells of Wardour, and with this view collected amass of information, which, with characteristic generosity,she afterwards placed at Mr. Yeatman's disposalforhis History of the House of Arundell. She regardedher forefathers with reverence, and herself as theirproduct. But proud though she was of her ancestry,there never was a woman freer from the vulgarityof thrustingit forward upon all and sundry,or ofexpecting to be honoured for it alone. Though ofnoble descent, not only on her father's side, but onher mother's as well (for the Gerards are a family ofeminence and antiquity, springing from the commonancestor of the Dukes of Leinster in Ireland and theEarls of Plymouth, now extinct, in England), yet shecounted it as nothing compared with the nobility ofthe inner worth, the majesty which clothes the man,be he peasant or prince, with righteousness. She often" said, The man onlyis noble who does noble deeds,"and she always held thatHe, who to ancient wreaths can bring no moreFrom his own worth, dies bankrupt on the score.Another reason why I have called attention to LadyBurton's ancestryis because she attached considerableimportance to the question of heredity generally, quiteapart from any personal aspect.She looked upon itas a field in which Nature ever reproduces herself, notonly with regard to the physical organism, but also the

38frtb ant> Xfneage "But with it all she was no pessimist,psychical qualities.for she believed that there was in every man an everrallyingforce againstthe inherited tendencies to viceand sin. She was"always on the side of theangels."I remember her once saying:" Since I leave none tocome after me, I must needs strive to be worthy ofthose who have gone before me."And she was worthy she, the daughter of an ancientrace, which seems to have found in her itscrowningconsummation and expression. If one were fanciful,one could see in her many-sided character, reflected asin the facets of a diamond, the great qualitieswhichhad been conspicuous in her ancestors. One could seein her, plainly portrayed,the roving, adventurous spiritwhich characterized the doughty Knights of Arundellin days when the field of travel and adventure wasmuch more limited than now. One could mark theintellectual and administrative abilities, and perhaps thespice of worldly wisdom, which were conspicuous in thefounder of the House of Wardour. One could note inher the qualities of bravery, dare-devilry, and love ofconflict which shone out so stronglyin the old Knightof Arundell who raised the sieges of Tiroven andTournay, and in " The Valiant " who captured withhis own hands the banner of the infidel. One could seethe reflex of that loyalty to the throne which markedthe Lord Arundell who died fightingfor his king.Onecould trace in her the same tenacity and devotion withwhich all her race has clung to the ancient faith andwhich sent one of them to the Tower. Above allone could trace her likeness to Blanche Lady Arundell,

12 zibe IRomance of Isabel Xaos Burtonwho held Wardour at her lord's bidding against therebels.She was like her in her lion-hearted bravery, inher proud but generous spirit,in her determinationand resource, and above all in her passionate wifelydevotion to the man to whom she felt herself " destinedfrom the beginning."In sooth they were a goodly company, these Arundellsof Wardour, and 'tis such as they, brave men and goodwomen in every rank of life, who have made Englandthe nation she isto-day. Yet of them all there wasnone nobler, none truer, none more remarkable thanthis late flower of their race, Isabel Burton.

CHAPTER II 1MY CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH(1831-1849)As star knows star across the ethereal sea,So soul feels soul to all eternity.BLESSED be they who invented pens, ink, andpaper !I have heard men speak with infinite contempt ofauthoresses. As a girlI did not ask my poor littlebrains whether this mental attitude towards womenwas generous in the superior animal or not ;but Idid like to slope off to my own snug little den, awayfrom my numerous family, and scribble down theevents of my ordinary, insignificant, uninteresting life,and write about my little sorrows, pleasures, andpeccadilloes. I was only one of the

14 TTbe IRomancc of Ssabel Xaos BurtonFor those who likehoroscopes,I was born on aSunday at ten minutes to 9 a.m., March 20, 1831,at 4, Great Cumberland Place, near the Marble Arch.I am not able to givethe aspect of the planets on thisoccasion ; but, unlike most babes, I was born with myeyes open, whereupon my father predicted that I shouldbe" very wide awake." As soon as I could begin tomove about and play,I had such a way of pointingmy nose at things, and of cocking my ears like a kitten,that I was called " Puss," and shall probably be calledPuss when I am eighty.I was christened Isabel, aftermy father's first wife, nee Clifford, one of his cousins.She died, after a short spell of happiness, leaving himwith one little boy, who at the time I was born wasbetween three and four years old.It is a curious fact that my mother, ElizabethGerard, and Isabel Clifford, my father's first wife, werebosom friends, schoolfellows, and friends out in theworld together ;and amongst other girlishconfidencestheyused to talk to one another about the sort ofman each would marry. Both their men were to betall, dark, and majestic ;one was to be a literary man,and a man of artistic tastes and life ;the other was tobe a statesman. When Isabel Clifford married myfather, Henry Raymond Arundell (of Wardour), hercousin, my mother, seeing he was a small, fair, boyishlookingman, whose chief hobbies were hunting andshooting, said, " I am ashamed of you, Isabel ! Howcan "you ? Nevertheless she used to go and help herto make her baby-clothes for the coming boy. AfterIsabel's death nobody, except my father, deplored her

Cbttfcboofc anb 32outb 15so much as her dear friend my mother ;so thatmyfather only found consolation (for he would not goout nor meet anybodyin the intensity of his grief)in talking to my mother of his lost wife. Fromsympathy came pity, from pity grew love, and threeyears after Isabel's death my mother and my fatherwere married. They had eleven children, great andsmall ;I mean that some only lived to be baptized anddied, some lived a few years, and some grew up.1To continue my own small life, I can rememberdistinctly everything that has happened to me fromthe age of three. I do not know whether I waspretty or not ;there is a very sweet miniature of mewith golden hair and largeblue eyes, and clad in awhite muslin frock and gathering flowers, painted byone of the best miniature painters of 1836, whenminiatures were in vogue and photographs unknown.My mother said I was " lovely," and mywas " all there " but I am told; myfather said Iuncles and auntsused to put my mother in a rage by telling her howugly I was. My father adored me, and spoiltmeabsurdly he;considered me an original,a bit of" perfect nature." My mother was equally fond ofme, but severe all her spoiling,on principle,went toher step-son, whose name was Theodore.When my father and mother were first married,James Everard Arundell, myfather's first cousin, andmy godfather, was the then Lord Arundell of Wardour.He was reputed to be the handsomest peer of theday,and he was married to a sister of the Duke of1Two only now survive : Mrs. Fitzgerald and Mrs. Van Zeller.

16 Ube IRomance ot Isabel Xaoj? JSurtonBuckingham. He invited my father and mother, asthe two wives were friends, to come and occupy onewing of Wardour immediately after their marriage,and they did so. When James Everard died, myparents left Wardour, and took a house in MontaguPlace at the top of Bryanston Square, and passed theirwinters hunting at Leamington.We children were always our parents' first care.Great attention was paidto our health, to our walks,to our dress, our baths, and our persons ;our foodwas good, but of the plainest ;we had a head nurseand three nursery-maids ; and, unlike thepresent,everything was upstairs day nurseries and nightnurseries and schoolroom. The only times we wereallowed downstairs were at two o'clock luncheon (ourdinner), and to dessert for about a quarter of an hourif our parents were dining alone or had very intimatefriends. On these occasions I was dressed in whitemuslin and blue ribbons, and Theodore, my stepbrother,in green velvet with turn-over lace collarafter the fashion of that time. We were not allowedto speak unless spoken to ;we were not allowed toask for anything unless it was given to us. Wekissed our father's and mother's hands, and askedtheir blessingbefore going upstairs, and we stoodupright by the side of them all the time we were inthe room. In those days there was no lolling about,no Tommy-keep-your-fingers-out-of-the-jam, no Dickcrawling-under-the-table-pinching-people's-legsas nowadays.We children were littlegentlemen and ladies,and people of the world from our birth ; it was the

Cbil&boofc ant) Jôutb 17old school. The only diversion from this strict rulewas an occasional drive in the park with mother, ina dark green chariot with hammer-cloth, and greenand gold liveries and powdered wigs for coachmanand footman : no one went into the parkin thosedays otherwise. My daily heart- twinges were sayinggood-night to my mother, always with an impressionthat I might not see her again, and the other terrorwas the old-fashioned rushlight shade, like a hugecylinder with holes in it,which made hideous shadowson the bedroom walls, and used to frighten mehorribly every time I woke. The most solemn thingto me was the old-fashioned Charley, or watchman,pacing up and down the street, and singing in deepand mournful tone," Past one o'clock, and a cloudymorning."At the age of ten I was sent to the Convent of theCanonesses of the Holy Sepulchre, New Hall,Chelmsford,and left there when I was sixteen. In one sensemy leaving school so early was a misfortune I;was justat the age when one begins to understand and love one'sstudies. I ought to have been kept at the convent,or sent to some foreignschool ;but both my fatherand mother wanted to have me at home with them.I want to describe my home of that period.It wascalled Furze Hall, nearIngatestone, Essex. Dearplace I can shut my ! eyes and see it now. It was awhite, straggling, old-fashioned, half-cottage, half-farmhouse,built by bits, about a hundred yardsfrom theroad, from which it was completely hidden by trees.It was buried in bushes, ivy,and flowers. CreepersVOL. I. 2

isUbe IRomance of Isabel Xafcg Burtoncovered the walls and the verandahs, and crawled inat the windows, making the house look like a nest ;it was surrounded by a prettyflower garden andshrubberies, and the pasture-land had the appearanceof a small park. There were stables and kennels.Behind the house a few woods and fields, perhapsfifty acres, and a little bit of water, all enclosedby a ring fence, comprised our domain. Inside thehouse the hall had the appearanceof the main cabinof a man-of-war, and openedall around into roomsby various doors one into a small : library, which ledto a pretty,cheerful littledrawing-room, with twolarge windows down to the ground one ; opened onto a trim lawn, the other into a conservatory ;anotherdoor opened into a smoking-room, for the male partthe establishment, and the opposite one into a littlechapel and a ; dining-room, running off by the backdoor with glass windows to the ground, led to thegarden. There was a pretty honeysuckle and jessamineporch, which rose just under my window, in whichwrens and robins built their nests, and birds and beesused to pay me a visit on summer evenings. We hadmany shady walks, arbours, bowers, a splendid slantinglaurel hedge, and a beautiful bed of dahlias, all coloursand shades. A beech-walk like the aisle of a churchhad a favourite summer-house at the end. The prettylawn was filled, as well as the greenhouse, with thechoicest flowers ;and we had rich crops of grapes,thebest I ever knew. I remember a mulberry tree, underthe shade of which was a grave and tombstone andepitaph,the remains and memorial of a faithful oldof

Cbttoboofc anfc lôutb 19dog ; and I remember a pretty pink may tree, a largewhite rose, and an old oak, with a seat round it.Essex is generally flat but around us it was;undulatingand well-wooded, and the Janes and drives and rideswere beautiful. We were rather in a valley, and apretty road wound up a rise, at the topof which ourtall white chimneys could be seen smoking throughthe trees. The place could boast no grandeur ;butit was my home, I passed my childhood there, andloved it.We used to have great fun on a largebit of waterin the park of one of .our neighbours,in the ice daysin winter with sledges, skating, and slidingin the;summer-time we used to scamper all over the countrywith long poles and jump over the hedges. Nevertheless,I had a great deal of solitude, and Ipassedmuch time in the woods reading and contemplating.Disraeli's Tancred and similar occult books weremy favourites ;but âncred^ with itsglamour ofthe East, was the chief of them, and I used tothink out after a fashion my future life, and trytosolve great problems. I was forming my character.And as I was as a child, so I am now.I love solitude.I have met with people who dare not pass a momentalone ; manyseem to dread themselves. I find nogreater happiness than to be alone out of doors, eitheron the sea-beach or in a wood, and there reflect.With me solitude is a necessary consolation ;I cansoothe my miseries, enjoy my pleasures,form mymind, reconcile myself to disappointments, and planmy conduct. A person may be sorrowful without

20 Ube IRomance of Isabel Xafcs Burtonbeing alone, and the mind may be alone in a largeassembly, in a crowded city, but not so Ipleasantly.have heard thatcaptives can solace themselves byperpetually thinking of what they loved best but there;is a danger in excess of solitude, Jest our thoughtsrun the wrong way and ferment into eccentricity.Every right-minded person must think, and thoughtcomes only in solitude. He must ponder upon whathe is, what he has been, what he may become. Theenergies of the soul rise from the veiled obscurityit isplaced in itsduring contact with the world.It is when alone that we obtain cheerful calmnessand content, and prepare for the hour ofaction. Alone, we acquirea true notion of things,bear the misfortunes of lifecalmly, look firmly onthe pride and insolence of the great, and dare tothink for ourselves, which the majority of the greatdare not. When can the soul feel that it lives, and isgreat, free, noble, immortal, if not in thought ? Oh !one can learn in solitude what the worldly have noidea of. True it is that some souls capable of reflectionplunge themselves into an endless abyss, andknow not where to stop.I have never felt one ofthosewild, joyous moments when we brood over ourcoming bliss, and create a thousand glorious consequences.But I have known enough of sorrow to appreciaterightly any moment without an immediate care.There are moments of deep feeling,when one mustbe alone in self-communion, alike to encounter goodfortune or danger and despair, even if one draws outthe essence of every misery in thought.

33377 OCbflfcboot) ant) lôutb 21I was enthusiastic about gypsies, Bedawin Arabs,and everything Eastern and mystic, and especiallyabout a wild and lawless life.Very often, instead ofgoing to the woods, I used to go down a certain greenlane ; and if there were any oriental gypsies there, Iwould go into their campand sit for an hour or twowith them. I was strictly forbidden to associate withthem in our lanes, but it was my delight.When theywere only travellingtinkers or basket-menders, I wasvery obedient ;but wild horses would not have keptme out of the camps of the oriental, yet Englishnamed,tribes of Burton, Cooper, Stanley, Osbaldiston,and one other tribe whose name Iforget. My particularfriend was Hagar Burton, a tall, slender,handsome, distinguished,refined woman, who had muchinfluence in her tribe.Many an hour did I pass withher (she used to call me " Daisy "), and many a littleservice I did them when any of her tribe were sick,or got into a scrape with the squires anent poultry,eggs, or other things.The lastday I saw HagarBurton in her camp she cast my horoscope and wroteit in Romany. The rest of the tribe presentedmewith a straw fly-catcher of many colours, which I stillhave. The horoscope was translated to me by Hagar.The most important part of it was this :" You will cross the sea, and be in the same townwith your Destiny and know it not. Every obstaclewill rise up against you, and such a combination ofcircumstances, that it will require all your courage,energy, and intelligence to meet them. Your lifewill be like one swimming against big waves ;but

22 abe "Romance of Isabel Xaog BurtonGod will be with you, so you will alwayswin. Youwill fix your eye on your polar star, and you will gofor that without looking right or left. You will bearthe name of our tribe, and be right proud of it. Youwill be as we are, but far greater than we. Yourlife is all wandering, change, and adventure. One soulin two bodies in life or death, never long apart.Showthis to the man you take for your husband. HAGARBURTON."She also prophesied :" You shall have plenty to choose from, and wait foryears ; but you are destined to him from the beginning.The name of our tribe shall cause you many asorrowful, humiliating hour ;but when the rest whosought him in the heyday of his youth and strengthfade from his sight, you shall remain bright andpurified to him as the morning star, which hangslike a diamond drop over the sea. Remember thatyour destiny for your constancy will triumph, the namewe have given youwill be yours, and the day willcome when you will pray for it, long for it, and beof it."proudMuch other talk I had with Hagar Burton sittingaround the camp-fire, and then she went from me ;and I saw her but once again, and that aftermany years.This was the ugliest time of my life. Every girl hasan ugly age.I was tall, plump, and meant to be fair,but was always tanned and sunburnt. I knew my goodpoints. What girl does not ? I had large, dark blue,earnest eyes, and long, black eyelashes and eyebrows,which seemed to grow shorter the older I Igot. had

Cbitoboofc anfc lôutb 23very white regular teeth, and very small hands andfeet and waist ;but I fretted because I was too fatto slipinto what isusually called " our stock size,"and my complexion was by no means pale and interestingenough to please me. From my gypsy tastesIpreferred a picturesque toilette to a merely smartone. I had beautiful hair, very long,thick and soft,with five shades in it,and of a golden brown. Mynose was aquiline.I had all the material for a verygood figure, and once a sculptor wanted to sculpt me,but my mother would not allow it, as she thoughtI should be ashamed of my figure later, when I hadfined down. I used to envy maypole, broomstick girls,who could dress much prettier than I could. I waseither fresh and wild with spirits, or else melancholyand full of pathos. I wish I could giveas faithfula picture of my character ;but we are apt to judgeourselves either too favourably or too severely, and soI would rather quote what a phrenologist wrote of meat this time :" When Isabel Arundell loves, her affection will besomething extraordinary, her devotion greatin feet,too great.It will be her leading passion, and influenceher whole life.Everythingwill be sacrificed for oneman, and she will be constant, unchangeable, and jealousof his affections. In short, he will be her salvation orperdition ! Her temper is good, but she is passionate ;not easily roused, but when violentlyirritated shemight be a perfect little demon. She is, however, forgiving.She is full of originality and humour, and herutter naturalness will pass for eccentricity. She loves

24 TTbc Romance of 3sabel Xaog Burtonsociety, wherein she is wild and gay ; when alone, sheisthoughtful and melancholy. She is ambitious,sagacious, and intellectual, and will attract attentionby a certain simple dignity, by a look in her eye anda peculiar tone of her voice. To sum her up : Hernature is noble, ardent, generous, honourable, andgood-hearted. She hascourage, both animal andmental. Her faults are the noble and dashing ones,the spicy kind to enlist one's sympathies, the weedsthat spring from a too luxuriant soil."Thus wrote a professional phrenologist of me, anda friend who was fond of me at the time endorsed itin every word. With regard to the ambition, I alwaysfelt that if I were a man I should like to be a greatgeneral or statesman, to have travelled everywhere, tohave seen and learnt everything, done everything ;infine, t6 be the Man of the Day !When I was between seventeen and eighteen yearsof age,we left Furze Hall and went to London. Theplace in which we have passed our youthful days, beit ever so dull, possesses a secret charm.Iperformed several pilgrimages of adieu to everyspot connected with the bright reminiscences of youth.I fancied no other fireside would be so cosy, that Icould sleepin no other room, no fields so green.Those who know what it is to leave their quasi-nativeplace for the first time, never to return ;to know everystick and stone in the place for miles round, and takean everlasting farewell of them all ;to have one's petanimals destroyed ;to make a bonfire of all the thingsthat one does not want desecrated by stranger hands ;

CbU&boofc an& lôutb 25to sit on some height and gaze on the general havoc ;to reflect on what is, what has been, and what maybe in a strange world, amidst strangefaces ;to shakehands with a crowd of poor old servants, peasants, andhumble friends, and not a dry eye to be seen, thosewho have tasted something of this will sympathize withmy feelings then. "Ah, miss," the old retainers said,"we shall have no more jolly Christmases ;we shallhave no beef, bread, and flannels next year ;the hallwill not be decked with festoons of holly there will;"be no more music and dancing!" No more snapdragonsand round games," quoth the gamekeeper ;and his voice trembled, and I saw the tears in hiseyes and in the eyes of them all.So broke up our little home in Essex, and we wentourways.

CHAPTER IIIMY FIRST SEASON(18491850)Society itself, which should createKindness, destroys what little we have gotTo feel for none is the true social artOf the world's lovers.BYRON.WAS soon going through a London drilling.I wasI very much pleased with town, and the novelty ofmy life amused me and softened my grief at leaving mycountry home. I greatly disliked being primmed andscolded, and Ithought dressing up an awful bore, andnever going out without a chaperone a greaterone.Some things amused me very much. One thing was,that all the footmen with powdered wigs who openedthe door when one paid a visit were obsequiousif onecame in a carriage, but looked as if they would like toshut the door in one's face it one came on foot. Anotherwas the way people stared at me ; it used to make melaugh, but I soon found I must not laugh in their faces.We put our house in order ;we got pretty dresses,and we left our cards ;we were allready for theseason'scampaign.I made my debut at a fancy ball26

dfirst Season 27at Almack's, which was then very exclusive. We wentunder the wingof theDuchess of Norfolk.I shall never forgetthat first ball. To begin at thebeginning, there was my dress. How a girlof thepresent day would it ! Idespise wore white tarlatanover white silk, and the first skirt was looped uptomy knee with a blush rose. My hair, which wasvery abundant, was tressed in an indescribable fashionby Alexandre, and decked with blush roses. I had noornaments ;but Ireally looked very well, and wasproud of myself.We arrived at Almack's about eleven.The scene was dazzlingly brilliant to me as I entered.The grand staircase and ante-chamber were decked withgarlands, and festoons of white and gold muslin andribbons. The blaze of lights, the odour of flowers, theperfumes, the diamonds, and the magnificentdresses ofthe cream of the British smote aristocracy upon mysenses ;all was new to me, and all was sweet. Julian'sband played divinely. My people had been absent fromLondon many seasons, so at first it seemed strange. Butat Almack's every one knew every one else ;for societyinthose days was not a mob, but small and select.Peopledid not struggle to get on as people do now, and wewere there by right, and to resume our positionin ourcircle. There is much more heart in the world thanmany people give it credit for at any rate in the worldof the gentle by birth and breeding. Every one had ahearty welcome for my people, and some good-naturedchaff about their having " buried themselves " so long.I was at once taken by the hand, and kindly greetedby many. Some great personage, whose name I forget,

28 ttbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog JSurtongave a private supper, besides the usual one,to whichwe were invited ;and in those days there were polkas,valses, quadrilles, and galops.Old stagers (mammas)had told me to consider myself very lucky if I gotfour dances, but I was engaged seven or eight deepsoon after I entered the ballroom, and had morepartners than I could dance with in one night.Ofcourse mother was delighted with me, and I wasequally pleased with her : she looked so young andfashionable ;and instead of frightening young menaway, as she had always done in the country, sheappeared to attract them, engage them in conversation,and seemed to enjoy everything she was such;a nice chaperone.I was very much confused at theamount of staring (I did not know that every newgirl was stared at on her first appearance) and one;may think how vain and incredulous I was, when Ioverheard some one telling my mother that I had beenquoted as the new beauty at his club. Fancy, poorugly me !I shall not forget my enjoyment of that first ball.I had always been taught to look uponit as theopening of Fashion's fairy gates to a paradise ; norwas I disappointed, for, to a young girlwho hasnever seen anything, her first entrance into a brilliantballroom is very intoxicating.The blaze of light andcolour, the perfume of scent and bouquet, the beautifuldresses, the spirited music, the seemingly joyous multitudeof happy faces, laughing and talkingas if carewere a myth, the partners flocking round the door tosee the new arrivals all was delightful to me. But

ffirst Season 29then of course in those days we were not born blase,as the young people are to-day.And I shall never forget my first opera.Ishallalways remember the delights of that night.I thoughteven the crush-room lovely, and the brilliant gaslight,the mysteriouslittle boxes, with their red-velvetcurtains,filled with handsomemen and pretty women,which I think Lady Blessington describes as " ragsof roues, memoranda books of other women's follies,like the last scene of the theatre ; they come out in gasand red flame, but do not stand daylight." I do notsay that, but some of them certainly looked so. Theopera was La Sonambula, with Jenny Lind and Gardoni.When the music commenced, I forgot I was on earth ;and, so passionately fond of singing and acting as Iwas, it was not wonderful that I was quite absorbedby this earth's greatest delight. Jenny's girlish figure,simple manner, birdlike voice, so thrilling and so fullof assion, her perfect acting and irresistible lovemaking,were matchless. Gardoni was very handsomeand verystiff. The scene where Gardoni takes herring from her, and the last scene when he discovershis mistake, and her final song, will ever beengraven on my memory ;and if I see the operaa thousand times, I shall never like it as well asI did that night,for all was new to me. And afteronly think, what pleasure for me ! there camethe ballet with the three great stars Amalia Ferraris,Cerito, and Fanny Essler, whom so few are old enoughto remember now. There are no balletsnowadayslike those.

30 ttbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonThis London life of society and amusement wasdelightful to me after the solitary one I had beenleading in the Icountry. was ready for anything, andthe world and its excitement gave me no time tohanker aftermy Essex home. The rust was soonrubbed off ;Iforgotthe clouds ; my spiritwasunbroken, and I Jived in the present scrap of rosecolour.They were joyous and brilliant days, for Iwas exploringnovelties I had only read or heard of.I went throughall the sight-seeing of London, andthe (to me) fresh amusement of shopping, visiting,operas, balls, and of drivingin Rotten Row. Thedays were very different then to what they are now :one rose late, and, except a cup of tea, breakfast andluncheon were one meal ;then came shopping, visiting,or receiving.One went to the Park or Row at5.30, home to dress, and then off to dinner or theopera, and out for the night, unless there was a partyat home. This lasted every day and night fromMarch till the end of July, and often there were twoor three things of a night.I was tired at first ;butat the end of a fortnight I was tired-proof, and ofcourse I was dancing mad. The Sundays were diversifiedby High Mass at Farm Street, and perhaps a Greenwichdinner in the afternoon.I enjoyed that season immensely, for it was all new,and the life-zest was strong within me. But I couldnot help pitying poor wall-flowers a certain set ofgirls who come out every night, who have been outseason after season, and who stand or sit out allnight.I often used to say to my partners, " Do go and dance

Jftrst Season 31with So-and-so " ;and the usual rejoinder was, " I reallywould do anything to oblige you, but I am sick ofseeing those Ingirls." fact, we girlsmust not appearon the London boards too often lest we fatiguetheseyoung coxcombs. London, like the smallest wateringplace,is full of cliques and sets on a large scale, fromBillingsgate up to the throne. The great world thencomprised the Court and its entourage, the Ministers,and the Corps Diplomatique,the military, naval, andliterary stars, the leaders of the fashionable andpolitical world, the cream of the aristocracy of England ;and at the time of which I write the old Catholiccousinhood clan used to hold its own. You musteither have been born in this great world, or you musthave arrived in itthrough aristocratic patronage, orthrough your talents, fame, or beauty. Nowadays youonly want wealth ! There were some sets even thenwhich were rather rapid, which abolished a good dealof the tightness of convename, whose motto seemed tobe savoir vivre, to be easy, fascinating, fashionable, anddaintyas well as social.I found a ballroom the very place for reflection ;and with the sentiment that I should use societyformy pleasure instead of being its slave, I sometimesobstinately would refuse a dance or two, or sitting-outand talking,in order to Jean against some pillarandcontemplate human nature, in defiance of my admirers,who thought me very eccentric. I loved to watch theintriguing mother catching a coronet for her daughter,and the father absorbed in politics with some contemporaryfogey ; the old dandywith his frilled shirt

3 TTbe IRomance of Jsabcl Xat>g Burtoncapering in a quadrille the stepsthat were danced inNoah's ark the ; rouged old peeress, whom you wouldnot have taken to be respectable if you did not happento know her, withflirting boys.I saw other oldones, with one foot in the grave, almost mad withexcitement over cards and dice, and every passion,except love, gleaming from their horrid Ieyes. sawthe rivalry amongst the beauties. I noted the brainlesscoxcomb, who comes in for an hour, leans againstthedoor, twirls his moustache, and goes out againa sortthe "Tenth-don't-dance-young-man !of " Aw !;theboy who asks all the prettiest girls to dance, steps ontheir toes, tears their dresses, and throws them down ;the confirmed, bad, intriguing London girl,who willplay any game for her end and the; timid, delightedyoung who girl, finds herself of consequence for thefirst time. I have watched the victim of the heartlesscoquettethe young girl gazing with tearful, longingfor the man to ask her to dance to whom sheeyeshas perhaps unconsciously betrayed her affection ;shein her innocence like a pane of glass,the otherglorying in her torture, dancing or flirting with theman in her sight, only to glut her vanity with another'sIdisappointment. have watched the jealousy of mento each other, vying for a woman's favour and cuttingeach other out. I have heard mothers running downeach other's daughters, dowagers and prudent spinsterscasting their eyes to heaven for vengeance on thechange of manners even in the Forties ! on thelicence of the day, and the liberty of the age! Ihave heard them sighing for minuets and pigtails,for I

Season 33came between two generationsthe minuet was oldand the polka was new ; all alike were polka mad,all crazed with the idea of getting upa new fast style,but oh ! lamblike to what it is now ! I watched the lastcentury trying to accommodate itself to the present.One common smile graced the lips of all thuinnocent, the guilty, the happy, and the wretched ;thesame colour on bright cheeks, some of it real, somebought at Atkinson's ; and, more wonderful still, thesame general outward decorum, placidity, innocence,and good humour, as if prearranged by general consent.Ipitied the vanity, jealousy, and gossip of manywomen. I classed the men too : there were manygood but ; amongst some there were dishonour andmeanness to each other, in some there were coarsenessand brutality, and in some there was deceptiontowomen ;some were so narrow-minded, so wanting into be farintellect, that I believed a horse or a dogsuperior. But my ideal was too high, and I had notin those days found my superior being.I met some very odd characters, which made oneform some rather useful rules to go by.One man Imet had every girl'sname down on paper,if shebelonged to the haute volee, her age, her fortune,and her personal merits ; for he said, " One woman,unless one happens to be in love with her, is muchthe same as another." He showed me my namedown thus :" Isabel Arundell, eighteen, beauty,talent and goodness, originalchief faultp cxr. cW. ! "Then he showed me the name of one of my friends :cHandsome, age seventeen, rather missish, 50,000 ;VOL. I.

34 ttbe "Romance of Isabel Xaos 3Burtonshe cannot afford to flirtexcept pour le bon motif,and I cannot afford, as a younger brother, to marrya girlwith 50,000. She is sure to have been broughtup like a duchess, and want the whole of her moneyfor pin-moneya deuced expensive thingis a girl"with 50,000 Then he rattled on to others.!I told him I did not think much of the young menof the day." There now," he answered," drink ofthe spring nearest to you, and be thankful ; by beingtoo fastidious you will get nothing."I took a greatdislike to the regular Blue Stocking;I can remember reading somewhere such a gooddescription of her : *' One who possesses every qualificationto distinguishherself in conversation, wellread and intelligent,her manner cold, her head cooler,her heart the coolest of all, never the dupe of herown sentiments; she examined her people before sheadopted them, a necessary precaution where lightborrowed."A great curiosity to me were certain married people,who were known never to speak to each other athome, but who respected the convenances of society somuch that even if they never met in private theytook care to be seen together in public, and to enterevening parties together with smiling countenances.Somebody writes :Have they not got polemics and reform,Peace, war, the taxes, and what is called the Nation,The struggle to be pilots in the storm,The landed and the moneyed speculation,The joys of mutual hate to keep them warmInstead of love, that mere hallucination ?is

ffirst Season 35What a contrast women are ! Onewoman is " fineenough to cut her own relations, too fine to be seenin the usual places of public resort, and therefore ofcourse passes with the vulgar for something exquisitelyrefined." Another I have seen who would have sacrificedall London and its " gorgeous mantle of purpleand gold" to have wedded some pale shadow offriendship, which had wandered by her side amid herchildhood's dreary waste. And oh ! how I pity themanystars who fall out of the too dangerously attractivecircle of society!The fault there seems not to bethe sin, but the stupidity of being found out. I sayone"littleprayer every day : Lord, keep me fromcontamination." I never saw a woman who renouncedher placein society who did not prove herself capableof understandingits value by falling fiftyfathomslower than her originalfall. The fact is, very fewpeople of the world, especiallythose who have notarrived at the age of discretion, are apt to stop shortin their career of pleasure for the purpose of weighingin the balance their own conduct, enjoyments, orprospects; in short, it would be very difficult for anyworldly woman to be always stopping to examinewhether she is enjoying , the right kind of happinessin the right kind of way, and, once fallen, a womanseems to depend on her beauty to create any interestin her favour. I knew nothing of these thingsthen ;and thoughI think itquite rightshould be kept in awe of certain misdemeanours, Ithat womencannot understand why, when one, who is not bad,has a misfortune, other women should joinin hounding

36 ttbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonher down, and at the same time giving such licenceto really bad women, whom society cannot apparentlydo without. 'Tis "one man may steal a horse, andanother ma) not look over the hedge." If a womanfell down in the mud with her nice white clothes on,and had a journey to go,she would not lie down andwallow in the mud ;she would jump up,and wash herselfclean at the nearest spring, and be very carefulnot to fallagain, and reach her journey's end safely.But other women do not allow that ; they must haulout buckets of the mud, and pourit over the fallenone, that there may be no mistake about it at all.Then men seem to find a wondrous charm in poachingon other men's preserves (though a poacher of birdsgets terrible punishments, once upon a time hanging),as if their neighbours'coverts afforded better shootingthan their own manors.When I went to London, I had no idea of the matrimonialmarket ; I should have laughed at it just asmuch as an unmarrying man would. I was interestedin the fast girlswho amused themselves atmost extraordinarylengths, not meaning to marry the man ;andat the slower ones labouring day and nightfor ahusband of some sort, without any success. I hearda lady one day say to her " daughter, My dear, if youdo not get off during your first season, I shall breakmy heart." Our favourite men joined us in walksand rides, came into our opera-box, and barred all thewaltzes ;but it would have been no fun to me to havegone on as some girls did, because I had no desire toreach the happy goal, either properly or improperly.

Jfii'st Season 37Mothers considered me crazy, and almost insolent,because I was not ready to snap at any good parti ;andI have seen dukes' daughters gladly accept men thatpoor humble I would have turned up my nose at.What think' st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour ?As of a knight well spoken, neat and fine ;But were Iyou he never should be mine.Lots of such men, or mannikins, affected the season,then as now, and congregated around the rails ofRotten Row. I sometimes wonder if they are menat or all, merely sexless creatures animated tailors'dummies. Shame on them thus to disgrace their manhood! 'Tis man's work to do great deeds !Well,the young men of the day passed before me withoutmaking the slightest impression. Myideal was notamong them. My ideal, as I wrote it down in mydiary at that time, was this :f

38 TEbe IRomance of Isabel Xaos JSurtonlashes. He is a soldier and a man ;he is accustomedto command and to be obeyed. He frowns on theordinary affairs of life, but his face always lights upwarmly for me. In his dress he never adopts thefopperies of the day, but his clothes suit him theyare made for him, not he for them. He is a thoroughman of the world ;he is a few years older than myself.He is a gentleman in every sense of the word notonly in manners, dress, and appearance, but in birthand position, and, better still, in ideas and actions ;andof course he is an Englishman. His religionis likemy own, free, liberal, and generous-minded. He isbyno means indifferent on the subject,as most men are ;and even if he does not conform to any Church, hewill serve God from his innate duty and sense of honour.The great principleis there. He is not only not afidgety, strait-laced, or mistaken-conscienced man onany subject he ; always gives the mind its head. Hispolitics are conservative, yet progressive.His mannersare simple and dignified^ his mind refined and sensitive,his temper under control ;he has a good heart, withcommon sense, and more than one man's share ofbrains. He is a man who owns something more thana body ;he has a head and heart, a mind and soul.He is one of those strong men who lead, the mastermindwho governs, and he has perfect control overhimself."This is the creation of my fancy, and my idealof happinessis to be to such a man wife, comrade,friend everything to him, to sacrifice all for him, tofollow his fortunes through his campaigns, through

jfirst Season 39his travels, to any part of the world, and endure anyamount of roughing. I speak of the ideal man 'tistrue, and some may mock and say,'Where is the matefor such a man to be found ? But there are ideal'women too. Such a man only will I wed. I love thismyth of my girlhood for myth it is next to God ;and I look to the star that Hagar the gypsy said wasthe star of my destiny, the morning star, which is theplace I allot to my earthly god, because the ideal seemstoo high for this planet, and, like the philosopher'sstone, may never be found here. But if I find sucha man, and afterwards discover he is not for me, thenI will never marry.I will try to be near him, onlyto see him, and hear him speak ;and if he marriessomebody else, I will become a sister of charity ofSt. Vincent de Paul."

BOULOGNE :CHAPTER IVI MEET MY DESTINY(18501852)Was't archer shot me, or was't thine eyes?ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's "Arabian Nights").rI "HE season over (August, 1850), change of air,JLsea-bathing, French masters to finish our educationiand we turned ourand economy were loudly called for ;faces towards some quiet place on the opposite shoresof France, and we thought that Boulogne might suit.We were soon ready and off.We had a pleasant but rough passage of fifteenhours from London. While the others were employedin bringing up their breakfasts, I sat on deck andmused. Suddenly I remembered that Hagar had toldme I should cross the sea, and then I wondered whywe had chosen Boulogne.I was leaving Englandforthe first time ; I knew not for how long.What shouldIgo through there, and how changed should I comeback? I had gone with a lightheart. I was youngthen ; I loved society and hated exile. I had writtenin my diary only a little time before : " As for me, Iam never better pleased than when I watch this huge40

3Bouloane: 5 fl&eet /l&s Besting 41game of chess, Life, being played on that extensive chessboard,Society."I never felt so patrioticas that firstmorning on sea when the white cliffs faded from myview. We never appreciate things until we lose them,and Ithought of what the feelingsof soldiers andsailors must be, going from England and returningafter years of absence.At length the boat stopped at the landing-placeatBoulogne, and we were driven like a flock of sheepbetween two ropesinto a papie?'-mache-\ook.mg building,whence we were put into a carriagelike a bathingmachine,and driven through what I took to be mews,but which were inreality the principal streets. Irecognize in this reflection the prejudicedLondonBritisher, the John Bull for in; reality Boulogne wasa most picturesque town, and our way lay throughmost picturesque streets. After driving up the hillystreet, and under an archway, in the old town, wecame to a good, largeho*use like a barn, No. 4, Ruedes Basses Chambres, Haute Ville, Boulogne-sur-Mer.The rooms were chiefly furnished with bellows andbrass candlesticks ;there was not the ghost of an armchair,sofa, ottoman, or anything comfortable ;and theonly thing at all cheery was our kinswoman, Mrs.Edmond Jerningham, who, apprised of our arrival, hadour fires lighted and beds made. She was cutting breadand-butterand preparing tea for us when we camein, and had ready for us a turkey the size of a fineEnglish chicken. This banquet over, we all turnedinto bed, and slept between the blankets.Next morning our boxes were still detained at the

42 TTbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurtoncustom-house, and my brothers and sisters and myselfgot some bad tea and some good bread-and-butter, andsat round in a circle on the floor in our night-gowns,with our food in the middle. Shortly after we hearda hooting, laughing, and wrangling in a shrill key," "Coralie, Rosalie, Florantine, Celestine, Euphrosine!so I pricked up my ears in the hopes of seeing someof those pretty, well-dressed, piquantelittle soubrettcsof whom we had heard mother talk, when in rolledabout a dozen harpies with our luggage.At first Idid not feel sure whether they were men or women ;they had picturesque female dresses on, but theirmanners, voices, language, and gestures were those ofthe lowest costermongers. They spoke to me inpatois, which I did not understand, and seemed surprisedto see us all in our nightgowns, forgetting thatwe had little else to put on till they had broughtthe luggage. I gave them half a crown, which theyappeared to think a great tleal of money, and it inspiritedthem greatly. They danced about me, whirledme round, and in five minutes one had decked me upin a red petticoat, another arrayed me in her jacket,and a third clapped her dirty cap on my head, andI was completely attired a la marine. I felt so amusedby the novelty of the thing that I forgotto beangry at their impertinence, and laughed as heartilyas they did.When they were gone, we set to work and unpackedand dressed, and by the afternoon were as comfortableas we could make ourselves ;but we were thoroughlywretched, though mother kept tellingus to look at

3Bouloane : 3 flDeet /l&E Destiny 43the beautiful sky, which was not half as blue or brightas on the other side of the water. We sauntered outto look at the town. I own my first impressions ofFrance were very unfavourable ; Boulogne looked tome like a dirty pack of cards, such as a gypsy pullsout of her pocket to tellyour fortune with. Thestreets were irregular, narrow, filthy,and full of openus the cholera.gutters, which we thought would giveThe pavement was like that of a mews ;the houseswere unfurnished ;the sea was so far out from our partof the town that itmightas well not have been thereand such a dirty, ugly-looking sea too, we thought!The harbour was full of poisonous-looking smellingmud, and always appeared to be low water. Thecountry was dry, barren, and a dirtybrown (itwas ahot August) ;the cliffs were black ;and there was nota tree to be seen I used to pretend to get under alamp-post for shade. Every now and then we haddays of fine weather, with clouds of dust and sirocco,or else pouring rain and bleak winds. From mother'stalk of the Continent we expected at least the comfortsof Brighton with the romance of Naples;and I shallnever forget our feelingswhen we were told that, afterParis, Boulogne was the nicest town in France. NowI imagine that ours are the feelings of every narrowminded,prejudiced John Bull Britisher the first timehe lands abroad. It takes him some little time tothoroughly appreciate all the good thingsthat he doesget abroad, and to be fascinated with the picturesqueness,and then often he returns home unwillingly.We had a cheap cook, so that our dinners would

44 TTbe IRomance of Isabel Xafcs Eurtonhave been scarcely served up in myfather's kennel athome. When I had eaten what I could pick out bydint of shutting my eyes and forcing myself to get itdown, I used to lie down daily on a large horsehairsofa, such as one sees in a tradesman's office, andsometimes crytill I fellasleep ; I felt so sorry forus all.The most interesting people in Boulogne were thepoissardes, or fisherwomen ; they are of Spanish andFlemish extraction, and are a clan apart to themselves.They are so interestingthat I wonder that no one haswritten a little book about them. They look downon the Boulognais ; they are a fine race, tall, dark,handsome, and have an air of good breeding. Theirdress is most picturesque.The women wear a shortred petticoat, dark jacket, and snowy handkerchiefor scarf, and a white veil tied round the head andhanging a little behind. On fete days they add agorgeous satin apron. These costumes are expensive.Their long, drooping, gold earrings and massive ornamentsare heirlooms, and their lace is real. The menwear great jack-bootsalldark jacket, and red cap ; they are fine,They had a queenthe way up their legs, a loosestalwart men.named Carolina, a handsome, intelligentwoman, with whom I made greatfriends ;andalso a captain, who had a daughter so like me thatwhen I used to go to the fish-market at first theyused to chaff me, thinking she had dressed up like alady for fun. They also have their different gradesof society ; they have their own church, built by themselves,their separate weddings, funerals, and christen-

JSoutoone : 5 fl&eet flbv Besting 45ings. They do not marry out of their own tribe orassociate with the townspeople. Their languagehasa number of Spanish and Latin words in it.Theyhave a strict code of laws, live in a separate part ofthe town on a hill, are never allowed to be idle, andare remarkable for their morality, although by therecklessness of the conduct and talk of some of thecommoner ones you would scarcelybelieve it. If anaccident does occur, the man is obliged to marry thegirl directly.The upper ones are most civil and wellspoken, and all are open-hearted and not grasping.There is a regular fleet of smacks. The men arealways out fishing.The women do all the work athome, as well as shrimping, making tackle, marketing,getting their husbands' boats ready for sea, andunloading them on return ;and they are prosperousand happy. The smacks are out for a week or tendays, and have their regular turn. Theyhave nosalmon, and the best fish is on our side of the water.The lowest grade of the girls,who serve as kinds ofhacks to the others, are the shrimping girls ; they areas vulgar as Billingsgateand as wild as red Indians.You meet them in parties of thirty or forty, with theirclothes kilted nearly up to their waists and nets overtheir backs. They sing songs, and are sure to insultyou as you pass but ; they make off at a double quicktrot at the very name of Queen Carolina.At Boulogne the usual lounge, both summer andwinter, was the Ramparts, which were extremely prettyand picturesque. The Ramparts were charming insummer, with a lovely view of the town; and a row

46 Ube Romance of Isabel Xafcp JSurtondown the Liane, or a walk along its banks, was not tobe despised. There were several beautiful country walksin summer. The peasants' dances, called guinguettes,1were amusing to look at. The hotels and table d holeswere not bad. The ivory shops in the town werebeautiful ;the bonnets, parasols, and dresses very chie ;the bonbons delicious. The market was a curious,picturesquelittle scene. There were pretty fetes,religious and profane, and a capital carnival.The good societywe collected around us ;but itwas small, and never mixed with the general society.The two winters we were there were gay ;there wasa sort of agreeablelaissez alter about the place, andthe summers were very pleasant. But mother kept usterribly strict, and this was a great stimulant to do wildthings ; and though we never did anything terrible,we did what we had better have left alone. Forinstance, we girls learned to smoke. We found thatfather had got a very nice box of cigars,and westole one. We took itup to the loft and smoked it,and were very sick,and then perfumed ourselves withscent, and appeared in our usual places.We perseveredtill we became regular smokers, and father'sbox of cigars disappeared one by one. Then theservants were accused ;so we had to come forward,go into his den, make him swear not to tell, andconfided the matter to him. He did not betray us,as he knew we should be almost locked up, and fromthat time we smoked regularly. People used to say,"What makes those Arundell girls so pale? Theymust dance too much." Alas, poor things ! it was just

JSoulogne : 5 fl&eet flbv Besting 47the want of these innocent recreations that drove usto so dark a deed !I have already said that we were taken to Boulognefor masters and economy. Our house in the HauteVille was next to the Convent, and close to the futurerising slowly risingNotre Dame. Mysister Blancheand I gradually made up our minds to this life, ourEuropean Botany Bay. We were not allowed to walkalone, except upon the Ramparts, which, however, makea good mile under large shady trees, with views fromevery side not a bad walk by any means. Mother,my sister Blanche, and I used to walk once daily upthe lounge, which in fine weather was down the GrandeRue, the Rue de 1'Ecu, the Quai to the end of thepier and back but in;winter our promenade may besaid to be confined to the Grande Rue. There wecould observe the notorieties and eccentricities of theplace. There might be a dozen or more handsomeyoung men of good family, generally with somethingshady about money hanging over them, a great manypretty, fast girls and young married women, a great dealof open flirtation, much attention to dress, and plentyof old half-pay officers with large families, who had cometo Boulogne for the same reasons as ourselves. Ifthere were any good families, they lived in the HauteVille, and were English there ; were, in fact, half adozen aristocratic English families, who stuck togetherand would speak to nobodyelse. I have learnt sincethat often in a place one dislikes there will arisesome circumstance that will prove the pivot on whichpart, or the whole, of one's lifemay turn, and that

48 ttbe IRomance of Isabel Xaos Burtonscene, that town, or that house will in after-yearsretain a sacred placein one's heart for that thing'ssake, which a gayeror a grander scene could neverwin. And so it was with me.At this it ispoint necessary to interruptIsabel's autobiography,to introduce a personage who will hereafterplay a considerable part in it. By one of those manycoincidences which mark the life-story of Richard andIsabel Burton, and which bear out in such a curiousmanner her theory that they "were destined to oneanother from the beginning," Burton came to Boulogneabout the same time as the Arundells. This is not theplace to write a life of Sir Richard Burton it has beenwritten large elsewhere, 1 so that all who wish mayread ;but to those who have not read Lady Burton'sbook, the following brief sketch of his career up tothis time may be of interest.Richard Burton came of a military family, and onewhose sons had also rendered some service both inChurch and State. He was the son of Joseph NettervilleBurton, a lieutenant-colonel in the 36th Regiment.He was born in 1821. He was the eldest of threechildren ;the second was Maria Catherine Eliza, whomarried General SirHenry Stisted; and the thirdwas Edward Joseph Netterville, late inCaptainthe37th Regiment (Queen's),who died insane. ColonelBurton, who had retired from the army, and hiswife went abroad for economy when Richard was only1Life of Sir Richard Burton, by Isabel his wife.

36oulo0ne : 3 d&eet /l&S Besting 49a few months old, and they settled at Tours. Toursat that time contained some two hundred Englishfamilies, who formed a society of their own. TheseEnglish colonies knew little of Mrs. Grundy, andless of the dull provincialism of English country towns.Thus Richard grew upin a free, Bohemian society,an influence which perceptibly coloured his after-life.His education was also of a nature to develop hisstrongly marked individuality.He was sent to amixed French and English school at Tours, and heremained there until his father suddenly took it intohis head that he would give his boys the benefit otan English education, and returned to England. But,instead of going to a public school, Richard was sentto a private preparatory school at Richmond. Hewas there barely a year,when his father, wearying ofRichmond and respectability,and sighingfor thefelt thatshooting and boar-hunting of French forests,he had sacrificed enough on account of an Englisheducation for his boys, and resolved to bring themup abroad under the care of a private tutor. Thisresolution he quickly put into practice,and a wanderinglife on the Continent followed, the boys being educatedas they went along. This state of things continuedtill Richard was nineteen, when, as he and his brotherhad got too old for further home training,the familybroke up.Richard was sent to Oxford, and was entered atTrinity College, with the intention of taking holyorders in the Church of England. But the rovingContinental life which he had led did not fit him forVOL. i. 4.

50 ZTbe "Romance ot Isabel Xaog 3Burtonthe restraints of the University.He hated Oxford,and he was not cut out for a parson.At the end ofthe first year he petitionedhis father to take him away.This was refused ;so he set to work to gethimself sentdown a task which he accomplished with so muchsuccess that the next term he was rusticated, with anintimation that he was not to return. Even at thisearly period of his life the glamourof the East wasstrong upon him ;the only learning he picked upatOxford was a smattering of Hindustani ;the onlythingthat would suit him when he was sent downwas to go to India. He turned to the East as the.lotus turns with the sun. So his people procured hima commission in the army, the Indian service, and hesailed for Bombay in June, 1842.He was appointed to the I4th Regiment, BombayNative Infantry, and he remained in India withoutcoming home for seven years. Duringthose sevenyears he devoted himself heart and soul to the studyof Oriental languages and Oriental habits. He passedin ten Eastern languages. His interest in Oriental life,and his strong sympathy with it, earned him in hisregiment the nickname of " the white nigger."Hewould disguise himself so effectually that he would passamong Easterns as a dervish in the mosques and asa merchant in the bazaars. In 1844 Richard Burtonwent to Scinde with the i8th Native Infantry, andwas put on Sir Charles Napier's staff. Sir Charlessoon turned the young lieutenant's peculiar acquirementsto account in dealing with the wild tribes aroundthem. He accompanied his regiment to Mooltan to

RICHARD BURTON IN 1848 IN NATIVE DRESS. [.Page 50.

Boulogne: 3 fl&eet /IDE Besting 5*attack the Sikhs. Yet, notwithstanding all these uniquequalifications, when Richard Burton applied for thepost of interpreter to accompany the second expeditionto Mooltan in 1849, he was passed over on accountof a feeling againsthim in high quarters, on whichit isunnecessary here to dwell. This disappointment,and the mental and physical worry and fatigue whichhe had undergone, broke down his health. He appliedfor sick leave, and came home on a long furlough.After a sojournin England, he went to France(1850) to join his family, who were then staying atBoulogne, like the Arundells and most of the Englishcolony, for change, quiet, and economy. Whilst atBoulogne he brought out two or three books andprepared another. Burton took a gloomy view of hiscareer inprospects at this time ;for he writes, " MyIndia has been inmy eyes a failure, and by no faultof my own ;the dwarfish demon called ' Interest ' hasfought against me, and as usual has won the fight."There was a good deal of prejudice against him evenat Boulogne, for unfounded rumours about him hadtravelled home from India.Burton, as it may be imagined,did not lead the lifewhich was led by the general colony at Boulogne."He had a little set of men friends," Isabel notes ;" he knew some of the French ;he had a greatmany flirtations one very serious one. He passedhis days in literature and fencing.At home he wasmost domestic ;his devotion to his parents, especiallyto his sick mother, was very beautiful." At this timehe was twenty-eight years of age.The Burton family

s* ttbe IRomance of Isabel Xa>g JSurtonbelonged to the general English colony at Boulogne ;were not intimate with the creme to whom thetheyMiss Arundells belonged ;and as these young ladieswere very carefully guarded,it was some little timebefore Richard Burton and Isabel Arundell cametogether. They met in due season ;and here wetake up the thread of her narrative again.One day, when we were on the Ramparts, the vision ofmy awakening brain came towards us. He was five feeteleven inches in height, very broad, thin, and muscular :he had very dark hair ; black, clearly defined, sagaciouseyebrows a brown, weather-beaten ; complexion;straight Arab features a ; determined-looking mouth andchin, nearly covered by an enormous black moustache.I have since heard a clever friend say that " he hadthe brow of a god, the jaw of a devil." But the mostremarkable part of his appearance was two large, black,flashing eyes with long lashes, that pierced one throughand through. He had a fierce, proud, melancholyexpression ;and when he smiled, he smiled as thoughit hurt him, and looked with impatient contemptatthings generally.He was dressed in a black, short,shaggy coat, and shouldered a short, thick stick, as ifhe were on guard.He looked at me as though he read me throughand through in a moment, and started a little. I wascompletely magnetized ; and when we had got a littledistance away,I turned tomy sister, and whisperedtoher, " That man will marry me." The next day hewas there again, and he followed us, and chalked up,

Boulogne : 3 fl&eet

54 Ube iRomancc of Isabel Xaog JSurtonas when I hear gypsy music. I never lost an opportunityof seeing him, when I could not be seen ;andas I used to turn red and pale, hot and cold, dizzyand faint, sick and trembling, and my knees usedto nearly give way under me, my mother sent forthe doctor, to complain that my digestion was outof order, and that I got migraines in the street he;prescribed me a pill,which I threw in the fire. Allgirls will sympathize with me. I was struck withthe shaft of Destiny, but I had no hope, being nothing1but an ugly schoolgirl, of taking the wind out ofthe sails of the dashing creature with whom Richardwas carrying on a very serious flirtation.The only luxuryIindulged in was a short butheartfelt prayer for him every morning.I read allhis books, and was seriously struck, as before, byhisname, when I came to the book on Jats in Scinde.The Jats are the aboriginal gypsies in India.The more I got to know of Richard, the more hisstrange likeness to the gypsies struck me. As I wroteto the Gypsy Lore Journal in 1891, it was not onlyhis eyes which showed the gypsy peculiarity he had;the restlessness which could stay nowhere Jong, norown any spot on earth, the same horror of a corpse,deathbed scenes, and graveyards, or anything which1It is necessary here to defend Lady Burton against herself.She was certainly not " ugly " ;for she was a friend tells me whoknew her at this time a tall and beautiful girl, with fair brown hair,blue eyes, classic features, and a most vivacious and attractivemanner. Nor could she correctly be called a " schoolgirl " for;though she was taking some finishing lessons in French, music, etc.,she was more than nineteen years of age, and had been through aLondon season.

Boulogne : 3 /iDeet /l&g Besting 55was in the slightest degree ghoulish, though caringlittle for his own life,the same aptitude for readingthe hand at a glance.With many he would droptheir hands atonce and turn away, nor would anythinginduce him to speak a word about them. He spokeRomany like the gypsiesthemselves. Nor did weever enter a gypsy camp without their claiming him." What are you doing with that black coat on " ? theywould say. "Why don't you join us and be our king?"Moreover, Burton is one of the half-dozen distinctivelyRomany names ;and though there is no proof whateverof his Arab or Romany descent, the idea that he hadgypsy blood is not to be wondered at. He alwaystook a great interest in gypsy lore, and prepareda bookon the subject.He wrote many years later : " Thereis an important family of gypsies in foggy England,who in remote times developed our family name.I am yet on very friendly terms with several of thesestrange people ; nay, a certain Hagar Burton, an oldfortune-teller (divinatrice), took partin a period of mylife which in no small degree contributed to determineitscourse."Mycousin asked Richard to write somethingfor meat that time ;he did so, and I used to wear it nextmy heart. One night an exceptionwas made toour dull rule of life.My cousins gave a tea partyand dance, and the " "great majority flocked in, andthere was Richard like a staramong rushlights That!was a night of nights ;he waltzed with me once,and spoke to me several times, and I kept my sashwhere he put his arm round my waist to waltz, and

56 Zlbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonmy gloves, which his hands had Iclasped. neverwore them again.I did not know it then, but the"little cherub who sitsup aloft" was not only occupiedin taking care of poor Jack, for I came in also for ashare of it. I saw Richard every now and againafterthat, but he was of course unconscious of my feelingstowards him. And I was evidently awfully sorry formyself, since I find recorded the following moan :" If kind Providence had blessed me with the manI love, what a different being I might be ! Fate hassensitive nature toused me hardly, with my proud,rough the world and its sharp edges,alone andunprotected except by hard and peremptory rules."So I thought then ;but I have often blessed thoserules since. A woman may have known the illusionsof Jove, but never have met an object worth all herheart. Sometimes we feel a want of love, and a wantto love with all our energies.There is no man capableof receivingthis at the time, and we acceptthe love ofothers as a makeshift, an apology,to draw our intentionfrom the painful feeling,and try to fancyit is love.How much in this there is to fear ! A girl should befree and happyin real and legitimatelove. One whois passionate and capable of sufferingfears to risk herheart on any man. isHappy she who meets at herfirst start the man who is to guide her for life, whomshe is always to love. Some women growfastidious insolitude, and find it harder to be mated than married.Those who fear and respect the men they love, thosewhose judgment and sense confirm their affection, arelucky. Every one has some mysterious and singular

Boulogne : 3 /IDeet /IDs testing 57idea respectinghis destiny.I asked myself then if Iwould sacrifice anything and everything for Richard,and the only thingthat I found I could not sacrificefor him would be God ;for I thought I would as soon,were I a man, forsake my post,when the tide of battlepressed hardest against it,and go over to the enemy,as renounce my God. So having sifted my unfortunatecase, I soon decided on a plan of action. I could notpush myself forward or attract his notice. It wouldbe unmaidenly unworthy.I shuddered at the lonelyand dreary pathI was taking ;but I knew that noadvantage gained by unworthy means could be lastingor solid ; besides, my conscience was tender, and Iknew that the greatest pleasure unlawfully obtainedwould eventually become bitter, for there can be nogreater pain than to despiseoneself or the one we love.So I suffered much and long; and the name of thetribe, as Hagar Burton foretold, caused me manyasorrowful and humiliating hour ;but I rose superior atlast.They say that often, when we think our hopesare annihilated, God isgranting us some extraordinaryfavour. It is said, " It is easy to image the happinessof some particular condition, until we can be contentwith no other " ;but there is no condition whateverunder which a certain degree of happiness may notbe attained by those who are inclined to be happy.Courage consists, not in hazarding without fear, butin being resolutely minded in a just cause.Marvel not at thy life ; patienceshall seeThe perfect work of wisdom to her given ;Hold fast thy soul through this high mystery,And it shall lead thee to the gates of heaven.

ssttbe -Romance ot Isabel Xaos BurtonThe days at Boulogne went slowly by. We used tojoin walking or picnic parties in summer, and generallyhave one of our pleasant bigteas in the evening.Ijoined in such society as there was in moderation, andI became very serious. The last summer we hadmany friends staying with us ;the house was quitelike a hotel. We much longed to go to Paris ;butin the winter poorlittlebaby died, and mother hadno spiritsfor anything. This last winter (1851-52),during the time of the coup d'etat^ there were eighteenhundred soldiers billeted on Boulogne and the excitementwas great, crowds of people were rushing;aboutto hear the news, and vans full of prisoners passingby. They were very violent against the English too ;we had our windows broken occasionally, and our petdog was killed. Carolina, the Poissarde queen, toldus that if the worst came to the worst she should sendus across to England in her husband's fishing-smack.Boulogne was a droll place ; there was always eithersomething joyous, a fete,or some scandal or horrorgoing on. It was a place of passage, constant changeof people, and invariably there was some excitementabout something or other.Our prescribed two years were upatlast, and we allagreed that anything in London would be preferableto Boulogne. We began quietly to pack up, pay ourdebts, and make our adieux. We were sorry to leaveour little circle ; they were also sorry to part from us ;and the tradespeople and servants seemed conscious thatthey were about to lose in a short while some honestand safe-paying people not too frequent in Boulogne

3Bouloone : 5 /iDeet /IDs 2>estin^ 59and were loud in their regrets.I had many regretsin leaving, but was delighted at the prospect of goinghome, and impatient to be relieved of the restraint Iwas obliged to impose on myself about Richard. Yetat the same time I dreaded leavinghis vicinity.I wassorely sorry, yet glad.All the old haunts I visitedfor the last time. There were kind friends to wishIgood-bye. received mylast communion in the littlechapel of Our Lady in the College, where I had sooften knelt and prayed for Richard, and for strengthto bear my sorrow as a trial from the hand of God,as doubtless it was formy good, only I could not seeit. When one is young, it is hard to pine for some-will be done."thing, and at the same time to " say, Thybe mine if God willedI always prayed Richard mightit, and if it was for his happiness.I said good-bye to Carolina, the queen of the fisherwomen;she reminded me strangely of Hagar Burton,myIgypsy. wondered how Hagar would tell herprophecies now ? " Chance or not," I thought, " theyare strange ;and if ever I return to my home, I willrevisit Stonymoore Wood, though now alone ;for myshaggy Sikh is dead, my pony gone, my gypsy campdispersed, my light heart no longer light, no longermine." I would give worlds to sitagain on themossy bank round the gypsy fire, to hear that littletale as before, and be called " Daisy," and hear theprophecy of Hagar that I should take the name of thetribe. I listened lightly then ;but now that the namehad become so dear I attached much deeper meaningtoit.

60 abe IRomancc ot Isabel Xaog JBurtonAt last the daywas fixed that we were to leaveBoulogne, May 9, 1852, and I was sorely exercisedinmy mind as to whether or no I should say goodbyeto Richard ;but I said to myself, " When we leavethis place,he will go one way in life, and I another ;and who knows if we may ever meet "againTo?see him would be only to give myself more pain, andtherefore I did not.We walked down to the steamer an hour or twobefore sailing-time, which would be two in the morning.It was midnight ;the band was playing, and thesteamer was alongside, opposite the Folkestone Hotel.It was a beautiful night,so all our friends collectedto see us off, and we walked up and down, and hadchairs to remain near the band. When we sailed, mypeople went down to their berths ;but I sat near thewheel, to watch the town as long as I could see thelights, for after all it contained all I wanted, and whoI Ithought should never see more. I was sad atheart ;but I was proud of the wayin which I hadbehaved, and I could now rest after my long andweary struggle, suffering, patient, and purified ; andthough I would rather have had love and happiness,I felt that I was as gold tried in the fire. It is nolittle thing for a girl to be able to command herself,to respect herself, and to be able to crush every pettyfeeling.When I could see no more of Boulogne, Iwrappeda cloak round me, and jumped into the lifeboat lashedto the side, and I mused on the two past yearsI hadbeen away from England,all I had gone through, and all

Boulogne: 3 /I&eet /Ifos S>estins 6tthe changes, and especiallyhow changedI was myself;I felt a sort of satisfaction, and I mused on how muchof my destiny had been fulfilled. Old Captain Tune,who had become quite a friend of ours at Boulogne,came up, and wanted me to go below. I knew himwell, and was in the habit of joking with him, and Itold him to go below himself, and I would take care ofthe ship ;so instead he amused me by tellingme storiesand asking me riddles. The moon went down, andthe stars faded, and I slept well ;and when I awokethe star of my destiny, my pet morning star, wasshining bright and " clear, justlike a diamond dropover the sea." I awoke, hearing old Tune " say,Whata jollysailor's wife she would make ! She never changescolour." We lurched terribly. Ijumped up as hungryas a hunter, and begged him to give me some food, asit wanted four hours to breakfast ;so he took me downto his cabin, and gave me some hot chops and breadand-butter,and said he would rather keep me for aweek than a fortnight.It blew freshly.I cannotdescribemysensations when I saw the dear old whitecliffs of England again, thoughI had only been awaytwo years, and so near home. The tears came intomy eyes, and my heart bounded with joy,and I feltgreat sympathy with all exiled soldiers and sailors, andwondered what face we should see first.Foreignersdo not seem to have that peculiarsensation abouthome, or talk of their country as we do of ours ;forI know of no feelinglike setting one's foot on Englishground again after a long absence.

CHAPTER VFOUR YEARS OF HOPE DEFERRED(18521856)ONI was fancy free and unkncw I love,But I fell in love and in madness fell ;I write you with tears of eyes so belike,They explain my love, come my heart to quell.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's " Arabian Nights").leaving Boulogne, Isabel saw Richard Burtonno more for four years, and only heard ofhim now and again from others or through thenewspapers. She went back to London with herpeople, and outwardly took up life and society againmuch where she had left it two yearsbefore. Butinwardly things were very different. She had gone toBoulogne an unformed girl she had left ; it a lovingwoman. Her ideal had taken form and shape she;had met the onlyman in allthe world whom she couldlove, the man to whom she had been " destined fromthe beginning," and her love for him henceforthbecame, next to her religion, the motive power of heractions and the guiding principle of her life. Allher youth, until she met him, she had yearned for62

four HJears of 1bope Beferreo 63something, she hardly knew what. That somethinghad come to her, sweeter than all her young imaginings,glorifyingher life and flooding her soul with radiance.And after the light there had come the darkness ;afterthe joythere had come keenest pain for it ;seemedthat her love was given to one who did not returnitnay, more, who was all unconscious of it. But thisdid not hinder her devotion, though her maidenlyreserve checked its outward expression. She had mether other self in Richard Burton. He was her affinity.A creature of impulse and emotion, there was a certainvein of thought in her temperament which respondedto the recklessness in his own. She could no morestifle her love for him than she could stifle her nature,for the love she bore him was part of her nature, partof herself.Meanwhile she and her sister Blanche,the sisternext to her inage, had to take the place in societysuited toyoung ladies of their position. Theirfather, Mr. Henry Raymond Arundell, though incomfortable circumstances, was not a wealthy man ;but in those days money was not the passporttosociety, and the Miss Arundells belonged by birthto the most exclusive aristocracy of Europe, theCatholic nobility of England, an aristocracy whichhasno parallel, unless it be found in the old Legitimistfamilies of France, the society of the FaubourgSt. Germain. But this society, though undoubtedlyexclusive, was also undoubtedly tiresome to theimpetuous spiritof Isabel, who chafed at the restraintsby which she was surrounded. She loved liberty ;

64 Ubc IRomancc of Isabel Xa&s JBurtonher soaring spiritbeat itswings against the prisonbarsof custom and convention ;she was alwaysyearning for a wider field. Deep down in her heartwas hidden the secret of her untold love, and thisrobbed the zest from the pleasure she might otherwisehave taken in society.Much of her time was spentin confidingto her diary her thoughts about Richard,and in gleaning together and treasuringin her memoryevery scrap of news she could gather concerning him.At the same time she was not idle, nor did she pineoutwardly after the approved manner of love-sickmaidens. As the eldest daughter of a large familyshe had plenty to do in the way of home duties, andit was not in her nature towork which cameshirk anyin her way, but to do it with all her might.The Miss Arundells had no lack of admirers, andmore than once Isabel refused or discouraged advantageousoffers of marriage, much to the perplexity ofher mother, who naturally wished her daughters tomake good marriages ;that is to say, to marry menof the same religion as themselves, and in the sameworld men who would make them good husbands inevery sense of the word. But Isabel, who was thentwenty-one years of age, had a strong will of her own,and very decided views on the subject of marriage,and she turned a deaf ear to allpleadings. Besides,was she not guarded by the talisman of a hiddenand sacred love ? In her diary at this time shewrites:" They sayit is time I married (perhapsit is) ;butit is never time to marry any man one does not love,

jfour lêars of Ibope Deferred 65because such a deed can never be undone. Richardmay be a delusion of my brain. But how dull is reality !What a curse is a heart ! With all to make mehappy I pine and hanker for him, my other half, tofill this void, for I feel as if I were not complete. Isitwrongto want some one to love more than one'sfather and mother one on whom to lavish one's bestWhat feelings ? will my life be alone ? I cannot marryround me. Where areany of the insignificant beingsall those men who inspired the grandes passions of?bygone days Is the race extinct ? Is Richard thelast of them? Even so, is he for me? They pointout the matches I might make if I took the trouble,but the trouble I will not take. I have no vocationto be a nun. I do not consider myself good enoughto offer to God. God created me with a warm heart,a vivid imagination, and strong passions ;God hasgiven me food for hunger, drink for thirst, but nocompanion for my loneliness of heart. If I couldonly be sure of dying at forty, and until then preserveI should beyouth, health, spirits,and good looks,more cheerful to remain as I am. I cannot separatemyself from all thought of Richard. Neither do Iexpect God to work a miracle to make me happy.To me there are three kinds of marriage:first,worldly ambition ;that is, marriage for fortune, title,estates, society ; secondly, love ;that is, the usual pigand cottage ; thirdly, life, which is my ideal of beinga companion and wife, a life of travel, adventure, anddanger, seeing and learning, with love to glorify it ;that is what I seek. L'amour n'y manquerait pas!VOL. i.5

66 TTbe "Romance of Isabel Xabg Burton" A sailor leaves his wife for years, and is supposedto be unfaithful to her by necessity.The typicalsportsman breakfasts and goes out, comes home todinner, falls asleep over his port, tumbles into bed,and snores tillmorning. An idle and independentman who lives in societyis often a roue, a gambler,or drunkard, whose wife is deserted for a danseuse." One always picturesthe * proper man to be arich, fat, mild lordling, living on his estate, whence,as his lady, one mightrise to be a leader of Almack's.But I am much mistaken if I do not deserve a betterfate. I could not live like a vegetablein the country.I cannot picture myself in a white apron, with abunch of keys, scolding my maids, counting eggsand butter, with a good and portly husband (I detestfat men !)with a broad-brimmed hat and a largestomach. And I should not like to marry a countrysquire, nor a doctor, nor a lawyer (I hear the parchmentscrackle now), nor a parson, nor a clerk in aLondon office. God help me ! A dry crust, privations,pain, danger for him I love would be better. Let mego with the husband of my choice to battle, nurse himin his tent, follow him under the fire of ten thousandmuskets. I would be his companion through hardshipand trouble, nurse him if wounded, work for him inhis tent, prepare his meals when faint, his bed whenweary, and be his guardian angel of comfort a felicitytoo exquisitefor words ! There is something in somewomen that seems born for the knapsack. How manygreat thoughts are buried under ordinary circumstances,and splendid positions exist that are barren of them

3four Jêars of 1bope Beferteo 67thoughts that are stifled from a feeling that they aretoo bold to be indulged in ! I thank God for theblessed gift of imagination, thoughitmay be a sourceof pain.It counteracts the monotony of life. Onecannot easily quita cherished illusion, though it disgustsone with ordinarylife. Who has ever been so happyin realityas in imagination? And how unblessed arethose who have no imagination, unless they obtain theirwishes in reality! I do not obtain, so I seek them inillusion. Sometimes I think I am not half gratefulenough to my parents,I do not half enough forthem, considering what they are to me. Although weare not wealthy, what do I lack, and what kindness doI not receive ? Yet I seem in a hurry to leave them.There is Inothing would not do to add to their comfort,and it would grieve me to the heart to forsakethem ;and yetif I knew for certain that I should neverhave my wish, I should repine sadly.I love a gooddaughter, and a good daughter makes a good wife.How can I reconcile all these thingsinmy mind ? Iam miserable, afraid to hope, and yetI dare not despairwhen I look at the state of myheart. But one side isso heavy as nearly to sink the other, and thus my beauxjours will pass away, and my Ideal Lover will notthen think me worth his while. Shall I never be atto tellrest with him to love and understand me,every thought and feeling,in far different scenes fromthese under canvas before Rangoon anywhere inNature ?" I would have every woman marry ;not merely likinga man well enough to accept him for a husband, as

68 zrbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog 3Burtonsome of our mothers teach us, and so cause manyunhappy marriages, but loving him so holily that,wedded or not wedded, she feels she is his wife at heart.But perfect love, like perfect beauty,is rare. I wouldhave her so loyal, that, thoughshe sees all his littlefaults herself, she takes care no one else sees them ; yetshe would as soon think of loving him less for themas ceasingto look up to heaven because there were afew clouds in the sky.I would have her so true, sofond, that she needs neither to burthen him with herlove nor vex him with her constancy, since both areself-existent, and entirely independent of anything hegives or takes away. Thus she will not marry himfor liking, esteem, gratitude for his love, but from thefulness of her own love. If Richard and I nevermarry, God will cause us to meet in the next world ;we cannot be parted ;we belong to one another.Despite all I have seen of false, foolish, weak attachments,unholy marriages, the after-life of which isrendered unholier stillby struggling againstthe inevitable,still I believe in the one true love that bindsa woman's heart faithful to one man in this life, and,God grant it, in the next. All this I am and couldbe for one man. But how worthless should I be toany other man but Richard Burton ! I should loveRichard's wild, roving, vagabond life ;and as I amyoung, strong, and hardy, with good nerves, and no finenotions, I should be just the girl for him I could;never love any one who was not daring and spirited.I always feel inclined to treat the generality of menown sex. I am sure I am not born forjust like my

3fout JUears of 1bope 2>eferreoa jog-trotlife ;I am too restless and romantic. Ibelieve mysister and I have now as much excitementand change as most girls,and yetI find everythingslow. I long to rush round the world in an express ;I feel as if I shall go mad if I remain at home. Nowwith a soldier of fortune, and a soldier at heart, onewould go everywhere, and lead a life worth living.What others dare I can dare. And why should Inot? I feel that we women simply are born, marry,and die. Who misses us ?Whyshould we not havesome useful, active life?Why, with spirits, brains,worsted workand energies, are women to exist uponand household accounts ? It makes me sick, and Iwill not do it."In the meantime Richard Burton, all unconsciousof the love he had inspired, had gone on his famouspilgrimage to Mecca. As we have seen, he was homefrom India on a long furlough ;but his active mindrevolted against the tame life he was leading, andcraved for adventure and excitement. He was notof the stuff to play the part of petit maitre in thesecond-rate society of Boulogne. So he determinedto carry out his long-cherished project of studyingthe "inner life of Moslem," a task for which hepossessed unique qualifications. Therefore, soon afterthe Arundells had left Boulogne, he made up his mindto go to Mecca. He obtained a year'sfurther leaveto carry out his daring Inproject. 1853 he leftEngland disguised as a Persian Mirza, a disguisewhich he assumed with so much success that, when

70 ttbe "Romance ot Ssabcl Xaot> J3uctonhe landed at Alexandria, he was recognized and blessedas a true Moslem by the native population.FromAlexandria he went to Cairo disguised as a dervish,and lived there some months as a native. Thence hetravelled to Suez, and crossed in an open boat with aparty of Arab pilgrimsto Yambu. The rest of hisdare-devil adventures and hair-breadth escapes howhe attached himself to the Damascus caravan andjourneyed with the pilgrims to Mecca in spiteof thefiery heat and the scorching sands, how he bravedmany dangers and the constant dread of " detection "is written by him in his Pilgrimageto Mecca and ElMedinah, and is touched upon again in Lady Burton'sLife of her husband. The story needs no re-tellinghere. Suffice it to saythat Burton was the first mannot a Mussulman who penetrated to the innermostsanctuary of Moslem, and saw the shrine where thecoffin of Mohammed swings between heaven and earth.He did the circumambulation at the Harem ;he wasadmitted to the house of our Lord ;he went to thehe visitedwell Zemzem, the holy water of Mecca; of the Moslems, and kissed theKa'abah, the holy grailfamous black stone ;he spent the nightin the Mosque ;and he journeyed to Arafat and saw the reputed tombof Adam. He was not a man to do things by halves,and he inspected Mecca thoroughly, absolutely livingthe life of the Mussulman, adopting the manners,eating the food, wearing the clothes, conforming tothe ritual, joining in the prayers and sacrifices, andspeaking the language. He did all this, literallycarrying his life in his hand, for at any moment he

5URTOX ON HIS PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA. [Page 70.

jfour 32ears of UDope 2>eterreDnmight have been detected one false step, one hastyword, one prayer unsaid, one triflingcustom of theshibboleth omitted, and the dog of an infidel who haddared to profane the sanctuary of Mecca and Medinahwould have been found out, and his bones wouldhave whitened the desert sand. Quite apart fromthe physical fatigue,the mental strain must have beenacute. But Burton survived it all, and departed fromMecca as he came, slowly wending his way with a caravanacross the desert to Jeddah, whence he returned upthe Red Sea to Egypt. There he sojourned for a space ;but his leave being up, he returned to Bombay.The news of his marvellous pilgrimage was soonnoised abroad, and travelled home ; all sorts of rumoursflew about, thoughit was not until the following yearthat his book, giving afull and detailed account of hisvisit to Mecca, came out. Burton's name was on thelips of many. But he was in India, and did not comehome to reap the reward of his daring, nor did heknow that one faithful heart was full of joy andthanksgiving at his safety and pride at his renown.He did not know that the " "little girl he had metnow and again casually atBoulogne was thinking ofhim every hour of the day, dreaming of him everynight, praying every morning and evening and at thealtar of her Lord, with all the fervour of her pure soul,that God would keep him now and always, and bringhim back safe and sound, and in His own good timeteach him to love her. He did not know. Howcould he? He had not yet sounded the height, depth,Jand breadth of a woman's love. ^Lnd yet,who shall

72 Ztbe "Romance of Isabel Xaoy Burtonsay that her supplicationsthrone of God ? Who shall sayIsabel's prayers, quitewere unheeded before thethat it was notas much as Richard Burton'sskill and daring, which shielded him from dangerand detection and carried him safe through all ?In Isabel's diaryat this time there occurs the followingnote :" Richard has justcome back with flyingcoloursfrom Mecca ;but instead of coming home, he has goneto Bombay to rejoin his regiment.I glory in his glory."God be thanked !Then a sense of desolation and hopelessness sweepsover her soul, for she writes :" But I am alone and unloved. Love can illuminethe dark roof of poverty, and can lightenthe fettersof a slave ;the most miserable position of humanityis tolerable with itssupport, and the most splendidirksome without itsinspiration.Whatever harsherfeelings life may develop, there is no one whose browwill not grow pensive at some tender reminiscence,whose heart will not be touched. Oh if I could butgo through life trusting one faithful heart and pressingone dear hand ! Is there no hope for me ? I am sofull of faith. Is there no pity for so much love ? Itmakes my heart ache,this future of desolation anddistress ; it ever flits like the thought of death beforemy eyes.There is no more joy for me ;the lustreof life is gone.How swiftly my sorrow followed myjoy ! I can laugh, dance, and sing as others do, butthere is a dull gnawing always at my heart that weariesme. There is an end of love for me, and of all the

jfour lêars of Ifoope Deferred 73bright hopes that make the lives of other girls happyand warm and pleasant."Burton did not stay long atBombay after he rejoinedhis regiment.He was not popular in it,and he dislikedthe routine. Something of the old prejudiceagainst him in certain quarters was revived. TheEast India Company, in whose service he was, hadlonged wished to explore Harar in Somaliland,Abyssinia; but it was inhabited by a very wild andand no white man had ever dared tosavage people,enter it. So it was justthe placefor Richard Burton,and he persuaded theGovernor of Bombayto sanctionan expedition to Harar ;and with three companions,Lieutenant Herne, Lieutenant Stroyan, and LieutenantSpeke, he started for Harar.From her watch-tower afar off, Isabel, whose ceaselesslove followed him night and day, notes :"And now Richard has gone to Harar, a deadlyexpedition or a most dangerous one, and I am full ofsad forebodings. Will he never come home ? Howstrange it all is,and how I still trust in Fate ! TheCrimean War is declared, and troops begin to go out."When Burton's littleexpedition arrived at Adenen route for Harar, the four men who composed itparted and resolved to enter Harar by different ways.Speke failed ;Herne and Stroyan succeeded. Burtonreserved for himself the post of danger. Harar wasas difficult to enter as Mecca;there was a traditionthere that when the first white man entered the cityHarar would fall. Nevertheless, after a journeyof four months through savage tribes and the desert,

74 TTbc IRomancc of Isabel Zaog BurtonBurton entered it disguised as an Arab merchant, andstayed there ten days. 1 He returned to Aden. Fiveweeks later he got up a new expedition to Harar ona much larger scale, with which he wanted to proceedNilewards. The expedition sailed for Berberah.Arriving there, the four leaders, Burton, Speke, Stroyan,and Herne, went ashore and pitched their tent, leavingthe others on board. At night they were surprised bymore than three hundred Somali, and after desperatefighting cut their way back to the boat. Stroyanwas killed, Herne untouched, and Speke and Burtonwounded.A little later the following note occurs in Isabel'sdiary :"We got the news of Richard's magnificent rideto Harar, of his stayingten days in Harar, of hiswonderful ride back, his most daring expedition, andthen we heard of the dreadful attack by the nativesin his tent, and how Stroyan was killed, Herne untouched,Speke with eleven wounds, and Richard witha lance through his jaw. They escaped in a nativedhow to Aden, and it was doubtful whether Richardwould recover. Doubtless this is the danger alludedto by the clairvoyant, and the cause of my horribledreams concerning him about the time ithappened.I hope to Heaven he will not go back How can ! I"be grateful enough for his escape!Burton did not go back. He was so badly woundedthat he had to return to England on sick leave, andsorely discomfited. Here his wounds soon healed, andJVide Burton's First Footsteps in Africa.

jfouc lêars of 1bope Befertefc 75he regainedhis health. He read an account of hisjourney to Harar before the Royal Geographical Society;but the paper attracted little or no attention, one reasonbeing that the public interest was at that time absorbedin the Crimean War. Strange to say, the paper, untilit was over, did not reach the ears of Isabel, nor didshe once see the man on whom all her thoughts werefixed during his stay in England. It was of courseimpossible for her to take the initiative. Moreover,Burton was invalided most of the time, and in Londonbut little. His visit to England was a short one. Aftera month's rest he obtained leave after considerabledifficulty,for he was no favourite with the War Officeto start for the Crimea, and reached there in October,1854. He had some difficultyin obtaininga post, butat last he became attached to General Beatson's staff, andwas the organizerof the Irregular Cavalry (Beatson'sHorse :the Bashi-bazouks), a fact duly noted in Isabel'sdiary.The winter of 1854-55 was a terrible one for ourtroops in the Crimea, and public feeling in Englandwas sorely exercised by the account of their sufferingsand privations.The daughters of England were notbackward in their efforts to aid the troops. FlorenceNightingale and her staff of nurses were doing theirnoble work in the army hospitals at Scutari ;and itwas characteristic of Isabel that she should move heavenand earth to jointhem. In her journalat this time wefind the following:" It has been an awful winter in the Crimea. I havegiven up reading the 'Times ;it makes me so miserable,

76 ttbe -Romance of Ssabet Xaog JBurtonand one is so impotent.I have made three strugglesto be allowed to joinFlorence Nightingale. How Ienvy the women who are allowed to goout as nurses !I have written again and againto Florence Nightingale ;but the superintendenthas answered me that I am tooyoung and inexperienced, and will not do."But she could not be idle. She could not sit withfolded hands and think of her dear oneand her bravecountrymen out yonder suffering untold privations,and do nothing. It was not enough for her to weepand hope and pray. So the next thingshe thoughtof was a scheme for aiding the almost destitute wivesand families of the soldiers, a work which, if she haddone nothing else, should be sufficient to keep hermemory green, prompted as it was by that generous,loving heart of hers, which ever found its chiefesthappiness in doing good to others. She thus describesher scheme :" I set to work to form a club girls' composed ofgirls. My plan was to be some little use at home.First it was called the 'Whistle Club,' because weall had tinysilver whistles ;and then we changeditto the ' Stella Club,' in honour of the morning starmy star. Our principal object was to do goodat homeamongst the destitute families of soldiers awayin theCrimea ;to do the same thingsas those we would havedone if we had the chance out yonder amongst thesoldiers themselves. We started a subscription soupcauldronand a clothing collection, and we got fromthe different barracks a list of the women and theirchildren married, with or without leave.We ascertained

Ifour IlJears of 1bope Beferreb 77their real character and situations, and no destitutewoman was to be left out, nor any difference madeon account of religion.The women were to haveemployment ; the children put to schools according totheir respective religions, and sent to their own churches.Lodging, food, and clothes were given according toour means, and words of comfort to all, teaching thepoor creatures to trust in God for themselves and theirhusbands at the war the only One from whom wecould all expect mercy. We undertook the wives andfamilies of all regiments of the Lifeguards and Bluesand the three Guards' regiments.We went the roundstwice a week, and met at the club once a week. Therewere three girls to each locality ;all of us dressedplainly and behaved very quietly, and acknowledgedno acquaintances while going our rounds. We carriedthis out to the letter, and I cannot attempt to describethe scenes of misery we saw, nor the homes that wesaved, nor the gratitude of the soldiers later when theyreturned from the war and found what we had done.It has been a most wonderful success, and I am veryhappy at having been of some use. The girls respondedto the rules, which were rigorously carried out ;andwhen I look atmy own share of the business, andmultiply that by a hundred and fifty girls, I thinkthe good done must have been great. In ten days,by shillings and Isixpences, alone collected a hundredguineas, not counting what the others did. My beatcontained one hundred women of all creeds and situations,and about two hundred children. Ispared notime nor exertions over and above the established rules.

78 tCbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonI read and wrote their letters, visited the sick anddying, and did a number of other things." I know now the misery of London, and in makingmy rounds I could give details that would come upto some of the descriptionsin The Mysteries of Parisor a shillingshocker. In many cellars, garrets, andcourts policemen warned me not to enter, and toldme that four or five of them could not go inwithout being attacked ;but Ialways said to them,'You go to catch some rogue, but I go to take thewomen something ; they will not hurt me but I should;waited outside in case I do not comebe glad if youout again.'But the ruffians hanging about soonlearntmy errand, and would draw back, touch theircaps, move anything out of my way, and give me akind good-dayas I passed, or show me to any doorthat I was not sure of. Some people have been a littlehard on me for being the same to the fallen women asto the good ones. But I do hate the way we womencome down upon each other. Those who are theloudest in severity are generally the first to fall whentemptation comes and who of us : might not do sobut for God's grace? I like simplicity and large-mindedconduct in allthings, whether it be in a matter ofreligion or heart or the world, and I think the moreone knows the simpler one acts. I have the consolationof knowing that all the poor women are now doingwell and earning an honest livelihood, the childrenfed, clothed and lodged, educated and brought upinthe fear and love of God, and inmany a soldier'shome my name is coupled with a blessing and a

four Dears of Ifoope Beferreo 79prayer. They send me a report of themselves nowonce a month, and I love the salute of many an honestand brave fellow as he passes me in the street with hismedal and and clasps, many have said, * But for youI should have found no home on my return.' 'After the fall of Sebastopol the war was virtuallyat an end, and the allied armies wintered amid itsruins. The treaty of peace was signedat Paris onMarch 30, 1856. Five months before the signing ofthe treaty Richard Burton returned home with GeneralBeatson, his commander-in-chief, who was then involvedin an unfortunate controversy.An evil geniusseemed to follow Burton's military career, and itpursuedhim from India to the Crimea. He managedtoenrage Lord Stratford so much that he called him" the most impudent man in the Bombay army." Hewas certainly one of the most unlucky, even in hischoice of chiefs. Sir Charles Napier, under whomhe served in India, was far from popular with hissuperiors and General Beatson was ; alwaysin hotwater. The Beatson trial was the result of one of themany muddles which arose during the Crimean War ;it took place in London in the spring (1856), andBurton gave evidence in favour of his chief. But thisisby the way. What we are chiefly concerned withis the following line in Isabel's diary, written soon afterhis return to England :" I hear that Richard has come home, and is in town."God be praised!That which followed will be told in her own words.

CHAPTER VIRICHARD LOVES ME(1856-1857)NOWDaughter of nobles, who thine aim shall gain,Hear gladdest news, nor fear aught hurt or bane.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's "Arabian Nights").this is what occurred. When Richard waswell home from theCrimea, and had attendedBeatson's trial,he began to turn his attention to the"Unveiling of " Isis;in other words, to discover thesources of the Nile, the lakeregions of CentralAfrica, on which his heart had long been set ;and hepassed most of his time in London working it up.We did not meet for some months after his return,though we were both in London, he planning hisCentral African expedition, and I involved in thegaieties of the season ;for we had a gay seasonthat year, every one being glad that the war wasover. In June I went to Ascot. There, amid thecrowd of the racecourse, I met Hagar Burton, the gypsy,for the first time after many years, and I shook handswith her." "Are you Daisy Burton yet? was her80

firstquestion."I were ! Her face litup.Xoves dDe 81I shook my head. " Would to God" Patience ; it is justfor at that momentcoming." She waved her hand,she was rudely thrust from the carriage.I never sawher again, but I was engaged to Richard two monthslater. It came in this wise.One fineday in August I was walking in theBotanical Gardens with my sister. Richard was there.We immediately stopped and shook hands, and askedeach other a thousand questions of the four interveningyears ; and all the old Boulogne memories and feelingsreturned to me. He asked me if I came to theGardens often. I said, "Oh yes,we always come andread and study here from eleven to one, because it isso much nicer than studying in the hot room at thisseason."" That is quite right," he said. " What areyou " studying ? I held up the book I had with methat day, an old friend, Disraeli's âncred^ the bookof my heart and taste, which he explained to me.Wewere in the Gardens about an hour, and when I hadto leave he gave me a peculiar look, as he did atBoulogne. I hardly looked at him, yetI felt it,andmind washad to turn away. When Igot home, myfull of wonder and presentiment ;I felt frightened andagitated ;and I looked at myself in the glass andthought myself a fright !Next morning we went to the Botanical Gardensagain.When we got there, he was there too, alone,to show to Monckton Milnescomposing some poetryon some pet subject.He came forward, and saidlaughingly, " You won't chalk up f Mother will beVOL. i. 6

8aUbe IRomance ot Isabel Xafcg JBurtouangry,' as you did when you were at Boulogne, whenI used to want to speak to you." So we walked andtalked over old times and people and thingsin general.About the third day his manner gradually alteredtowards me ;we had begun to know each other, andwhat might have been an ideal love before was nowa reality.This went on for a fortnight.I trodon air.At the end of a fortnight he stole his arm roundmy waist, and laid his cheek against mine and askedme, " Could you do anything so sicklyas to give upcivilization ?And if I can get the Consulate of Damascus,will you marry me and go and live there "He ? said,/ Do not giveme an answer now, because it will meana very serious step for you no less than giving upyour people and all that you are used to, and livingthe sort of life that Lady Hester Stanhope led. I seethe capabilities in you, but you must think it over."I was long silent from emotion ; it was justas if themoon had tumbled down and " said, You have criedfor me for so long that I have come." But he, whodid not know of my long love, thought Iwas thinkingworldly thoughts, and said, " Forgive me ; I ought notto have asked so much." At last I found voice, andsaid, " I do not want to think it over I have beenthinking it over for six years,ever since I first sawyou at IBoulogne. have prayed for you every morningand night,I have followed allyour career minutely,I have read every word you ever wrote, and I wouldrather have a crust and a tent withyou than be queenof all the world ;and so I say now, * Yes, yes tYES !'

Xoves flfce 8 3I will pass over the next few minutes. . . .Then he said, "Your people will not give youto me." I answered, "I know that, but I belong toImyself give myself away." "That is allt(he answered ;be firm, and so shall I."right,"I would have suffered six yearsmore for such a day,such a moment as this. All past sorrow was forgottenin it. All that has been written or said on the subjectof the first kiss is trash compared to the reality.Menmight as well undertake to describe IEternity. thentold him all about my six years since I first met him,and all that I had suffered.When I got home, Iknelt down and prayed, and mywhole soul was flooded with joy and thanksgiving.few weeks agoI little thought what a change wouldtake placeinmy circumstances. Now I mused thus :" Truly we never know from one half-hour to anotherwhat will happen. Life is like travellingin an opencarriage with one's back to the horses you see thepath, you have an indistinct notion of the sides, butnone whatever of where you are going.If ever any onehad an excuse for superstition and fatalism, I have.Was it not foretold ? And now I have gained half thedesire of life :my he loves me. But the other halfremains unfulfilled : he wants to marry me !PerhapsI must not regretthe misery that has spoiltthe six bestyears of my life. But must I wait ?againWhat can Ido to gain the end ?Nothing My whole heart and!mind is fixed on this marriage.If I cared less, I couldplan some course of action; but myheart and head arenot cool enough. Providence and fate must decide myA

84 ZTbc IRomance of Jsabcl Zafcg Burtonfuture. I feel all my own weakness and nothingness.Iam as humble as a little child. Richard has the upperhand now, and I feel that I have at last met the masterwho can subdue me. They say it is better to marryone who loves and is subject to youthan one whoseto this.slave you are through love. But I cannot agreeWhere in such a case is the pleasure,the excitement, theinterest ? In one sense I have no more reason to fearfor my future, now that the load of shame, woundedpride, and unrequited affection is lifted from my browand soul. He loves me that isenough to-day."After this Richard visited a little at our house asan acquaintance, having been introduced at Boulogne ;and he fascinated, amused, and pleasantly shocked mymother, but completely magnetized myfather and allmy brothers and sisters. My father used to say, " I donot know what it is about that man, but I cannot gethim out of my head ;I dream about him every night."Richard and I had one brief fortnight of uninterruptedhappiness, and were all in all to each other; but inasmuchas he was to go away directly on his African journeywith Speke to the future lake regions of CentralAfrica, we judgedit ill advised to announce the engagementto my mother, for it would have brought ahornets' nest about our heads, and not furthered ourcause and, besides, we were afraid of my being sentaway, or of being otherwise watched and hindered fromour meeting ;so we agreed to itkeep a secret until hecame back. The worst of it all was, that I was unable,first, by reason of no posts from a certain point, and,secondly, by the certainty of having his letters opened

IRtcbart) Sieves /iDe 85and read, to receive many letters from him, and thoseonly the most cautious but I;could write to him asand send them to the centres wherefreely as possible,his mail-bags would be sent out to him. All myhappiness therefore was buried deep in my heart, butalways was chained. I felt as if earth had passed andheaven had begun, or as if I had hitherto been somebodyelse,or had lived in some other world. But eventhis rose had its thorn, and that was the knowledgethat our marriage seemed very far off. The idea ofwaiting for willing parents and a grateful countryappeared so distant that I should scarcely be worththe having by the time all obstacles were removed.Richard too was exercised about how I should be ableto support his hard life, and whether a woman couldreallydo it. Another sorrow was that I had to beprepared to lose him at any moment, as he might havetoquit at a moment's notice on receiving certaininformation.I gave him Hagar Burton's horoscope,written inRomany the horoscope of my future. One morning(October 3) I went to meet him as usual, and weagreed to meet the following morning. He hadtraced for me a little sketch of what he expected tofind in the lake regions, and I placed round his necka medal of the Blessed Virgin upon a steel chain, whichwe Catholics commonlycall "the miraculous medal."He promised me he would wear itthroughout hisjourney, and show it me on his return. I had offeredit to him on a gold chain, but he " said, Take awaythe gold chain ; they will cut mythroat for it out there."

86 TTbe IRomancc of Isabel Xaty? JSurtouHe showed me the steel chain round his neck when hecame back ;he wore it all his life, and it is buried withhim. He also gave me a little poem :Iwore thine image, Fame,Within a heart well fit to be thy shrine ;Others a thousand boons may gainOne wish was mine :The hope to gain one smile,To dwell one moment cradled on thy breast,Then close my eyes, bid life farewell,And take my rest!And now I see a glorious handBeckon me out of dark despair,Hear a glorious voice command," Up, bravely dare !And if to leave a deeper traceOn earth to thee Time, Fate, deny,Drown vain regrets, and have the graceSilent to die."She pointed to a grisly land,Where all breathes death earth, sea, and air;Her glorious accents sound once more," Go meet me there."Mine ear will hear no other sound,No other thought my heart will know.Is this a" sin ? Oh, pardon, Lord !Thou mad'st me "so !R. F. B.The afternoon on which I last met him was theafternoon of the same day. He came to call on mymother. We only talked formally. I thought I wasgoing to see him on the morrow. It chanced thatwe were going to the play that night.Ibegged of

IRicbarfchim to come, and he said he would if he could, butthat if he did not, I was to know that he had someheavy business to transact. When I had left him inthe morning, I little thought it was the last kiss, or Icould never have said good-bye, and I suppose he knewthat and wished to spare me pain. How manylittlethings I could have said or done that I did not We!met of course before my mother only as friends. Heappeared to me to be agitated, and I could not accountfor his agitation.He stayed about an hour ;and whenhe"left I said purposely, Ihope we shall see you onyour return from Africa," and almost laughed outright,because I thought we should meet on the morrow.He gaveme a long, long look at the door, and I ranout on the balcony and kissed my hand to him, andthus thoughtlessly took my last look, quite unpreparedfor what followed.I went to the theatre that evening quite happy, andexpected him. At 10.30 I Ithought saw him at theother side of the house looking into our box. I smiled,and made a signfor him to come. I then ceased tosee him ;the minutes passed, and he did not come.Something cold struck my heart ;I felt that I shouldnot see him again, and I moved to the back of thebox, and, unseen, the tears streamed down my face.The old proverb kept haunting me like an air onecannot get out of one's head, "There's many a trueword spoken in jest."The piece was Pizarro, andhappily for me Cora was bewailing her husband's losson the stage, and as I am invariablysoft at tragedymydistress caused no sensation.

88 TTbe IRomance of 30abel Xafcg JSurtonI passed a feverish, restless night ; I could not sleep ;I felt that I could not wait tillmorningI must seehim. At last I dozed and started up, but I touchednothing, yetdreamt I could feel his arms round me.I understood him, and he said," I am going now, mypoor girl. My time is up, and I have gone ; but I willcome againI shall be back in less than three years. Iam your Destiny."He pointed to the clock, and it was two. He heldup a letter, looked at me long with those gypsy eyesof his, put the letter down on the table, and said in thesame"way, That is for your sister not for you." Hewent to the door, gave me another of those longpeculiar looks, and I saw him no more.I sprang out of bed to the door into the passage(there was nothing), and thence I went to the room ofone of my brothers, in whom I confided. I threwmyself on the ground and cried myheart out. He gotup and asked what ailed me, and tried to soothe andcomfort"me. Richard is gone to Africa," I said," and I shall not

IRicbarfc %o\>es flfoe 8 9thought we should suffer less that way ;he begged herto break it gently to me, and to giveme the letter, whichassured me we should be reunited in 1859, as we wereon May 22 that year.He had received some secretinformation, which caused him to leave Englandat onceand quietly,lest he should be detained as witness at sometrial. He had left his lodgingsin London at 10.30the preceding evening (when I saw him in the theatre),and sailed at two o'clock from Southampton (whenIsaw him inmy room).I believe there is a strong sympathy between somepeople was not (it so well known then, but it is quiterecognized now) so strong that, if they concentrate theirtheminds on each other at a particularmoment and atsame time, and each wills stronglyto be together, thewill can produce this effect, though we do not yetunderstand how or why. When I could collectmyscattered senses,I sat down and wrote to Richard allabout this, in the event of my being able to send itto him.But to return. At 8.30 Blanche came into the roomwith the letter I have mentioned, to break the sad newsto me. " "Good heavens ! she"said, what has happenedyou You ? look dreadful "f '"Richard ! isgone !I gasped out. " How did you know ? " she asked." Because I saw him here in the night!" " That willdo you the most good now," she said. The tearscame into her eyesas she put a letter from Richard intomy hand, enclosed in one to herself, the one I had seenin the night.The letter was a great comfort to me,and I wore it round my neck in a little bag. Curiously

90 ttbe "Romance of Isabel Zaog JSurtonenough I had to post myletter to him to Trieste theplace where in after-life we spent many years by hisdirection. It was the last exertion I was capable of ;the next few days I spent in my bed.My happiness had been short and bright, and nowI had to look forward to three years of my formerpatient endurance, only with this great change : beforeI was unloved and had no hope ;now the shame ofloving unasked was taken from me, and I had thehappiness of being loved, and some future to lookforward to. When I got a little better, I wrote thefollowing reflections to myself:" A woman feels raised by the Jove of a man towhom she has given her whole heart, but not if shefeels that she loves and does not respect, or that hefails in some point, and for such-and-such reasons shewould not marryhim. But when she loves withoutreserve, she holds her head more proudly, from theconsciousness of being loved by him no matter whatthe circumstances. So I felt with Richard, for he isabove all men so noble, so manly, with such a perfectabsence of all meanness and hypocrisy. It is true Iwas captivated at first sight ; but his immense talentsand adventurous life compelled interest, and a mastermindlike his exercises influence over all around it.But I love him, because I find in him depth of feeling,a generous heart, and because, though brave as a lion,he is yet a gentle, delicate, sensitive nature, and thesoul of honour. Also he is calculated to appear assomething unique and romantic in a woman's eyes,especially because he unites the wild, lawless creature

TRtcbarfc %oves /Ifce 91and the gentleman.He is the latter in every sense ofthe word, a stamp of the man of the world of the bestsort, for he has seen things without the artificialatmosphere of St. James'sas well as within it. Iworship ambition. Fancy achieving a good whichaffects millions, making your name a national name !It is infamous the way half the men in the world liveand die, and are never missed, and, like a woman, leavenothing behind them but a tombstone. By ambitionI mean men who have the will and power to changethe face of things.I wish I were a man : if I were, Iwould be Richard Burton. But as I am a woman,I would be Richard Burton's wife. I love him purely,passionately, and devotedly : there is no void in myheart ; it is at rest for ever with him. For six yearsthis has been part of my nature, part of myself, thebasis of all my actions, even part of my religion ; mywhole soul is absorbed in it. I have given my everyfeeling to him, and kept back nothing for myself orthe world ;and I would this moment sacrifice andleave all to follow his fortunes, were it his wish, or forhis good. Whatever the world may condemn in himof lawless actions or strong opinions, whatever he is tothe world, he is perfect to me ;and I would not havehim otherwise than he isexcept in spiritual matters.This last point troubles me. I have been brought upstrictly, and have been given clear ideas on all subjectsof religion and principle, and have always tried to liveup to them. When I am in his presence,I am notmyself he makes me for the time see things with hisown eyes,like a fever or a momentary madness ;and

92 ZIbe IRomance of Isabel Xat>g JSurtonwhen I am done again,I recallmy own belief andways of thinking, which remain unchanged, and amfrightened at my weak wayering and his dangerous butirresistible society.He isgone ; but had I the chancenow, I would give years of lifemy to hear that dearvoice again,with all its Idevilry. have no righttolove a man who calls himself a complete materialist,who has studied almost, I might say, beyond the depthof knowledge, who professes to acknowledge no God,no law, human or divine. Yet I do feel a closesuspicion that he has much more feelingthan he likes to have the credit of."and beliefAfter Richard was goneIgot a letter from himdated from Bruges, October 9, tellingme to writeto Trieste, and that he would write from Trieste andIBombay. sent three letters to Trieste and six toBombay. He asked me if I was offended at his abruptdeparture. Ah, no ! I take the following from mydiary of that time :" I have now got into a state of listening for everypost, every knock making the heart bound, and thesickening disappointment that ensues making it sink ;but I say to myself, * If I am true, nothing can harmme.' Myis delight to sit down and write to him alland everything, just as it entersmy head, as I would ifI were with him. My letters are half miserable, halfjocose, for I do not want to put him out of spirits,whatever Imay be myself. I feel thatmyletters area sort of mixture of love, trust, anger, faith, sarcasm,tenderness, bullying, melancholy, all mixed up.... He has arrived at Alexandria. ... At any rate

Xoves flDe 93my heart and affections are my own to give, I robno one, and so I will remain. I have a happy home,family, society, all I want, and I shall not clip my wingsof liberty except for him, whatever my lot may be. Ilove and am loved, and sostrike a balance in favour ofexistence. No gilded misery for me. I was born forlove, and requireit as air and light.Whatever harshnessthe future may bring, he has loved me, .and myfuture is bound upin him with all consequences. Myjealous heart spurns all itcompromise; must have itspurpose or break. He thinks he is me sacrificing ;butI want pain, privations, danger with him. I have theconstitution and nerves for it. There are few placesI could not follow my husband, and be to him companion,friend, wife, and all. Where I could not sofollow him, I would not be a clog to him, for I amtolerably independent."Our friends used sometimes totalk about Richard atthis time and his expedition. Whilst they discussedhim as a public man, I was in downright pain lest theyshould say something that I should not like. Fathertold them that he was a friend of ours. I then practiseddiscussing him with the greatest sang froid, and ofcourse gave a vivid description of him, which inspiredgreat interest. His books, travels, and adventureswere talked of by many.I told Richard in one letterthat it was the case of the mouse and the lion ;but Iteased him by saying that when the mouse had nibbleda hole big enough the lion forgot him because he wasso small, and put his big paw on him and crushed himaltogether.I knew that his hobby was reputation ; he

94 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaos JSurtonwas greatin the literary world, men's society, clubs,and the Royal Geographical Society. But I wished himalso to be greatin the world of fashion, where mydespised sex is Iparamount. also knew that if a mangets talked about in the right kind of wayin handfulsof the best society, here and there, his fame quicklyI had plenty of opportunities to help him inspreads.thisway without his knowing it, and great was thepleasure. Again I fall back on my journal :" Ibeg from God morning and night that Richardmay return safe. Will the Almighty grant my prayer ?I will not doubt, whether I hear from him or not. Ibelieve that we often meet in spiritand often look atthe same star. I have no doubt he often thinks of me ;and when he returns and finds how faithful Ihave been,all will be right.There is another life if I lose this,and there isalways La Trappeleft for the brokenhearted."Christmas Day, 1856.I was delightedto hearfather and mother praising Richard to-day ;mothersaid he was so clever and agreeable and she liked himso much, and they both seemed so interested about him.They little knew how much they gratifiedme. I wasreading a book ;but when the time came to put it away,I found it had been upside-downall the time, so I fancyI was more absorbed in their conversation than itscontents. I have been trying to make out when it ismidnight in Eastern Africa, and when the morning starshines there, and I have made out that at 10 p.m.it ismidnight there, and the morningtwo hours before it does on me.star shines on him

%oves /Ifoe 95"January 2, 1857.I see by the papers that RichardleftBombay for Zanzibar with Lieutenant Speke onDecember 2 last. I am struck bythe remembrancethat it was on that very night that I was so illand delirious. I dreamt I saw him sailing away andhe spoke to me, but I thought my brain throbbed soloud that I could not hear him. I was quite taken offmy guard to-day on hearing the news read out from theTimes, so that even my mother asked me what was thematter. I have not had a letter; I might get one in afortnight but I must meet this ; uncertainty with confidence,and not letmy love be dependent on any actionof his," January 18. Unless to-morrow's mail brings mebecause he is a strangeman and not as other men.a letter, my hope is gone.What is the cause ofhis silence I cannot imagine.If he had not said hewould write, I could understand it. But nothing shallaltermy course. It is three months since he left, and Ihave only had two letters ;Iyetfeel confident thatRichard will be true, and I will try to deserve whatI desire, so that I shall always have self-consolation.return safe to me withMy only desire is that he maychanged religious feelings, and that I maybe his wifewith my parents' consent. isSuspense a trial which Imust bear for two years without a murmur. I musttrust and pray to God ;I must keep myfaith in Him,and live a quiet life, employ myself onlyin endeavouringto make myself worthy ; and surely this conductwill bringits reward."

CHAPTER VIIMY CONTINENTAL TOUR:ITALY(1857-1858)Leave thy home for abroad an wouldst rise on high,And travel whence benefits fivefold ariseThe soothing of sorrow and winning of bread,Knowledge, manners, and commerce with good men and wise ;And they say that in travel are travail and care,And disunion of friends and much hardship that tries.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's "Arabian Nights").IN August, 1857, nearly a yearafter Richard hadgone, my sister Blanche married Mr. SmythPigott, of Brockley Court, Somerset, and after thehoneymoon was over they asked me to travel abroadwith them. I was glad to go,for ithelped theweary waiting for Richard, who was far awayin CentralAfrica.On September 30 we all took a farewell dinnertogether, and were very much inclined to choke over it,as we were about to disperse for some time, and poormother especially was upset at losing her two girls.On that occasion she indulged in a witticism. She toldme that she had heard by a little bird that I was fond96

Continental Uour : 3tal 97of Richard ;but little thinking she was speaking anythingin earnest, she" said, Well, if you marry thatman, you will have sold your birthright not for a messof pottage, but for Burton ale." I quickly answered herback"again, Well, a little bird told me that you wereordered an immense quantity of it all the time youwere in the family way with me, so that if anythingdoes happen we shall call it heredity," upon which weboth laughed. We all left home at six o'clock forLondon Bridge Station : we my sister, her husband,and myself to go on the journey, and the rest of thefamily came with us to see us off.We had a beautiful passage of six and a half hours,and sleptin rugs on deck. There was a splendid moonand starlight.About three o'clock in the morningthe captain made friends with me, and talked aboutyachting.He had been nearlyall over the world.The morningstar was very brilliant, and I alwayslook at it with particular affection when I am on boardship, thinking that what I love best lies under it. Wegot to the station at Dieppe at 7.30 a.m. ;and thenensued a tedious journey to Paris.The next day we drove about Paris, and then wentto the Palais Royal, Trois Freres Provenceaux, wherewe dined in a dear little place called a cabinet, verylike an opera-box. It was my first experience of thatsort of thing.The cabinet overlooked the arcade andgarden. We had a most recherche little dinner, andonly one thing was wanting to make it perfect enjoymentto me. The Pigotts sat together on one side ofthe table, and I alone on the other, I put a placeVOL. i.7

9 s abe iRomance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonfor Richard by me. After dinner we strolled alongthe principal boulevards. I can easily understand aParisian not liking to live out of Paris. We saw itto great advantage that night a beautiful moon andclear, sharp air.This day (October 3) last year how wretched andtruly miserable I was ! On the evening of this dayRichard left ! We drove out and went to the Pre deCatalan, where there was music, dancing, and otherperformances. We went to the opera in the evening.A petit souper afterwards. This night last year was amemorable one. If Richard be living, he will rememberme now ; it was the night of my parting with him ayear ago when he went to Africa for three years.We left Paris three days later ;arrived at Lyons 7 a.m.The next morning breakfasted, dogs and all,and were atMarseilles at 5 p.m.I should have been gladto staylonger at Marseilles I ; itthought the most curiousand picturesque placeI had ever seen. We arrived justtoo late for the diligence.There was no steamer. Aveterino was so slow, and we could not remain tillso we did not know what to do. At last weSaturday,discovered that a French merchant vessel was going tosail at 8 o'clock p.m. ;but it was a pitch-dark night, andthere was a strong, hard wind, or mistral, with the searunning very high. However, we held a consultation,and agreed we would do it for economy ; so we gotour berths, and went and dined at the Hotel desAmbassadeurs, table d'hote, where I sat by a cousin ofBilly Johnson, a traveller and linguist.We fraternized,and he made himself as agreeable as only such

Continental tlour : Stals 99men can. After dinner we went on board, and all thepassengers went down to their berths. I dressed myselfin nautical rig,and went on deck to see all that I could.We passedthe Isle d'Hyeres and the Chateau d'lf ofMonte Christo. We could not go between the rocks,owing to the mistral. The moon arose, it blew hard,and we shipped heavyseas. The old tub creaked andgroaned and lurched, and every now and then bid fairto stand on beam-ends. Being afraid of going to sleep,I lashed myself to a bench ;two Frenchmen joined me,one a professor of music, the other rather a roughdiamond, who could speak a mouthful of severallanguages, had travelled a little, and he treated me to adescription of India, and told me all the old storiesEnglish girls hear from their military brothers andcousins from the cradle.Every time we shipped a seaall the French, Italian, and Spanish passengers gaveprolonged howls and clung to each other ; itmighthave been an Irish wake. They were so frightfully sick,poor things ! It hurt my inside to hear them, and itwas worse to see them. Meanwhile my two companionsand I had pleasant conversation, not only on India,but music and Paris. By-and-by they too graduallydropped off; so I went down and tumbled into myberth, and slept soundly through the night.I was aroused next morning by a steward redolent ofgarlic.Our maid shared the cabin with me, and treatedme to a scene like the deck of the preceding evening.Why are maids always sick at sea, and have to be waitedon, poor things, by their mistresses who are not ? Therewas such a noise, such heat and smells. I slepttill we

ioozibe IRomance of Isabel Xa&B JBurtonwere in Nice Harbour. Mysister and her husbandwent off to find a house ;I cleared the baggage anddrove to the Hotel Victoria, where we dined, and thenwent to our new lodging.I was not sorry to be housed, after beingout twodays and two nights.I got up next morning at 6 a.m.;there was a bright,beautiful sky,a dark blue sea, andsuch a lightnessin the air. I went out to look aboutme. Nice is a very pretty town, tolerably clean, withvery high houses, beautiful mountains, and a perfectsea, and balminess in the air. There issomethingMoorish-looking about the people and place.Itold there is no land between us and Tunis threehundred miles ! andamthat when the sirocco comes thesand from the great desert blows across the sea on toour windows. We have an African tree in our garden.And Richard is over there in Africa.My favourite occupation while at Nice was sittingon the shingle with myface to the sea and toward?Africa. I hate myself because I cannot sketch. IfI could only exchange my musical talent for that,I should be very happy. There is such a beautifulvariety in the Mediterranean : one dayit looks likeundulating blue glass ; at others it is dark blue, rough,and dashing, with white breakers on it ;but hardlyever that dull yellowish green as in our Channel, whichmakes one bilious to look at it. The sky is glorious,so high and bright,so soft and clear, and the onlyclouds you ever see are like little tufts of rose-colouredwool. The best time to sit here is sunset. One doesnot see the raysso distinctly in England and when the;

Continental Uour : 3tal 101sun sinks behind the hills of the frontier, there is sucha purple, red, and gold tint on the sea and sky that manywould pronounceit overdone or unnatural in a painting.A most exquisite pink shade is cast over the hills andtown. There is one nice opera-house at Nice, onepretty church, a corso and terrace, where you gotohear the band and eat ices in the evening ;thereis the reading club at Visconti's for ladies as well asmen, where you can read and write and meet othersand enjoy yourself. (Iam talking of 1857.)Ourapartments suit us very well. My portion consists ofa nice lofty bedroom, a painted ceiling, furnished inEnglish style, a little bathroom paved with red china,and a little sort of ante-drawing-room. My windowslook over a littlegarden, where the African tree is,and the sea beyond, and beyond that again Africa andRichard.We left Nice for Genoa at 5.30 on November 14,my sister, her husband, and self, in the coupe, whichwas very much likebeing packed as sardines noroom for legs. However, we were very jolly, onlywe got rather stiffduring the twenty-four hours'journey ; for we only stopped twice once for tenminutes at Oniglia at 4 a.m. for a cup of coffee, andonce at noon next day for half an hour at another placeto dine. However, I was too happy to grumble, havingjust received a letter saying that Richard would behome in next June, 1858 (he was not home for a yearlater) ;we smoked and chatted and slept alternately.The Cornice road is beautiful a wild, lonely road inthe mountains, with precipices, ravines, torrents, and

IRomance of 30abel Xafcg JBurtonpasses of all descriptions : the sea beneath us on one side,and mountains covered with snow on the other. Youseem to pass into all sorts of climates very speedily.Onthe land to our left was a fine starlight sky and clear,sharp air, and on the sea thunder and lightning anda white squall.There was always the excitement ofimagining that a brigand mightcome or a torrent beimpassable ; but alas ! not a ghost of an adventure,except once catching a milestone. I think the WhipClub would be puzzled at the driving: sometimes wehave eleven horses, each with a different rein ;to somethe drivers whistle, to others they talk. It is tiresomework crawling up and down the mountains ;but whenthey do get a bit of plain ground, they seem to go tenmiles an hour, tearing through narrow streets wherethere seems scarcely room for a sheet of paperbetweenthe diligence and the wall, whirling round sharp zigzagcorners with not the width of a book between the wheeland the precipice, and that at full gallop.We createda greatsensation at one of our halting-places, andindeed everywhere, for we were in our nautical rig;and what amused the natives immensely was that oneof our terriers was a very long dog with short legs,and they talked of the yards of dog we had with us.We at last arrived at Genoa.I liked Genoa far better than Nice : the sky ismore Italian ;the sea looks as if it washed thetown, or as if the town sprang out of it ; it is allso hilly.The town with its domes looks like whitemarble. The lower range of mountains is coveredwith monasteries, forts, pretty villas, and gardens;the

Continental ftour : Stals 103other ranges are covered with snow. There are sixor seven fine streets, connected by a network of verynarrow, oddly paved side-streets, whose tall housesnearly meet at the top they are ; picturesque, and looklike the pictures of the Turkish bazaar. Mazzini ishere, and the Government hourly expect an outbreak ofthe Republican party.The troops are under arms, anda transport with twelve hundred men from Turin andtroopsfrom Sardinia have arrived. The offer to thethe exiles is the cause.Neapolitan Government to expelThe police are hunting up Mazzini Garibaldi is here ; ;Lord Lyons' squadron is hourly expected.I have been abroad now two months. I have hadone unsatisfactory note from Richard ;he iscomingback in June or July.Oh what a happiness andwhat anxiety! In a few short months, please God,this dreadful separation will be over. Pray ! Pray ! !Pray ! ! !Monsieur Pernay spent an evening with me ;andseeing the picture on the wall of Richard in Meccancostume, he asked me what it was ;and on my tellinghim, he composed a valse on the spot, and called it" Richard in the Desert," and said he should compose alibretto on it. How I wish Richard were here ! Itmakes me quite envious when I seemysister and herhusband. I am all alone, and Richard's placeis vacantin the opera-box, in the carriage, and everywhere.Sometimes I dream he came back and would not speakto me, and I wake up with my pillow wet with tears.first exclamation as the clock struck twelve onMySt. Sylvester's night, 1857,as we all shook hands and

io4Ube "Romance of Isabel Zaos Em-tondrank each other's health in a glass of punchat theCafe de la Concorde, was, " This year I shall see"Richard !On the firstSunday of the Iyear went to hear Massat Saint Philip Neri, and then went to the post-office,whtfre a small boy pushed up against me and stole mybeloved picture of Richard out of my pocket.Ididnot feel him do it,but a horrible idea of havinglostthe picture came over me. I felt for it, and it wasgone I had a beautiful gold chain in my ! pocket, anda pursewith 25 ; yet the youngrascal never touchedthem, but seemed to know that I should care only forthe portrait.I instantly rushed off to every crier inthe town ;had two hundred affiches printed and stuckup in every corner ; I put a paragraph in the papers ; Iasked every priest to giveit out in the pulpit ;thepolice, the post-office, everycorner of the town waswarned. Of course Ipretendedit was a pictureof my brother.After three agonizing days and nightsan old woman broughtit back, the frame gone, thepicture torn, rubbed, and smeared, which partlyeffaced the expression of the face and made it look asif it knew where it had been and how it had beendefiled. The story was that her littleboy had found itin that state in a dirty alley ; and thinkingit was apicture of Jesus Christ or a saint, took it home to hislittle brother to keep him good when he was naughty,and threw it in their toy cupboard. A poor priesthappened to dine with this poor family, and mentionedthe affiche,in which the words uffidale Inglese as largeasmy head appeared.The boys then produced the

Continental Uout : 3tals 105wreck of the portrait,and asked if that could possiblybe the article, and if it was really true that the Signorinawas willing to giveso much for it ;and the priestsaidmuch for the" Yes," for the Signorina had weptportrait of her favourite brother who was killed in theCrimea. So it was brought, and the simple Signorinato the old woman to knowgladly gave three napoleonsthat she possessed all that remained of that much-lovedface. But that boy oh that boy got off scot-free,!and the Signorina's reward did not induce any one tobring him to her. Doubtless, finding the stolen pictureof no value to him, he had maltreated it and cast it inthe gutter. How I could spank him !We left Genoa at 9 a.m. on January 15.We wishedgood-bye to a crowd of friends inside and outside thehotel. We had a clean, roomyveterino with four capitallittle horses at the door charged with our luggage,acapital vetturino (coachman), and room for four insideand four out. A jolly party to fill it. It was agreedwe should divide the expenses, take turns for theoutside places, and be as good-humoured as possible.Luckily for me nobody cared for the box-seat, so Ialways got it. The first day we did thirty miles.Our halting-place for the day was Ruta, where somethingbefell me. I lost my passport at Nervi, severalmiles back ;a villageidiot to whom I gave a pennypicked it up and sold it to a peasant woman for twelvesous, who happened to be riding on a mule into Ruta,and halted where we were feeding.Our vetturino(Emanuele) happened to see it and recognizedher hand, boughtit back again for twelve sous, andit in

106 ftbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonitgave to me. It would have been a fatal loss tome. Soon after sunset we halted for the nightatSestri ;the horses had done enoughfor the day. Fouror five carriages had been attacked this winter, andthere was a report of a largenumber of murders nearAncona, and there was no other sleeping-placeto bereached that night.We soon had a capital fire, supper,and beds.On this journey we planned out our day muchrose atdaybreak and started ;weas follows : Wehad breakfast in the carriageafter three hours' drive.We passed our dayin eating and drinking, laughing andtalking, smoking and sleeping, and some mooning andsentimentalizing over the scenery : I the latter sort,and improving myItalian on the vetturino. We usedto halt half-way two hours for the horses to restand dinner, and then drive till dark where we haltedfor the night, ordered fire, supper, and beds, wroteout our journals,made our respective accounts, andsmoked our cigarettes.The scenery and weather variedeveryday.We slepta night at Sestri, and went on at daybreak.This dayI had a terrible heartache ;to my horrorwe had a leader, the ghost of a white horse coveredwith sores, ridden by a fine, strapping wag of a youth,who told me his master was rich and stingy, and didnot feed him, let alone the horse, which only hada mouthful when employed.I told him his masterwould go to hell, and he assured me smilinglythathe was sure his soul was already there, and that itwas only his body that was walkingabout. I asked

Continental ftonv : Stals 107him to sell the horse to me, and let me shoot him ;but he shook his head and laughed. "You Englishtreat your horses better than masters treat their servantsin Italy,"said he, as we topped the mountain. At myrequest Emanuele gave the poor beast a feed and senthim back, poor mass of skin and bones that it was.It was not fit to carrya fly,and I am told it was thebest horse he had. That day our journey was a fortyweary miles of black, barren ascent and descent,amongst snowy mountains, which looked as if manor beast had never trod there. Our halt was atBorghetto in the middle of the day. At the end ofthe forty miles came a delightful surprise.We wereon a magnificent ridge of Maritime Alps covered withsnow ;a serpentine road led us down into a beautifulvalley and Spezzia on the sea, the beautiful Gulf.The Croce di Malta was a comfortable little hotel.In half an hour we were round a roaringfire with agood supper.Next morning we took a boat and explored theGulf, the Source d'Eau, Lerici, where Byron and Shelleylived. That day was the Feast of Saint Anthony ;the horses were blessed, which is a very amusingIt was the first night of the Carnival, and thesight.Postilions' Ball, to which we were invited and went.It was full of peasant-girls and masqueraders ; it wascapital fun, and we danced all night.The costumeshere are very pretty ; they and the pronunciation changeabout every forty miles.The day we went away we had great fun. TheMagra had to be passed two hours from Spezzia ;

io8ubc IRomance of Isabel Zaos Em-tonit is a river with a bridge broken down. The peasants,working, look for all the world like diggers at thediggings ; they are lawless enough to do anything.You get out and walk a mile amongst them ; yourcarriage is embarked in a barge ; it wades through andgets filled with water ;the men at their pleasure upsetit, or demand eighty francs or so. However, we wereallgame for anything that might occur, knowing howthey treated others. Our vetturino was a regularbrick waded through with it without an accident ;wewalked through with all our money aboutus, dressingcasesin hand, our jacketswith belts and daggers inthem. One man became rather abusive ;but welaughed at him, and gave him a universal chaffing.They followed us, and were annoying ;but we swaggeredalong, and looked like people troubled with mosquitoesinstead of ruffians, and not given to fainting andhysterics. So at last they were rather inclined tofraternize with us than otherwise. I suspect that theywere accustomed to timid travellers. After this wepassed Sarzana, a town of some consequence in theseparts, with a castle and fortress. The weather thisday was cold and biting, especially on the box-seat,and the scenery, except at Carrara, no great shakes. Wefound Carrara in a state of siege,and the troops occupiedthe hotel. Emanuele found a sort of stable, but wecould get no food.After this we proceeded by stages,and stopped somedays at several places, and made long interior excursions,which I was often too tired to note. At last we arrivedat Pisa. We had no trouble with the douanier*

When IContinental Uour : Stals 109entered the Tuscan frontier, I declared I wouldnever say another word of French ;and Emanuele, whowas a wag, sent all the douaniers to me ;but a franc, asmile, an assurance that we had nothing contraband,and the word was given to pass.We scarcely ever hadour baggage touched ;but that was in 1858.In Pisa we saw many things, including the Baptisteria,the Campanile or leaning tower, the Duomo, and theSapienza, an object of interest to me^ as Richard passedso much of his boyhood here, and that was his school.I regret to say the most debauched and ungentlemanlypart of the population issued from this place, whichdistressed me, who held it sacred because of him. TheGranda Bretagna was a very nice hotel, with a goodtable d'hote^ and all English. It had every comfort ; only,being full, we could only get small, dark rooms at theback, which was dull, and with nothing but stoves ;andthe weather being bitter, we were petrified.We wenta greatdeal to the Duomo and theCampo Santo, wherethe figuresrather made us laugh, thoughI felt sentimentalenough about other things.At the top of theCampanile or leaning tower, or belfry,I found thatRichard had chiselled his name, so I did the same.How curious it would have been if while he was doingit he could have said, " My future wife will also comeand chisel hers, so many years later, in remembranceof me."The man who shows the Campanile rememberedRichard, and it was he who told me where he cuthis name at the top of the tower.The lastday I was in Pisa (January 25)it was

1 10 tTbe "Romance of Isabel Zaos JSurtonour Princess Royal's wedding day. We had a granddinner, champagne, toasts, and cheering.The tabled'hote was decorated with our yacht flags.One ofthe English ladies invited us to her rooms, where wehad music and dancing, and I talked to one girl ofseventeen, who proved to be an originalaftermy ownheart. After the soiree, we smoked a cigarette anddiscussed our plans.The next morning we had toleave Pisa. We were all sorry to part.Half an hour's train brought us to Leghorn, wherewe got pretty rooms at the Victoria and Washington.It is quite spring weather, beautiful sky and sea ; againflat, ugly country, but the range of mountains shows toadvantage the air ;is delicious, and we are all well and inspirits.The town is very fine, the people tant-soit-peu-Portsmouth-like. There is nothing to see at Leghorn.Faute de mieux we went to see an ugly duomo, which,however, contained Canova's Tempo, the one statueof which you hear from morning till night.We alsovisited the English Cemetery, which contained Smollett'stomb.There are the docks to see, and Habib's bazaar,a rogue, and not too civil, but he has beautiful Easternthings.The town is in a state of siege,and no Carnivalis allowed.We left Leghorn on February I for Florence, andvisited successively many queer,towns en route.little, out-of-the-wayThe first dayat Florence we drove about to havea general view of the city,and after that we visited theprincipal palazzos, churches, and theatres all of whichhave often been described before. We were at Florence

Continental tTout: 3talsmnearly a month. We saw one Sunday's Carnival, oneopera, one masked ball. We had several friends, whowere anxious for us to stay,and go into society ;buttime pressed, and we had to decline. Every eveningwe used to go to the theatre, and some of our friendswould invite us to pefits soupers.At Florence allRichard's friends, findingI knew his sister in England,were kind to us ;and we were very sorryto start at3 a.m. on 1 1February en route for Venice.We were five individuals, with our baggage onour backs, turned into a rainy street, cuttinga sorryfigure and atlaughing ourselves. The diligence startedat once. We had twenty-one hours to Bologna, drawnby oxen at a foot's pace through the snow, which thecantonniers had cleared partially away, but which oftenlay in heaps of twelve or twenty feet untouched. I neversaw such magnificent snow scenes as when crossingthe Apennines. We slept at Bologna, saw it, and tooka vetturino next day. The drive was a dreary,flat snowpiece of forty miles in length. Malebergowas theonly town. We here came across a horrid thing.Twomen had fallen asleep in a hay-cart smoking it ; caughtfire, burnt the men, cart, hay, and all. The horse ranaway, had its hind-quarters burnt out, and they wereall three dead, men and horse. It gaveus a terribleturn, but we could do nothing. Next morning wewere upat four o'clock. We crossed the river Po atseven o'clock ; it was bitter cold. We drove fifty milesthat day ; the last twelve were very pretty.At lengthwe reached Padua. The ground was like ice ;our offleader fell, and was dragged some little distance.(How

n2Ube Romance of Ssabel Xaos JBurtonlittle I thought then that I should be a near neighbourand frequent visitor of all these places during theeighteen last years of my married life !)When we leftPadua, we had twenty-seven miles more to go, wherewe exchanged for the (tous girls)new wonder of agondola, which took us to the Hotel Europain Venice.We were not sorry to have got through our journey,and a blazingfire and a good supper and cigarettesoon effaced the memory of the cold, starvation, andweariness we had gone through for so long.Wewanted no rocking that night.It is allvery well writing ; but nothingI couldever say would half express my enthusiasm for Venice.It fulfils all the exigencies of romance;it is theonly thing that has never disappointed me. I am sohappy at Venice. Except for Richard's absence, I havenot another wish ungratified ;and I also like it becausethis and Trieste were the last places he was in nearhome when he started for Africa.Not a night passes here that I do not dream thatRichard has come home and will not speak to me ;nota day that I do not kneel down twice, praying thatGod may send him a ray of divine grace, and bringhim to religion, and also, though I feel quite unworthyof so high a mission, that Imay be his wife, for Iso love and care for him that I should never havecourage to take upon myself the duties of married lifewith any other man. I have seen so much of marriedlife; have seen men so unjust, selfish, and provoking;and have alwaysfelt I never could receive an injuryfrom any man but him without everlasting resentment.

Continental Uouv: 3tal# 113Oh, if he should come home and have changed, itwould break my heart ! I would rather die than seethat day !We planout our days here, rising at eight, breakfastnine, Mass, spending the morning with friends, music,reading, working, writing, reading French and Italian,and some sketching. At one o'clock we start to exploreall the beautiful things to be seen here,then wego to a very cheerful table d'hote, and afterwards spenda most agreeable evening in each other's apartments,orwe gondola about to listen to the serenades by moonlight.I think we have walked and gondolaed theplace all through by day and moon. How heavenlyVenice would have been with Richard, we two floatingabout in these gondolas! Ourfriends are a charmingBelgian couple named Hagemans, two little children,and a nice sister, and last, though not least, theChevalier de St. Cheron. The Chevalier is a perfectFrench gentleman of noble family, good-looking, fascinating,brilliant in conversation has much;heart, esprit,and delicatesse ;he is more solid than most Frenchmen,and better informed, and has noble sentiments, head andheart ;and yet, were he an Englishman,I should thinkhim vain and ignorant.He has a few small prejudicesand French tricks, which are, however, little faults ofnationality, education, and circumstance, but not ofnature. Henri V., the Bourbon King, called theComte de Chambord, lives at the Palazzo Cavalli, andholds a small court, kept upin a littlestate by devotedpartisans, who are under the surveillance of the police,and have three or four different lodgings everywhere.VOL. i. 8

"4 TTbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog BurtonSt. Cheron is his right-hand man and devoted to him,and will be in the highest office when he comes tothe throne. As we are devoted to the Bourbons heintroduced us there, and the King helpedto us.to make ourstay happyWe arrived in Venice for the end of the Carnival.The last night of it we went to the masked ball atthe Finice; it was the most brilliant sightI ever saw.We masked and dominoed, and it was there that theChevalier and I first came in contact and spoke ;hehad been watching for an opportunity.The eveningafter the ball he came to table d'hote and spoke to us,and asked leave to pay us an evening visit, which hedid (the Hagemans were there too) ;and from thatwe spentall our evenings and days together.One night we rowed in gondolas by moonlight tothe Lido ;we took the guitar.I never saw Venicelook so beautiful. The water was like glass,and therewas not a sound but the oars' splashing.We sangglees. Arrived at the Lido, we had tea and walkedthe whole length of the sands. That night was one ofmany such evenings in queenlyVenice. I shall oftenremember the gondolier's serenades, the beautifuland starlight,the gliding about in the gondola in allmoontheromantic parts of Venice, the soft air, the stillness ofthe night, hearing only the splash of oars,and nothingstirring except perhaps some dark and picturesquefigure crossing the bridge, the little Madonna chapelon the banks of the Lido edging the Adriatic, thePiazza of San Marco with the band, and ices outsideFJorian's, the picturesque Armenians, Greeks, and

Continental TTour: Staly usMoors, and the lovely water-girls with their bigoloêvery language sounding in one's ears. I remember tooall my favourite localities, too numerous to set down,but known doubtless to every lover of Venice.On the days that were too bad for sight-seeing weand our friends read Byron, talked French, and sketched ;on indifferent days we lionized ;and on beautiful dayswe floated about round the islands. I had two particularlyhappy days ; they were the summer morningswhen the sun shone and the birds sang ;and we wereall so gay we sang too, and the Adriatic was so blue.There were two or three beautiful brigs sometimessailingfor Trieste.One day Henri V. desired the Chevalier to bring usto a private audience. Blanche wore her wedding-dresswith pearls and a slightveil ; my brother-in-law was inhis best R.Y.S. uniform, and I inmy bridesmaid's dress.We had a very smart gondola covered with our flags,the white one uppermost for the Bourbons, which didnot escape the notice of the King, and the gondoliersintheir Spanish-looking sashes and broad hats. Blanchelooked like a small sultana in her bridal robes sittingamidst her flags.We were received by the Due deLevis and the Comtesse de Chavannes ;there was alsoa Prince Somebody, and an emissary from the Popewaiting for an audience. As soon as the latter came outwe were taken in, and most graciouslyreceived ;andthe King invited us to He sit. was middle height andfair, a beau-ideal of a French gentleman, with winningmanners. His consort was tall, gaunt, very dry andcold, but she was kind. Theyasked us a thousand

n6ftbe iRomance of Isabel Xafcg JBurtonquestions ;and asmy French was better than the others',I told them all about our yachting, and all we had seenand were going to see ;Iand they were much interested.was also able to tell the King that when he was a littleboy he had condescended to ask my mother to dance,and that it was one of the proudest souvenirs of herlife.My brother-in-law behaved with greatease anddignity; he put his yacht and his services at the King'sdisposal, and expressed our respectful attachment to theHouse of Bourbon. We thanked them for receivingus. After about twenty minutes they saluted us ;wecurtseyed to the ground, backed to the door, repeatedthe curtsey, and disappeared. We were received againby the Due de Levis and the Comtesse de Chavannes,and conducted to the gondola. I am proud to say that ,we heard that the King was enthusiastic about Blancheand myself, and subsequently that night at dinner andmany a day after he spoke of us. We also heardfrom the Chevalier and a Vicomte Simonet that theKing was charmed with my brother-in-law for turningthe white flag upwards and offeringhim the use of hisyacht.

WECHAPTER VIIIMY CONTINENTAL TOUR: SWITZERLAND(1858)You're far, yet to my heart you're nearest near;Absent, yet present in my sprite you appear.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's " Arabian Nights ").left Venice one evening in early April at halfpastnine, after six weeks' stay,and travelledby the night train to Padua. We then went througha terrible experience.We started on a twenty-fourhours' drive without a stoppage, without a crumb ofbread or a drop of water. We drove through Milanat 8.30 in the morning, and after leaving it we got amagnificent view of the Alps, and had a very troublesomefrontier. At last we came to Turin. We wenton in a train with a diligence on it,and arrived at Susa,our last Italian town. Here the diligence was taken offthe train. We had fourteen mules and two horses, andbegan to ascend Mont Cenis. These were the dayswhen there were no trains there. Some of us with theconductor climbed up the shorter cuts (like ascendinga chimney) until dark, and met the diligence.Wehad a splendid view. But what a night! The snow117

usUbe IRomance of Ssabel Xaog JBurtonin some places was twenty feet deep, and the wind andsleet seemed as if they would sweep us over ; it waswild and awful, one vast snow scene, and the scenerymagnificent.At midnight we came to the top ;buthere was the worst part, where the smaller road begins.Here, as before, we only went at a foot's pace, and thehorses could hardly stand. The men kept tumblingoff, the vehicle was half buried in the snow, there weredrifts every few paces, and we had to be cut out. AtLans le Bourg at one o'clock we stopped, and theygave us some bad soup, for which we gratefully paidfour francs. The few travellers were ascending anddescending, asking all sorts of questions.We tried tosleep, but ever and anon some accident happened towake us.Every here and there we tried to knocksomebody up for assistance ;but it appearedto me asif most of the houses of refuge were shut up, thinkingthat nobody would be mad enough to travel in suchweather. We were so tired that it seemed as if thehorses were wandering about, not knowing where theywere goingto.Everything tumbled about most uncomfortablyin a snowy, dreamystate of confusion.Some of the men roared with laughterat one of thepostilions sprawling off his horse into the snow, andfloundering about without being able to get up again.Things went on like that till7 a.m., when we pulled upat the station, St. Jean de Marienne, where we ought tohave caught the 6 a.m. train, but it was gone ;so therewas nothing for ita good breakfast.at 1 2. 20 at Chambery.but We to remain for the 10.20, and gettook the 10.20 train, and arrivedHere a civil man convinced us

Continental trout: Switserlanb 119that we had to choose between two disagreeables ;so wetook the lesser, remained atChambery till five o'clock,and then started by diligence, and (what we did notknow) tiredhorses.At midnight, when body and soul were worn out(we had not had our clothes off for three days andnights, hardly any food or other necessities; we hadbeen sitting with our knees up to our chins in thatblessed coupe,which was like a chimney-piece bigenough for two, the windows close to our faces)well, I say, when body and soul were worn out, theyshot us down like so much rubbish at a miserableinn at Annecj- at midnight, and swore they would gono farther.My brother-in-law stuck to his place, andrefused to move till we had got another diligenceand fresh horses ;so seeingthere was no help forit, they did get them, and transferred our baggage.Then we took our places and drove off. The road wasnearly impassable ; the driver frequently stopped atplaces to entreat that they would give him more horses,but all the inns were shut up and asleep, and nobodycared to hear him, so we lost half an hour every hereand there.Morning came, but we stuck again, andwere not near to the end of our journey. We turnedinto an inn, where we got some chocolate, and sat rounda stove with the peasants, who chaffed our driver, hisexploits, and his poor horses. That morning we passedan exquisite bridge over a chasm, of which I would giveworlds to have a photograph. One seemed suspendedbetween heaven and earth. I learnt afterwards thatmy bridge is between Crusie-Caille ; it is636 feet long,

i2oTTbc TRomance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonand 656 above the stream. The old road winds beneathit ;the Sardinians call it the Ponte Carlo Aberto.A few more difficulties, and at 10.30 a.m., Wednesday,April 7, we arrived at the Hotel des Bergues, Geneva.The poor horses were delightedthe moment they sawGeneva below, and put on a spurt of themselves.The Hotel des Bergues, Geneva (at the time I write),is the second best hotel here ;we have three cheerfulrooms on the lake, and a dull table d'hote at five o'clock.The lake is like blue crystal,on which we have afive-ton sailing-boat; the sky without a cloud; theweather likeMay. The nightsare exquisite.Thepeasants are ugly ; they wear big hats, and speak badFrench. It is a terrible place for stomach-ache, owingto the mountain water. The religionis a contrast tolittleItaly and good. As I am Number Three ofour party,I have had all along to make my own lifeand never be in the way of the married couple. Wearrived here in time for the railway fete ;there wereflags and feux de joie, bands, and a magnificent peasantball. Our Minister for Switzerland, whose name wasGordon, came for the/

Continental Trout : Switserlanfc 121his sister havingsummer, when I feel that somethingtold me that he will be home thisdecisive will takeplace.This dayI have had an offer from an American,polished, handsome, fifty years of age, a widower, with,300,000 made in California ;but there is only oneman in the world who could be master of such a spiritas mine. People may love (as it is called) a thousandtimes, but the real feu sacre only burns once in one'slife.Perhaps some feel more than others but it seems;to me that this love is the grandest thingin thisnether world, and worth all the rest put together.I succeed, I shall know how to prove myself worthyIf any woman wants to know what this feu sacreof it.means, let her ascertain whether she loves fully andtruly with brain, heart, and passion.If one iota iswanting in the balance of any of these three factors,let her cast her love aside as a spurious article shewill love again ;but if the investigationis satisfactory,let her hold it fast, and let nothing take itfrom her. For let her rest assured love is the onebright vision Heaven sends us in this wild, desolate,busy, selfish earth to cheer us on to the goal.My American Croesus is not my only chance. ARussian general here, a man of about forty years, withloads of decorations, who knows many languages,isa musician, and writes, has made me an offer. He is aman of family, has nine chateaux, and half a millionof francs income. He saw me at the altar of theMadonna, Genoa, two months ago.He tells me he fellas much in love with me as if he were a boyHe followed me, changed his hotel to come here,Ifof fifteen.

i22TTbc Komance of Isabel Xaog Burtoncame to dinner, and took the room next to me. Heserenades me on the violin at 6 a.m. and 1 1p.m. andat 7 a.m.He sent me a bouquet and a basket of fruit,and a letter of about six pages long to tell me that theTsar is a great man, that he (the general)has bled forhis country, and that if I will marry him "Que jeseraidans ses bras " (what a temptation!) " et qu'ilme fera ladeesse du pays."I refused him of course.On June 10, when we were in bed atone o'clock inthe morning, all the steamers set up a peal. I, who waslying awake, rushed to the window, and then called upthe others. We looked out, and saw that apparentlythe back of our hotel and the whole Quartier desBergues was in flames. We gavethe alarm in thehouse, ran down the corridors to arouse everybody,and then to our rooms to put on what we could, collecta few treasures and our animals. I took the bullfinch(Toby) and Richard's picture, the Pigotts took eacha dog, and down we cut.Bythis time thousands ofpeople were running to the rescue, every bell in thetown was ringing, the whole fire brigade turned out,and they even telegraphed to the borders of France tosend down reinforcements. Dozens of engines wereat work, and we soon learnt that our hotel was not onfire, but that the fire was so extensive they could scarcelydistinguish what was on fire and what was not. In astreet at the back of us nine houses were burning,a cafe, and an entrepot of inflammables ;and thepompiers said that if we had a north-east wind insteadof a south-west one, nothing could have savedour whole quartier from destruction. Every soul in

Continental Uout: Switjerlanfc 123Geneva was there, and the roofs of the houses wereon the roof of the hotel tocrowded ;and we went upsee the wonderful sight.The fire brigade was on theground for thirty hours. They could do nothing forthe houses already on fire,but only prevent its spreadingby playing on the surrounding ones, which werered-hot, as was the back of our hotel. Fresh firemenand engines arrived from France.the animalsAmongdestroyed were one horse and two cows, some sheep,and some goats,in their sheds. A cage of birds felland opened, and thepoor little things escaped,but intheir frightflew about in the flames, A baby, whomthe mother forgotin its bed (most unnatural), and twomen were killed : one was crushed by the falling roof,and the other burned. Two firemen lost their lives :one in trying to save a woman (Godbless him !),inwhich he succeeded, but fell in the flames himself;another was mortally burnt ;and also two personswere lost whose bodies could never be found. Itappeared that a Frenchman had a quarrelinthecafe, and out of spitewent out and contrived to setitalight.The populace say (heiscaughtand inprison) that they will lynch him, and burn him atthe stake. The loss of property is great.The flamesarose above the whole town, and seemed to lick thewhole quartier. It was a dark night, and everybodywas in deshabille from their beds, and there was ahorrible smell of burnt flesh.We started on July i, a large and merry party,from Geneva one beautiful morning at the top ofthe diligence, and drove through an English-looking

124 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog Burtoncountry to Sallenches. Here we took some vehiclesthat ought to have been built in the year I B.C., whichshook my sister quite ill but we who could walk much;preferred doing so, as well for ease as for seeingthescenery, to which no pen of mine could ever do justice.We arrived at Chamounix in the evening, bathed anddined, and took a moonlight stroll through the townand valley.Chamounix is the second thing that hasnever disappointed me. I look around, and as far asmy eye can stretch up and down the valley are rangesof grand mountains, covered with firs, Alpine roses, andwild rhododendrons, and above these splendid peaks,some covered with snow, almost overhanging us, andstanding out in bold relief againstthe bluest of skies.I note it all the peaceful hamlet in the vale at thefoot of Mont Blanc, the church spire distinct againstthat background of firs on the opposite mountainside,the Orne rushing through the town, the balconiesand little gardens, the valley dotted with chalets, theGlacier du Boisson and Mer de Glace sparkling inthe sun. How gloriousit is !We had to start next morning at daybreak before thesun should become too hot. We dressed in little thickboots, red petticoats that we might see each other ata distance, brown Holland jacketsand big hats, a pikeand a mule and a guide each, besides other guides.first the mule appears to step like an ostrich, and youthink of your mount at home, and you tremble as yousee the places he has to go up, or, worse, to go down.In time you arrive at the top of the Flegere. Fromhere you see five glaciers, the best view of Mont BlancAt

Continental trout : Switserlanfc 125and other peaks too numerous to mention. We metsome pleasant people, dined together at the chalet ,anddrew caricatures in the travellers' book. One or twoof us went upas far as the Grands Mulcts withoutguides, slept there, and descended early,where wepicked up our party. In the descent we walked, andsome of the mules ran away. Not finding ourselvesquite pumped by the descent, we proposed ascending tothe Chapeau the opposite side, to look at the Mer deGlace, which we did; and as we were mounting we hadthe pleasure of seeing an avalanche and some smallerfalls. We were joined by a party of seven jollyScotch girls,and we descended with them. We werevery tired.Our next excursion was to Montanvert, which ascentwas most magnificent.The lower part of the mountainis a garden of wild flowers, roses, and firs, andbetween the mountains stood out wondrous peaks.Against the sky was the Aiguille Verte, leaning asmuch over as the Campanile at Pisa. It is wonderfulto think of the commotion there must have been whenthese immense masses of rock were scattered there bythe convulsions of Nature, and the trees were crushed.At Montanvert we fed, and were joined by others fromthe Mer de Glace. Here those who had weak headswent back, and those who feared not nor cared notwent on.Every lady had her guide and alpenstock,every man had his alpenstock, and all of us werestrapped round our waists to hold on to each other. Alittle cannon was fired to tell us the echo and announceour start. The first part was easy enough, and a man

"Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonwith a hatchet in advance cut us footsteps. (AlbertSmith has openedthispassage within five years.)Here and there is a stream of water, so pure one mightitfancy to be melted diamonds. Thousands of chasmsin the ice, five hundred or more feet deep, of a beautifulblue colour, and a torrent beneath, had to be passedby a plank thrown across. What is a precipice to-day isclosed up to-morrow by the constant movement of theice. Take the tout ensemble, it gives you the idea ofa rebellious sea that had dared to run mountains high,in defiance of its Creator, who had struck it(whileinmotion) into ice. Here and there came a furious waterfallor torrent ;a plank was then thrown across in asafe part. Once I slipped, and my legs fell in, and myalpenstock but I; clung to the stump till hauled up.Then came the Mauvais Pas.You descend the side ofa precipice by holes cut for your feet, and let yourselfdown by a rope.If one has got a good head,it isworth while looking down. Hamlets look like a set oftea-things, men (if seen at like ants beneath oneall);and how glorious! one issuspended between heavenand earth, and one's immortal part soars higher thanthe prison carcase can ! As one loves to feel one's ownnothingness bythe side of the man to whom one hasgiven one's heart, so does this feeling (the best we own)increase in magnitude when it relates to God. Heholds you there, He guards againstthat false step whichwould dash you to pieces, and gives you the power ofbrain to look below, around, and upwards, to wonderand to thank. I think this was the most intenseexcitement of its sort that I had felt inmy girl

Continental Hour: Swftaerlanfc 127travelling life. At last we arrived at the Chapeau,and descended the same mountain as yesterday.The next day we proposed ascending the Glacierdu Boisson, and reascendingMont Blanc for a few hours ;but some of our party were anxious to get home, sowe ordered some rackety vehicles for Argentieresnextmorning, and there the strong betook themselves totheir legs and alpenstocks, and the weak to mules.We strolledgaily along, making wreaths of wildflowers for our hats, singingthe Ranz des Vachesand all that, though still in Savoy, and we mountedthe Col de Balme. This is one of the darkest andsublimest views imaginable. On one side you look downthe valley of Chamounix and the Savoy Mountains ;the Col seems like a high barrier with one hut on it.On the other side you look over the Bernese Alps,and you see a spectacle not of everyday occurrence.Turn to Switzerland, all is sunshiny, bright, and gay ;turn to Savoy,a thunder-storm is rolling along thevalley beneath, and youstand there on the Col inwinter, in snow, shivering, hail, wind, and sleetdrivingin your face. You see on one side, half a mile below,autumn ;on the other spring, with buttercups, daisiesand all sorts of wild flowers, and forsooth the cuckoo ;and at the bottom of both valleys is summer, bright orstormy. At this place the ruffian who keeps the hutmakes you pay twenty-eight francs for a slice of ham,and you come out rather amused at the people whoare swearing on that account. Some delicate ladies arein semi-hysterics at the storm, or the black, frowningspot on which we find ourselves, and are rushing about,

128 ftbe -Romance of Ssabel Xabg JSurtonmaking tender inquiriesafter each other's sensitivefeelings. After an hour's rest we start, the weak onesfor Martigny, the strong by a steep path in the mountains,which brings us after a couple of hours to spring.But stop awhile in winter. A black range of mountainsdark and desolate are dressed in thunder-clouds. Youfeel awed, yet you would rather see it so than insunshine. A small bit of table-land is on the side ;it makes you think of an exile in Siberia or Dante'sDamned Soul in a Hell of Snow. We were all silent.No doubt we all made our reflections; and mine ranthus :"If an angel from heaven came from AlmightyGod, and told you that Richard was condemned to bechained on that plateau for a hundred years in expiationof his sins before he could enter heaven, andgave you the choice between sharinghis exile withhim or a throne in the world beneath, which wouldyou choose " ?My answer did not keep me long in suspense ; itcame in this form :"A throne would be exile without him, and exile with"him a home !We reached spring, and passed the chalets whereGruyere cheese is made ;and I stopped the herdsman,and took a lesson in the Ranz des Vaches amidstmuch laughter, and to the evident amusement of acuckoo, who chimed in. The descent of the Tete Noiris the most beautiful thing we have seen ; at any rate,it is the most graven on my memory.It is down theside of magnificently wooded mountains, with bridges

Continental Uouc: Switserlanfc 129of a primitive kind, overhanging precipices,and looksinto the dark valley, part of which never sees the sun.Here we sang snatches of Linda de Chamounix ;thescenery reminds one of it, and comes up to, or evensurpasses, all that I have read or thought. In oneplace we came to an immense rock that had fallen,and was just on the balance over a precipice, and thereit has hung for hundreds and thousands of years.Thepeasantsare fait soit feu sauvage, and they dealt us outplainly plenty of chaff, as they gave us water, in thefond belief that we did not understand French. Atlength we reached the chalet where travellers feed.After dinner at nine o'clock the moon rose, and wewent through a splendid forest on a mountain-side, witha torrent dashing below. I litmy cigarette,and wenta little ahead of my party. There are sacred momentsand heavenly scenes I cannot share with the commonherd. There was only one voice which I could haveborne to break the silence, and that, like heaven, was sofar off as to be like a fable now. At length we arrivedat a hut at the top of the Mont Forclaz, a hut where wemust have our passport vised why, I do not know, aswe have long since been in Switzerland. The gendarmegrumbled something about "eccentric English whoscale the mountains in the night."A hint to be quickis all he gets, and we descend. Now we were so tiredthat we mounted our mules on the assurance that itwould rest us ;but such a descent I should never careto do again.The road was steep and unfinished ;themoon was under a cloud ;there were precipices oneach side. The step of the mule sends one upon aVOL. i.9

i3otlbe "Romance of Isabel %aos JBurtonnarrow, hard saddle, bumping one moment against thepommels, and the next on to the baggage here andthere. There is a roll over a loose stone ;but theclever mule, snuffing and pawing its way, nimbly putsits feet together, and slides down a slab of rock. Mycompanions got down and walked, tired as they were.I really could not ; and seeing the mule was so muchcleverer than myself,Iknotted the bridle and threw iton his back, and in the dark put my leg over the otherside, and rode down straddle like a man, half an hoursaid there were wolvesin advance of the rest.Theyon these mountains, but I did not see or hear Iany.had only my pike to defend myself with, and shouldhave been in an awful fright had I come across a wolf.At midnightI reached the hotel at Martigny, and wentto bed.Our next move was to charter a carriagethat wouldhold us all inside and out. We had a splendid drivethrough the valley of the Rhone for some days, andvisited many places.I was immensely impressed by Chillon atnight.The lake lies at our feet like a huge crystal with abroad track of moonlight on it. A moment agoitwas fine starlight, and now the moon rises behind theDent du Midi, lighting up those magnificentmountainstoo brightly for the stars.Vevey is asleep, andno noise is heard save the splash of an oar, or a bitof loose rock rolling with a crash down the mountain,or the buzz of some insect goinghome late. A batflutters near my face now and then ;there is a distantnote from a nightingale.How refreshingis the so/t

Continental Uour: Switserlanfc 131breeze and the sweet smell of the hayafter the heat of theAnd now crossing the moonlight track, westwardday !bound, glidesa lateen sail like a colossal swan. These arethe scenes that, save for the God Who made them, let usknow we are alone on earth. These are the momentswhen we miss the hand we want to claspin ours withoutspeaking, and yet be understood but; my familiar spiritwith whom I could share these moments is not here.At last we received orders to be ready within anhour's notice to leave Geneva for Lausanne, and wewere very glad to obey. We had been too longat Geneva, and were heartily tired of it, especiallyafter all the beautiful things we had seen. It was,however, found that the cutter would not hold us all ;so the maid and I went with the baggage and animals,and also Mr. Richard Sykes (who brought a letterfrom my brother Jack, a charming, gentlemanly boy oftwenty, who joined us for a few weeks), by steamerto Lausanne, and put upat an auberge atOuchy onthe water's edge, where we waited the sailing party.Ouchy consists (1858) of a humble street and an oldfashionedinn at the water's edge beneath Lausanne.Here we took three little rooms, one for Mr. Sykes, onefor the maid, and one for me, which was half bedroom,half drawing-room, with a good view. The othersarrived in a few days, having met the bise and had toput back to port.Here I found some one with whomI could begin German. I rowed and swam a greatdeal. There is a beautiful country for driving andwalking, and our chaloupelast we were able to make excursions.is now at anchor. In this

i3Hbe "Romance of -Jsabel Xaog BurtonAmong other places we ran over to Evian,across on the oppositecoast.twelve milesThere were one hundredand twenty-five people in the hotel, who were very kind,and made a greatfuss with us ;and we had great fun,though they had great difficulty in making room forus. Mr. Sykes had to go to an old tower in the garden,and my room was somewhere under the tiles. Weoften gave them supper and cigarettes at 11.30, aftermusic and impromptu dancing in the evening. Theywere all vastly kind to us, and when we went awaythey came down to see us off in our cutter.When we got half-way across the lake, I said to mybrother-in-law, " Does it not look rather like wind out"there ? He gave a short, quick command at once totake every bit of sail down ;but we knew nothing oflake-sailing, though we knew sea-sailing,and before wehad gotit half down the wind came upon us like a wall,and threw us on our side. Our bobstay snapped likesealing-wax, our mainsail rent like ribbon, our foresailflew away, and she would not answer her helm, and weremained in the trough of the waves, which rose awfullyhigh.We then cut away the jib.We had given upall hope, having beaten about for a long time, and twoof us had been in the water for three-quarters of anhour. At lengthwe spied five boats putting out tous, and we were truly thankful. It appearedthat thefishermen had refused to come before, because they wereconvinced we had gone down long ago, and all thevillage people were on their knees praying for Weus.were safelytowed in by the five boats, much too disabledto help ourselves, and the cutter was smashed to pieces.

onContinental Uour : Switsei'lanfc 133We rewarded the men liberally, got some brandy, driedour clothes, and went back by the next steamer.There was a grand fete at Lausanne. The canteenof Swiss woodwork was decorated with branches, andthere were shooting-galleries, the usual booths andwhirligigs, a very respectable vagrant theatre, a dancingcircusand band. The streets were all festooned withgarlands, and bits of sentiment such as, " Liberte etpatrie," " Un bras pour la defendre, un coeur pourFaimer," etc.It was cloudless weather that evening at Lausanne,the sky clear and high, the country fresh, green, andsweet-smelling.The mountains surrounded one-halfthe lake with twenty different shades at the settingsun, from palest pink on the snow-peaks to the deepest.purple the rocks. It was allquiet enough afterleaving the merriment of the fair, with only the noiseof birds or bees, and the sweet smell of wild flowers inthe fresh air. Later the evening star came out in thepale sky, and the glow-worms shone like brilliants inthe grass.Ithought of Richard in that far-awayswamp in Central Africa, and a voiceless prayer rosetoI wonder if he too is thinking of memy lips.at this time? And as I thought an angelic whisperknocked atmy heart and murmured, " Yes."After we had been at Lausanne some time, I gotill. I was fretting because there was no news at allabout Richard ;I had been hoping to hear fromhim for two months. I had enough of the climatetoo. I had a habit of rowing myself out a little way,undressing in the boat, jumping in for a swim, climbing

134 TTbc IRomancc ot Isabel Zaty? JSurtonback into the boat, and rowing ashore ;and one dayIwas too hot, and I just had the strength to give the lastpull to the oar ashore, when I fainted. There were nodoctors, no medicines, and I layill on my very hardbed with a dreadful pain in my side for three weeks.But I was too strong to die ;and one day somebody gotme a bottle of Kirschwasser, and drinkingit in smallquantities at a time seemed to take away the pain;but I was very pale and ill, and every one said I hadrheumatic fever. We were all three more or less ill, anddid not like to part ;but it was a necessity, so I wassent forward with twelve pieces of baggage and sixteennapoleons to work my way from Ouchy to Honfleur,where I was to wait formy brother-in-law and sister,Honfleur being a quieter place than Havre. PoorBlanche looked so worn and sad !I got in a railway-carriage by myself,and asked theguard to look after me because I was alone ;but justbefore the train started he put in a man, and beggedmy pardon, saying it was inevitable, as there was not aplace in any other carriage.In about twenty minutesthe man began to make horrible faces at me, and I wasso dreadfully frightenedI felt I must speak ;so Isaid, " I am afraid you are ill "; and he said," Yes ; Iam very sorry, but I am going to have an epilepticfit."He was almost immediately black, and in horriblecontortions. It was an express train. There was nomeans of communicating with the guard (1858),andthere was no use in screaming ; so, frightened thoughI was, I pulled the man down on the ground, undidhis cravat, and loosened all about his neck. I had no

Continental Hour : Swttaetlano 135medicine with me, except a quartersweet spirits of nitre, which I was takingof a bottle offor rheumaticfever. I poured it all down his throat, and then Icovered his face over with a black silk handkerchiefI had round my neck, that I might not see him, andsqueezed myself upin the farthest corner. In abouttwenty minutes he came to, and asked me how longhe had been like that. I told him, and he asked meif I was dreadfully frightened, and I said, " Yes." Hesaid, "I am subject to these fits, but they generallylast much longer ;this has been very slight." So Isaid, "I think it is my duty to tell youthat I haveput about three ounces of spirits of nitre down yourthroat." He"said, Well, I think it must have doneme good, because I feel very comfortable." I calledthe guard the first station we arrived at, told himwhat had occurred, and begged him to move me intoa carriage with other people, which he did. I neverknew anything so slow as the trains were; and at thestations there seemed no one to help, nor to tell onewhere anything was. I got two seats with my back tothe engine, so that I could lie down. The heat wasintense. The carriage was crammed. There was aladylike littlewoman, with a brawny nurse and two ofthe worst-behaved children I ever saw. They fought,and sang, and cried, and teased my bullfinch, andkicked my shins, and trod on my toes ;but themother was too nice to offend, and so I bore it. AtMac.cn at 8 p.m. we stopped to sup ; and then I feltI could bear no more of it,so I begged the guard tochange me to a quiet carriage, and he putme in with

136 TTbe Romance of Isabel Zaog JBurtontwo gentlemanly Spaniards. There was plenty of room,and we had a quiet night enough, only one of themwas so long that every now and then in his sleep heput his feet into my lap or on the birdcage.We arrived at 6 a.m., and drove for at least an hourto the Havre station in the pouring rain. Here mytroubles began.It was past seven, the train was at 8.25 ;so I thought I had time to geta little breakfast at thecafe.I did so, and returned. The porters were veryrude to me, and refused to weigh my baggage, saying Iwas too late. In vain I entreated, and I had to returnand sit in a miserable room from 8 o'clocktomy cafeto Ip.m.I drank a bottle of gingerbeer, and did myaccounts, but my head was too stupidto do themproperly so with the idea that I had; only forty-eightfrancs left, I had taken my ticket to Havre, but notpaid the baggage, and I had still to get to Honfleur. Ithen got scared with fancying I had lost four napoleons,and sat looking at my purse in despair.Then I discoveredIhad lost a bunch of keys, that the turquoise had fallenout of my ring, that I had broken my back comb, andleft behind part of my dressing-case.Then itsuddenlyoccurred to me that I had no blessing because I hadnot saidmy morning prayers ;so I at once knelt down,and during my prayers a lightflashed on me that therewere five napoleons to a hundred francs, and the moneywas right to a farthing, so I rose with a thankful heartheedless of smaller evils. I took the one o'clock train,which went fast. It was hot, windy, dusty, crowded ;butno matter, I drove straightto the boat. Alas ! it wasgone, and I had only a few francs. Therewas nothing

Continental Uour: Swftserlanfc 137for it but to go to the hotel opposite the boats, andask for a room, a hot bath, some tea and breadand-butter(Ihad been out thirty-six hours withoutrest).I was on board the first boat, which steamedoff" at a quarterto seven in the morning, and ateight was safely housed at the Hotel d'Angleterre,Honfleur, forty-eight hours after leaving Ouchy, withthree-ha'pence in my pocket. Unfortunately at Havrethere was a law by which the porters were not obligedto weigh your baggage unless you came half anhour before the time, but that nobody ever did, andthey would not dare nor think of refusing a Frenchperson but because I was an ; English girl,and alone,they abused their Ipower. was only five minutesafter time ;there was twenty-five minutes to spare,and they were rude into thebargain. They arenot paid by Government (1858), and there is notariff".They follow you like a flock of sheep, and"say,We will carry your baggage if you pay us,and if not we will not." My purse prevented mybeing very free-handed ; they would not take lessthan a franc and a half, and slang youfor that ;andI spent eighteen francs on them between Lausanne andHonfleur.Honfleur is a horrid place.It is a fishing town, containingabout ten thousand people of an inferior class,as dull as the grave, no society, and, still worse, not thenecessaries of life the only good thingsare the fruit,the sea, and country. There are two hotels, which inEngland we should call public-houses ; not a room fitto sleep in, so I have had a bed put in a kind of

138 ttbe "Romance of Isabel Xao JBurtonobservatory at the top of the house. Iand live with nature and my books.can shut out all,There is a terrace,and at high tide the sea rolls under it, and at a stretchI could fancy myself on board a ship ; but, thank God,I am getting better.They come and ask you what you would like fordinner :" Ce que vous avez a la maison ; je ne suis pasdifficile." Nous avons tout du melon, par exempledes crevettes," etc.What they want to feed me on here are melonsAn Englishman came the other day, veryand wanted to dine."and water.hungry, Voulez-vous une omelette,monsieur " " "? Damn your omelette ! he said";I wantto dine." He was obliged to go.The servants areone remove from animals, and the family ditto, exceptmadame, who is charming. The weather is beastly, thesea ismuddy, the sand all dirt; there is not a piano inthe town. The baths are half an hour from here, andthe Basse gents are excessively sauvage. But even inthis fifth-rate society I found a grainof wheat among thechaffa Parisian Spanish woman, the wife of a physician,here for her child's health, very spirituelle, not pretty,and devoted to Paris. We smoke and read, and shegives me the benefit of her experience, which I reallythink I had better have been without ;but she is a jollylittle creature, and I do not know how I should passmytime without her.Blanche and my brother-in-law joined me at Honfleura fortnightaftermy arrival ;and having received adraft for fresh supplies,we determined to start next

Continental ttout: : Switserlanfc 139day.We had a delightful trip of six hours up theSeine to Rouen ;we revisited the old cathedral, andwalked up to that little gemNotre Dame de bonSecours. I am very fond of Rouen ; it is such a lovelyplace.We went on to Dieppe, and had a calm passageto Southampton. Once more I was in England. Wewent straightto London, and home.

CHAPTER IXTHEY MEET AGAIN(18581860)Allah guard a true lover, who strives with loveAnd hath borne the torments I still abide,And seeing me bound in the cage with mindOf ruth release me my love to find.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's " Arabian Nights ").WHILE Isabel was touring through Italy andSwitzerland, Burton was fightinghiswaythrough the Central African jungle to find the fabledlakes beyond the Usagara Mountains, which at thattime the eye of the white man had never seen.It isnecessary to give a brief sketch of this expedition,and of the difference between Burton and Spekewhich arose from it, because these things influenced toa considerable degree Isabel's after-life. She was alwaysdefending her husband's position and fightingthe caseof Burton versus Speke.As already stated, Burton left London in October,1856. He went to Bombay, applied for Captain Speketo accompany him as second in command of his expeditioninto the unknown regions of Central Africa, and140

flfceet Bgain 141landed at Zanzibar in December. The Royal GeographicalSociety had obtained for him a grant of,1,000, and the Court of Directors of the East IndiaCompany had given him two years' leave.On June 26, 1857, after an experimental trip, they setout in earnest on their journey into the far interior.Burton was handicapped by a very inadequate force,and he had to make his way through hostile savagetribes ; yet he determined to risk it, and in eighteendays achieved the first stage of the journey. Despitesickness and every imaginable difficulty, the little bandarrived at K'hutu.Thence they marched to Zungomero, a pestilentialSlough of Despond. Here they rested a fortnight,and then began the ascent of the Usagara Mountains.They managedto climb to the frontier of the secondregion, or Ghauts. They then pushed on, up anddown the ranges of these mountains, sometimes throughthe dismal jungle, sometimes through marshy swamps,sometimes along roads strewn with corpses and victimsof loathsome diseases, tormentedalways byinsects andreptiles, and trembling with ague, with swimming heads,ears deafened by weakness, and legsthat would scarcelysupport them, threatened by savages without anddeserters within, until at last they reached the topof the third and westernmost range of the UsagaraMountains. The second stage of the journey wasaccomplished.After a rest they went through the fiery heat of theMdaburu jungle, where they were much troubled bytheir mutinous porters.At last they entered Kazeh.

M* Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonThe Arabs helped them here (Burton always got onwell with Arabs), and they rested for a space.OnJanuary 10, 1858, they reached M'hali, and hereBurton was smitten by partial paralysis, brought on bymalaria ;his eyes were also afflicted, and death seemedimminent. But in a little time he was better, andlast,again they pushed on through the wilderness. Aton February 13, 1858, justwhen they were in despair,their longing eyes were gladdened by the first glimpseof the Lake Tanganyika, the sea of Ujiji, layinglikean enchanted lake " inthe lap of the mountains, baskingin the gorgeous tropical sunshine."For the first known time in the world's historyEuropean eyes rested on this loveliness. It is onlyfair therefore to remember that in the discovery ofLake Tanganyika Burton was the pioneer. His wasthe brain which planned and commanded the expedition,and it was he who first achieved with inadequate meansand insufficient escort what Livingstone, Cameron,Speke, Grant, Baker, and Stanley achieved later. If hehad possessed their advantages of men and money,what might he not have done !At Ujiji they rested for some time ; they hadtravelled nine hundred and fifty miles, and had takenmore than seven and a half months over the journey onaccount of the delay arising from danger and illness.They spent a month cruising about the lake, which,however, they were not able to explore thoroughly.On May 28, 1858, Burton and Speke started on thehomeward route. In due time they reached Kazehagain. Here, Burton being ill,and Speke not being

flfoeet Haain 143able to get on with the Arabs, who abounded at Kazeh,it was decided that Burton should remain at Kazeh toprepare and send reports, and that Speke should go insearch of the unknown lake (now called Nyanza) whichthe merchants had told them was some sixteenmarchesto the north. So Spekeset out. After some six orseven weeks he returned to Kazeh. His flying triphad led him to the northern water, which he found tobe an immense lake (Nyanza), and he announced thathe had discovered the sources of the White Nile. Onthis point Burton was sceptical,and from this arosea controversy upon which it isunnecessary to enter.There were probably faults on both sides. The differencebetween Burton and Speke was much to beregretted I ; only allude to it here because it influencedthe whole of Burton's subsequent career, and by sodoing affected also that of his wife.At Kazeh Burton decided that they must return tothe seacoast by the way they came. So they beat theirway back across the fiery field to the usual accompanimentsof quarrels, mutinies, and desertions among theporters. At one place Speke was dangerously ill,but Burton nursed him through. They recrossed theUsagara Mountains, and struggled through mud andjungle, and at last caught sight of the sea. Theymade a triumphal entrance to Konduchi, the seaportvillage. They embarked and landed in Zanzibar onMarch 4, 1859. Here Burton wanted to get freshleave of absence and additional funds ;but the evidentdesire of the British Consul to get rid of him (becausehe was too friendly with the Sultan), and the impatience

"Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonof Speke to return to England, caused him to abandonthe idea. Just then H.M.S. Furious arrived at Aden,and passage homeward was offered to both of them.Burton was too ill to go but ; Speke went, and his lastwords, according to Burton, were":Good-bye, oldfellow. You may be quitesure I shall not go up tothe Royal Geographical Society until youcome to thefore and we appear together. Make your mind quite,easyabout that."Nevertheless, when Burton arrived in England onMay 21, 1859 (having been absent two years andeight months), he found the ground cut from underhis feet.Speke had arrived in London twelve daysbefore, and the day after his arrival had called at theheadquarters of the Royal Geographical Society, toldhis own tale, and obtained the leadership of a newexpedition. Burton, who had originated and carriedout the expedition, found himself shelved, neglected,and thrust aside by his lieutenant, who claimed andreceived the whole credit for himself. Moreover,Speke had spread all sorts of ugly and I believeuntrue reports about Burton. These coming on topof certain other rumours also, I believe, untruewhich had originatedin India, 1 were only too readilybelieved. When Burton got home, he found that theGovernment and the Royal Geographical Societyregarded him with disapproval, and society lookedaskance at him. Instead of being honoured, he was1Burton alludes to this prejudice against him in the original(1886) edition of his Arabian Nights, " Alf Laylah wa Laylah,"Terminal Essay, Section D, pp. 205, 206.

fl&eet Haain 145suspected and under a cloud. One may imagine howhisspirit chafed under this treatment. He wasindeed a most unlucky man. Yet in spite of thecrowd of false friends and open enemies, in spiteof all the calumny and suspicion and injustice, therewas one heart which beat true to him. And thenit was that Burton proved the strength of a woman'slove.Isabel had been back in England from her Continentaltour justa year when Burton came home. It hadbeen a terribly anxious year for her ;she had writtento him regularly, and kept him well posted in all thatwas going on ;but naturally her letters only reachedhim at intervals. News of him had been meagre andinfrequent, and there were long periods of silencewhich made her sick at heart with anxiety and dread.The novelty and excitement of her trip abroad had tosome extent diverted her mind, but when she camehome all her doubts and fears returned with threefoldforce. The monotony and inaction of her life chafedher active spirit ;the lack of sympathy and the want ofsome one in whom she could confide her love and hersorrow weighed her down. It was a sore probation,and in her trouble she turned, as it was her nature toturn, to the consolations of her religion. In the Lentof 1859 she went into a Retreat in the Convent atNorwich, and strove to banish worldly thoughts. Shedid not strive in vain, as the following extracts fromone of her devotional books, 1 written when in retreat,willshow.Lamed, one of Lady Burton's books of private devotion.1VOL. I. IO

146 Ibe IRomance of Saabel Xaog burtonI bewail my ordinary existence the life that mostCgirls lead going out into society and belonging to theworld." I must follow the ordinarylittle details of existencewith patient endurance of suffering and resistance ofevil. With courageI must flyat what I most dislikegrasp my nettle. There is good to be cultivated,there isreligion to be uppermost ; occupation andfamily cares must be my resources." And why must I do this ? Other girls are notdesirous of doingit. Because at a critical moment Godsnatched me from the world, when my heart boundedhigh for great things, and I was hard pressed by*Itemptation.said to myself, Why has He calledsuch a being as myself into existence '? seemingly tono purpose.And He has brought me to this quietcorner, and has showed me in a spiritualretreat (likein a holy lantern) things as they really are ;He hasrecalled to me the holiest and purest of my childhoodand my convent days, humbled me, and then, shuttingout that view, once more He will send me forth to actfrom His fresh teaching.He seemed to say to me :'You have but little time ;a longlife is but eightyyears or so part of this is lost in childhood, partin oldage, part in sleep.How few are the strong, matureyears wherein to lay in store for death the onlystore you can carry with you beyond the dreams oflife, beyond the grave You, from defects in your!upbringing, have allowed your heart to go beforeyour head hence; sharp twinges and bitter experience.These faults are forgiven you. Now enter on your

ifoeet Hgatn 147mature years with a good spirit,and remember that thesame excuses will not serve any more.'" With these reflections I saw myself as an atom inthis vast creation, chosen from thousands who wouldhave served Him better, and brought safely throughmy nine months' imprisonment to my baptism. Onwhat did I ?open my eyes Not on the circle of acertain few, who are so covered with riches, honour,luxuries, and pleasuresas to have their Paradise here.Not amongst the dregs of the unfortunate people who arethe very spawn of vice, who neverhear a good wordor see a good action, who do not know that there is aGod except in a curse. No ! Godgave me everything;but He chose a middle way for me, and each blessingthat surrounded me was immense in itself, and manywere combined. Pure blood and good birth, health,youth, strength, beauty, talent, natural goodness Godand Nature gave me all, and the Devil and I spoiledthe gift.Add to all this a happy home and goodand the true Churchfamily, education, society, religion,of Christ. He took from me the riches and theworldly success that might have damned me ;andhaving purified me, He sent me back only a sufficiencyfor needs and comforts. He gave me a noble incentiveto good in the immense power of affection I havewithin me, which Imay misuse, but not depraveorlose ; this power is as fresh as in my childhood, butsaddened by experience. He preservesme from themultitude of hourly evils which I cannot see ; nay, more,He seems to watch everytrifle to meet my needs andwants. He scarcely lets the wind visit me too roughly ;

MSTTbe "Romance of Ssa&el Xabs JSurtonHe almost takes up the instruments He gave me, and*works Himself. He seems to say, Toil for one shortday, and in the evening come to Me for your reward.'He appointedto me, as to every one, an angel toprotect me ;He has shown me the flowery paths thatlead down down to the Devil and Hell and therugged path that leads upward to Himself and Heaven.Shall I refuse to climb over mytrialspettyfor thisshort time, when He is so merciful, when He has"died for me ?Isabel came out of her Retreat on Easter Day, andafter visitingsome friends for a few weeks returned toher parents' home in London. Here she was greetedwith the news that Speke had come home alone. Theair was full of Speke, and the rumour reached her earsthat Burton was staying on in Zanzibar inthe hope ofbeing allowed to return to Africa. A sense of despairseized her ;and justas she was thinking whether shewould not return to the Convent and become a Sisterof Charity, she received six lines in a well-known handby post from Zanzibar no letter. This communicationwas long past date, and evidently had been slowin coming : tro Isabel.That brow which rose before my sight,As on the palmer's holy shrine ;Those eyes my life was in their light;Those lips my sacramental wine;That voice whose flow was wont to seemThe music of an exile's dream.She knew then it was all right.

l&eet Boatn 149Two days later she read in the paper that Burtonwould soon arrive. She writes in her diary:" {May 21. I feel strange, frightened, sick, stupefied,dying to see him, and yet inclined to run away, lest,after all I have suffered and longed for, I should havetobear more."But she did not run away. And here we leave herto tell her own tale.On May 22 I chanced to call upona friend. I wastold she had gone out, but would be in to tea, andwas asked if I would wait. I said, " Yes." In a fewminutes another ring came to the door, and anothervisitor was also asked to wait. A voice that thrilledme through and through came up the stairs, saying," Iwant Miss Arundell's address." The door opened, Iturned round, and judge of my feelings when IbeheldRichard ! For an instant we both stood dazed. I feltso intensely,that I fancied he must hear my heart beat,and see how every nerve was overtaxed. We rushedinto each other's arms. I cannot attempt to describethe joy of that moment. He had landed the daybefore, and come to London, and had called here toknow where I was living,where to find me. No onewill wonder when I say that we forgotall about myhostess and her tea. We went downstairs, and Richardcalled a cab, and he put me in and told the man todrive about anywhere. He put his arm round mywaist, and I put my head on his shoulder. I felt quitestunned ;I could not speak or move, but felt like aperson coming to after a fainting fit or a dream ; it was

isoZCbe IRomance of Isabel Xafcp Burtonacute pain, and for the first half-hour I found no relief.I would have given worlds for tears, but none came.But it was absolute content, such as I fancy peoplemust feel in the first few moments after the soul hasquitted the body. When we were a little recovered, wemutually drew each other's pictures from our respectivepockets at the same moment, to show how carefully wehad always kept them.After that we met constantly, and he called upon myI now put our marriage seriously before them,parents.but without success as regards my mother.I shall never forget Richard as he was then. Hehad had twenty-one attacks of fever had been partiallyparalyzed and partially blind. He was a mere skeleton,with brown-yellow skinhanging in bags, his eyesprotruding, and his lips drawn away from his teeth.I used to him give my arm about the Botanical Gardensfor fresh air, and sometimes convey him almost faintingin a cab to our house or friends' houses, whoallowed and encouraged our meeting.He told me that all the time he had been away thegreatest consolation he had received were my fortnightlyjournals, in letter-form, to him, accompanied by allnewspaper scraps, and public and private information,and accounts of books, such as I knew would interesthim ;so that when he did get a mail, which was onlyin a huge batch now and then, he was as well postedup as if he were livingin London.Richard was looking so lank and thin. He wassadly altered ; his youth, health, spirits,and beautywere allgone for the time. He fully justified his

flDeet again 151fevers, his paralysis and blindness, and any amount ofanxiety, peril, hardship, and privation in unhealthylatitudes. Never did I feel the strength of my loveas then. He returned poorer, and dispirited byofficial rows and every species of annoyance ;but hewas still had he been ever so unsuccessful, and hadevery man's hand against him my earthly god andking, and I could have knelt at his feet and worshippedhim. I used to feel so proud of him I;used to liketo sit and look at him, and think, " You are mine, andthere is no man on earth the least like you." 1Isabel tells us that she regretted bitterly not havingbeen able to stay with and nurse the man she lovedat this time. They were both most anxious that theirmarriage should take place, so that they might betogether. But the great obstacle to their union wasMrs. Arundell's opposition.Isabel made a long andimpassioned appeal to her mother ;but she would notrelent, and turned a deaf ear to the lovers' pleadings.In justiceto Mrs. Arundell, it must be admitted thatshe had apparently good reasons for refusingher consentto their marriage. Burton's niece says that she" vehemently objected to any daughter of hers espousinga Protestant." 2 But this is one of those half-truths1At this point Lady Burton's autobiography ends cut short byher death. Henceforward, when she speaks in the first person, itwill be from her papers and letters, of which she left a greatnumber. She was sorting them when she died. But I have feltjustified in repeating the story of her marriage in her own words,as no other pen could do justice to it.1Miss Stisted's Life of Burton.

isaTTbc "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonwhich conceal a whole fallacy.Of course Mrs.Arundell, who came of an old Roman Catholic family,and who was a woman of strong religious convictions,would have preferred her daughter to marry a manof the same faith as herself. But it was not a questionbetween Catholicity and Protestantism, but betweenChristianity and no religionat all. From all that waspublicly known of Burton at this time, from his writingsand his conversation, he was an Agnostic ; and so faras the religious objection to the marriage entered, manya Protestant Evangelical mother would have demurredquite as much as Mrs. Arundell did. Religious prejudicesmay be just or unjust, but they are forceswhich have to be reckoned with. And the religiousobjection was not by any means the only one. Atthis time there were unpleasant rumours flying aboutconcerning Burton, and some echo of them had reachedMrs. Arundell's ears. The wayin which the RoyalGeographical Society had passed him over in favour ofSpeke had naturally lent colour to these reports and;although Burton had a few friends, he had manyenemies. He was under a cloud. The Governmentignored him ;the War Office disliked him ;his militarycareer had so far been a failure there was no prospectof promotion the Indian ;army had brought him underthe reduction ;he had not the means to keep a wifein decent comfort, nor were his relations in a positionto help him, either with money or influence ;andlastly, he was of a wild, roving disposition. All theseconsiderations combined to make Mrs. Arundell hesitatein entrustingher daughter's happiness to his hands.

fl&eet Hoain 153It must be remembered that Isabel was the eldestchild. She was a very handsome and fascinating girl ;she had many wealthy suitors, and might well havebeen expected to make "a good match." From aworldly point of view she was simply throwing herselfaway. From a higher point of view she was followingher destiny, and marrying theman she loved withevery fibre of her being. But Mrs. Arundell couldhardly have been expected to see things in this light,and in opposing Isabel's marriage with Richard Burtonshe only acted as ninety-nine mothers out of everyhundred would have done. No sooner were theymarried than she admitted that she had made a mistake,and did all in her power to atone for it ;but atthis time she was inexorable. 1Burton, who was very much in love, was not in thehabit of brooking opposition, least of all from a woman ;and he suggested to Isabel that they should take thelaw in their own hands, and make a runaway matchof it. After all, they had arrived at years of discretion,and might fairly be expected to know theirown minds. He was past forty,and Isabel was nearlythirty.More than three years had gone by since hedeclared his love to her in the Botanical Gardens ;nearly ten years had passed since she had fallen inlove with him on the Ramparts of Boulogne. Surely1Lady Burton also, during the last years of her life, admittedthat she had made a mistake in judging her mother's oppositiontoo harshly. She often said to her " sister, I am so sorry I publishedthose hard things I wrote of dear mother in my Life of Dick. Itwas her love for me which made her do it. I will cut it out in thenext edition."

154 Ubc "Romance of Isabel Zaog Burtonthey had waited long enough. Isabel was swayed byhis pleading ; more than once she was on the pointof yielding, but she resisted the temptation. Dutyand obedience were always watchwords with her, andshe could not bear the thought of going againsthermother. Her sense of duty warred with her desire.So things see-sawed for nearly a year. And then :" One day in April,1 860, 1 was walking out with twofriends, and a tightening of the heart came over me thatI had known before. I went home, and said to mysister, ' I am not going to see Richard for some time.'She said,*Why, you will see him to-morrow ' *No, ! I*I don't know what is the matter.'shall not,' I said ;A tap came at the door, and a note with the wellknownwriting was put intomy hand. I knew myit. Hefate, and with a deep-drawn breath I openedhad left could not bear the pain of saying good-bye ;would be absent for nine months, on a journey to seeSalt Lake City. He would then come back, and seewhether I had made up my mind to choose betweenhim or my mother, to marry me if I would ;and ifI had not the courage to risk it,he would go backto India, and thence to other explorations, and returnno more. I was to take nine months to thinkabout it." 1This was the last straw to Isabel, and for a time shebroke down utterly.For some weeks she was ill inbed and delirious, heart-sick and hopeless, worn outwith the mental conflict she was going through. Thenshe girded up her strengthfor one last struggle, and1Life of Sir Richard Bur fan, by Isabel his wife, vol. i., p. 337.

fl&eet Hgatn 155when she arose from her bed her purpose was clear andstrong.The first thing she did showed that her mindwas made up. On the plea of change of air she wentinto the country and stayed at a farmhouse. As shehad determined to marry a poor man and also toaccompany him in all his travels, she set herself to roughit and to learn everything which mightfit her for theroving life she was afterwards to lead, so that in thedesert or the backwoods, with servants or without them,she might be qualified for any emergency. In additionto masteringall domestic duties at the farmhouse,heavy and light,she tried her hand at outdoor workas well, and learned how to look after the poultryyardand cattle, to groom the horses, and to milk thecows. Nor did her efforts end here. When she cameback to London, she asked a friend (Dr. Bird) to teachher to fence. He asked her why she wanted to learnfencing. She answered, " Why ? To defend Richard,when he and I are attacked in the wilderness together."Later on Burton himself taught her to fence, and shebecame an expert fencer. At this time also she waseager for books of all kinds. She wanted a wider rangeof reading,so that she might, as she phrased it," beable to discuss things with Richard." This period ofwaiting was, in effect, a period of preparationfor hermarriage with the man she loved, and she pursued herpreparations steadily and quietly without a shadow ofwavering. Nevertheless she fretted a great deal duringthis separation.A friend who knew her at this time hastold me she often looked wretched.. She spent muchtime in fasting and prayer, and there were days when

156 ftbe Vomance of Isabel Xa>g JSurtonshe would eat nothing but vegetableShe used to calland drink water.these her " marrow and water days."One day she saw in the paper" Murder of CaptainBurton." Her anguish was intense. Her motherwent with her to the mail-office to make inquiriesand ascertain the truth. A Captain Burton had beenmurdered by his crew, but it was not Isabel's CaptainBurton. She says, " My life seemed to hang on athread till he [the clerk] answered, and then my facebeamed so the man was quitestartled."is selfish.great grief, SheGreat joy, likegave little thought of the poorman who was killed, the sense of relief was so great.Burton her Burton was at that moment enjoyinghimself with the Mormons in Salt Lake City, where hestayedfor some months. When his tour was completed,he turned his face towards home again and Isabel.

For love is strong as death. The Song of Solomon.CHAPTER X 1AT LAST(18601861)My beloved is mine, and I am his.Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal uponthine arm :IT was Christmas, 1860, that I went to stop with myrelatives, Sir Clifford and Lady Constable (his firstwife, nee Chichester), at Burton Constable the fatherand mother of the presentbaronet. There was a largeparty in the house, and we were singing ;some onepropped up the music with the Times, which had justarrived, and the first announcement that caught myeye was that " Captain R. F. Burton had arrived fromAmerica."I was unable, except by great resolution, to continuewhat I was doing. I soon retired to my room, and satup all night, packing, and conjecturinghow I shouldget awayall my numerous plans tending to a " bolt "next morning should I get an affectionate letter from^his chapter is a condensed account of Lady Burton's marriage,as related by herself in her Life of her husband, with some freshmaterial added.

158 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog ButtonRichard. I received two ;one had been opened andread by somebody else, and one, as it afterwards turnedout, had been burked at home before forwarding. It wasnot an easy matter. I was in a large country ho-ise inYorkshire, with about twenty-five friends and relatives,amongst whom was one brother, and I had heaps ofWe were blocked up with snow, and nineluggage.miles from the station, and (contra migliornoler votermal pugnd)I had heard of his arrival only earlyin theevening, and twelve hours later I managed to get atelegram, ordering me to London, under the impressionthat it was of the most vital importance.What a triumph it is to a woman's heart, when shehas patiently and courageously worked and prayed andsuffered, and the moment is realized that was the goalof her ambition !As soon as we met, and had had our talk, he said :" I have waited for five years.The first three wereinevitable,on account of my journey to Africa, but thelast two were not. Our lives are being spoiled by theunjust prejudice of your mother, and it is for you toconsider whether you have not already done your dutyin sacrificingtwo of the best years of yourlife out ofrespect to her. If once you really let me go, mind, Ishall never come back, because I shall know that youhave not got the strength of character which my wifemust have. Now you must make up your mind tochoose between your mother and me. If you chooseme, we marry, and I stay ; if not, I go back to India,and on other explorations, and I return no more. Isyour answer ready ? "

Ht Xast 159I said, " Quite. Imarry you this day three weeks,let who will say nay."When we fixed the date of our marriage, I wantedto be married on Wednesday, the 23rd, because it wasthe Espousals of Our Lady and St. Joseph ; but hewould not, because Wednesday the 23rd and Fridaythe 13th were our unlucky days ;so we were marriedon the Vigil, Tuesday, January 22.We pictured to ourselves much domestic happiness,with youth, health, courage, and talent to win honour,name, and position. We had the same tastes, andperfect confidence in each other. No one turns awayfrom real happiness without some very strong temptationor delusion. I went straightto myfather andmother, and told them what had occurred. My " fathersaid, I consent with all my heart, if your mother consents";and mother said, "JVSrwr/" I asked allmybrothers and sisters, and they said theywould receivehim with delight. My mother offered me a marriagewith my father and brothers present, my mother andsisters not. I felt that this was a slight upon him, aslight upon his family, and a slur upon me, which Idid not deserve, and I refused it. I went to CardinalWiseman, and I told him the whole case as it stood,and he asked me ifmy mind was absolutely made up,and I said, " Absolutely" Then he said, "Leave thematter to me." He requested Richard to calluponhim, and asked him if he would give him threepromises in writing (i)that I should be allowedthe free practice of my religion ; (2)that if we hadany children they should be brought up Catholics ;

160 Ube IRomance of Isabel Zat>g JSurton(3) that we should be married in the Catholic Church :which three promises Richard readily signed. Healso amused the Cardinal, as the family afterwardslearnt, by saying sharply, " Practise her religion indeed !I should rather think she shall. A man withouta religion may be excused,but a woman without ais not the woman for me." The Cardinalreligionthen sent for me, promised me his protection, said hewould himself procurea special dispensation fromRome, and that he would perform the ceremony himself.He then saw my father, who told him how muchopposed my mother was to it ;that she was threatenedwith paralysis ;that we had to consider her in everypossible way, that she might receive no shocks, noagitation ; but that all the rest quite consented to themarriage.A big family council was then held ;and itwas agreedfar better for Richard and me and for everyone to make all proper arrangements to be marriedand to be attended by friends, and for me to go awayon a visit to some friends, that they might not come tothe wedding, nor participate in it, in order not to agitatemy mother ;that they would break it to her at a suitabletime ;and that the secret of their knowing itshould be kept up as long as mother Jived.

Ht Xast 161ments. Gowns, presents, and wedding pageants hadno partin it,had no place.The following were my reflections l :" The principal and leading features of my futurelife are going to be :" Marriage with Richard."My parents' blessing and pardon."A man-child."An appointment, money earned byliterature andpublishing."A little society." Doinga great deal of good."Much travelling." I have always divided marriage into three classesLove, Ambition, and Life.By Life I mean a particularstyle of life and second self that a peculiar dispositionand strong character requireto make life happy,and without which possiblyneither Love alone norAmbition alone would satisfyit. And I love aman in whom I can unite all three, Love, Life,own choice. Some understandand Ambition, of myAmbition as Title, Wealth, Estates I;understand it asFame, Name, Power. I have undertaken a very peculiarman ;I have asked a difficult mission of God, and thatis to give me that man's body and soul. It is a grandmission ;and after ten years and a half of prayer Godhas givenit to me. Now we must lead a good, useful,active, noble life, and be each other's salvation ;and ifwe have children, bring them upin the fear of God.The first thing to be done is to obtain my parents'1From her devotional book Lamed.VOL. I. II

i6aUbe IRomance of Isabel Xao$> Burtonpardon and blessing for going my own way ; the next,to pray for a child to comfort me when he is absent andcannot take me ; and, thirdly, to set to work with a goodheart to work for an appointment or other means ofliving.We must do any amount of study and publishing,take societyin moderation as a treat ;we must dogood according to our means ;and when successful wewill travel. Myrules as a wife are as follows :IRules for mg (Butoance as a Wife." I . Let your husband find in you a companion, friend,and adviser, and confidante, that he may miss nothing athome ;and let him find in the wife what he and manyother men fancy is only to be found in a mistress, thathe may seek nothing out of his home." 2. Be a careful nurse when he is ailing,that he maynever be in low spirits about his health without a seriouscause." 3.Make his home snug.If it be ever so small andpoor, there can always be a certain chic about it. Menare always ashamed of a poverty-stricken home, andtherefore preferthe club. Attend much to his creaturecomforts ; allow smoking or anything else ;for if youdo not, somebody else will. Make it yourself cheerfuland attractive, and draw relations and intimates abouthim, and the style of society (literati) that suits him,marking who are real friends to him and who are not." 4. Improve and educate yourself in every way, thatyou may enter into his pursuits and keep pace withthe times, that he may not weary of you.

Bt %ast 163"5. Be prepared at any moment to follow him at anhour's notice and roughit like a man." 6. Do not try to hide your affection for him, butlet him see and feel it in every action. Never refusehim anything he asks. Observe a certain amount ofreserve and delicacy before him. Keep up the honeymoonromance, whether at home or in the desert. Atthe same time do not make prudish bothers, which onlydisgust, and are not true modesty. Do not make themistake of neglecting your personal appearance, but tryto look well and dress well to pleasehis eye."7. Perpetually work up his interests with the world,whether for publishing or for appointments. Let himfeel, when he has to go away,self in charge of his affairs at home ;he isthat he leaves a secondso that if sometimesobliged to leave you behind, he may have nothingof anxiety on his mind. Take an interest in everythingthat interests him. To be companionable, a womanmust learn what interests her husband ;and if it is onlyplanting turnips, she must try to understand turnips." 8. Never confide your domestic affairs to your femalefriends."9. Hide his faults from every one, and back himup through every difficulty and trouble ;but with hispeculiar temperament advocate peace whenever it isconsistent with his honour before the world." 10. Never permit any one to speak disrespectfully ofhim before you ;and if any one does, no matter howdifficult, leave the room. Never permit any one to tellyou anything about him, especially of hisconduct withregard to other women. Never hurt his feelings by

164 Ube IRomance of Isabel Xaos JSurtona rude remark or jest.Never answer when he findsfault ;and never reproach him when he is in the wrong,especially when he tells you of nor it,take advantage ofit when you are angry ; and always keep his heart upwhen he has made a failure."11. Keepalldisagreements for your own room,and never let others find them out."12. Never ask him not to do anything for instance,with regard to visiting other women, or any one youparticularly dislike ;trust him, and tell him everything,except another person's secret."13. Do not bother him with religious talk, bereligious yourself and give good example,take lifeseriously and earnestly, pray for and procure prayersfor him, and do allyou can for him without hisknowing it, and let allyour life be something that willwin mercy from God for him. You might try to saya little prayer with him every night before laying downto sleep,and gently draw him to be good to the poorand more gentle and forbearingto others." 14. Cultivate your own good health, spirits,andnerves, to counteract his naturally melancholy turn,and to enable you to carry out your mission."15. Never openhis letters, nor appear inquisitiveabout anything he does not volunteer to tell you." 1 6. Never interfere between him and his family;encourage their being with him, and forward everythinghe wishes to do for them, and treat them in everyrespect (as far as they will let you) as if they wereyour own." 17. Keep everything going, and let nothing ever

Ht %ast 165be at a standstill :nothing would wearystagnation." 1him likeRichard arranged with my own lawyer and my ownpriest that everything should be conducted in a strictlylegaland strictly religious way, and the whole programmeof the affair was prepared. A very solemnday to me was the eve of my marriage. The followingday I was supposed to be going to pass a fewweeks with a friend in the country.At nine o'clock on Tuesday, January 22, 1861,box on it. Imy cab was at the door, with myhad to go and wish my father and mother good-byebefore leaving.I went downstairs with abeatingheart, after I had knelt in my own room, and said afervent prayer that they might bless me, and if theydid I would take it as a sign.I was so nervous, Icould scarcely stand. When I went in mother kissedme, and " said, Good-bye, child ;God bless "youI!went to my father's bedside, and knelt down and saidgood-bye." God bless "you, my darling he ! said, andput his hand out of the bed and laid it on my head. Iwas too much overcome to speak, and one or two tearsran down my cheeks, and I remember as I passed downIkissed the door outside.I then ran downstairs, and quickly got intomycab, and drove to the house of some friends (Dr. and1She wrote in her book Lamed in 1864: "All has beencarried out by God's help, with the only exception that He saw it wasnot good to give us children, for which we are now most gratefulWhatever happens to us is always for the best."

166 zibe iRomancc ot Isabel Xa&p JBurtonMiss Bird), where I changed my clothes not weddingclothes (clothes which most brides of to-day wouldprobably laugh at)a fawn-coloured dress, a black-lacecloak, and a white bonnet and they and I drove offto the Bavarian Catholic Church, Warwick Street.When assembled, we were altogether a party of eight.The Registrar was there for legality,as is customary.Richard was waiting on the doorstep for me, and as wewent in he took holy water, and made a very largesign of the cross. The church doors were wide open,and full of and people, many were there who knew us.As the 10.30 Mass was about to begin we were calledinto the Sacristy,and we then found that the Cardinalin the night had been seized with an acute attack of theillness which carried him off four years later, and haddeputed Dr. Hearne, his Vicar-General, to be his proxy.After the ceremony was over and the names signed,we went back to the house of our friend Dr. Bird andhis sister Alice, who have always been our bestfriends,where we had our wedding breakfast. During thetime we were breakfasting Dr. Bird began to chaffRichard about the things that were sometimes said ofhim, and which were not true. "Now, Burton, tellme, how do youfeel when you have killed a man ? "Dr. Bird (beinga physician) had given himself awaywithout knowing it. Richard looked up quizzically,and drawled out," Oh, quite jolly! Howdo you?" *1Miss Alice Bird, who knew Sir Richard and Lady Burton for manyyears, has told roe the following details about the wedding. TheBirds were friends of the Arundell family, and Isabel came to themand told them how matters stood with regard to Mrs. Arundell'sopposition and her ill-health, and asked if she might be married

LADY BURTON AT THE TIME OF HER MARRIAGE. (Pg e '66-

at Xast 167We then went to Richard'sbachelor lodgings, wherehe had a bedroom, dressing-room, and sitting-room ;and we had very few pounds to bless ourselves with,but were as happy as it is given to any mortals outof heaven to be. The fact is,that the only clandestinething about it and that was quite contrary tomy desire was that my poor mother, with her healthand her religious scruples, was kept in the dark ;but Imust thank God, though paralysiscame on two yearslater,it was not I that caused it.To say that I was happy would be to say nothing.A peace came over me that I had never known. I feltthat it was for eternity, an immortal repose, and I wasin a bewilderment of wonder at the goodness of God,Who had almost worked miracles for me.from their house, and so, to use her own phrase," throw the mantleof respectability over the marriage," to prevent people saying that itwas a runaway match. Dr. Bird and his sister gladly consented ;they accompanied her to the church, and when the ceremony wasover the newly wedded couple returned to their house in WelbeckStreet, where they had a simple luncheon, which did duty for thewedding breakfast.After luncheon was over Isabel and her husband walked off downWelbeck Street to their lodging in St. James's, where they settleddown without any fuss whatever. She had sent her boxes on aheadin a four-wheeler. That evening a bachelor friend of Burton'scalled in at the lodging in St. James's, and found Isabel seatedthere, in every sense mistress of the situation, and Burton proudlyintroduced her as " My wife." They did not send the friend away,but kept him there to smoke and have a chat with them.

BOOK IIWEDDED(18611890)" Ellati Zaujuhd ma'aha Vtadir el Kamar Vasbiha"(" The woman who has her husband with her can turn the moonwith her finger.")169

CHAPTER IFERNANDO PO(18611863)I praise thee while my days go on;I love thee while my days go on ;Through dark and death, through fire and frost,With emptied arms and treasure lost,I thank thee while my days go on.ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.not now as much asIN fiction (though perhapsisformerly) marriage often treated as the end ofall things in a woman's life, and the last chapter windsup with the " happy ever after," like the concludingscene of a melodrama. But in this romance of IsabelBurton, this drama of real life, marriage was but thebeginning of the second and more important half ofher life. It was the blossoming of love's flower, theexpanding of her womanhood,the fulfilment of herdestiny. For such a marriage as hers was a sacramentconsecrated by love; it was a knitting together, a oneness,a union of body, soul, and spirit,of thought, feeling,and inclination, such as is not often given to mortals toenjoy.But then Burton was no ordinary man, nor washis wife an ordinary woman. She often said he was171

172 TTbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurton" the only man in the world who could manage me,"and to this itmay be added that she was the onlywoman in the world who would have suited him. Noother woman could have held him as she did. Thevery qualities which made her different to the ordinaryrun of women were those which made her the idealwife for a man like Richard Burton. The eagle doesnot mate with the domestic hen, and inIsabel's unconventionaland adventurous temperament Burton sawthe reflex of his own. Though holding different viewson some things, they had the same basic principles ;andthough their early environment and education had beenwidely different, yet Nature, the greatestforce of all,had brought them together and blended them into one.It was a union of affinities. Isabel merged her life inher husband's. She sacrificed everything to him savetwo thingsher rare individuality, and her fervent faithin her religion.The first she could not an she would ;the second she would not an she could ;and to hishonour be it said he never demanded it of her. Butin all else she was his absolutely ;her passionateideals, the treasure of her love, her life'sallhappinesswere his to cherish or to mar as he might please. Shehad a high ideal of the married"state. I think," shewrites, " a true woman who is married to her propermate recognizesthe fully performed mission, whetherprosperous or not, and no one can ever take his placefor her as an interpreter of that which is between herand her Creator, to her the shadow of God's protectionhere on earth." And her conception of a wife's dutywas an equallyunselfish one, for she wrote of the

jfernanfco ipo 173beginning of her married life : " Ibegan to feel, whatI have always felt since, that he was a glorious, statelyship in full sail,allcommandingattention and admiration,and sometimes, if the wind drops,she still sailsgallantly, and no one sees the humble little steam-tughidden on the other side, with her strongheart andfaithful arms working forth, and gloryingin her proudand stately ship."Very soon after her marriageIsabel was reconciledto her mother. It came about in this wise. Mrs.Arundell thought she had gone away on a visit to somefriends in the country, and told her friends so ;but aweek or two after the marriage one of Isabel's aunts,Monica Lady Gerard, heard of her going into a lodgingin St. James's, and immediately rushed off to tell Mrs.Arundell that Isabel could not be stayingin the country,as was supposed, and she feared she had elopec\orsomething of the kind. Mrs.Arundell, in an agony offear, telegraphed to her husband, who was then stayingwith some friends, and he wired back to" her, Sheis married to Dick Burton, and thank God for it."Healso wrote, enclosing a letter Burton had written to himon the day of the marriage, announcing the fact, andhe asked his wife to send one of Isabel's brothers (whoknew the Burtons' address) to them and be reconciled.Mrs. Arundell was so much relieved that a worse thinghad not befallen Isabel thatshe sent for the truant pairat once. She was not a woman to do things by halves ;and recognizing that the inevitable had happened, andthat for weal or woe the deed was done, she receivedboth Isabel and her husband with the utmostkindness,

i?4 TEbe "Romance of Isabel Xaop JSurtonand expressed her regretthat she should have opposedthe marriage.The statement that she never forgaveBurton is incorrect. On the contrary, she forgave himat once, and grewto like him greatly, always treatinghim as a son. She gave a family party to introduceBurton to his wife's relations, and there was a generalreconciliation all round.For seven months after their marriageIsabel and herhusband continued to live, off and on, at their littletwo birds in a nest.lodgings in St. James's, as happy asBut the problem of ways and means had early to beconsidered. Now that Burton had taken unto himselfa wife,it became imperatively necessary that he shouldto some extent forego his wandering habits and settledown to earn something to maintain her in the positionin which she had been accustomed to live. He hada small patrimony and his pay in all about 350 a;year.With the help Isabel's friends would have given,this might have sufficed to begin matrimonyIn the ordinary course of events, Burton, like any otherin India.officer in the service, would have returned to India, rejoinedhis regiment, and taken his wife out with him.The money difficulty alone would not have stood in theway. But there were other difficulties, as Burton knewwell ;the strong prejudice againsthim (an unjust one, Ibelieve, but none the less real)made it hopeless for himto expect promotionin the Indian army. So he didwhat was undoubtedly the best thing under the circumstances.He determined not to return to India, and heapplied for a post in the Consular Service,with theresult that in March, some three months after his

jfernanto Ipo 175marriage, he was offered the post of Consul at FernandoPo, on the west coast of Africa a deadly climate, and700 a year.He cheerfully accepted it,as he wasonly too glad to get his foot on the lowest rung ofthe official ladder. He was told to hold himself inreadiness to leave in August ; and as the climate ofFernando Po was almost certain death to a white woman,he would not allow his young wife to accompany him.So the bliss of the first months of their wedded lifewas overshadowed by the thought of approachingseparation.In acceptingthe offer of Fernando Po, Burton wroteto the Foreign Office 1 :" Myconnexion with H.M.'sIndian army has now lasted upwards of nineteen years,and I am unwilling to retire without pension or sellingout of my corps.If therefore my name could beretained upon the list of my regiment as, for instance,is the case with H.M.'s Consul at Zanzibar I shouldfeel deeply indebted." A reasonable request truly.Lord John Russell, who was then Secretary of Statefor Foreign Affairs, and who had given Burton theConsulship, caused his applicationthe proper quarter the Bombayto be forwarded toGovernment. Butthe authorities in India refused to entertain Burton'sthey struck his name off the Indian Armyapplication ;List ;and in thisway the whole of his nineteen years'service in India was swept away without pay or pension.If the brutal truth must be told, they were only tooglad to seize on this excuse to get rid of him. Butthat does not palliate their conduct ;it was well said,1Letter to Foreign Office, March 27, 1861.

176 be "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurton" His enemies may be congratulated on their mingledmalice and meanness."With regard to Fernando Po, Icannot take the viewthat Burton was ill-treated in not gettinga better post;on the contrary, takingall the circumstances intoconsideration, he was fortunate in obtainingthis one.For what were the facts ? He had undoubtedly distinguishedhimself as an explorer, as a linguist, and asa writer ;but his Indian career had been a failure.He had managed to give offence in high quarters, andhe was viewed with disfavour. On quitting one serviceunder a cloud, he could not at once expect to receivea pick appointment in another. As a Consul he wasyet an untried man. There is little doubt that evenFernando Po was given him through the influence ofhis wife. It was the same throughout his after-career ;his wife's unceasing efforts on his behalf helped himup every step of the official ladder, and shielded himmore than once from the full force of the officialdispleasure.There isnothing like a brilliant andbeautiful wife to help a man on ;and so Burton foundit. He had done many clever and marvellous thingsduring his life, but the best day'swork he ever didfor himself was when he married Isabel Arundell. Hismarriage was in fact his salvation. It steadied himdown and gave him some one to work for and someone to love, and it did more than anything else to givethe lie to the rumours againsthim which were floatingabout. No longer an Ishmael, he entered an ancientand honoured family. Many who would not havemoved a finger to help Burton were willingto do

jfernanfco ipo 177anything in their power for his wife ;and as she caredfor only one thing, her husband's interests, he securedtheir influence in his favour.When the London season came round, the Burtons,despite their limited means, went a gooddeal intosociety.The story of their romantic marriage gotabroad, and many friends were ready to take them bythe hand. The late Lord Houghton was especiallykind. He asked Lord Palmerston, who was thenPrime Minister, to givea party in their honour ;andIsabel was the bride of the evening, and went downto dinner on the Prime Minister's arm. Shortly afterthis she was presented at Court, "on her marriage,"by Lady John Russell.There had been some little doubt in Isabel's mindconcerning her presentation, as the Queen made it arule then (and may do so now, for all I know) thatshe would not receive at Court any bride who hadmade a runaway marriage. Isabel's was hardly arunaway marriage,as she married with her father'sknowledge and consent. Still it was not quite a usualone, and she was very glad when her presentation atCourt removed any doubt in this respect, especiallyasshe looked forward to living abroad in the future, anddifficulties might arise as to her attending a foreigncourt if she were not received at her own. She wantedto help her husband in every way.Concerning her presentation Mrs. Fitzgerald hastold me the following anecdote. Isabel's one thoughtwas how to please her husband, and she was alwaysyearning to win his approval.A word of praise fromVOL. i. 12

178 TTbe "Romance of Seabel Xaog JSurtonhim was the sweetest thing in life. Burton, however,though proud and fond of her, was of anything but aneffusive nature, and his praises of any one were fewand far between. When she was dressed for her firstDrawing-Room and very handsome she looked, abeautiful woman beautifully dressed she went to showherself to her husband. He looked at her critically ;and though he was evidently delighted with her appearance,said nothing, which was a great disappointmentto her. But as she was leaving the room she overheardhim say to her mother, " La jeune femme n'a rien acraindre " ;and she went down to the carriageradiantand happy.The Burtons were such an unconventional couplethat there was a good deal of curiosity among theiracquaintances as to how they would get on, and allsorts of conjectures were made. Many of Burton'sbachelor friends told one another" frankly, It won'tlast. She will never be able to hold him.'* Shortlyafter her marriage one of her girlfriends took heraside and asked her in confidence, " Well, Isabel, howdoes it work ? Can you manage him ? Does he evercome home at night ? " "Oh," said Isabel, " it worksvery well indeed, and he always comes home with themilk in the morning." Of course this was only injoke, for Burton was a man of most temperate life,andafter his marriage, at any rate, he literally forsook allothers and cleaved only to his wife.About this time a calamitybefell them in Grindlay'sfire, in which they lost everything they had in theworld, except the few personal belongings in their

ffernan&o |po 179lodgings. All Burton's manuscripts were destroyed.He took it philosophically enough, and said, " Well, itis a greatbore ;but I dare say that the world will benone the worse for some of the manuscripts havingbeen burnt." His wife notes this as" a prophetic"speech ;and so it was, when we remember the fateof The Scented Garden thirty years after.The London season came to an end sooner in thosedays than it does now, and the end of June found theBurtons embarked on a round of visits in countryhouses. One of the houses they visited at the time wasFryston, Lord Houghton's, and here they met manyof the most celebrated people of the day ; for wit andbeauty, rank and talent, met on common ground aroundthe table of him "whom men call Lord Houghton,but the gods Monckton Milnes." Isabel always lookedback on these first seven months of her marriage asthe happiest of her life.They were one long honeymoon," a gre^toasis " ; and she " adds, Even if I hadhad no other, it would have been worth living for."But alas ! the evil day of parting came all too soon.In August Burton had to sail for Fernando Po " theForeign Office grave," as it was called and had perforceto leave his young wife behind him. She went downto Liverpool with him to see him off, and the agonyof that firstparting is best expressedin her ownwords :"I was to go out, not now, but later, and thenperhaps not to land, and to return and ply up anddown between Madeira and TenerifFe and London ;and I, knowing he had Africa at his back, was in a

i8oUbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog Burtonconstant agitationfor fear of his doing more of theseexplorations into unknown lands. There were abouteighteen men (West African merchants), and everybodytook him away from me, and he had made me promisethat if I was allowed to go on board and see himoff I would not cry and unman him. It was blowinghard and raining.There was one man who was inconsiderateenough to accompany and stick to us the wholetime, so that we could not exchange a word. (How Ihated him !)I went down below, and unpacked histhings, and settled his cabin, and saw to the arrangementof his luggage. My whole life and soul were inthat good-bye, and I found myself on board the tug,which flew faster and faster from the steamer. I saw awhite handkerchief go upto his face. I then drove toa spot where I could see the steamer till she becamea dot." 1Burton was absent eighteen months, working hardat his duties as Consul on the west coast of Africa.During that time Isabel lived with her parents at14, Montagu Place, W. It was a hard thingto beexiled from her husband ;but she did not waste hertime in idle repining. Burton left her plenty of workto do, and she did it thoroughly. In the first place,shefought hard, though unsuccessfully, against the decisionGovernment to remove Burton's nameof the Bombayfrom the Indian Army List. In the next place, shearranged for the publication of his book on theMormons. Surely not a very congenialtask for a1Life of Sir Richard Burton, by Isabel his wife, voL i.,PP- 348. 349-

jfernanfco jpo 181young wife of seven months with an absent husband, forthe book was largelya defence of polygamy But what-!ever Burton told her to do she did. She also executedhis divers commissions which came by every mail.Oneof them was to go to Paris in January, 1862, on aspecial mission, to present to the Emperor and Empressof the French some relics of the great Napoleon alock of his hair, a sketch of a plastercast taken afterhis death which had come into the possession of theBurton family,also a complete set of Burton's works,and to ask for an audience of them. She left her letterand presents atthe Tuileries, and her audience was notgranted. She blamed herself bitterlyat the time, andput the failure of her mission of courtesy down to" want of experience and proper friends and protection."But the truth of the matter is,that she ought never tohave been sent on such an unnecessary errand, for itwas notone in which she or any one could have beenexpected to succeed. Nevertheless Burton's relativesmade themselves very unpleasant about it, and worriedIsabel most cruelly concerning the loss of their triflingrelics. And itmay be remarked here that Burton's nearrelatives, both his sister and his niece, always dislikedIsabel, and never lost an opportunity of girding againsther. One of them has even carried this rancoroushostility beyond the grave. These ladies were jealousof Isabel-jealous of her superior social position, of herbeauty, her fascinations, and above all jealous of herinfluence over her husband. Whythis should havebeen so it is impossible to say, for Burton did not geton very well with his relatives, and made a point of

182 ZTbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog 3Burtonseeing as little of them as possible. Perhaps theythought it was Isabel who kept him away but it was;not. Fortunately it is not necessary to enter into thedetails of a sordid family squabble. To do so wouldbe to weary, and not to edify.Following the annoyance to which she was subjectedby her husband's relatives came another of a differentnature. There were many who heard, and some whorepeated, rumours against Burton which had beencirculated by Speke and others. One candid friendmade it his business to retail some of these to Isabel(one to the effect that her husband was " keeping a"seraglio out at Fernando Po), and gave her a gooddeal of gratuitous and sympathetic advice as to howshe ought to act. But Isabel refused to listen to anythingagainst her husband, and spurned the sympathyand advice, declaring that "any one who could listento such lying tales was no friend of hers," and sheclosed the acquaintance forthwith.Despite her brave words there is no doubt thatshe fretted a good deal through the months that followed.Her depression was further aggravated by aOne day in October, whensharp attack of diphtheria.she could bear the loneliness and separation from herhusband no longer,she went down to the ForeignOffice, and cried her heart out to SirHenry (thenMr.) Layard. Her distress touched the official'sheart, for he asked her to wait while he went upstairs.Presently Mr. Layard came back, saying he had gotfour months' leave for Burton, and had ordered thedispatch to be sent off that very afternoon. She says,

jfernan&o jpo 183" I could have thrown my arms around his neck andkissed him, but I did not ;he might have beenIsurprised. had to go and sit out in the Green Parktill the excitement wore off; it was more to me than ifhe had given me a large fortune."In December Burton returned home after anabsence of eighteen months, and his wife went toLiverpool to meet him. We may imagine her joy.Christmas was spentat Wardour Castle (LordArundell's), a large family gathering then ; they wentto Garswood to stay with Lord Gerard ;he was Isabel'suncle, and always her staunch friend.Burton's leave spedall too soon ;and when thetime came for his departure, his wife told him that shecould not possibly go on livingas she had been living." One's husband in a place where I am not allowed togo, and I living with my mother like a girl.I amneither maid, nor wife, nor widow." So he arrangedto take her with him as far as Teneriffe at any rate.As they were to leave from Liverpool, they stayed atGarswood, which was hard by, untilthem to sail.the daycame for

CHAPTER II 1MADEIRA(1863)The smallest bark on life's tumultuous oceanWill leave a track behind for evermore;The slightest wave of influence set in motionExtends and widens to the eternal shore.ISTARTED from Liverpool on a bleak morningin January with many a " God-speed," and inpossession of many aids to enjoyment, youth, health,strength, and the society of a dearly loved husband,whose companionshipis a boon not often bestowedupon mortals in this nether world.After the inevitable wettings from spray, and the ropewhich gets wrong, and the hat which blows over, andthe usual amount of hilarityas if it were a new thingat the dishevelled head of one's fellow-creature, weset foot on board the African steamship Spartan atip.m. We had still two hours in the Mersey, sowe formed a little knot on deck, and those who knewRichard gathered around us. There was much joking1The chapters on Madeira and Teneriffe are compiled frommanuscripts which Lady Burton wrote on her return from Teneriffein 1863, but which her husband would not allow her to publish.184

fl&afcefra 185as to the dirty weather we should meet outside (howdirty we of the land little guessed), and as to Admiral"Fitzroy's biggest storm that was ever known," as dulyannounced in the Times, for the 3

1 86 Ube iRomance of Isabel Xafcs JBurtonHe was a married man, and had left his wife atLiverpool.I shall never forget the horrors of that night.Every berth was full ;so much so that our captain,with a chivalry and forgetfulness of self which deserveshis own cabin torecording in letters of gold, gave upRichard and myself, that we might not be separatedan hour sooner than necessity compelled us to be, andencountered the fatigue of his long duties on deck, andthe discomforts and anxieties of ten days' bad weather,with no shelter but a chance berth or the saloon sofa.During that night one tremendous sea stove in thedoors of the main cabin, fillingthe saloon and berthswith water. The lights were extinguished ; thingscame unshipped ; all the little comforts and treasureswere floatingat the top, leaving few dry garments outof the " hold," which would not be openedtill ourarrival at Madeira. There arose on that confusednight a Babel of sounds ; strong languagefrom themen-sufferers, conjuring the steward to bring lights,and the weaker sex callingfor their protectors, andendeavouring to find them in the dark. One youngand prettylittle woman, almost a child, recently married,in her fright rushed into the saloon in her nightdress,callingfor her husband. A brutal voice answered herin the chaos that she need never hope to see him again,for he had " fallen overboard " and was " clinging onoutside." The poorlittle creature (she was onlysixteen) believed the voice, and, with the energy ofdespair, forced the door of her husband's cabin, andthere she remained with him, and ere long had an

flfoafceira 187epilepticand fit, also another during the first ten days,doubtless accelerated by this act of brutality.I regretto sayit was committed by a naval officer who wastipsy.Another sonorous voice bid us " die likeChristians " ;but I don't think that was any sentimentof the speaker's. Ever and anon the dismal scene wasinterlarded with " short and crisp"sentences, not comforting,such " as, We " can't live long in such a sea asthis " We're;going to the bad " "; Won't the captainput into " "Holyhead ? There go the pumps we'veseven feet of water in the hold " (when we stopped andreversed, to try and rescue the " quartermaster)The;water has got into our engines, and we can't go on " ;" There's the carpenter hammeringthe captain's cabinis stove in," etc., etc. A rich lady gave the stewardess^5 to hold her hand all night, so the rest of us poorerones had to do without that matron's ministrations.I crawled to my cabin, and, as I lay there tremblingand sea-sick, something tumbled againstthe door,rolled in, and sank on the floor. It was the tipsy navalofficer. I could not rise, I could not shut the door, Icould not tug him out ;so I lay there. When Richard,who was lending a hand at the pumps, had finished hiswork, he crawled along the decks till he got to thecabin, where the sea had swamped through the opendoor " "pretty considerably. Hullo ! What's that ? hesaid. I managed faintly to ejaculate, " The tipsynavalofficer." He picked him up by the scruff of the neck,and, regardless of consequences, he propelled him witha good kick behind all down the deck, and shut thedoor. He said, The captain says we can't live more

1 88 trbe Romance of Isabel Za&s Kurtonthan two hours in such a sea as this." At first I hadbeen frightenedthat I should die, but now I was onlyfrightened that I shouldn't, and I uttered" feebly, Oh,"thank God it will be over so soon ! I shall neverforget how angryhe was with me because I was notfrightened, and gave me quite a sermon.On Thursday, the 29th, we skirted the Bay of Biscay,and the ship rolled heavily.I was very much impressedby the grandeur of the gigantic billows of the Atlanticwhile skirtingthe Bay, not short, chopping waves,such as I had seen in the Channel and Mediterranean,but more like the undulations of a prairie, a high risingground surrounding you at a distance, and, while youare in its depression, shutting out all from your view,until the next long roller makes you reverse theposition, and feel " monarch of allyou survey," or,rather, liken yourself to a midgein a walnut shell sodeeply are you impressed by the size and force of thewaves, the smallness of yourself and ship, and themagnitude of the Almighty power. About four o'clockthe sea grew more and more inky, and it was evidentlybrewing up for Admiral Fitzroy's storm, which sooncame and lasted us tillSaturday and those who had;ventured to raise their heads from their sea-sickpillowshad to laythem down again.Saturday , 3U/. We had been a week at sea, andfor the first time itbegan to get fine and enjoyable.We were due this day at Madeira ;but on accountof the gales delaying us, it was not possiblethat weshould land before Monday. The next day, Sunday,was truly pleasant.Our passengers were a curious

189mixture. Out of the seven ladies on board, two werewives of Protestant missionaries, excellent men, whohad done goodservice of their kind at Sierra Leoneand Abeokuta, and were returning with young andpretty wives. The thirty-two men passengers were ofall kinds military, naval, official, clergymen, invalids,five black people, and " Coast Lambs," as the palm-oilmerchants are ironically termed. We formed a littleknot of a picked half-dozen at the top of the table, and" feeding time " was the principal event of the day.A laughable incident occurred one day on board atdinner. There was a very simple-minded Quaker, witha large hat, who had evidently been browsing on theheather in the north all his life, and on this occasion afine plum-pudding, swimming in lighted brandy, wasput upon the table at second course. The poor Quakerhad never seen this dish before, and in a great state ofexcitement he" exclaimed, Oh, my God ! the pudding's"on fire ! and clapped his largehat over the pudding,and put it out, amidst roars of laughter, which had tobe explained to him when his fright was over. Afterdinner we formed whist parties. In fine weathercushions and railway-rugs covered the deck, and knotsof loungers gathered under gigantic umbrellas, readingor talking or working, and also in the evening moonlight,when the missionaries chanted hymns. OnSunday there was Protestant service in the saloon,and those of other faiths did their private devotionson deck.Monday morning, February 2. We dropped ouranchor a quarter of a mile from the town of Funchal.

190 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaos BurtonWe rose at six, had a cup of coffee, packed up ourwater-proof bags, and went on deck to get a firstglimpse of Madeira. A glorious sight presented itself,producing a magical effect upon the cold, wet, dirty,sea-sick passenger who had emerged from his atrociousnative climate but ten days before. Picture to yourselfa deep blue sky, delicately tinted at the horizon,not a cloud to be seen, the ocean as blue as theMediterranean.There was a warm sun, and a soft andsweet-smelling breeze from the land, as of aromaticherbs. Arising out of the bosom of the ocean insplendour, a quarter of a mile off, but looking infinitelyless distant, were dark mountain masses with fantasticpeaks and wild, rugged sides, sharply defined against thesky and streaked with snow, making them resemble thefanciful castles and peaks we can imagine in the clouds.The coast to the sea is thick with brilliant vegetation;dark soil basalt and red tufa are its colours with thevariegated green of fir, chestnut, dark pine forests, andthe gaudy sugar-cane. Here and there a belt of firsruns up a mountain, winding like a serpent, and is itsonly ornament. Wild geraniums, and other flowerswhich only growin a hothouse in England, and badlytoo, are in wild luxuriance here. The island appears tobe dotted everywhere with churches, villas, and hamletslittle gardens and patches of trees intermingled withthem. There are three immense ravines, deep anddark ;and these with all the pleasant additions ofbirds, butterflies, and flowers of every sort and colour,a picturesque, good-humoured peasantry busy on thebeach, and a little fleet of fishing-boats, with their large

white lagoon sails, like big white butterflies on theblue water. Most of the capes are immense precipicesof rock.Nestling at the toot of this mountain amphitheatre,and washed by the bay, straggling lengthways and upand down, is Funchal, with its brilliant white houses andgreen facings glitteringin the sun. You almost wonderwhether your last unpleasant three months in Englandand your ten days' voyage had been reality ;whetheryou had not been supping upon cold fish, and had justawakened from a clammy nightmare to a day such asthe Almighty meant our days to be, such was one'ssenseof vitalityand immense power of enjoymentatthe change.The landing was great fun, the runningof the boatsupon the beach being very difficult in a heavy surge.Richard and Imanaged to land, however, without awetting,and went to the hotel.When we had unpacked, eaten, and bathed, and hadbegun to shake off the desagremens of our bad voyage,we had time to enjoya pleasant, lazy day, loungingabout, and luxuriatingin our happy change fromEngland and the ship. Later on in the day there wasa little mist over the mountains, like the soft muslinveil thrown over a beautiful bride, shading her brilliantbeauty, greatly to her advantage, leavinga little ofit to the imagination. I beg a bride's pardon. Howcould there be a bride without a Brussels lace veil ?Shall I change the simile to that of a first communicant,and compare the belt of white thin cloud below themountains, and that delicate mist, which throws such

192 TCbe Romance of Isabel Xaog jBurtonenchanting shadows on the mountain-sides and precipices,to the " "dim religious light of the sunset hour,when the lamp is replenished ? For the sun is setting,and bathes the sea and coast in a glorious light, deepensthe shade of the ravines, and shows off the dark, luxuriantfoliage.I can only venture upon describinga few of theexcursions we were able to make during our stayat Madeira.We started one fine morningin a boat with fouroars and rowed from Funchal, coasting along nearthe cliff to Machico, which is twelve miles. Ourmen were chatty and communicative, and informed usthat the devil came there at night when they wereoutfishing (I suppose originally the ingenious device of asmuggler) and their ; superstition was genuine. Wehad two hours of rough walking, when we arrivedat Machico, and marched through the town with ahundred followers, allclamouring for money. Werejoined our boat at 4 p.m., in the clattergreatest oftalk and laughI ever heard. Our sailors, elated bytwo shillings'-worth of bad wine, were very chatty andvocal. We put upa sail, but there was not breezeenough to fill it. We chatted and read alternately;watched the beautiful hour that struggles between dayand nightbeautiful to the happy, and much to bedreaded to the desolate. The setting sun bathed thedark basalt and red tufa cliffs in his red and purpleglory.The stragglingwhite town glitteredin the clearand brilliantlight, with its dark green background.The mountain-edges were sharp againstthe clear, soft

flfcafcetra 193sky.That indescribable atmosphere which blackensthe ravines and softens all the other beauties came overthe island. The eveningstar was as large and brilliantas the Koh-i-noor ;and the full moon, rising graduallyfrom behind Cape Garajao, pouredits beams down thethe sea. As wemountain, and threw its track uponneared Funchal the aromatic smell of the land waswafted toward us, and with it a sound of the tinklingof bells ;and a procession of torches wound like aserpent out of a church on a rock overhanging thesea. It was the Blessed Sacrament being carried to adying man.Our second boat excursion was to Cape Giram, acliff some two thousand feet high, with the appearanceof having been originally a high hill, cut in two bysome convulsion of Nature. There was a lovely waterfall,and its silvery foam absolutely looked artificial,like the cascade of a theatre, as it streamed incessantlydown a bed of long grass of a very pretty green, whichit seemed to have made for itself to course down. Ihad no idea of the height; but having suddenly exclaimedto Richard, who was my maztre-d'armes, " Iwish I had brought my pistols with me, I should liketo pick off those two gulls," to my horror, ourboatman hailed somebody, and a small voice echoedback. ^ The" "gulls were two Portuguese peasantsgathering herbs for their cow.Our last expedition, and best, was to Pico Arriere,the second highest point in the island. We had wishedvery much to ascend the highest, but that involvedthe six days' excursion, which we could not do ;so weVOL. i.13

194 ^be "Romance ot Isabel Xaos Burtonresolved to try the second, faufe de mieux, which couldbe done without sleeping out. With the usual horsesand guides we started from Funchal, and proceeded toascend.After an hour and a half we come to a littleeminence, and the rough work is going to commence.The air begins to change wonderfully. The horizonnow assumes the punch- bowl shape and; I, standingon one side of the imaginary basin, but not quitesohigh as the rim, describe my impressions. Behind andabove us were the peaks, around us the mountainsclad with forests ;a fine, bold shore, with its highbasalt and tufa cliffs ;a long way below us the quintas,gardens, farms, thatched huts, littlepatches of sugarcaneof an enchanting green, fields looking very small,dwarf plains, watercourses, cascades, channels, and deep,abrupt ravines ;the beautiful little town at the bottomof the basin, and the roadstead ; the open sea, withwhite sails glittering on the blue water, appears to berunning up the other side ;the Desertas seeminglyhanging midway between heaven and earth ;andcrowned by a glorious sky, warm sun, pure air, andsea-breeze. I feel so glad,I could shout Hallelujahfor joy.The horses have breathed while I made thesemental notes, and now we start again on the hard andbroken road, which seems interminable. The horsesdon't like the cold, nor the men either. We do !(Wehave been some time in the snow, which descendsto the unusual depth of three thousand feet.)Thehorses make a stand, and we dismount and walk (itappeared an immense tillway) the road ceases and

195the actual mountain ascent begins.One guide wrapshis head up in a red silk handkerchief, and will go nofarther ;the other sulks, and saysit isdangerous thepath is lost, and we shall fall into drifts ;but findingus resolved, Sulks consents to go, and Red Cap stops,shivering, with the horses, which are rearing andkicking, for the cold makes them playful.So, pike in hand, Richard and I and Sulks begin theascent, which lasts about one hour and a half throughtwo feet of snow, with several falls on my part, andsometimes crawling on hands and kneesduring which,however, we could see Sta. Anna and the sea at the otherside, and many of the mountains and gorges.Whennearly at the top, we saw, with horror, thick blackclouds rolling up to envelop us, travelling fast, andlooking like a snowstorm. At last, when we were5,593 feet high, only 300feet below the summit ofthe Pico, which is5,893 feet, there came a mightywind. We threw ourselves down to prevent beingblown off, and then the clouds rolled in upon us, andshut off all view of the Pico and our way, so that itwas difficult to proceed without incurring danger ofaccidents. We scrambled to a projection of rock (theonly thing we could see), and sat on it ;and from ourcanteen, which had been slung to Sulks, we ate ourlunch, and iced our claret ;and when we had finishedwe agreed to grope our way slowly down. We managedit(often in a sitting position), occasionally makingsome false stepfor want of being able to see ;we hadno feelingin our hands and feet. We found RedCap eventually, who had moved down to warmer

196 ftbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonlatitudes, and was sulking and shivering,more sobecause, as he declined going, he forfeited his lunch,drink, and cigarette.We walked back until at somedistance above the Mount church (feelingwarmerand drier every moment as we descended), where wemounted and resumed those delightfulbaskets. Theexcursion occupied about seven and a half hours.The time came all too soon for us to leave Madeira,and on March 4 we embarked for Santa Cruz,Teneriffe, whence alarming reports of yellow feverhad reached our ears.By the same boat on whichwe had embarked came letters and papers from home.My news from home was very sad. My dear mother,who, though in weak health, had come down toLiverpool to see us off, and who bore up bravelytill the last, had just time, after wishing us good-bye,to get back to Garswood (Uncle Gerard's),when theattack of paralysis,so long threatened, came upon her.Fortunately there was no immediate danger, but thenews was a great shock to me. I spent the day apartfrom the rest, who were merry unto noisiness ;and Iwas right glad when tea-time rangall hands below,and I occupied a quiet corner on deck, where I couldshed my tears unseen, and enjoy my favourite twilighthour.The sky was clear, with arough sea, over which thewhite horses predominated. Men-of-war and fishingboatswere at anchor around us. The sun had justset ;the evening star's pale light was stealing over us.Presently the full moon rose behind Cape Garajao.I bade good-bye to Madeira and every objectwith

197regret, straining my eyes from right to left, up anddown, and all around, not from any silly sentiment,but because I always feel a species of gratitude to aplace where I have been happy. The black and redcliffs, the straggling town, the sugar-canes, gardens,forests, flowers, the mountain-peaks and ravines eachseparate, well-known objectreceived its adieu.I knew when I saw Madeira againit would be underfar less happy circumstances. I should be alone, onmy way back to England, and my beloved Richard atdeadly Fernando Po. This fading, fairy panorama ofMadeira, which had once made me so happy, nowsaddened me ;and the last track of moonlight, as itpoured its beams down the mountains on the water,saw some useless tears.

CHAPTER IIITENERIFFE(1863)I went up into the infinite solitudes. I saw the sunrise gleaming on themountain-peaks. I felt myself nearer the stars I seemed almost to be insympathy and communion with them.IBSEN.THE first sight of Santa Cruz (wherewe arrivednext morning) is disappointing.When youseeit from the deck of your ship, looking from righttoleft, you see a red, brown, and yellow coast, barren greymountains, and ravines. The mountains, being exposedto much wind, present the most curious, harsh, andfantastic outline against the sky. These are calledPasso Alto (a child would guess their volcanic origin);they are wide irregular masses of rock, as desolate andsavage as can be imagined. Close to the water is aflat, whitewashed town, which always looks in a whiteheat. The only two high buildingsare churches.The town bristled with cannon near the sea. Themountains, which are close to the town on the right,and shut it off",were covered with round, bushy, andcompact green splotches, which were in reality goodsizedfigtrees. Behind the town is a steep rising198

ITenertffe 199mountain, with a good winding road ;to the left of itis a regiment of windmills drawn up in line,as if waitingfor Don Quixote ; and in the distance, still onthe left, and extending away from you, are masses ofmountains, and hanging over them is a little haze inthe sky, which might be a little woolly cloud, sugarloafin shape, which you are told is the Peak ofTeneriffe. The sky, the sea, the atmosphere are perfect,and far surpassing Madeira. Most exhilaratingis thesensation thereof. The island, saving one pass,iscovered with small barren hills, some of them conical,some like Primrose Hill, only much bigger, which are,I am told, the small disturbances of volcanoes.These were my first impressions as we were rowed toa littlequay in a little boat, and a dozen boys tookour dozen packages ;and a small walk brought us toRichardson's Hotel, as it was, a funny, old, brokendownplace, with a curious interior, an uncomfortablepicturesque remnant of Spanish-Moorish grandeur andstyle, better to sketch than to sleep and feed in. Therewas a large patio, or courtyard, and a broad carved oakstaircase, and tiers of largebalconies to correspond,running all round the interior of the house, into whichgalleries the rooms open. Green creepers covered theroof and balcony, and hung over, fallinginto the patio ,giving it an ancient and picturesque look, like an oldruin. Rita, a peasant woman, came out to wait uponme, in a long white mantilla, topped by a black feltSpanish wide-awake, a comfortable-looking woman, butneither young nor pretty.The food was as poor andancient as the hotel, and the servants to match. I

200 Ube IRomance of Isabel Zafcg JSurtoncould imagine the garlicked sausages to have been aremnant left in a mouldy cupboard by some impoverishedhidalgo of a hundred years back.Richard wanted to pass a few days here, but Isuggested that, as the yellow fever was raging, andas Santa Cruz and all round could be seen in threeor four days,we should do it on return, andmeantime seek some purer abode, lest a yellow-feverbed or infected baggage should Jay us low ;so wevoted for Laguna, or rather San Christoval de laLaguna, a large town fifteen hundred feet above sealevel,and consequently above fever-range ;and weordered the hotel carriageat once.The vehicle was the skeleton of the first vehiclethat was ever madeperhaps the one Noah provided inthe Ark to drive his family down Mount Ararat whenit became dry no springs, windows, blinds, lining, oranything save the actual wood three mules; abreast,rope,reins and driver all ancient to match. We founda crowd of men wringing their hands at the amount ofsmall baggage to be packed away in it, swearing theycould not and would not try to put it in. Always leavethese men to themselves. After loud vociferation,swearing, and quarrelling, they packed it beautifully,and we were stowed away on the top of it, and rattledout of the town at a good pace, up a winding road,ascending the steep country behind Santa Cruz towardsLaguna. As we rose higher we had a splendid view ofthe sea, and the white flat town with its two solitarytowers layat our feet. The winding road was proppedup with walls to prevent landslip the mountains;

TTenetitfe 201looked wild and rugged ;the weather was perfect.Wemet troops of pretty peasants with heavy loads, and everyhere and there a picturesque chapel or hermitage.Our drive was pleasant enough, and I think at about3 p.m. we were driving hard up and down the oldNoah's-Ark-town called San Christoval de la Laguna.We drove to three inns. Number one was not possible.Number two, something like it ;where they weregoing to put us into the same room (perhaps the samebed who knows ?)with a sick man (maybe a convalescentyellow-feverist).We held a parley andconsultation. Was it possible to go on ? No, neithernow nor to-morrow ;for the new road was beingmade, the old one broken up, and the coach (which,by-the-way, was the name given to a twin vehicle suchas ours) was not allowed to run farther than Sausal,three miles off, from which we had twelve miles moreto accomplish in order to reach the valley and townof Orotava the El Dorado, and deservedly so, ofTeneriffe. We did not like to descend again into theheat and pestilence of Santa Cruz. Moreover, we hadmade up our minds (not knowing Laguna) to passa week there, and had ordered our muleteers to bringup and deposit our baggage there.The coachman thought he knew of another housewhere we might geta room. So we drove to the" forlorn hope," which looked as bad as the rest, andwere at first refused. The patio was a ruin, full of mudand broken plantains, the villageidiot and the pighuddled up in one corner. In fact, the whole housewas a ruin, and the inevitable carved-wood balcony

203 ttbe iRomance of Isabel Zaog Burtonlooked like tawdry finery on it. The landlady wasthe most fiendish-lookingold woman Iwith sharp, bad, black eyes.have ever seen,She exchanged some wordsin a whisper with three or four ruffianly looking men,and said that she could let us have a room, but onlyone. Richard went upto inspect it, and while he wasgone, and I was left alone, the villageidiot worriedand frightened me. Our quartersconsisted of a smallbarnlike room with raftered ceiling,a floor with holesbig enough to slip your foot through into the courtyard,whitewashed walls, and a small latticed windowabout two feet square near the ceiling.It was filthy,and contained two small paillassesfull of fleas, two hardkitchen chairs, and a small kitchen table. For safety,we had all our baggage brought up. We asked for alight, and they gave us a rushlight, growlingall thetime because we did not find the light of a dim oil-lampin the passage enough, and bread sufficient nourishment ;but we clamoured for supper.After three hours' preparation, during which we wereinspected by thewhole band of ruffians composing theestablishment, and after loud, bewildering chatter aboutwhat should become of us on the morrow, we wereasked with much pomp and ceremony into the kitchen.both go at once, as there was no key toWe could notour door, and the baggage was unsafe.Richard was notaway five minutes, but returned with an exclamation ofdisgust, threw himself on the paillasse, lit a cigar, andopened a bottle of Santa Cruz wine we had broughtwith us. I then started, and found it necessary to holdthe lightclose to the ground, in order not to put my

Uenerfffe 203feet through the holes, or fall on the uneven boardingof the gallery. In a dirty kitchen, on a dirty cloth, wasa pink mess in a saucer, smoking hot (which, if analysed,would have proved to be eggs, beetroot, garlic,andrancid oil), stale bread, dirty rancid butter, looking likemelted tallow-grease ;and what I thought was a largevinegar-cruet, but in reality a bottle of wine, completedthe repast.I tried to eat, but, though starved, soondesisted. When I returned tomy room, Pepa, thedirty handmaiden who was always gaping into thestreets for excitement (which was not to be found inLaguna), but who proved more good-tempered andhonest than her mistress followed me, and, lookingnervously around, put a large key into my hand, andtold me to lock my door at Inight. did not need asecondhint, but also piled up the baggage and kitchenchairs and table against what looked to me like asecond suspicious door, opening out on leads and lockedoutside. I then got out our arms two revolvers andthree bowie-knives loaded the former, and put oneof each close to our hands ready. Sleep was out ofthe questionfor me on account of the fleas, which werelegion ; but I experienced nothing of a more alarmingnature.We were up betimes, and clamouring to get on toOrotava. They naturally wished to keep us, and sothey invented every excuse. They all spoke loudlyand at once." The public coach was engaged by aprivate gentleman for several days there were no;horses or mules to be had for some time " (they wouldalmost have told us there was no hotel at Orotava, if

204 Ube Romance of Isabel Xaoy Burtonthey had "dared) ; the yellow fever raged everywhereexcept at Laguna, which was above "itsrange." Well,then," we said, "under all these circumstances we wouldwalkr Now they never walk themselves, and a womandoing such a thing was incredible. They " said, He might"walk ;but what about the Sefiora and the baggage?Seeing, finally, that we were determined, and offeredgood pay, the driver of the vehicle agreed to drive usthree miles farther on to Sausal, and to furnish us withseveral mules for our baggage ;but no riding mules,never thinking that we should accept such a proposition.To their surprise,we closed with it at once. Theytried a lastdodge in the shape of charging us theexorbitant price of five dollars, or i, for our atrociousnight's lodging and mess of eggs, and we gave itcheerfully. When we went to pack up, we discoveredthat, although we had been there but fifteen hours, andhad never left the room at the same time withoutlocking our door and taking the key, they had contrivedto steal our best bowie-knife, but had touched nothingelse. It were better to leave goldthan a knife inthe way of a Spaniard. We would not even staytodisputeWe this.finallystarted in the "coach," in high glee,through the melancholy streets, up a rising country,grand and hilly, and over a good road. Richard saidthat it was a most interesting mountain-pass, for reasonswhich were rather au-dessus de ma portee ;and as Ihave no doubt of it, I will describe the trifles.The chief travellers on this road were muleteers,picturesque men in blankets and sombreros, sitting

TTeneritfe 205on comfortable-looking and heavily laden pack-saddles,walking or galloping, and singing in a peculiar Moorishroulade, and smokingtheir little paper cigarillos.Theonly difference that I could see between them and aSpanish gentleman was, that the latter's mule was betterbred and went a fasterpace, and he had, in placeof the blanket, a black cloak, with perhaps a bit ofred sash or binding. Pretty peasant women, with asturdyyet graceful walk and undulating figures, wentby. They wore white flannel mantillas, topped by asombrero, and carried enormous weights on their heads,and sang and chattered, not at all distressed by theirburthens. We passedall the scenes of historical interestin our passage through the island. Our coacharrived finallyat Sausal. Our aneroid marked nineteenhundred feet at the highest part of our drivethrough the pass.Here we dismounted, and the coachwaited for an hour to see what passengersitmightpick up.We were in a very peculiar position, quite by ourselves(without even a servant), at a wayside house ofrefuge on a mountain-side, beyond which precincts novehicle went at this time, and where it was impossibleto remain, and without knowinga soul in the island.Luckily Richard spoke the language well. Still, wedid not exactly know where we were going.We hadan indistinct wish to go to Orotava but where it;was,or how distant at that moment, we knew not ;nor didwe know, when we got there, if we should find anyaccommodation, and if not, how we should be able to getback, or whether we should have to pass the night out

zo6zrbe IRomance of Ssabel Xaog JSurtonof doors. Yet it was the happiest moment of my life.I had been through two mortally dull years (withouttravel), in commonplace, matter-of-fact Old England,where one cant getinto a difficulty. Independentlyof this, our baggage some twenty-five packages wasscattered all over the place on mule-back, some comingup from Santa Cruz, some from Laguna, and thesmaller ones with us.They would not know whathad become of us.And how were we to rid ourselvesof those we had with us ? We saw several handsome,proud, lazy-looking fellows, in blankets, sleeping about,outside the cottage, and asked them if,for a couple ofdollars, they would carry these, and walk with us toshow us the way ? Not a bit of it They did not!want to earn two dollars (Bs. 4^.)at such a price!They have nothing, and want nothing but sleep andindependence. At last a party of muleteers came by.Richard explained our difficulties, and one good-naturedold fellow put our small traps on the top of his pack,and we left orders at the house of refuge with the girlthat any mules passing by laden with an Englishman'sluggage were to come on to Orotava, and then commencedour walk. And an uncommonly pretty, pleasantwalk it was. This path was onlyfit for mules ;andthe continuation of the goodroad we could not enterupon, on account of the people at work, and incessantblasting.At the end of four hours a mere turn in the roadshowed us the tropical valleyin all its beauty,and theeffect was magical: the wealth of verdure and foliage,wild flowers, and carolling birds of pretty plumage.

tteneriffe 207A horseshoe-shaped range of mountains shuts out theVale of Orotava from the rest of the world, enclosingit entirely, except where open to the sea and its coolbreezes ;and we gradually wound down under itseastern range, sloping to the beach.A boy guide met us, and led us through many awinding, paved street of Orotava, till the trickling ofthe mountain stream reached our ears ;and then, followingits course, he brought us to the door of our fondagobea, or inn, which, from its outward appearance,charmed me inexpressibly.It is an ancient relic ofSpanish-Moorish grandeur the palace of a defunctMarchesa a large building, of white stone, whitewashedover, built in a square, the interior forming the patio,or courtyard. Verandahed balconies run all around itinside, in tiers of dark carved wood, and outsidewindows, or wooden doors, empanelled, and with oldcoats of arms above them. These open on to balconiesof the same. There is a flat roof, with garden orterrace at the top.The inside balconies form thepassage. All the rooms open into the side next thehouse ;the other looks into the court. We were veryweary and dusty as we entered the patio.The amo,or master, made his appearance, and, much to ourchagrin, conducted us to a room very much like theone we left at Laguna.I will not say that our spiritsfell, for we looked at each other and burst out laughing;it was evident that the Canaries contained no betteraccommodation ;but people who go in for travellinglaugh at the discomforts that make others miserable ;so, with a glance at an upper skylight,a foot square,

zoszibe IRoinance of Isabel Zaog JSurtonwe agreed that it would be a capital placefor work,in the way of reading, writing, and study.While Richard was settling something, and drinkinga cup of coffee, I asked the amo to let me inspectthe house, and see if I could not find better accommodation;but he assured me that every nook andcranny was occupied. I explored an open belvedereat the top of the house, a garret half occupied by aphotographer in the daytime, and the courtyard, andwas going back in despair, when I came upon a long,lofty, dusty, deserted-looking loft, with thirty-two hard,straight-backedkitchen chairs in it I counted themfrom curiosity." What,"I asked, " "is this ?" Oh," he replied, " we call this the sata, but no oneever comes into it ;so we use it as a lumber-room,and the workwomen sit here."" Will you give me " this ? I asked again."Willingly," he replied, lookingnevertheless assurprised as if I had asked to sleep in the courtyard ;" and, moreover, you can run over the house, and askBernardo [a peasant servant] to give you whateverfurnitureyou may choose."I was not long in thanking him and carryinghis offer into execution. Bernardo and Ispeedilyfraternized, and we soon had the place broomed andaired. It had evidently been the ballroom orreception-room of the defunct Marchesa in palmy days.Stone walls painted white, a wood floor with chinks init, through which you could see the patio below, andthrough which " brave rats and mice " fearlessly came

valley,tTenerfffe 209to play ; a raftered wood ceiling with a deep carvedcornice (through the holes above the children overheadsubsequently pelted us with nuts and cheese) ;three chains, with faded blue ribbons, suspended fromthe lofty ceiling,whereon chandeliers had evidentlyhung. Three carved-wood doors (rusty on theirhinges) opened on to a verandah balcony, from whichwe had a splendid view. The hotel opened sideways,on the hillside, on to a perpendicular street, with amountain torrent dashing down it beneath the windows.To the left," above, was the mountain range of Tigayga ;to the right was the town, or villa ;and below, andsideways to the right, was the cultivated and.the sea stretching broadly away, and, when clear, wecould see the white cone the immortal Peak. Onedouble door, of cedar wood, opened on to the balconyoverhanging the patio ;and one more into anotherroom, which I had subsequently to barricade againstan inquisitive old lady,who wanted to see if Englishpeople bathed and ate like Teneriffians.Such was the aspect of the loft after a Ibrooming.then routed out an old screen, and ran it across the room,dividing it into two, thereby enabling the amo to chargeme for bedroom and sitting-room.In the bedroomhalf I ran two straw paillasses togetherfor a bed ;twolittleprimitive washstands, capable of containing a pintof water ;and two tiny tables of like dimensions "forour toilet.My next difficulty was to rig upa bath anda stove.Hunting about, I found a large wine-wash, astall as myself. I rolled it in, and ordered it to be filledevery day with sea water. The drawing-room containedVOL. i. 14

zioUbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtontwo largekitchen tables (one for Richard's writing,one to dine on), and a smaller one for my occupations,a horsehair sofa, a pan of charcoal, kettles, and potsfor hot water, tea, eggs, and minor cooking.Presently mule after mule began to arrive withthe baggage ;not a thing was missing.I divided thethirty-two hard-backed kitchen chairs between the twoapartments. For want of drawers or wardrobe wekept most things in our trunks, hanging dresses, coats,and dressing-gown over the screen and chairs in lieuof wardrobe.Books, writing, and instruments strewedthe whole place.I was delighted with my handiwork.We had arrived at seven, and at nine I went to fetchmy philosophic husband, who had meanwhile got abook, and had quietlysat down, making uphis mindfor the worst. He was perfectly delighted with the fineold den, for we had good air, light, a splendid view,lots of room, and good water, both fresh and salt ;andhere we intended to pass a happy month to read,write, study, chat, walk, make excursions, and enjoyourselves.Saturday, March 21, 1863. Of course we couldnot rest until we had " done " the Peak. We were inour saddles at nine. Our little caravan consisted ofsix persons and four animals Richard and myselfmounted on good horses, two mules laden with baggage,ona guide, and three arrteros, or muleteers. Ourdistance varied (by different reports) between eighteenand thirty-two miles, from the Villa d'Orotava to thetop of the great Peak and back ;and by the routewe returned from choice a longer, varied, and more

Ueneriffeandifficult one I dare sayit was nearer the latter mark,and our time was thirty-five hours.We clattered up the streets, and went out by a prettyroad, studded with villages, gardens, cottages, barrancos,and geraniums fallingin rich profusion over the walls intothe main road. We turned abruptly from this road upthe stony side of the Barranco de San Antonio, andproceeded through cultivated fields, but ever winding bythe barranco, which becomes deeper and deeper.Hererushes a fierce mountain torrent. The stone at thesides is scooped as smoothly by its impetuous rush asa knife would carve a cake of soap, and you hearthe rebounding in the gigantic caverns, which presentall the appearance of being excavated by an immensebody of water. On the borders of this mass of stoneand of rushing waters, startling caverns, and mysteriousrumblings, the edges were bound with rich belts ofchestnut trees, wild flowers of every sort, myrtle androsemary, looking as placid as in a garden and you;do not expect to be awestruck as you are whenyou look into the depth of the ravine, into whichyou might have taken a step too far, deceived by thetreacherous borders, if the strange sounds below hadnot induced youtwo thousand five hundred feet above the sea.We ascended a very jagged and rough mountain,like a barranca, ever ascending, and came upon ato look down. We were now aboutbeautiful slope of forest of mixed bay and broom.The soil, however, is a mass of loose stones as we windthrough the forest, and again emerge on another barren,jagged, and stony mountain, like the one before the

212 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonforest. It is now eleven o'clock, and we are fourthousand five hundred feet above the sea, and the menask for a halt. The valley rises like a hanging gardenall the way till you come to the first cloud and mist,after which are no more houses ;the mist rests upon thewoods, and ascends and descends for about thespace ofa league.We had now just got to the clouds.Theyusually descend to this distance, and, except on veryclear days, hang there for several hours in the dayifnot allday shutting out the upper world of mountainslike a curtain, though above and below it all may beclear. We dismounted in a thick, misty cloud, andlooked about us, leavingthe men to eat, drink, andbreathe the animals.The whole of our ascent appeared to me to be likeascending different mountains, one range higher thananother, so that when you reached the top of one youfound yourself unexpectedly at the foot of another ;only each varies as to soil : stones, vegetation stones,;cinders, stones.At one o'clock we passedthe lastvegetation,sixthousand five hundred feet, with a shady clearing underthe retornas^ which our men told us was the Estanciadella Cierra the first station. The thermometer inshade was at 60. Here we unloaded the mules, andtied them to the bushes, upon which theyate, drank, the men smoked, and then we reloaded andfed. Weremounted, and soon emerged from the last vegetation,and entered upon Los Cafiadas, through a gap, by thegate of Teora a natural portico of lava. Here weceased ascending for some time, the Canadas beinga

Uenertffe 213sandy plain, extending fifteen miles in circumferenceround the base of the Peak. Richard wished to buildhim a house in this his peculiar element, wanted a goodgallop, and all sorts of things.The hot sun literallyrained fire, pouring down upon our heads and scorchingthe earth, and blistering our faces, hands, and lips,as if it spitefully begrudged us our pleasant excursionand boisterous spirits.There was water nowhere.We rode along the plain laughing and chattering,and presently began to ascend againthe same soil as onthe plain,but steepening and more bleak and barren,with not a sign of life or vegetation.We came to themountain, and put our poor beasts to the steep ascent,breasting the red pumice bed and thick bands ofdetached black blocks of lava. The soil, in fact,consistsof loose pumice stones sprinkled with lava andbroken bits of obsidian. Our animals sank knee-deep,and slid back several yards ; and we struggled upwardsafter this fashion for three-quarters of an hour, whenwe came to a little flat space on the right, with blocksof stone partially enclosing it,but open overhead andtoone side.This was the second station, called the Estancia delos Ingleses,nine thousand six hundred feet above thesea ; temperature 1 6, onlyaccessible on the southeasternside. Here we gladly dismounted, after eighthours' ride.The arrieros unpacked and dismantled their beasts,let the mules roll, and putall four in shelter with theirnosebags, and then went in search of fuel. Richardwent off to take observations ;and I saw him with

2i4Ttbe "Romance of Isabel Zaog JBurtonpleasure enjoying the indescribable atmospheric charmunder the rose-pinkblush of the upper sky. I knewmine was Martha's share of the business, and thatI had better look sharp ;so Iunpacked our panniers,and made the estancia ready for the night. In lessthan an hour our beds were made comfortable, andcomposed of railway-rugs, coats, and cloaks. Therewere two roaring fires, and tea and coffee ;and spreadabout were spirits, wine, fowls, bread, butter, hard eggs,and sausages.We could have spent a week there verycomfortably and we sat round our ;camp-fire warmingourselves, eating, and talking over the day. The menbrought out hard eggs, salt fish, and prepared gqfiatheoriginal Guanche food which is corn roasted brown,then pounded fine, and put into a kid-skin bag withwater and kneaded about in the hand into a sort ofcake. They were immensely surprised at a sharprepeater which I had in my belt, and with which wetried to shoot a raven; but he would not come withinshot, though we tried hard to tempt him with achicken's leg stuck upon a stick at a distance.We read and wrote till seven o'clock, and then itgrew darker and colder, and I turned in, i.e. rolledmyself round in the rugs with my feet to the campfire,and did not sleep, but watched. The estancia, orstation, was a pile of wild rocks about twenty feet high,open overhead to one side, with a spacein the middlebig enough to campin. At the head and down oneside of our bed was a bank of snow ;two mules weretethered near our heads, but not near enough to kickand bite. The horses were a little farther off". There

Ueneriffe 215were two capitalfires of retorna wood ;and strewedall around were rugs, blankets, and wraps of all sorts,kettles, canteens, bottles, books, instruments, eatables,and kegs.It was dark at seven o'clock. The starsshone brilliantly, but it was only the third night of themoon, so we were badly ofF for that. But the dayhad been brilliant, and our only drawback had beenthat the curtain of clouds had shut out the under-worldfrom us about one o'clock for good and all. Our menconsisted of one guide, Manuel, and three arrieros.They lay round the fire in their blankets and blackvelvet sombreros in careless attitudes. (I did notknow a blanket could look so picturesque.) Theirdark hair and skins, white teeth, flashing eyes, andhandsome features, litup by the lurid glare of the fire,and animated by the conversation of Richard, to saynothing of thespiritsand tobacco with which he madetheir hearts glad,made a first-rate bivouac scene, abrigand-like group, for they are a fine and hardy race.They held loud and long theological discussions, goodhumouredlyanathematizing Richard as an infidel, andshowed their medals and crosses. He harangued them,and completely baffled them with his Mohammedanlogic ; and ended by opening his shirt, and showingthem a medal and cross like their own the one I hadgiven him long ago. They looked at each other, shooktheir fists, laughed, and were beside themselves withexcitement. Ilaughed and listened until the GreatBear went down behind the mountain-side, and thenfell fast asleep.The men took it in turns to keep upthe fire, while they slept around it. The only sound

216 Ube IRomance of 30abel Zafcg ISurtonheard was once or twice the spiteful scream of a muletrying to bite its neighbour, or a log of wood beingthrown on the fire ;and outside the estancia the silencewas so profound as to fully realize " the last man."The pleasant reminiscences of that night will live inmy memory when most other things are forgotten, ortrials and sorrows make me temporarily forget to begrateful for past happiness.It was perfect repose andfull contentment. The tangled world below was forgotten,and the hand of him whom I cannot dispensewith throughlife was near to clasp mine.At half-pastthree o'clock Manuel awoke us. Itwas a pitch-dark night save the fires. The thermometerat 14. We got up and crowded on everywarm thing possible,made some coffee, using brandyfor milk. Now one of the arrieros was to remainbehind to look after the fires, beasts, and estanciagenerally.I mounted my horse, and Richard one ofthe mules. Our guide went first. One arriero with apitch-pine torch, and one arriero to return with theanimals, made our party to start. At half-past fouro'clock we commenced upon what seemed the samekind of thing as the last part of yesterday's ridesteep, broken pumice, obsidian, and lava only twentytimes more difficult and steep, with an occasional rockworkor snowdrift. We were the first people whohad ascended in winter since 1797 ;and even theguide did not exactly know what might happen for thesnow. Manuel went therefore first with a torch ;thenRichard ;then the second torch ;then myself on mypoor Negro ; and, lastly, a third torch. Our poor

Ueneriffe 217beasts sank knee-deep, and slid tremendously. Onceor twice my steed refused, and appeared to preferdescent to ascent, but fortunately changed his mind,or an inevitable roll to the bottom and broken boneswould have been the result.Richard's mule went intoa snowdrift, but emerged, with much pluck, withoutunseating him. I got a little frightened when it gotto the steepest part,and found myself obliged to clingto the mane, for it was too dark, even with torches, tosee much.In three-quarters of an hour we came to thehighest and third estancia,ten thousand five hundredfeet above sea-level, called Estancia de los Allemanes.Here we dismounted, and our third arriero wentdown with the animals, while we, pike in hand, beganthe ascent of the Mai Pais, which iscomposed ofwhat yesterday I had imagined to be walls of blackstone, radiating from the ridge below the cone to theyellow mountain, but which are really very severe lavabeds, about thirteen hundred feet high, consisting ofimmense blocks of lava ;some as big as a cottage,and some as small as a football ;some loose androlling, others firm, with drifts of snow between, andpiled up almost perpendicularly above you and when;you have surmounted one ridge, and fancy yourselfat the top, you find there is another still more difficult,until you have had so many disappointments thatyou cease to ask. It took me two hours, climbingon my hands and knees, with manyrests. First Ithrew away my pike, then my outer coat, and graduallypeeled, like the circus dancers do, who represent theseasons, army and navy, etc., until I absolutely arrived

2i8Ube iRoniance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonat the necessary blouse and petticoat.As there wereno thieves, Idropped my things on the way as Iclimbed, and they served as so manyreturn. Every time we stoppedlandmarks onto breathe I wasobliged to fill my mouth with snow, and putit on myhead and forehead the sun had blistered me so, andthe air was keen.At about 5.30 a.m. a truly soft light,preceding day, took the place of torchlight.Thehorizon gradually became like a rainbow, with thatpeculiar effect it always has of being on a level withone, and the world beneath curved like a bowl, whichis very striking to a person who is on a great heightfor the first time. More toil, and we pass the icedriftat our right, and sightthe Cone, which looks likea dirty-white sugar-loaf; which, I was told, was alow comparison!Every ten minutes I was obliged torest ;and the guides,after each fe.w moments' rest,would urge me to a toutinejusta little more towhich I had manfully to make up my mind, thoughIfelt very much fatigued.At 6 a.m. the guides told us to turn round : agolden gleam was on the sea the first of the sun ;andgradually its edge appeared, and it rose majestically inpure golden glory ; and we were hanging betweenheaven and earth in solitude and silence and werepermitted to enjoy this beautiful moment. It wasSunday morning, March 22 Passion Sunday. 1 Out[* On reading through this manuscript with Mr. Wilkins, I amstruck with the coincidence that it was on Passion Sunday,March 22, 1896 (thirty- three years later), that my dear sister,Lady Burton, died. E. FITZGERALD.]

of the six souls there, fiveUeneriffe 219of us were Catholics, unableto hear Mass. We knelt down, and I said aloud aPaternoster, Ave Maria, and Gloria Patri, and offeredto our Lord the hearts of allpresent with genuinethanksgiving, and with a silent prayerthat the one dearto me, the only unbeliever of our small party, mightone day receive the gift of faith.We arose, and continued our now almost painfulway, and at 6.45 reached the base of the dirty-whitesugar-loaf.Here we breathed ;and what had seemedto me to be a ridge from below was a small plainspace round the base of the Cone. The thermometerstood at 120 in the steam, but there was no smell ofsulphur till we reached the top.Manuel and Richardstart, pike in hand. My muleteer took off his redsash, tied it round my waist, and took the other endover his shoulder, and with a pike inmy hand we didthe last hard work; and it was very hard after theMai Pais. The Cone is surrounded, as I have justsaid, by a little plain base of pumice,and its own soilis broken, fine pumice out of which, from all parts,issue jets of smoke, which burn you and your clothes :I think I counted thirty-five.We had five hundredand twelve feet more to accomplish, and we took threequartersof an hour. The top consists of masses of rock,great and small, covered with bright, glistening, yellowsulphur, and frost ;and from which issue powerfuljets of smoke from the volcano within. Richard helpedme up to stand on the corona, the top stone, at 7.40a.m. It is so narrow there is only room for one personto stand there at once. I stood there a minute or two.

220 Ube Ktomance of Isabel Xaog 3BurtonI had reached the Peak. I was now, at the outsidecomputation, twelve thousand three hundred feet high.The guides again suggested a Gloria Patri, inthanksgiving Richard a cigar.Both were accomplished.The guides had been a little anxious aboutthis first winter attempt. They now told us it hadbeen deemed impossible in Orotava to accomplishit ;and as for the Senora, they had said, she could noteven reach the second Estancia de los Ingleses, and lo !there she stood on the corona ! From where we stoodat this moment, it is said that on a clear day the eyecan take in the unparalleled distance of eight hundredmiles in circumference of ocean, grasping the whole ofTenerifFe as from a balloon, and its coast, and thewhole fourteen Canaries and coast of Africa. Unfortunatelyfor us,the banks of clouds below weretoo thick for us to do more than obtain a view ofthe surrounding mountain-tops and country,and seethe crater. The sea we could only behold at a greatdistance. We spent forty minutes at the top, examiningthe crater, and lookingall around us ; during thelatter part of which operation, I am sorry to say,Ifell fast asleep from sheer fatigue, and was aroused byRichard hallooing to me that my clothes were on fire,which, alas ! was too true. I pocketed specimens ofobsidian, sulphur, and pumice. It was piercing cold,with a burning sun ;and we experienced a nasty,choking, sickening smell of sulphur, which arose infetid puffs from the many-coloured surface deadwhite, purple, dull red, green, and brilliant yellow.A sense of awe stole over me as Richard almost

ttenerfffe 221poked his head into the holes whence issued the jetsof smoke. I could not help thinking of the fearfulcatastrophes that had taken placehow eruptions,perhaps from that very hole, had desolated Teneriffehow,itperhaps, was that which had caused Hanno tosay that on the coast of Africa it rained fire ;and yethere we were fearlessly poking our heads inquisitivelyinto it. What if this should be the instant of anothergreatconvulsion?I did not experience any of the sensations describedby most travellers on the Peak, such as sickness, painsin the head or inside, or faintness and difficulty ofbreathing, though the air was rare in the extreme,and althoughI am of a highly sensitive and nervoustemperament, and suffer all this when obliged to leada sedentary life and deprived of openair and hardexercise. I found my brain clear and the air andheight delightfully exhilarating, and could havetravelled so for a month with much pleasure.Theonly inconvenience that I did experience was a sunthat appeared to concentrate itself upon me as a focus(as, I suppose, it appeared to do the same to each of us),and a piercing cold and severe wind besides, which combinedto heat and yet freezemy head and face, untilthe latter became like a perfectmask of hard, red skin,likewise my lips and inside of my mouth. My hands,feet, and knees also were torn by therocks,and I wasa little bruised by sleeping on stones ;but that was all ;and my only difficulty about breathing proceeded fromthe labour of climbing on hands and feet, and had noconnexion with the rarity of the atmosphere ; and as

Ube Romance of Isabel Xafcg JSurtonwe were, I believe, the first winter travellers livingwho had ascended at that season, we had an excellentopportunity of judging. My guide also told me that Iwas the only sefiora who had performed some feat orother ;but I could not exactly understand what.At 8.30 we began the descent, planting our pikesand our heels in the soft stuff, slidingdown ten ortwelve yards at a time, and arrived in a quarter ofan hour at the little plain base. Here we breathedfor a few moments, and then started again for thedescent of that trulyMai Pais. It was even worseto descend. I only wondered how we got upin thedark without breaking our ankles or legs over thosecolossal ruins, called the " Hobberings,"of the Peak.Twice twisting my ankle in the loose masses, thoughnot badly, warned me that it was better to takemy time than get a bad hurt ;and the others weremost considerate to me, both going and coming, beggingme not to be ashamed to stop as often and as longas I liked. We were therefore two hours comingdown, picking up the discarded garments on theway, and inclining a little to the right,to see theice cave Cueva de Zelo which occupied twentyminutes. It is a large cavern in the rock, hung withhuge icicles, and covered over with ice inside. Wenow descended to the placewe had mounted on horsebackin the night.How the poor beast ever cameup it is my astonishment ;and I am sure, if it hadbeen daylight,I should have been a greatdeal more" downfrightened than I was. It was a case of " polingon our heels again ;and our two guides hailed the

TTenerlffe 223two below with a Guanche whistle, which meant " Putthe kettle on."We reached the next stageat io.ii. I was nowrather " done up," so I drank a bowl of strong greentea, and performed a kind of toilet, etc., under thelee of a rock, taking off the remnants of my gloves,boots, and stockings, and replacing them with others,which I fortunately had taken the precaution to bring ;washed, brushed, and combed ;dressed a little moretidily ; and glycerined my hands, feet, and face. I thenwanted to lie down and sleep ;but alas ! there was noshade except in the snowdrifts;so I tied a wet towelround my head, and erected an umbrella over it,andslept for half an hour, while Richard and the menbreakfasted and reloaded. We sent the animals downthe remainder of the steepascent which had taken upour last three-quarters of an hour yesterday that is,from the estancia where we slept to the commencement ofthe Canadas and we followed on foot, and were downin about half an hour.This is the bottom of the actualmountain out of which the Cone rises. Once morebeing on almost level ground, we soon passed the desert,fifteen miles in circumference, surrounding the mountain.There were still ranges of mountains and country todescend, below it, to reach Orotava. We accomplishedthem all after a hot but pleasant ride, broken by rests,and arrived safe home at Orotava at 7 p.m.We spent a thoroughly happy month at Orotava,in the wilds, amongst the peasantry.No trammels ofsociety, no world, no post, out of civilization, en bourgeois,and doing everything for ourselves, with the bare

224 tTbe "Romance of Isabel Xaos JSurtonnecessaries of life.excursiondays.All our days were much alike, exceptWe rose at seven, cup of tea, and toilet. Thencame my domestic work (Richard had plunged intoliterature at half-past seven): this consisted of what, Isuppose, Shakspeare meant by " chronicling small beer " ;but I had no fine lady's maid to do it for me shewould have been sadly out of place ordering dinner,market, and accounts, needlework, doing the room, thewashing, small cookery on the pan of charcoal, andsuperintending the roughest of the work as performedby Bernardo. Husbands are uncomfortable without" Chronicle," though they never see the petit detail goingon, and like to keep up the pleasantdone by magic. / thoughtitvery good fun,illusion that it isthis kindof gypsying. Breakfast at ten, write till two (journalsand diaries kept up, etc.), dinner at two then walk or;ride or make an excursion ; cup of tea on coming in,literature tillten, with a break of supper at eight, and atten to bed : a delightfully healthy and wholesome life,both for mind and body, but one which I can't recommendto any one who cannot rough it,or who has noserious occupation, or lacks a very agreeable companion.Sometimes, when Richard was busy writing,I wouldstroll far away into the valley to enjoy the sweet, balmysea-breeze and smell of flowers, and drink in the soft,clear air, and would get far away from our littlestraggling, up-and-down town on itsperch, and crossover barrancas and ravines and enjoy myself.Oneday, so occupied, I came upon a lovely quinta in agarden, full of fruits and flowers, a perfectforest of tall

Ueneriffe 225rose trees and geranium bushes, which hungover thegarden hedge into the path. Two charming old ladiescaught me prigging Los Senhoras T. They cameout and asked me in, showed me all over their garden,gave me fruit and sweetmeats and flowers, and kissedme. They did not know what five o'clock tea meant,but I often wandered there about that time, and founda charming substitute in the above articles, and I quitestruck up a friendship with them.We put off leaving our peacefulretreat until the lastpossible day,when we went down to Santa Cruz.When we had been at Santa Cruz three or four days,the fatal gun boomed the signal of our separation.It was midday, and there was my detestable steamerat anchor the steamer by which I was to return toI feltEngland. as I did when I was a child, and thecab stopped at the dentist's door. Imay pass over thismiserable day and our most miserable parting. Richardwas going againto pestilentialFernando Po. I shouldnot see him for many, many weary months, and perhapsnever again.How gladly would I have gone withhim ;even to the eleventh hour I had hoped that hewould relent and let me go. But the climate wasdeath to a white woman, and he was inexorable. Hewould not even let me sleep one nightatFernando Po.So we parted, he to his consulate, and I to go backhome which was no home without him. I pass overthe pain of that parting.With manytears and a heavyheart I embarked on my steamer for England.VOL. I.

CHAPTER IVA TRIP TO PORTUGAL(18631865)Containeth Time a twain of days this of blessing, that of bane ;And holdeth Life a twain of halves this of pleasure, that of pain.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burton's "Arabian Nights").ON returning to England, a long and dreary intervalof fifteen months ensued. Isabel spentit for the most part with her parents in London,working all the time for her husband in one way oranother. The separation was broken this time byone or two voyages which she made from Englandto Teneriffe, where she and her husband met fora space when he could snatch a week or two fromFernando Po. She had one very anxious time; itwas when Burton was sent on a special mission tothe King of Dahome, to impress upon that potentatethe importance the British Government attached to thecessation of the slave-trade, and to endeavour by everypossible means to induce him to discontinue the Dahomancustoms, which were abominable cruelties. Burtonsucceeded in some things, and his dusky majesty tooka great fancy to him, and he made him a brigadier-226

H Urip to {Portugal 227of his Amazons. When the news of this un-generallooked-for honour reached Isabel, she became " madlyjealous from afar," for she picturedto herself herhusband surrounded by lovely houris in flowing robesmounted on matchless Arab steeds. Burton, however,allayed her pangs by sendingher a little sketch of thechief officer of his brigade,as a type of the rest.EvenIsabel, who owns that she was influenced occasionallyby the green-eyed monster, could not be jealous of thisenchantress.The mission to the King of Dahome was a difficultand dangerous one ;but Burton acquitted himself well.Isabel at home lost no time in bringing her husband'sservices before Lord Russell, the Foreign Secretary, andshe seized this opportunity to ask for his promotionto a less deadly climate, where she might join him.In reply she received the followingletter :" MINTO, October 6, 1863."DEAR MRS. BURTON," I know the climate in which your husbandisworking so zealously and so well is an unhealthyone, but it is not true to say that he is the smallest ofconsuls in the worst part of the world. Many haveinferior salaries, and some are in more unhealthy places.(

228 ube IRomance of Isabel Xa&s JSurtonWith this answer she was fain to be content for a space.In August, 1864, the time came round againforBurton's second leave home. His wife, rejoicing,travelled down to meet him at Liverpool,to part no more, as previously.A few weeks after histhis timereturn they went to Mortlake Cemetery and chose theplace for their grave, the very spot where the stone tentnow is,beneath which they both are sleeping. Veryquickly after that came the British Association meetingat Bath and the tragic incident of Speke's death. 11 " Laurence Oliphant conveyed to Richard that Speke had saidthat ' if Burton appeared on the platform at Bath ' (which was, asit were, Speke's native town) 'he would kick him.' I rememberRichard's answer Well, that settles it !By God ! he shall Kick.';and so to Bath we went. There was to be no speaking on'meAfrica the first day, but the next day was fixed for the ' greatdiscussion between Burton and Speke.' The firstday we wenton the platform close to Speke. He looked at Richard and atme, and we at him. I shall never forget his face. It was full ofsorrow, of yearning and perplexity. Then he seemed to turn tostone. After a while he began to fidget a great deal, and exclaimedhalf aloud, ' Oh, I cannot stand this 'any longer He ! got up to go'out The man nearest him said, Shall you want your chair again,sir ?May I have it ? Shall you come back ? ' and he answered,'I hope not,' and left the hall. The next day a large crowd wasassembled for this famous discussion. All the distinguished peoplewere with the Council ;Richard alone was excluded, and stood onthe platform we two alone, he with his notes in his hand. Therewas a delay of about twenty-five minutes, and then the Council andspeakers filed in and announced the terrible accident out shootingthat had befallen poor Speke shortly after his leaving the hall theday before. Richard sank into a chair, and I saw by the workingsof his face the terrible emotion he was controlling and the shockhe had received. When called upon to speak, in a voice thattrembled, he spoke of other things and as briefly as he could.When we got home he wept long and bitterly, and I was for manya day trying to comfort him " (Life of Sir Richard Burton, byIsabel his wife, vol. i., p. 389).

H ZTrip to Portugal 229Apart from the sad circumstance of Speke's death,which cast a shadow over their joy,the Burtons passeda very pleasant winter. They stayed at severalcountry houses, as was their wont, and found manyhospitable friends glad to receive them, and met manyinteresting people, notably Professor Jowett. Early in1864 they went on a two months' driving tour inIreland, which they explored by degrees from end toend after their own fashion in an Irish car.Theypaid many visits en route ;and itmay be mentioned inpassing that Isabel always used to see the little horsewhich took them over Ireland had his midday feed,washed down by a pint of whisky and water. She alwaysdeclared that this was what kept him so frisky andfresh ! This Irish tour also brings out the restless,roving spiritof both Burton and his wife. Even whenon leave at home, and in the midst of civilization, theycould never remain any length of time in one place,but preferredto be on the move and roughit in theirown fashion. At Dublin they met with an unusualamount of hospitality ;and while they were staying inthat cityIsabel met Lentaigne, the great convict philanthropist.He had such a passion for taking convictsin and trying to reform them that Lord Carlisle oncesaid to him, " Why, Lentaigne, you will wake up somemorning and find you are the only spoon in the house."He took Isabel to see all the prisons and reformatoriesin Dublin, and endeavoured to arouse in her somethingof his enthusiasm for their inhabitants.Knowing thatshe would soon be bound for foreign parts, he imploredher to take one with her, a convict woman of about

Romance of Isabel Xaop Kurtonthirty-four, who was just being dischargedyears in prison.after fifteenu Why, Mr. Lentaigne, what did she"do ? asked Isabel." " Poor !girlhe answered" thesweetest creature ! she murdered her baby when shewas" "sixteen." Well," answered Isabel, I would doanything to oblige you ;but if I took her, I dare sayIshould often be left alone with her, and at thirty-fourshe might like larger game."It was about this time that the Burtons againrepresentedto Lord Russell how miserable their liveswere, in consequence of being continually separated bythe deadly climate of Fernando Po. Isabel's repeatedpetitions so moved the Foreign Secretary that he transferredBurton to the Consulate of Santos in the Brazils.It was not much of a post,it is true, and with atreacherous climate ;but still his wife could accompanyhim there, and they hailed the change with gratitude.Before their departure a complimentary dinner wasgiven by the Anthropological Society to Burton, withLord Stanley (afterwards Lord Derby)in the chair.Lord Stanley made a very complimentary speech aboutthe guest of the evening, and the President of theSociety proposed Mrs. Burton's health, and spoke of the"respect and admiration " with which they all regardedher. The dinner was a capital send-off, and theBurtons may be said to have entered uponthe secondstage of their married life with the omens set fair.Husband and wife arranged that they should goout to Portugal togetherfor a little tour ;that heshould go on from there to Brazil ;and she shouldreturn to London to wind up affairs, and as soon as

H TTrip to Portugal 231that was done joinhim at Rio. In accordance withthisprogramme they embarked at Southampton forLisbon on May 10, 1865. The passage out wasuneventful. Isabel in her journalthus describes theirexperiences on arrivingat Lisbon :" As soon as our vessel dropped her anchor a crowdof boats came alongside, and there ensued a wonderfulscene. In their anxiety to secure employment theporters almost dragged the passengers in half, and torethe baggage from each other as dogs fight for a bone,screaming themselves hoarse the while, and scarcelyintelligible from excitement. The noise was so greatwe could not hear ourselves speak, and our great difficultywas to prevent any one of them from fingeringour baggage. We made up our minds to wait till thegreat rush was over. We sent some baggage on withthe steamer, and kept some to go ashore. I am sureI do not exaggerate when I say that, as I sat andwatched one bag,I told fifteen men, one after another,to let it alone. We saw some friends go off in theclutches of many fingers,and amid scenes of confusionand excitement ;but not caring to do likewise, wechose a boat, and went round to the custom-house.The landing was most disagreeable, and in a bad galenot to be done at allmerely a few dirty steps on theriver- side. In wind and peltingrain we walked toour hotel, followed closelyat our heels by men andfamished-looking dogs.We proceeded at once to thebest-looking hotel in the place, the Braganza, whichmakes some show from the river a large, square, redbuilding, several storeys high, with tiers of balconies

232 Ube IRoinance of Jsabel Xafcg JSurtonall round the house. On account of the diplomatsoccupying this hotel on a special mission from Englandto givethe Garter to the King of itPortugal, wasstill crowded, and we were put upin the garrets atfirst. After two days we were given a very pleasantsuite of rooms bedroom, dining- and drawing-roomwith wide windows overlooking the Tagus and a greatpart of Lisbon."These quarters were, however, not without drawbacks,for here occurred an incident which gave me aforetaste of the sort of thingI was to expectin Brazil.Our bedroom was a large whitewashed place ;therewere three holes in the wall, one at the bedside bristlingwith horns, and these were cockroaches some threeinches long.The drawing-room was gorgeous withyellow satin, and the magnificent yellow curtains weresprinkled with these crawling things.The consequencewas that I used to stand on a chair and scream. Thisannoyed Richard very much. *A nice sort of travellerand companion you are going to *make,' he said ;Isuppose you think you look very pretty and interestingstanding on that chair and howling at those innocentcreatures.' This hurt me so much that, withoutdescending from the chair, I stopped screaming, andmade a meditation like St. Simon Styliteson his pillar ;and it was, ' That if I was going to live in a countryalways in contact with these and worse things, thoughI had a perfect horror of anything black and crawling,it would never do to go on like that.' So I got down,fetched a basin of water and a slipper,and in twohours, by the watch, I had knocked ninety-seven of

H Urip to {Portugal 233them into it. It cured me. From that dayI had nomore fear of vermin and reptiles,which is justas wellin a country where nature is over-luxuriant. A littlewhile after we changed our rooms we were succeededby Lord and Lady Lytton, and, to my infinite delight,I heard the same screams coming from the same room''a little while after. There ! I said in triumph, ' yousee I am not the only woman who does not likecockroaches.' 'The Burtons tarried two months in Portugal, andexplored it from end to end, and Isabel made notes ofeverything she saw in her characteristic way. Spacedoes not permit of giving the account of her Portuguesetour in full, but we are fain to find room for the followingdescriptions of a bull-fight and procession at Lisbon.Burton insisted on taking his wife (whose loathing ofcruelty to animals was intense) to see it, probably toaccustom her betimes to the savage sights and soundswhich might await her in the semi-civilized countrywhither they were bound." At first," she" says, Icrouched down with my hands over my face, but Igradually peeped through one finger and then anotheruntil I saw the whole of it." And this is what she saw :" On Sunday afternoon at half-past four we drove tothe Campo di Sta. Anna, where stands the Prac.a dosTouros, or Bull Circus, a wooden edifice built in thetime of Dom Miguel. It is fitted with five hundredboxes, and can contain ten thousand persons.It is ahigh, round, red building, ornamented. The circle hasa barrier and then a space all round, and a second andhigher barrier where the people begin. They were

234 Ubc "Romance of Isabel Xaop JSurtonwatering thering when we entered, crackers were fizzing,and the band was playing.At five o'clock thecircle was filled."A blast from the trumpets announced the entry ofthe cavalleiro, a knight on a prancing steed richlycaparisoned, which performed all the steps and evolutionsof the old Spanish horsemanshipi.e.salutingthe public and curvetingall about in steps.Thecavalleiro then announced the deeds to be performed,and thisceremony was called ' the greeting of theknight.' Before him marched the bull-fighters,whoranged themselves for inspection in ranks. Theywere sixteen in number. Eight gallegos were dressedin white stockings to the knee, flesh-coloured tights,green caps lined with red, red sashes, and gay,chintzpatternedjackets, and were armed with long prongedforks like pitchforks,called homens de forfado. Theywere Portuguese,fit and hearty. Two boys in chocolatecolouredvelvet and gold attended as pages, and sixSpaniards, who really did all the work, completed thenumber. They were tall, straight, slim, proud, andgraceful, and they strutted about with cool jauntiness.Their dress began with dandy shoes, then flesh-colouredstockings, velvet tights slashed with gold or silver, ascarlet sash, and a short jacket that was a mass of goldor silver, and a sombrero of fanciful make. Their hairwas as short as possible, save for a pigtail rolled up likea woman's back hair and knotted with ribbon. Therewas one in green and gold, one in pale blue and silver,one in purple and silver, one in dark blue and silver,one in chocolate and silver, and one in maroon and

silver.H TOp to Portugal 235The green and gold was the favourite man, onaccount of his coolness, jaunty demeanour, and hisgraceful carelessness. The cavalleiro having inspectedthem, retired. Another man then came out, the" piccador.At a fresh blast of the horn the door of the arenaflew open,and in rushed a bull. For an instant hestopped, stared wildly round in surprise, and gave awild roar of rage.Then he made at the horseman,whose dutyit was to receive him at full gallop and toplant the barb in his neck before his horns reached thehorse's hind-quarters, which he would otherwise haveripped up.When the bull had received several barbsfrom the piccador, he was tired of pursuing the horse.It was then the duty of the Spaniards to run so as todraw the bull after them, when on foot they plantedtwo barbs in his neck. The instant he received themhe roared and turned off for an instant, during whichthe man flew over the barrier as lightlyas possible.This went on for some time, the bull bounding aboutwith his tail in the air and roaringas he sought anothervictim. The prettiest part of it was the skill of thematador or espada,who shook a cloak at the bull.beast immediately rushed at it as quickTheas a flash oflightning ; the espada darted aside, twisted the cloak,and changed places with the bull, who could never getat him. It was as if he rushed at a shadow. It wasmost graceful.In the case of our green-and-goldespada the bulls seemed afraid of him. They retiredbefore his gaze as he knelt down before them, beggingof them to come on ;after a few rounds they seemed toacknowledge a master, for he appeared to terrify them.

236 ZEbe Romance of Isabel Xaoj? JBurtonThe last act was that in which the gallegostease the bullto run at them. One, when the bull was charging withbowed head, jumped between the horns and clung on,allowing himself to be flung about, and the otherscaught hold of the tail and jumped on his back, and hepranced about till tired. This is literally'seizing thebull by the horns/ Then oxen with bells were turnedin, and the bull was supposed to go off quietly withthem. We had thirteen bulls, and the performancelasted two hours. The programmes were crammedwith high-flown language."Women were there in full war-paint, green andpink silk and white mantillas. Little children of fourand five years old were there too. No wonder they growhardened ! A few English tourists were present also,and a lot of dirty-looking people dressed in Sundaybest. Our first bull would go back with the cows ;the second bull jumped over the barrier, and gave agreat deal of trouble, and very nearly succeeded ingetting amongst the people. Every now and thena bull would fly over the head of the bandahille andjump the barrier to escapehim. One bull flew at thebarrier, and, failingto clear it, fell backwards ;one bullwould not fight,and was fearfully hissed ;one had tobe lassoed to get him out of the ring.Once or twicegallegos would have been gored but for the balls onthe bulls' horns." After the first terror I found the fight veryexciting.If it had been a bit more cruel no womanought to have seen it. I heard some who wereaccustomed to Spanish bull-fights sayit was very tame.

H TOp to Portugal 237The bulls' horns were muffled, so that they could notgore the horses or men. Hence there were no disembowelledhorses and dogs lying dead, and a bullwhich has fought well is not unfairly killed. The menwere bruised though, and perhaps the horses.The bullhad some twenty barbs stickingin the fleshy part ofhis neck. When he is lassoed and made fast in thestable, the men take out the barbs, wash the woundsin vinegar and salt,and the bull returns to his herd.c

238 Ube Romance of Isabel Xaop 3Burtonwith brazen effrontery, asked permission to get intomy carriage to see the procession better the rude;shopboys clambered up the wheels, hiding the viewwith their hats. Idispersed the men, but took in theof thechildren. They did not attempt this with anyPortuguese carriages, but only with mine." The procession occupied two hours and a half. Firstcame a troop of black men, and a dragon (i.e.a man inscaly armour) mounted on an elephant in their midst.The next group was St. George on his horse, followedby Britannia a small girlastride dressed like Britannia.The military presented arms to Britannia. Thesegroups were both followed by led chargers caparisonedwith scarlet velvet trappings,their manes and tailsplaited with blue silk, and with blue plumes on theirheads. They were led by grooms in the royal liveryof red and gold. These were followed allby thedifferent religious orders, carrying tall candles mountedin silver, and a largesilver crucifix in the centre, andsurrounded by acolytesin red cloth. Then camegolden canopies, surmounted by gold and silvercrosses. Then all the clergy surrounding some greatecclesiastical dignitary the bishop probably to whomthe soldiers presented arms. Then came an officialwith a gold bell in a large gold frame, which was rungthree times at every few hundred yards, followed bya huge red-and-yellow canopy, under which were therelics of St. Vincent. Then, carried on cushions, wereseven mitres covered with jewels, representingtheseven archbishops, more crosses and candles, clergyincopes, and all the great people of the Church. Then

H Hdp to fl>ortu0al 239came the last and important group. It was headedby a procession of silver lanterns carried by the bishopsand chief priests.Then followed a magnificent canopy,under which the Cardinal Patriarch carried the BlessedSacrament. The corners of the canopy were held bymembers of the Royal Family, and immediately behindit came the King. The troops brought up the rear.The soldiers knelt as the Blessed Sacrament passed,and we all went on our knees and bowed our heads.The King was tall, dark, and majestic, with a longnose and piercingblack eyes, and he walked withgrace and dignity.He wore uniform of dark bluewith gold epaulettes, and the Order of the Garter,which had just been given him."The dayafter the royal procession Burton sailedfrom Lisbon for Brazil. His wife went on board withhim, inspected his cabin, and saw that everything wascomfortable, and then " with a heavy heart returned in aboat to the pier,and watched the vessel slowly steamingaway out of the Tagus." She attempted to drive afterher along the shore, but the steamer went too fast ;soshe went to the nearest church, and prayed for strengthto bear the separation. Burton had told his wife toreturn to England bythe next steamer. As she wasin the habit of obeying his commands very literally,and as a few hours after he left Lisbon a little cockleshellof a steamer came in, she embarked in this mostunseaworthy boat the afternoon of the same day, thoughshe had no proper accommodation for passengers. Theyhad a terrible time of itcrossing the Bay of Biscay, toall the accompaniments of a raging storm, violent sea-

240 Ubc IRomancc of Isabel Xabg JBurtonsickness, and a cabin " like the Black Hole of Calcutta."Her experiences were so unpleasant that she dubbed thevessel Te Shippe of Hell.Nevertheless, as was her wont,she managedto see the ludicrous side. She writes :" Our passengers were some fun. There was not asingle man who could have been called a gentlemanamong the passengers, and only two ladies. Theywere Donna Maria Bita Tenario y Moscoso(aPortuguese marquise), travellingfor her health with amaid-companion, and myself returning with my maidto England. There were two other ladies (so called)with children, each of them a little girl,and the girlswere as troublesome as the monkey and the dog whowere with them.They trod on our toes, rubbed theirjammy fingers on our dresses, tore our leaves out ofour books, screamed, wanted everything, and foughtlike the monkey and the dog. Their papas were quiet,worthy men. We had also on board a captain andmate whose ship had been burnt in Morocco with a fullcargo on the eve of returning to England ;a gentlemanreturning from Teneriffe (where he has spent twentyfiveyears) to England, his native land, whom everybodyhoaxed and persuaded him almost that the moon wasmade of green cheese in England ; a Jew who ate,drank, was sick, and then began to gorge again, laughedand talked and was sick with greatest good humourand unconcern ;an intelligent and well-manneredyoung fellow, English born, but naturalized in Portugal,going out to the Consulate at Liverpool ; and, lastly,a Russian gentleman,who looked like an old ball ofworsted thrown under the grate.Nothing was talked

of but sickness and so forth ;H Urip to iportugal 241but I must say they wereallgood-hearted, good-humoured, and good-natured,and theirkindness to each other on the voyage nothingcould exceed. The two terrible children aforesaidwere a great amusement in Te Shippe.One used totease a monkey by boiling an egg hard and giving ithim hot, to see him toss it from paw to paw, and thenholding a looking-glass before him, for him to see hisgrimaces and antics and other tricks ;and the otherchild was always teasing a poor Armenian priest bornin Jerusalem. He had taken a second-class passageamongst the sailors and common men. The first classwas bad enough. God help the second !They wouldnot give the poor man anything to eat, and bulliedteased him.andHe bore up in such a manly way my heartached for him and made me blush for the British snob.for him when II used to load my pockets with thingsleft the table, and got the first class to admit him toour society under an awning but the; captain wouldnot have him in the cabin or on the upper deck. Ourrisen from a commonskipper was a rough man, havingsailor, but pleasant enough when in a polite humour.The third amusement was the fallals of our maids, whowere much more ill and helpless than their mistresses.They were always * dying,' ' wouldn't get up,' ' couldn'twalk,' but had to be supported by the gentlemen.There was great joy on the sixth day because wethought we saw land. It might have been a fog-bank ;itmight have been Portland Bill ; anyway, we began topack and prepare and bet who would sleep ashore.We awoke on the seventh day in a fog off BeachyVOL. i. 1 6

242 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaos BurtonHead at 4.30 a.m., and layto and whistled. Sometime after we passed Eastbourne, and then ran plankalong the coast. How prettythe white walls ofEngland looked in the morning sun ! At night wereached Gravesend ;but there was too little water, andwe went aground at Erith, where we were obligedto staytill next morning, owing to the bad fog andno water. However, we made our way upto St.^Catherine's wharf at ten. There was an awful bustle ;but I disturbed the whole ship to land ;and taking myPortuguese marquise under my wing, I fought my wayto shore. I arrived home at noon a happy meeting inthe bosom of my family."Arrived in London, Isabel at once set to work tocomplete her preparations for her departureIt was a habit with the Burtons all throughto Brazil.their livesthat, whenever they were leaving England for any lengthof time, Burton started first in light marching order toprospect the place, leaving his wife behind to pay,pack, and bring up the heavy baggage in the rear. Thiswas the case in the present instance. When her workwas done, Isabel found she had still ten days on herhands before the steamer sailed from Southampton forRio. So temporal affairs being settled for the nonce,she turned her attention to her spiritual needs, andand otherprepared herself for her new life by prayerexercise. She went into retreat for a weekreligiousat the Convent of the Assumption, Kensington Square.The following meditation is taken from her devotionalbook of that period:" I am to bear all joyfully,as an atonement to save

B Urtp to {Portugal 343Richard. How thoughtful for me has been God'sdispensation He rescued me from a fate which,!though it was a happy one, I pined in, because I wasintended for a higher destiny and yearned for it. Letme not think thatmy lot is to be exempt from trials,nor shrink from them, but let me take pain and pleasurealike. Let me summon health and spiritsand nervestomy aid,for I have asked and obtained a most difficultmission, and I must acquire patient endurance ofsuffering, resistance of evil, and take difficulties andpain with courage and even with avidity. My missionand my religion must be uppermost. As I askedardently for this mission none other than to beRichard's wife let me not forgetto ask as ardentlyfor grace to carry it out, and let me do all I can to layup such store as will remain with me beyond the grave.I have boughtbitter experiences, but much has, I hope,been forgiven me. I belong to God the God whomade all this beautiful world which perpetually makesmy heart so glad.I cannot see Him, but I feel Him;He is with me, within me, around me, everywhere.IfI lost Him, what would become of me ? How I havebowed down beforemyRichard, life would be worthless.are perishable, and will soon be over ;husband's intellect ! If I lostYet he and I and lifebut God and mysoul and eternity are everlasting. I pray to be bettermoulded to the will of God, and for love of Him tobecome indifferent to what maybefall me."The next week Isabel sailed from Southampton tojoin her husband at Rio.

CHAPTER VBRAZIL(18651867)For to share is the bliss of heaven, as it is the joy of earth;And the unshared bread lacks savour, and the wine unshared lacks zest ;And the joy of the soul redeemed would be little, little worth,If, content with its own security, it could forget the rest.ISABELhad a pleasant voyage out to Brazil, andwitnessed for the first time the ceremonies of"crossing the Line," Neptune, and the tubbing,shaving, climbing the greasy pole, sack races, and allthe rest of it. When the ship arrived at Pernambuco,on August 27, Isabel found all the letters she hadwritten to her husband since they had parted at LisbonThis upsether so muchaccumulated at the post-office.that, while the other passengers were dancing andmaking merry, she stole on deck and passed theevening in tears, or, to use her own phrase,she had" a good boohoo in the moonlight."A few days later the ship reached Rio de Janeiro.Burton came on board to meet her, and she had thejoy of personally delivering the overdue letters into hishands.They stayed five or six weeks in Rio, at the Estran-244

245geiros Hotel, and enjoyeda good deal of society, andmade several excursions into the country round about.They were well received by the European society of theplace, which was chiefly naval and diplomatic. Thiswas pleasant for Isabel, who could never quite accommodateherself to the somewhat second-rate position towhich the English Consul and his wife are generallyrelegated by foreign courts (more so then than now).Isabel was always sensitive about the position abroadof her husband and herself. In the ordinary way, atmany foreign capitals,the consul and his wife are notpermitted to attend court, and the line of demarcationbetween the Consular and Diplomatic service isrigidly drawn. But Isabel would have none of this,and she demanded and obtained the position whichbelonged to her by birth, and to her husband byreason of his famous and distinguished public services.Burton himself cared nothing for these things, andhis wife only cared for them because she had an ideathey would help him on in his career. That herefforts in this direction did help him there is no doubt ;but in some ways they may have hindered too, for theyaroused jealousy in certain small minds among hiscolleagues in the Consular service, who disliked to seethe Burtons taking a social position superior to theirown. The fact is that both Richard Burton and hiswife were simply thrown awayin the Consular service ;they were too big for their position, in energy, in ability,in every way. They had no field for their activities,and their large and ardent natures perpetually chafedat the restraints and petty annoyances resulting from

246 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtontheir semi-inferior position. Exceptat Damascus, theywere round pegsinsquareholes. Burton was notof the stuff to make a good consul ;and the same,relatively speaking, may be said of his wife. Theywere both of them in a false position from the start.The following extract from a letter which Isabelwrote home shortly after her arrival in Brazil is ofinterest in this connexion :" I dare say some of my friends do not know what aconsul is. I am sure I had not the remotest idea untilI came here, and then I find it is verymuch whatLady Augusta thinks in The Eramleighs^ written bya much-respected member of our cloth, Charles Lever,consul atTrieste.'*Isn't a consul,' she asks, a horridcreature that Jives in a seaport, and worries merchantseamen, and imprisons people who have no passports?Papa always wrote to the consul about getting heavybaggage through the custom-house ;and when ourservants quarrelled with the porters, or the hotel people,it was the consul sent some of them to jail.But you areaware, darling, he isn't a creature one knows. Theyare simply impossible, dear impossible a gentleman touches an it's all emploi over with himfrom that hour he becomes the Customs creature, or theconsul, or the factor, or whatever it be, irrevocably.Do! The momentyou know that is the only way to keep men of familyout of small official life? We should see them keepinglighthouses if it were not for the obloquy.' Now, alas !dear, as you are well aware, I do know what a consul is,and what it is to be settled down in a placethat myIrish maid calls the 'end of God's speed,' whatever that

247may be but which I; interpret that, after Providencemade the world,allbeing Saturday night, the rubbishwas thrown down here and forgotten."She was over-sensitive on this point, and keenly aliveto slightsfrom those who, thoughrespects, were superior in official position,inferior in otherand who werejealous when they saw " only the Consul's wife " playingthe grande dame. were unable to understand thatTheythe kindness of Sir Edwardand Ladya woman of Isabel's calibre could hardly play any otherpart in whatever positionshe found herself. Fortunately,throughThornton (SirEdward was then British Minister atRio), she experienced very few of these annoyancesat Rio ;and she always remembered their goodness toher in this respect.The Emperor and Empress alsotook the Burtons up, and made much of them.On this their firstsojourn in Rio everything wasmost pleasant.The Diplomatic society, thanks to SirEdward and Lady Thornton, welcomed the Burtonswith open arms. A lady who occupied a prominentposition in the Diplomatic circle of Rio at that timehas told me the following about Isabel :"We likedher from the first, and we were always glad to seeher when she came up to Rio or Petropolis from SaoPaulo. She was a handsome, fascinating woman, fullof fun and high spirits, and the very best of goodcompany.It was impossible to be dull with her, forshe was a brilliant talker, and always had some wittyanecdotes or tales of her adventures to tell us. Shewas devoted toher husband and his interests, and wasnever tired of singinghis praises. She was a great

248 TTbe iRomance of Isabel Xaog 3Burtouhelp to him in every way, for he by no means sharedher popularity."At Rio/Isabel gave her first dinner-party the firstsince her marriage ;and here she got a touch of fever,which lasted for some time.When she was sufficiently recovered, the Burtonsleft Rio for Santos (their consulate, one hundred andtwenty miles to the south). They went down on boardH.M.S. Triton, and on arrival were saluted by theusual number of guns.The Consular Corps werein attendance, and the Brazilian local magnates cameto visit them. Thus began Isabel's firstexperienceof officiallife.Santos was only a mangrove swamp, and in manyrespects as unhealthy as Fernando Po. Burton hadcome down and inspectedthe placebefore the arrivalof his wife at Rio; and he had arranged,as there weretwo placesequally requiringthe presence of a consulSao Paulo on the top of the Serra, and Santos low downon the coast that Isabel should live for the most partat Sao Paulo, which was comparatively healthy, and thatand down between Santos and Saothey should ride upPaulo as need required. For an Englishwomanto havelived always at Santos would have been fatal to herhealth. The railway between Santos and Sao Paulo wasthen in process of being made. As they had determinednot to sleep at Santos, the Burtons went the same dayon trolleys alongthe new line as far as Mugis, wherethey stayed the night.The next day, by dint of mules,walking, riding, and occasional trolleys, they got to thetop of the Serra, a very precipitous climb. At the top

249a locomotive took them to Sao Paulo, where they putup at a small inn. The next day Burton had to godown to Santos to establish his consulate ;but his wiferemained at Sao Paulo to look for a house, and, as shesaid, "set up our first real home."In about a fortnightshe followed him down toSantos in the diligence, and remained there until theswamps gave her a touch of fever. She then went upto Sao Paulo again, and after some difficulty found ahouse. This was in the latter part of 1865. Thewhole of the next eighteen months was spent betweenSao Paulo and Santos, varied at long intervals by a tripto Rio, or a visit to Barra, the watering-place, or excursionsin the country round Sao Paulo.Burton wasoften away on his consular duties or on expeditions toleft muchfar-away places, and his wife was necessarilyalone at Sao Paulo, where she led a life more like" farmhouse life," to use her own phrase, than anythingelse. There were many and great drawbacks arisingfrom the unhealthy climate, the insects and vermin,and the want of congenial society.But Isabel wasone of those who manage to get enjoyment out ofthe most unlikely surroundings, and she always madethe best of circumstances and the material at herdisposal.As one has said of her," If she had foundherself in a coal-hole, she would immediately haveset to work to arrange the coals to the best possibleadvantage."On the whole, this period of her life (December, 1865,of it isto June, 1867) was a happy one. The storybest told in a series of letters which she wrote to her

250 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaop JSurtonmother ;and from them I have been permitted to makethe following extracts :"SAo PAULO, December 15, 1865."I do hate Santos. The climate isbeastly, thepeople fluffy.The stinks, the vermin, the food, theniggers are all of a piece.There are no walks ;and ifyou go one way, you sink knee-deep in mangrove swamps ;another you are covered with sand-flies ;and a third iscrawling up a steep mountain by a mule-path to get aglimpse of the sea beyond the lagoons which surroundSantos. I stayed there a fortnight and some days, andI got quite ill and peevish.At last Richard was togo to Ignipe, and I to Sao Paulo again. I started onTuesday, the 1 2th, at one in the day ; and as it was sofine I sent all my cloaks and warm wraps away, andstarted in a boat, as for two hours from Santos the roadshad overflowed. Then I took the diligence, which is anopen van with seven mules, and got the box-seat toenjoy the country. It rained in buckets, and thunderedand lightenedall the way. We dined in a roadsidehut on black beans and garlic,I and strange travellingcompanions, and arrived in eleven and a half hours. Ihad only a cotton gown on and no shawl, and Kier (mymaid) said I came to the door like a shivering charitygirl,with the rain streaming off the brim of my hat.Kier gave me some tea with brandy, groomed me downwith brandy and water, and put me between blankets.They think me a wonderful person here for being soindependent, as all the ladies are namby-pamby. Togo up and down by myself between Santos and Sao

251Paulo is quite a masculine feat. I am the only womanwho ever crossed the Serra outside the diligence, andthe only lady or woman who ever walked across theviaduct, which is now a couple of planks wide acrossthe valley, with one hundred and eightyfeet to fall ifyou slip or Iget giddy. saw every one staringat meand holding uptheir hands ;and I was not aware I haddone anything odd, till I landed safely the other side,and saw all the rest going round. The next day twoof the workmen fell off and were killed." You asked me to tellyouabout Sao Paulo." I have taken a house in the town itself, because ifRichard has to be away often, I should not feel verysafe with only Kier, out in the country amongst lawlesspeople and beasts. The part of the town I am in isvery high, on a good eminence, and therefore dry andnarrow. I have anhealthy, a nice little street, thoughappartement furnished ;four rooms to myself and theuse of three others, and the kitchen, the servant ofthe house, and everything but food, for 150 milreis,or 15 a month." Behind is a yard and a patch of flowers, whichpeople of sanguine temperaments might call a garden,where we keep barrels of water for washing or drinking.We have to buy water at threepence a gallon." As to furniture, in the Brazils they put manythings into a house which you do not want, and nothingyou do. I have had their hard, lumbering, buggy bedsremoved, and have put up our own little iron Englishbedsteads with spring mattresses. I sleptinmy owncosy little bed from Montagu Place last nightfor the

252 Ube "Romance of 5sabel Xaog Burtonfirst time since it leftmy room there (now Billy's) ; Ikissed it with delight, and jumped in it. I also boughtone in London for Richard." My servants consist of Kier, and one black boy, avery curious dwarf as black as thegrate, named Chico.He is honest and sharp as a needle, and can do everything.All the English here wanted him, and did theirbest to prevent his coming to me ;but he ran away,and came to me for less than half the money he askedthem ;and he watches me like a dog, and flies for everythingI want. I shall bring him home with me whenI come. The slaves here have to work night and day,and people treat them like mules, with an utter disregardfor their personal comforts. There is somethingsuperior and refined in my dwarf, and I treat him withthe same consideration as I would a white servant ;Isee that he has plenty of good food, a good bed, andproper exercise and sleep, and he works none the worsefor it."Sao Paulo itself is a pretty, white, straggling townon a hill and running down into a high table-land,which iswell wooded and watered, and mountains allround in the distance. We are about three thousandfeet above sea-level. It is a fine climate, too hot fromnine till four in summer, but fairlycool all the otherhours. No cockroaches, fleas, bugs, and sand-flies, butonly mosquitoes and jiggers.Out in the country thereare snakes, monkeys, jaguars, and wild cats, 'scorpioncentipedes,and spiders, but not in the town. Of courseit is dull for those who have time to be dull, and veryexpensive. For those who are launched in Brazilian

253society, it is a fast and immoral place, without any chicor style.It is full of students, and no one is religiousor honest in money matters ;and I should never besurprised if fire were rained down upon it, as in a cityof the Old Testament, for want of a just Brazilian.En revanche it is very healthy, and only one month'sjourney to England." I have had my first jigger since I wrote. A jiggeris a little dirty insect like a white tick that gets intoyour foot, under your toe-nail if possible, burrows, andmakes a large bag of eggs.It itches ;and if you arewise, you send at once for a negress, and she picks itout with a common pin: if you do it yourself, you breakits bag, and your foot festers. I knew nothing about it,and left it for eight days, and found I could not walkfor a little black lump in my foot, which spurted fluidlike ink when I touched it. At lastmy nigger askedme to let him look at it,and he got a sharp pair ofscissors and took it out. It was like a white bag thissize o, with a black head, and it left quitea hole inmy foot. You cannot walk about here without yourshoes, and they must be full of camphor, or the jiggersget into your feet, and people have their nails takenoff" to extract them, and sometimes their toes andfeet cut off."11 SAO PAULO, January 3, 1866." I have had twelve hard days' work, from six in themorning till late at night, with Kier and my black boy.We have had to unpack fifty-nine pieces of baggage,wash the dirty trunks and stow them away, sort, dry,

254 ftbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonand clean all their contents, and arrange ourselves inour rooms. We are now comfortable for the moment ;but we shall not stay here very long. There are manyin the house which I did not know till Idisagreeableshad settled in it and taken it for four months. Forexample,I have rented it from a French familywho arecomposed, it appears, of odds and ends, and they havethe same right as myself to two of these rooms, thesalon and the storeroom,so I am notalone and cannotdo as I like ; and, worst of all, one of them is a ladywho will come up and call on me. I am obligedtosend to her and beg to be excused, which is disagreeable.She is, it appears, a notorious personage. Richard isgone to the mines, and has been away now nearly threeweeks ;and I have taken itupon myself to rent a verynice house opposite this one. The English here misleadone about expenses ;I am obliged to buy my ownexperience, and I do not expect to shake down into myincome for three or four months more. The Englishlike to appear grand, savingall the while ;and theylike to show me off as their lady consul, and makeme run into expenses, while I want honestly to livewithin 700 a year,and have as much comfort asthat will allow us. It will only go as far as ,300 inEngland.""SAo PAULO, January 17, 1866." I have settled down inmy furnished apartmentswith Kier and Chico, and am chiefly employedinarranging domestic expenses, studying Portuguese, andpractising my music. Richard has been gone to the

255mines a month, and returned to Santos yesterday ;so Iconclude he will be up here in a few days. It is ourfifth wedding day on the 22nd. Here every one wantsto let his own especial dog-hole to us, so it is very hardto get settled. The house is a nice, large, roomy one,with good views. Kier and I and Chico, with theassistance of a friend's servant, are painting, whitewashing,and papering it ourselves. Only fancy, theBrazilians are dreadfully shocked at me for working !They never do anything but live in rags, filth, and discomfortat the back of their houses, and have one showroomand one show-dress for strangers,eat fejao (blackbeans), and pretend they are spending the deuce andall. The eighth deadly sin here is to be poor, or worse,economical. They say I am economical, because I workmyself.fI said to one of the principal ladies yesterday:not save ; Ipay my debts, and make myYes, I am economical but I ; spend all I have, and dohusband comfortable;and we are always well fed and well dressed,and clean at both ends of our house. That's Englishway !'So she shut up.""SAO PAULO, March g, 1866." I got the same crying fit about you, dear mother,last week, as I did at Lisbon, starting up in the nightand screaming out that you were dead ; I find I do itwhenever I am over-fatigued and weak. The chanceof losing youis what weighs most on my mind, and itis thereforemy nightmare when I am not strong ; notbut what when awake I am perfectlyconfident that weshall meet again before another yearis out.

256 ZTbe "Romance of Isabel Xaoy JBurton" Icaught a cobra snake yesterday in our garden,and bottled it in spirits,and also heaps of spiders, whosebite is like a cobra's they are about the size of half acrown.""SAo PAULO, April 18, 1866." I have had a great row inmy house last night ; butwhen you write back, you must not mention becauseit,Richard was fortunately out, and I do not want him toknow it. Chico has taken a greatdislike to the younggentleman who lodges in my house downstairs, becausehe has called him names ;so last night, Richard beingaway, he got a pail full of slops and watched for himlike a monkey to fling it all over him ;but the youngman caught sight of him, and gave him a kick that senthim and the pail flyinginto the air. I heard a greatnoise and went down, ill as I was, and found the littleimp chattering like a monkey, and showing his teeth so ;I made him go down on his knees and beg the youngman's pardon.I was going to send him away ;butto-day he came and knelt and kissed the ground beforeme, and implored me to forgive him this once, and hewould never do such a thing againso I have;promisedthis time, and will not tell Richard. Richard wouldhalf kill him if he knew it ; so you must none of youwrite back any jokes.""SAo PAULO, May 14, 1866." My house is now completely finished, and looksvery pretty and comfortable in a barnlike Iway.shall be so pleasedto receive the candlesticks and vases

357and the Materfor my altar as a birthday present,Dolorosa. My chapel is the only really pretty andrefined part of my house, except the terrace ;the roomsare rough and coarse with holes and chinks, but withall that is absolutely necessary in them, and they arelarge and airy.I painted my chapel myself,white witha blue border and a blue domed ceiling and a giltborder. I first nailed thin bits of wood over the ratholesinVthe floor, and then covered it with IndianImatting. have painted inscriptions on the walls inblue. I have always a lamp burning, and the altar is amass of flowers. It is of plainwood with the HolyStone let in, and covered with an Indian cloth, andagain with a piece of lace. I have white muslin curtainsin a semicircle opening in the middle.landlord's child was christened in" On May 5 mymy chapel. Theyasked me to lend it to them for theoccasion, so I decorated the chapel and made it verypretty.I thought they would christen the child, takea glass of wine and a bit of cake, and depart within anhour.To my discomfort they brought a lot of friends,children, and niggers, and they stopped six hours,during which I had to entertain them (in Portuguese).They ran all over my house, pulled about everything,ate and drank everything, spat on my clean floors,made me hold the child to be christened, and it was ayear old, and kicked and screamed like a young colt allthe time. Part of the ceremony was that I had topresent a silver sword about the size of a dagger, ornamentedwith mock jewels, to the statue of Our Ladyfor the child. I had a very pleasant day!VOL. i.17

258 Ube Romance of Isabel Zaop JBurton" One day we walked almost six miles out of SaoPaulo up the mountains to make a pilgrimage to asmall wayside chapel ;and there we had Sao Paulo likea map at our feet, and all the glorious mountains roundus, and we sat under a banana tree and spread ourlunch and ate it,and stayed all day and walked backin the cool of the evening.Some of these SouthAmerican evening scenes are very lovely and on amagnificent scale. The canoes paddling down the river,the sun setting on the mountains, the large foliage andbig insects, the cool, sweet-scented atmosphere, and asort of evening hum in the air, the angelusin thedistance, the thrum of the guitars from the blacksgoing home from work all add to the charm. Richardcame home on Saturday, the I2th, after a pleasantnineteendays'ride in the interior. He went to pay a visitto some French savantsin some village,and they tookhim for a Brazilian Government spy, and were veryrude to him, and finding afterwards who he was wrotehim an humble apology. On JuneI I am going up toRio. Richard isgoing to read his travels before theEmperor. The Comte and Comtesse d'Eu have askedus to their palace ;but I do not think we shall go there,as there will be too much etiquetteto permit of ourattendingto our affairs."41PETROPOLIS, ABOVE Rio, June 22, 1866." Petropolisis a bit of table-land about three thousandfeet high in the mountains, just big enough to containa pretty, white, straggling town, with a river runningthrough it a town composed of villas and gardens, and

259inhabited by the Diplomatic Corps.It is a Diplomaticnest, in fact. This small settlement is surrounded bythe mountain-tops, and on all sides between them arewild panoramic views. We went the other day to bepresented to the Emperor and Empress. The firsttime we were taken by the Vicomte and VicomtesseBarbac,ena. She is one of the Empress's favourites.I was in grand toilet, and Richard in uniform. Thepalace is in a beautiful locality, but not grander thanCrewe, or any English country gentleman's place.Wewere ushered through lines of corridors by successionsof chamberlains, and in a few moments into theimperial presence.The Emperoris a fine man, aboutsix feet two inches, with chestnut hair, blue eyes,manners. Heand broad shoulders, and has manlywas very cordial to us, and after a short audiencewe were passed on to the Empress's reception-room,where, after the usual kissing of hands, we sat downand conversed for about twenty minutes (always inFrench). She is a daughter of Ferdinand II. of Naples;and the Emperor, as you know, is Pedro, the son ofPedro I., the firstEmperor of Brazil and King ofPortugal." The second time the Emperor kept Richard twohours and a half talking on important affairs andasking his opinion of the resources of the country.The third time we visited the Comte d'Eu and theDue de Saxe, who have each married daughters of theEmperor. The former (Comte isd'Eu) an old andkind patron of Richard ;and we were received quitein a friendly way by him, like any other morning visit,

260 Ube "Komance of Isabel Xa&g 3Burtonand we are now in a position to gowhenever welike to the palacesans ceremonie. None of the otherEnglish here have the privilege.While we were withthe Comte d'Eu and his wife, their pet terrier cameand sat up and begged ; it looked so ridiculous, solike a subjectbefore royalty,that we all roared withlaughter.I am reported to have gone to Court witha magnificenttiara of diamonds (you remember mycrystalsThe!). Emperor has taken a great fancy toRichard, and has put him in communication with him,and all the Ministers of State here make a greatfusswith him (Richard)." The societyin Rio is entirely Diplomatic. Thereare the Ministers from every Court in the world withtheir attaches""Rio DE JANEIRO, June, 1866." I have been againto the palace (this time to thebirthday drawing-room), and to-morrow am going tosee the Empress in the Ievening.am very fond ofour Minister and his wife, Mr. 1 and Mrs. Thornton,and I am very proud of them; they are people wecan look up to."Since I wrote Richard has .giventwo lecturesbefore a room full of people.The Emperor andEmpress, Comte d'Eu, and the Princesse Imperialewere present ;we had to receive them, and to entertainthem after in the room prepared for them. I haveseen them three times since I wrote, and they always1Afterwards the Right Hon. Sir Edward Thornton, H.B.M. Ministerat Washington, sometime Ambassador at St. Petersburg, etc.

make us sit down and talk to us for some time. Itold the Empress all about your paralysis,and howanxious I was about you ;and she is so sympatheticand kind, and always asks what news I have of you.She appears to take an interest in me, and asks meevery sort of question.Most of my time in Rio hasbeen occupied in going to dinners.""Rio DE JANEIRO, July 8 t 1866." Yes, I am still covered with boils, and I cannot sitor stand, walk or lie down, without a moan, and I amirritated and depressed beyond words. I do not knowifmy blood be too poor or too hot, and there isnobodyhere to ask ;but Kier makes me drink porter, which Ican get at Rio. I have a few days well, and then Iburst out in crops of boils and if an animal;sting me,the placefesters directly,and after I get well again fornose like a cut-a few days.I am very thin, and mywater ;and people who saw me on myarrival fromEngland say I look very delicate but I feel ; very wellwhen I have no boils." Since I wrote the flag-shiphas come in, and I amgreatly distressed because I am going to lose nearly theonly nice lady friend I have, Mrs. Elliot, who was adaughter of Sir John Plackett, and married AdmiralElliot, the son of Lord Minto ;he has got hispromotion."" Rio DE JANEIRO, July 23, 1866." I am still here. Richard left me a fortnight ago, andI am still at the Patent work. You have no idea how

262 Ube iRomance of Isabel Xaop JBurtonheartbreaking it is to have anythingto do with theMinisters. When last I wrote to you, we were informedthat we had obtained our concession. I was inhigh glee about it,and Richard went awayas jollyas asandboy, only leaving me to receive the papers and;no sooner was he gone than I got a letter to tell methe Council of State had raised an objectionto its beingprinted, and I have been obligedto remain in thehotel at Rio at great expense, and all alone to fightthe case as best Imay. Richard isgone to look afterthe sea-serpent (but I do not tell this, as itmight gethim into a row with the F. O.). I forgot to tell youthere is said to be a sea-serpent here one hundred andsixty feet long.No English person can have any ideaof the way matters are conducted at Rio. I am receivingthe greatest kindness from the Emperor, Empress,Comte d'Eu, and the Imperial Princess, and theMinisters, and you would think I should be able toget anything. They offer me and promise me everything;but when I accept it,and think next dayI shallreceive my Patent papers signed, there is always somelittle hitch that will take a few days more. I havebeen here seven weeks like this, and of course haveno redress. On July 10 the Meida went away, takingthe Elliots, the Admiral and his wife. I went out alittleway with them ;and it was most affectingto seethe parting between them and the fleet. The shipsallmanned their rigging, cheered, and played*God savethe Queen ' and * I am leavingthee in sorrow.' Inever saw any one look so distressed as the Admiral ;and Mrs. Elliot cried, and so did I."

263"SAO PAULO, August 17, 1866." On Saturday, the 1 1 th, I left Rio, much to my regretfor some things, and to that of the friends Imade there,who wanted me to stayfor a ball on the I4th. However,I knew Richard's travels would be finished aboutthat day, and he would feel dull and lonely at homealone, so I thought bonne epouse avant tout,and that therest could take care of itself. I sailed on the nth,and was rewarded, as at four o'clock in the morningof the 1 2th poor Richard came off from the coast ina canoe in a gale of wind, and the captain obliged meby laying to and taking him in. His canoe had beenupset, and he was two days in the water, but not deepwater. We then came home together.It blew veryhard, and I was sick all the way.I find itvery dullhere after Rio. It is like farmhouse lifeup the country,with no one to speak to ;but I shall soon getreconciled, and have plenty to do to make the placecomfortable again, and resume my bourgeoise life."" SAO PAULO, September 2, 1866."To-morrow a littleEnglishman and woman are tobe married. Richard has to marry them. It seemsso strange. Fancy him doing parson! We shall musterabout eighty people, Brazilian and English.I shallwear my poplin, black and white lace, and crystalcoronet. People marry at five in the evening, anddance after, and sleepin the house. Richard says,*Iwon't " say, Let us pray." He is going to beginthis manwith, ' Do any of you know any reason whyand woman should not be married ? Have any of you

264 TTbe iRoinance of 3sabel Xafcg JSurtongot anything to 'say ? Then, shaking his finger atthem in a threatening way, he is going to plunge intoit. I know I shall burst out laughing.""SXo PAULO, September 15, 1866.

hard gallop, which is the best ; you goover prairie and valley, up and down hill,265like the windall the same.The horses here are trained so that if your animal putshis foot in a hole you shoot off over his head, and heturns head over heels, and then stands up and waits foryou, and never breaks his leg. In the wilds womenride straddle-leglike a man ;but one does not like todo it here. We are a shade too civilized. We areleading a very regular life up at : 5walk ;I then go to Mass, market, and home ;Richarda.m. and out for agives me a fencing lesson and Indian clubs ;then coldbath and dress ;breakfast at 1 1 a.m., and then lookaftermy house ; practise singing, Portuguese, helpRichard with literature, dine at six o'clock, and tobed at nine or ten." I am at present engaged with the F. O. Reports: Ihave to copy (i) thirty-two pages on Cotton Report ;(2) one hundred and twenty-five pages GeographicalReport ; (3) eighty pages General Trade Report. Thisfor Lord Stanley, so I do it cheerfully.""Rio DE JANEIRO, December 8, 1866." We are nearlyall down with cholera. I have hada very mild attack. Our Charge d'affaires has nearlydied of it, and also our Secretary of Legation ;Kier hashad it also mildly. Here people cannot drink or beindolent with impunity. If I did not fence, do gymnastics,ride and bathe in the sea, eat and drink but little,attend tomy internal arrangements, and occupy myselffrom earlytilllate, to keep my mind free from thedepression that comes upon us all in these latitudes,

266 zrbe Romance of Ssabel Xaog JSurtonespecially those who are not in clover like us, I couldnot live for six months. As it is, I do not think I havelost anything, except one's skin darkens from the sun,and one feels weak from the heat ;but I could recoverin six months in" England.When I got the cholera, it was three in the morn-I thought I was dying, so I got up, went toing.my desk and settled all my worldly affairs, carriedmy last instructions to Kier in her bed, put on myclothes, and went out to confession and communion."" Rio DE JANEIRO, December 22, 1866." I have come down to Rio againto try and sell abook of Richard's, and am still at work about the goldconcession. Richard istravelling (with leave)in theinterior. I accompanied Richard part of the way onhis travels. We parted on a little mountain with achurch on the top a most romantic spot.He startedwith two companions, three horse-boys, and a longstring of mules. I rode my black horse, and returnedalone with one mounted slave. We had fearful weatherall the time, torrents of tropical rain, thunder andlightning, and our horses were often knee-deep in theslush and mud.You cannot imagine how beautiful theforests are. The trees are all interlaced with beautifulcreepers, things that would be cultivated in a hot-house,and then be a failure, and all wild, tangled, andluxuriant, and in a virginforest ; you must force yourhorse through these to make your way." You need not be frightened about me and myI am sure to be thrownriding, though every one says

267some day; but I never ride a Rio Grande horse forthatreason. Only a man can shoot off properly when theyturn head over heels. I am getting very well up inall that concerns stables and horses, and ride every day.The other day I went off to ride, and I lost myself forfour and a half hours in a forest, and got quite frightened.I met two bulls and a large snake (cobra)I rode ; awayfrom the two former, and the latter wriggled away undermy horse's belly he was; frightened at it. The ladies'society here is awful ; they have all risen out of unknowndepths. Chico is still with me, and likely to be, as weare both very fond of him. I have made a smart lad ofhim, and he would make a great sensation in Londonas a tiger.He is so proud of the buttons Rody sentme for him, and shows them to every one.""SAO PAULO, March 10, 1867." When Richard is away, it is not always safe here.For instance, last night a drunken English sailor, whohad run away from his ship, got into the house, andinsisted on having a passport and his papers madeout. I could not persuade him that the Consul wasabsent, and had to give him food and money to gethim out. Still, if he had used any violence, I wouldhave gone down to the lodgers.At the same time,I never see or hear of them unless I wish it. Do notmention about the drunken sailor writing back, asRichard would sayit was my own fault, because Iwill not allow any one to be turned away from mydoor who is in need, and so my house is open to allthe poor of the neighbourhood, and he scolds me for

268 zrbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog Burtonit. I sometimes suffer for it,but only one case outof twenty." Brazilians never give charity ;and how can thepoor judgebetween a true Catholic and a Brazilianone, if some of us do not act up to our religion inthe only way that speaks home to them ? I certainlyfelt rather frightened last night,as the sailor told mehe was * a damned scoundrel and a murderer,' andwanted a bed in the house ;but I coaxed him offwith a milreis, and then barred the door.""THE BARRA, April 13, 1867." I write to you from a fresh place. In Sao Paulothey have been making a new road, and have encloseda piece of marsh with water five feet deep. The newroad prevents this discharging itself into the riverbeneath, and the enclosed water is stagnantand putrid,and causes a malaria inmy house. Richard has justreturned knocked up bysix weeks in the wildsand he broke out with fever. I felt affected and thewhole house squeamish.I rushed off with Richardto the sea-border, about fifty miles from Sao Paulo.Kier begged to be left. We have got a magnificentsand-beach, and rose-coloured shells, and spacious bay,and mountain sceneryall around ;but we have someother disadvantages.It would be intensely pleasantifRichard would get better. One might walk on thebeach in one's nightgown ; and we walked from ourranco, or shed, to the sea, and can bathe and walk aswe like. We are in what they dare to call the hotel.It is a shed, Swiss-shape, and as good inside as a poor

269cottage at home, with fare to match. It is as hot asthe lower regions and if one could take off one's;flesh and sit in one's bones, one would be too glad.and the verminThe very sea-breeze dries you up,numbers about twenty species.The flies of variouskinds, mosquitoes, sand-flies, and borruchutes, are at youday and night and if ; you jump up in the it isnight,beetles. A woman here had a snakeonly to squashround her leg yesterday. Behind the house and upto the first range of mountains is one vast mangroveswamp, full of fevers and vermin. I will not sleep inthe beds about in strange houses (thereis so muchleprosy in the country), and so I always carry myhammock with me, and slingit. Last nightit blewso hard that Chico and I had to get up and nail allthe old things theycall windows. I thoughtthe oldshanty was going to be carried away.I must tellyouthis is our sanatorium or fashionable watering-placehere." I have had another bad boil since I wrote to you.We have had a Brazilian friend of Richard's lodging*with us, who kept saying, If you ride with that 'boil,in a few days you will fall down dead ' ; or, ' Oh !don't leave that jigger in your foot ;in a week it willhave to be cut off.' Such was his mania ;and he usedto go to bed all tied up with towels and things forfear his ears should catch cold. He was quite a youngman too !" You know I have often told you that people herethink me shockingly independent because I ride withChico behind me.So what do you think I did the other

270 tbe IRomance of -Jsafcel Xa&g JSurtonday ? They have, at last, something to talk about now.I rode out about a league and a half, where I met fourfine geese.I must tellyou I have never seen a goose ;they do not eat them here, but only use them as anornamental bird. Well, Chico and Icaught them,and slung one at each side of my saddle, and one ateach side of his, and rode with them cackling andsquawking all the way through the town ;and wheneverI met any woman I thought would be ashamed of me,I stopped and was ever so civil to her. When I gotup to our house, Richard, hearing the noise,ran outon the balcony ;and seeing what was the matter, helaughed and shook his fist, and said, 'Oh, you delightfulblackguard how like you ! ' 'Two months later Burton obtained leave of absencefrom his consulate, and he and his wife started onan expedition into the interior. This expedition wasthe most memorable event of Isabel's life in Brazil.On her return she wrote a full account of her adventures,intending to publish it later. She never did so,and we found the manuscript amongher papersafterher death. This unpublished manuscript, revised andcondensed, forms the next three chapters.

CHAPTER VIOUR EXPEDITION INTOTHE INTERIOR(1867)S'il existe un pays qui jamais puisse se passer du reste du monde, cesera certainement la Province des Mines.ST. HILAIRE.WE had been in Brazil now nearly two years,vegetating between Santos and Sao Paulo, withan occasional trip to Rio de Janeiro. Though Richardhad made several expeditions on his own account, I hadnever yet been able to go veryfar afield or to see lifein the wilds. It was therefore with no small delightthat I received the news that we had a short leaveof absence, admitting of three months' wandering. Thehammocks and saddle-bags were soon ready, and wesailed for Rio, which was about two hundred milesfrom our consulate. At Rio we received some friendlyhints concerning our tour from exalted quarters, wherebrain and personal merit met with courtesy, despiteofficialgrade and tropical bile. We determined inconsequence to prospect the great and wealthy provinceof Minas Geraes, and not to do simply the beatentrack, but to gooff the roads and to see what the271

zyaftbe IRomance of Isabel Zafcg JSurtonprovince reallywas We like.wanted to visit the goldmines,and to report concerning the new railwayabout the proper line of which two parties were contendinga question of private or public benefit. Wealso intended to go down the Sao Francisco River, theBrazilian Mississippi, from Sabara to the sea, and tovisit the Paulo Affonso Rapids, the Niagara of Brazil.We left Rio on June 12, 1867, and sailed from thePrainha in a little steamer, which paddled across theBay of Rio in fine style, and deposited us in abouttwo hours on a rickety little wharf at the northernend called the Mana landing-place, whence the wellknownfinancial firm of that name.Whoever has not seen the Bay of Rio would dowell to see it before he dies ; it would repay him.All greattravellers saythat itcompetes with theGolden Horn. It is like a broad and long lakesurrounded by mountains and studded with islands andboulders. But it is absurd to try and describe thebay with the pen ; one might paintit ;for much ofitsbeauty (likea golden-haired, blue-eyed Englishgirl of the barley-sugar description) lies in the colouring.At the rickety landing-place begins a little railroad,which runs for eleven miles through a mangroveand papyrusflat to the foot of the Estrella range ofmountains. Here we changed the train for a carriagedrawn by four mules, and commenced a zigzagascentup the mountains, which are grand. We wound roundand round a colossal amphitheatre, the shaggy walls ofwhich were clothed with a tropical forest, rich withbamboos and ferns, each zigzag showing exquisite

ur Ejpefcition into tbe Anterior 273panoramas of the bay beneath. The ascent occupiedtwo hours ;and at last, at the height of three thousandfeet, we arrived at a table-land like a tropical Chamounix.Here was Petropolis, where we tarried forsome days.Petropolis is a pretty, white, straggling settlement,chiefly inhabited by Germans. It has two streets, witha river running between, across which are many littlebridges, a church, a theatre, four or five hotels, theEmperor's palace, and villas dotted Iteverywhere.is the Imperial and Diplomatic health resort, and thepeople attached to the Court and the DiplomaticCorps have snuggeries scattered all about the tablelandof Petropolis, and form a pleasantlittle society.The cottagesare like Swiss chalets. It is a paradiseof mountains, rocks, cascades, and bold panoramas.Here abounded the usual mysterious chalet of thebachelor attache. I will take you up that ridgy pathand show you a type of the class : four little roomsstrewed with guns, pistols, foils, and fishing-tackle,ahammock, books, writing materials, pictures of lovelywoman dressing or kissing a bird or looking in thefrescoes on the walls drawn inglass, pretty curtains,a bold hand of sporting subjects, enfantillage andother things! This is the chalet of the Vicomte deB,attache to the French Legation,a fair type ofthe rest.We left Petropolis for Juiz de Fora at daybreakon a fine, cold morning ; the grey mist was still clingingto the mountains. We had a large char-a-banc,holding eight, in two and two, all facingthe horses.VOL. I. I 8

274 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog BurtonWe took our small bags with us, but everythingheavier had gone on in the public coach. Our party,besidesRichard and myself, consisted of Mr. Morritt,proprietor of the hotel and the char-a-banc, and threeother Englishmen, who with the driver and my negretChico made up the eight.The four mules were sofresh that they were with difficulty harnessed, andwere held in by four men. When the horn sounded,they sprang on all fours and started with a rush,with a runner at either side for a few yardstill clear ofthe bridge.We simply tore along the mountain-side.I shall save a great deal of trouble if I describethe scenery wholesale for a hundred miles and specifyafterwards. Our trap dashed along at pleasant speedthrough splendidamphitheatres of wooded mountains,with broad rivers sweeping down through the valleys,with rapids here and there, and boulders of rock andwaterfalls. The drive was along a first-rate road,winding over the mountain-side. The roads on theother side of the Parahybuna River were as high, asbeautiful, and as well wooded as the onf along whichwe drove. In all myBrazilian travellingthis descriptionof the scenery would mostly serve for everyday, but here and there we found a specialbit ofbeauty or more exquisite peep between the ridges.At firstyou think your eyes will never tire of admiringsuch trees and such foliage, but at last they hardlyelicit an observation. A circumstance that createda laugh againstus was that, like true Britishers,Richard and I had our note-books, and we besetpoor Mr. Morritt with five questionsat once. He

ur Erpefcftion into tbe Anterior 275was so good and patient,and when he had finishedwith one of us would turn to the other and say,"Well, and what can I do for you?"Our firststage was the "Farm of Padre Carrea,"a hollow in the hills, where we changed mules. Wedrove for forty miles downhill ;then we had fifteenor twenty on the level when crossing the river valley;then we ascended again for thirty-nine miles. Theroad was splendid ;it was made by two Frenchengineers.Our second station was Pedro do Rio.The third was Posse, the most important station onthe road for receiving coffee. Here thousands of mulesmeet to load and unload, rest and go their ways. Thisscene was very picturesque.After Posse we began to see more fertile land, andwe passed a mountain of granite which, if it were inEngland or France, would have a special excursiontrain to it (here no one thinks anything about it) ; itlooked like a huge rampart, and its smooth walls weresun-scorched. After this we passeda region of coffeeplantations, and thence to Entre Rios (" Betwixt theRivers "),the half-way house. It is a very unhealthystation, and there is a dreadful smell of bad water ;otherwise it would be a first-rate place for any onewanting to speculate in startinga hotel. The lastten miles before We coming to Entre Rios lay throughvirgin forest. saw tucanos (birds with big beaksand gorgeous plumage of black, green, scarlet, andorange), wonderful trees, orange groves, bamboos (mostluxuriant; they would grow on a box if they werethrown at it), plants of every kind, coffee and sugar-

276 ttbe Romance of Isabel Zaog JSurtoncane plantations, tobacco plants, castor-oil plants,acacias, and mimosa. What invariably attracts theEnglish eye, accustomed to laurel and holly,are thetrepaderas ; and the masses of bamboo form naturalarches and festoons, and take every fantastic form.We crossed the rivers over bridges of iron.We breakfasted at noon at Entre Rios ;we thenmounted our char-a-banc once more, and drove oneight miles to the next station, called Serraria, wherewe sighted the province of Minas Geraes on the oppositeside of the valley of Parahybuna. At Serraria we gota wicked mule, which nearly upset us three times. Awicked mule is a beau-ideal fiend the ; way he tuckshis head under his body and sends all his legs out atonce, like a spider, is wonderful to see ;and when allfour mules do it, it is like a fancy sketch in Punch.They drive none but wild mules along this road, andafter three months theysell them, for they become tootame for their work. Soon after this last station wepassed through the " Pumpkin " chain of hills. Wehad ten miles to go uphill, and it was the hottest driveof the day, not only on account of the time of day,but because we were at the base of another huge granitemountain, much bigger than the last, like a colossalchurch.We were not very tired when we sighted Juiz deFora, consideringthat we had driven nearly onehundred miles in twelve hours. We drove up to achdlet built by the French engineers just at sunset,and were guestsin an empty house, and were welllodged. After supper the moon was nearly full, and

ur Expedition into tbe Snterior 277the scene was lovely.There was a fine road ; nearlyall the buildings were on the same side of it asour chalet ; opposite us was a chapel, farther downa hotel, and farther up,the thing that made all thebeauty of Juiz de Fora, the house of CommendadorMariano Procopio Ferreira Lage. It appeared likea castle on the summit of a wooded mountain. Wewere serenaded by a band of villagers.The eveningair was exquisite, and the moon made the night as lightasday.The following day we inspected Juiz de Fora. Thetown is a pretty situation, two thousand feet abovesea-level, and the climate cool and temperate. Thewonder of the placeis the chateau of CommendadorMariano Procopio, who is a Brazilian planter whohas travelled, and his wealth is the result of hisenergy and success. He built this castle on the topof a wooded eminence. This land eight years ago(I believe) was a waste marsh. He spent .40,000on it, and made a beautiful lake, with islands, bridges,swans, and a little boat paddled by negroes insteadof steam. He made mysterious walks, bordered bytropical and European plants, amongst which the moststriking to an English eye were enormous arums withleaves five feet long and three broad, and acacias, mimosas,umbrella trees in full flower. He also erected Chineselookingarbours, benches, and grotesque designsin wood.I believe the man carries out all his nightmare visionsthere. In another part of the groundswas a menageriefull of deer, momteys, emu, silver and goldpheasants, and Brazilian beasts and birds. He has

278 be "Romance of Ssabel Xafcp 3Burtonan aqueduct to his house and fountains everywhere.There isan especiallybeautiful fountain on the highestpoint of Juiz de Fora, in the centre of his grounds,and from there is a splendid view. There is a whitecottage in his gardens for his aged mother. He hasalso an orangery of huge extent, different species oforanges growing luxuriantly, and we reclined on the grassfor an hour picking and eating them. All the landaround was his ;he built the chapel ;even our chaletwas his property ;and besides he has a model farm.Altogether Juiz de Fora appeared a thriving town,and the Commendador was the pivot on which itall moved. It seemed so strange to find in theinterior of Brazil a placelike that of an Englishgentleman. One cannot give this generous and enterprisingplanter enough praise.If there were morelike him, Brazil would soon be properly exploited.Some objectthat the arrangement of his placeistoo fantastic. There is no doubt it is fantastic, butit is so because he isgivingeverything on a tiny scale, and collectingthe natives a model ofin additionhis native tropical luxuriance around him, as an Englishgentleman would delight to collect things on his estate,if he could get the same vegetation to grow inEngland.On leaving Juiz de Fora, I was obliged to leavemy baggage behind, which appeared to me ratherunreasonable, as it only consisted of the usual littlecanisters, a pair of long, narrow boxes for the mule'sback. If the ladies who travel with bigbaskets thesize of a small cottage had seen my tinybundle and

ur Ejpefcitfon into tbe Snterfor 279a little leather case just big enough for brush, comb,and a very small change, they would have pitied me.We mounted the coach on a cold, raw morningthistime a public coach. Only one man of our partyaccompanied us on to Barbacena ;the rest werehomeward bound. The two coaches stood side byside, ready packed, facing different ways, at 6 a.m., tostart at the same moment. We had a small, strongcoach with four mules. A handsome, strappingGerman youth, named Godfrey, was our driver, andwe boasted a good guard. Inside was a lady withnegresses and babies, and an Austrian lieutenant.Outside on a dicky my negret and a large numberof small packages only such could go.The driverand guard were in front, and above and behind themon the highest part of the coach was a seat for three,which held Richard, Mr. E,and myself in themiddle, the warmest and safest placein event of aspill.The partings ensued between the two coaches,and the last words were, " Remember by twelve o'clockwe shall be a hundred miles apart."The hornsounded ;there was the usual fling of mules' headsand legsin the air, and we made the start as if wehad been shot out of a gun.We proceeded on ourdrive of sixty-six miles in twelve hours, includingstoppages, constantly changing mules, for the roadsbetween Juiz de Fora and Barbacena were infamous, andallup and down hill. The country was very poor incomparison with what we had left behind, but I shouldhave admired it if I had not seen the other. The roadsidesare adorned with quaint pillars,mounds of yellow

280 zrbe Romance of 3sabel Xatyt? JSurtonclay, the palaces of the cupims, or white ants, which theyare said to desert when finished. They must be veryfond of building.The sabia (the Brazilian nightingale)sang loud in the waving tops of the " roast-fish tree."We passed over wooded hills, broad plains,and acrossrunning streams and small falls. At last we reachedthe bottom of the great Serra Mantiqueira. The ascentwas very bad and steepfor ten miles, and through aScotch mist and rain. All the men had to get downand walk, and even so we often stuck in deep mudholes,and appeared as if we were going to fall over onone side. I now comprehended why my baggage couldnot come ; my heart ached for the mules. Travellingon the top of that coach was a very peculiarsensation.When we were on plain ground and in full gallop weheaved to and fro as if in a rolling sea, and when goingfast it was like a perpetual succession of buck-jumping,especially over the caldeiroes ylines of mud like acorduroyacross the road. On the descent our coachmanentertained us with a history of how he once brokehis legs and the guard his ribs and the whole coachcame to griefat that particular spot.Our next station (and it seemed so far)was NascisuentoNovo ;then came Registro Velho, wheretravellers used to be searched for gold and diamonds,and amusingstories are told how they used to concealthem in their food or keep them in their mouths.Here we had our last change of mules, and here theMorro Velho Company from the mines halted for thenight, and we found to our delightthat we should finda special troop of them waitingat Barbacena to convey

ur jejpefcition into tbe Anterior 281us where we liked. This was our last league,and theweather was frosty.We arrived at the Barbacena hotel when it was dusk,and found it a decent but not luxurious inn, kept byan unfortunate family named Paes. At the door wesaw a good-humoured Irish face, which proved to bethat of our master of the horse, Mr. James Fitzpatrick,of the Morro Velho Company, who was awaitingRichard and myself with two blacks and ten animals.We therefore asked for one of the spare mules andsaddles for Mr. E,who had decided to accompanyus to the mines. The town appeared quite deserted,but I itthought was because it was dark and coldand the people were all dining or supping. We weretired, and went to bed directlyafter dinner.Next day we inspected Barbacena, a white town uponan eminence. The town is built in the form of across, the arms beingIt islong.three thousand eighthundred feet above sea-level, and is very cold except inthe sun. There was little to see except four churches,allpoor and miserable except the Matriz, which wasthe usual whitewashed barn with a few gaudy figures.It was a dead-alive kind of place, with all the housesshut up and to be bought for very little. All the youngmen were gone to the war. There was no one about :no society, not even a market; no carriagesave thepublic coach, with its skeleton horses eatingthe grassin the streets.After dinner that evening we saw a black corpseon a stretcher. The porters were laughing andtalking and merrily joltingit from side to side,

282 Ube Vomance of Isabel Xafcp 3Buctonand I was considered rather sentimental for callingitdisrespect to the dead. Our table d'hote was a motleyand amusing group. There were the driver and guardof our coach, the Austrian lieutenant, ourselves,several Brazilians, and Mr. Fitzpatrick.We allgoton together very well. There was some punch made ;and as the conversation turned upon mesmerism forthat night's discussion, a delicate subject, I withdrewto a hard couch in an inner room.On Wednesday, June 19,we left the last remnantof civilization behind us at Barbacena, and thatremnant was so little it should not be called by thatname. We shall now not see a carriagefor somemonths, nor a road that can be called a road, butmust take to the saddle and the bridle for the country.Our partyconsisted of Richard and myselfjMr. E,Mr. James Fitzpatrick, captain of our stud, Chico,my negret, mounted, and two slaves on foot as guides,three cargo mules, and two spareanimals as change.Our first ride was to be twenty miles, or five leagues,across country. We did it in five hours, and onemore half-hour we employedin losing our way. Thecountry was poor, and through what is called camposi.e.rolling plains, with a coarse pasturage. Neardusk we reached Barroso, a village with a ranch, asmall chapel, and a few huts. The ranch was smalland dirty,and smelt of tropeiros (muleteers) andmules. The ranch was a shed-like cottage with aporch or verandah. It had one room with a ceilingof bamboo matting, whitewashed mud walls, nowindow, and a mud floor. The only thingin it was

ur Expedition into tbe Anterior 283a wooden bedstead without a bed on it. This wasours ;the rest had to sleepin the verandah or on thefloor with rugs amongst the tropeiros, picturesquelookingmuleteers. They gave us rice, chicken, andbeans. I prepared the food and slung the hammocks,and after eatingwe lay ourselves down to rest.We rose at three o'clock in the morning, before itwas light,and at 4.30 we were in our saddles again.We rode twenty-four miles. We breakfasted undera hedge at a place written "Elvas," pronounced" Hervas," and got a cup of coffee from a neighbouringgypsy camp. Shortly after we passed a ranch, with acurious old arched bridge made of wood. To-day'sjourney was very like yesterday's in point of country,but we were a little tired the last few miles, as wehad been somewhat dilatory, and had been eight hoursin hard saddles on rough animals ;the sun also brokeout very hot. At last, however, we were cheered byarriving at a pretty village,and shortly afterwardssighted a beautiful-looking town on a hill, with manyspires.We rode up to the bridge to enter the town,tired, hot, torn, and dusty, justas the procession ofthe Blessed Sacrament was passing, followed by thefriars and a military band. We bent our heads andbowed down to the saddle. This was the town ofSao Joao d'El Rei, and it was the Feast of CorpusChristi.Sao Joao d'El Rei is five thousand two hundred feetabove sea-level. It was June 21 (herethe shortest asin England it is the longest day),and the climate wasdelicious. We met two Englishfaces in the streets,

284 Ube "Romance of Isabel Zaog JSuvtonand hailed them at once. They proved to be Mr.Charles Copsey, who had been at Cambridge with myhusband's brother, in command of the Brazilian RifleVolunteer Brigade (Iknew many of the same men),and Dr. Lee, a man of Kent. Dr. Lee had beenthere thirty-five years.These two compatriots weremost kind to us.Theyintroduced us to all the bestthe lions of the place.families, and showed us allThe churches of Sao Joao were so numerous thatwe " "only did the three best. We walked about theprincipal streets, getting the best views of the white,spiral,hilly,littlecity,which looked beautiful atsunset We visited one Brazilian's general collection,another's books, another's pictures, and the only placewe did not go to see was the hospital.We loafedabout, and everybody dined with us at the hotel verylittle better than a ranch.We left our hotel, or rather ranch, at 10.30 a.m.the next morning, and rode to Matosinhos, the suburbat the entrance, where we breakfasted at the house ofDr. Lee and made the acquaintance of his Brazilianwife, a sweet-mannered woman, whose kindness andhospitality charmed us. After a sumptuous breakfastwe walked about his grounds, and he gave us a cdode fela, an ugly, toad-coloured, long dog, with a bighead, broad shoulders, and lanky body, answeringinbreed to our bull-dog.Here Mr. Copsey could not make uphis mind topart with us so soon, and actually forsook his wifeand children and cottage to accompany us for a fewdays.

ut Espeoition into tbe Anterior 285Our ride was a pretty easy two leagues, or eightmiles, over mountains, bringing us to a small whitevillage or town, which we should call a village,nestledamong them, called Sao Jose. This villagecontains aand a handsome fountain. Ourrunning brook, a bridge,ranch was a miserable affair, without any pretensiontobedding, and if possible less to a washing-basin ; so therest preferred sitting up all night ; but asmy experiencehas taught me to take all the little comforts thatProvidence throws to me, in order toendure the more,I slung my hammock and slept the sleep of goodconscience, in spite of the clinking of glasses andtwanging of guitars.We intended to leave Sao Jose at one o'clock a.m.,but those who foolishly sat up had all sorts of mishaps.There had been a little too much conviviality ;theanimals had strayed ;so, though we started before light,it was much later than we intended. Our road was aterrible one ;we could not keep together, and got lostin parties of two and three. At first the road was verypretty, through woods but as;dawn appeared we had toclimb a wall of steep rock, terrible to climb and worseto descend. Two of our party unwillingly vacatedtheir saddles before we got clear of it,and Mr. E 'ssaddle slipped off behind from the steepness and badgirths.We then had a long ride over campos, andstopped to breakfast at a deserted ranch. We werethen supposed to be about twelve miles from ourdestination, Lagoa Dourada. The rest of our day wasfull of misfortunes. The valiant people who woulddance and drink allnight dropped asleep upon the

286 Tibe IRomancc of Isabel Xafcs JSurtonroad. We lost our way for six miles, and had to rideback and take another track. Our black guides hadnot laid a branch across the road for us. (Itis anAfrican custom to place a twig or branch on the road,to convey any intelligence to those who are comingafter you.)We came to a Slough of Despond, a mudholeacross the road, which looked only a little wetand dirty, but a mule or rider may be engulfedin it.Mr. Fitzpatrick luckily preceded me, and fell into it.My mule jumped and it, in the felljump my pistol outof my belt into it,and was never seen more. We hada very hard day of it up and down hill through virginforest with several of these swamps. At sunset wearrived very tired at the top of a hill, and found anaboriginal-lookingsettlement of huts. We then descendedinto the valley by a steep, winding road forsome distance, and came to a long, straggling, hilly,but pretty and more civilized village, with a fewchurches and a running brook, with a decent ranch atits extreme end, where there was a party of Englishengineers, who kindly attended to our creature comfortswhile at Lagoa Dourada.It was Sunday, the Eve of St. John, and there werebig bonfires and a villageband. Our ranch was acottage.The brook with the gold-washings ran byit,and the purlingthereof made pleasant music thatnight.The great objectof our visit to Lagoa Douradawas to see with disinterested eyes which course thecontinuation of the Dom Pedro Segunda Railwayshould run through Minas that is,to see which course

ut Eipe&ftion into tbe Anterior 287would be for the greatest public advantage, regardlessof private intrigue.The English engineers andRichard having quite agreed upon the subject, theykindly invited us to celebrate the Feast of St. Johnby assisting to "lay the first chain." It was a daylikely to be remembered by the Brazilians, for itconnoted their pet feast the t{ Feast of Fire " andthe commencement of a work to be of great benefitto them.At twelve o'clock (noon)the next day the Englishengineers, with a allparty comprising the Brazilianswells of Lagoa Dourada, proceeded to a valley withinthe villageto lay the first chain for the explorationof the mountains which divide the watershed of theRio Sao Francisco and the Paraopeba from theCarandahy and Rio Grande, for the prolongation ofthe Dom Pedro Segunda Railway.I had the honour of givingthe first blow tothe stake and breaking a bottle of wine over it.The sights taken were S. 73 W. and N. 74 W. Theengineers made me write this in their books. (Thefollowing day all were to break up, our party ofengineers bound northward, and ourselves on ourmarch.) The inauguration passed off very favourably.It was a beautiful day.The village band played,flags were flying, wine was produced, glasses clinked,and we drank the health of

288 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonWhen these ceremonies were over, we marched backto the ranch with the band playing and colours flying.In the afternoon we walked a littleway up and downthe stream, and saw some gold-washing on ajhomoeopathicscale. The land belongs to a Brazilian, whogets three or four milreis a day out of it (abouteightWe then sat down in theshillings). villageon benches in the shade. The men drank beer andsmoked cigarettes, and I took my needlework andtalked with them.In the evening the English engineers gave us abig dinner in the ranch, and how they managed todo it so well I cannot imagine. It was like a bigpicnic.The village padre sat at the head of the longwooden table, and I at the bottom, and on woodenbenches at eachside were eight Englishmen and seventeenBrazilian local magnates. We had chickens,messes of rice and meat, feijao (beans) and farinha(flour), bread, cheese, beer, port, and other drinksall out of the engineers'stores. It was greatfun.Directly after dinner they began speechifying, and eachman ended his speech with a little nasal stanza tofriendship, the audience taking up the last word. Atlast somebody drank the health of the married men,and then some one else proposed the health of thesingle, and then every one began to quarrelas to whichwas the better and happier state. Richard and Mr.Copsey loudly stood up for the single, and urgedthem on to greater frenzy, and I would have donethe same thing onlyI was afraid of shockingthepadre.The wordy war lasted fullyhalf an hour,

ut Expedition into tbe Anterior 289and terribly distressed one spoony Englishman, whogave us a homily from his corner on the sanctity ofthe married state. If it had been in France, therewould have been half-a-dozen duels, and I fullyexpectedto see some kniving ; but with them it wasonly hilarity and good spirits,and they embracedacross the table at the very moment I thought theywere going to hit one another. We finished up byrepairing to our room and having some punch there,and we allparted happy and pleased with our day.After we were in bed we were serenaded by the band.The people walked about with music, and twangedtheir guitars all night.It is a great day for marriagefor lovers, and all that sort of pleasant thing.Thegirls dress in their best, and put the flowers of SaoJoao in their hair, and one likes to see the youngpeople happy. A pleasant remembrance of this placelingers with me yet.The next morning we proposed startingat fouro'clock, and got up early.Our white horse, however,knew the ground, and strayed six miles away, so wecould not start till9 a.m. Moreover, Mr. Copsey,who was on dutyat Sao Joao d'El Rei for next day,was obligedto wish us good-bye and return.When at last we started, we rode for two leaguesand a halfj accompanied by several of our friends ofthe evening before, and at last came to a brook, wherewe sat under the shade of a tree and breakfasted, afterwhich our friends wished us good-byeand returned.We then rode on, uncertain as to our course. Thescenery was pretty ; the weather was very hot. WeVOL. r.19

2 9 o tTbe IRomancc of Isabel Xafcs Burtonhad no road, but found our way over the hills throughbits of forest, and towards evening we came to avillage called Camapoao.We had been detained by bad road and accidents,and had been five hours doing only fifteen miles ; so,though we could only find an infamous ranch (theworst we had ever seen),we thoughtit best to riskit for the night.We had been obliged to pass oneby, as it looked really dangerous with damp, filth, andreptiles.The owner of the ranch, one Jose Antoniod'Azevedo, was a character, and a very bad oneoriginalin rudeness, independence, and suspicion.There was not a basin or any kind of cooking-pot,nor a fire nor hot water. There was, however, onebed (Jose's),and no amount of entreaty to let merest my achinglimbs on it would induce him to allowme to do so. I had almost to go on my knees to beallowed to swing my hammock, lest I should spoil hismud-and-stick walls ;but after a glass of cognac fromour stock and much flatteringand coaxing, he didpermit that, and gave us some beans and flour, riceand onions, to eat. Richard slepton a wooden table,I in the hammock, and the rest of our party withthe mules on the ground round a fire. It was abitterly cold night, and we got full of vermin. Atabout one in the morning I was aroused by a loudwhispering, apparently close to my head, and a lowgrowl from my dog underneath my hammock, andI could distinctlyhear the old man say," Pode facilmentematar a todas " (" It would be very easy to killthe whole lot ").I feltquite cold and weak with

ur Espefcitfon into tbe Sntenor 291fright; but I stretched out myhand in the dark towhere I knew my weapons were, and got hold of abowie-knife and loaded revolver. I then whisperedto Richard, and we got some matches and struck alight.There was no one in the room, and thewhispering and stilllaughing went on as if the oldman and hisnegroes were conversing and jokingbehind the thin partition wall.Nothing occurred.In the morning we thought he was only alluding tohis chickens ; yet, as we learnt afterwards, he did bearan uglyname.We were very glad to get upat 4 a.m., thoughpitch dark, and to set out. The old man did hisbest to keep us by talking of the atoleiros on the road,which we must pass, and were sure to fall into. Andindeed an atoleiro is an ugly thing ; for you onlyexpect a passage of wet mud in the road, whereas youand your horse go plump in over head, and sometimesdo not get out. We passed a fearful one a mile pasthis house, but sent the blacks on first, and theybrought us a long round through brushwood, whichwas not dangerous, but unpleasantto fight through ;and Chico stuck in it,and we were fully ten minutesextricating him. We then rode up and down mountainsand waded several rivers, and moonlight passedaway, and dawn came with a welcome. By nineo'clock we had accomplished twelve miles, and arrivedat Suasuhy, a long, big village,with a church and aboutthree hundred houses and fifteen hundred inhabitants.We were quite overcome with the luxury of beingable to wash our hands and faces in a basin. We

29* tTbe "Romance of 3sabel Xaog JBurtonhad too a better breakfast than usual. The ranchwas kept by a handsome family father, mother, andfour daughters. After this we rode on again throughbeautiful scenery up and down mountains, throughshallow rivers and bits of virgin forest. Yet, thoughthe sceneryismagnificent, it is so alike, that onedescription describes all, and what yousee to-dayyou will to-morrow and for the next three months,with the exception of every here and there a startlingfeature. After another three leagueswe sighted theSerra d'Ouro Branco, a grand pile of rock, andpresentlycaught sight of a convent and a large squareand church seated on an eminence below the mountain.We were descending.We turned a corner down asteep, stone hill, and beheld a beautiful white villageinthe valley, and silvery, winding river, called Maronhao,running through it, and another smaller one dischargingitself into the larger.A striking church,the Matriz, rose on the oppositehill. In the distancewere the two Serras, straight rangeslike a wall, oneshorter than the other. Ouro Branco is so calledbecause the gold found there was mixed with platina.It was three o'clock, and we had now travelled sixleagues and a half, and were glad to rest. The sunsetwas lovely.This village was Congonhas do Campo. We gotinto a comfortable ranch, and then called on the padre.That is the best thing to do at these places,as heis the man who shows you hospitality, points outthe lions, and introduces you and gives youall theinformation you want. The padre showed us great

Ejpefcition into tbe Anterior 293kindness, and took us to see the college and the church,the most striking part of the village and valley.Walkingthrough the streets, we saw the arms of somenoble Portuguese family,well carved in stone, overa small deserted house doubtless the arms of someof the first colonists.The padre breakfasted with us at the ranch nextmorning,o'clock.and saw us set out from Congonhasat twelveWe rode three leagues,or twelve miles, whichseemed more like five, up and down mountains, throughrivers and virgin forests, and on ridges running roundsteep precipices and mountain-sides for many a mile.On our way we met a small white dog with a blackear, looking wet and tired and ownerless. Mr. Ehit at it with a hunting-whip ; it did not cry nor move,but stared at our passing troop. Towards night wearrived at a little sort of private family settlement,consisting of four or five ranches belonging to a manof the same name as the place to wit, Teixeira. Herewe found the villagersin a greatstate of excitement,armed with guns to kill a mad dog, which had beenrabid for some days, and had bitten everythingitsaw, communicating the disease, and had after allescaped them. He was a small white dog with ablack ear !We had great difficultyin findinga night'srestat Teixeira. Four or five houses would not take usin. One man was especially surly ;but at last a cobblerand his wife took us in, and were kind and hospitableto us. Here I had a little bed of sticks and straw,and sleptsoundly.

294 Ube IRomance of Isabel %aos JSurtonNext morning we had a shot at a flock of smallgreen parrots before starting for Coche d'Agua at8.30, and we rode till 10.30. We crossed the Rioda Plata six times (itwas so tortuous) before nineo'clock, and twice the Bassao later. After crossingthe Bassao the second time, we sat under a shadytree on its banks, and ate our breakfast out of ourprovision basket cold pork, onions, and biscuit, anddrank from the river.We had been told that the remainder of our rideto Coche d'Agua from this spot was four leagues ;but it was nearer eight leagues (thirty-two miles), andwe arrived after dusk at 6.15. It was a very poorplace ; there was nothing to eat, and no beds, andwe were dead tired.The people were kind, and lit an enormous firein the centre of the ranch, and let me lie down upontheir sleeping-place till 3 a.m., " because I was aCatholic and spoke Portuguese." It was a slab ofwood with a straw sacking, and even so I thoughtit a great luxury.We rose next morning at 3.30.The mules were called in, and we rode four leagues,firstby moonlight and then dawn. We passed throughtwo valleys,and arrived at 8.45 a.m. at anothersettlement. This was the village outside of the MorroVelho colony, and as the bells rang nine we alightedat the entrance of the Casa Grande, and were mostcordially and hospitably received by the Superintendentof the Sao Joao d'El Rei Mining Company and Mrs.Gordon, and conducted into their most comfortableEnglish home.

CHAPTER VIIMORRO VELHO AND ITS ENVIRONS(1867)Earth's crammed with heaven,And every common bush afire with God ;But only he who sees takes off his shoes;The rest sit round it,and pick blackberries.ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.MORRO VELHO, where is the queen of theMinas Geraes Mines,is a very curious andinteresting place, unlike any other I have seen inBrazil. It has a good deal of bustle, life, and cheerfulnessabout it which one scarcelysees elsewhere. Itis an extensive, elevated valley, surrounded by mountainsand divided into districts or settlements, each consistingof villages made up of detached cottages withoutstreets, after the manner of most villagesin MinasGeraes. CongOnhas must be excepted,as that is aregular village with shops we ; passed throughit onthe outskirts of the gold-mining colony ; althoughit isindependent of, still it is supported by, its wealthyneighbour.Mr. Gordon, the English superintendentof the mines,was like a local kingat Morro Velho and all over295

296 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaop Burtonthe province.He was consulted and petitioned byevery one, beloved, respected, and depended upon ; inshort, a universal father ;and well he deserved respect.The firstSunday we were with the Gordons at CasaGrande we witnessed the slave muster ;and when itwas over the slaves gave us an Indian representationof a sham palaver, war-dance, and fight. They weredressed in war-paint and feathers. The King and hisson were enthroned on chairs, and the courtiers cameand seated themselves around on the grass, and theattendants carried umbrellas.First there was a council.The King was dissatisfied with his Minister of War,who was seized and brought before him. Then theMinister made a speech in his own praise.Then therewas a fight,in which the Captain of War took everyone prisoner, and gave the swords to the King. Thenthe Minister was poisoned by theenemy, but cured bya nut which the King gave him. Then all the captivescrawled on the ground like snakes to the King's feetto do him homage. The King's jesters were greatfun. They had a gong and bells and tom-tom, andsang and danced at the same time. They danced acurious step little steps in which they adhered to apeculiar time.On Wednesday, July 10, we left Morro Velho fora spacein light marching order. Mr. Gordon wishedRichard to inspecta seam of ore of disputed substance,and he organizeda tripfor us to the place.It wasto last eleven days, and we were then to return toMorro Velho. We set out from the Casa Grande at8.15. Our road was very bad, chiefly over moun-

iDorro IPelbo anfc Its Environs 297tainsand through rivers, but incessantly up and down,without any repose of level ground.We rode for more than four hours, and then stoppedat a villagecalled Morro Vermelho, where we stoppedan hour for breakfast and to change animals.Our road after this, till six o'clock in the evening,lay through the most exquisite forests, but with terriblefootingfor the mules thick, pudding-like, wet mud, andloose, slippery stones, corduroys of hard mud stripingsome of the most difficult places, where only a surefootedmule can tread. We stopped, in passing,at thehouse of a Mr. Brockenshaw, an English miner.It wasa tumbledown ranch, but in the wildest, most desolate,The chief featuresand most beautiful spot imaginable.of the scenery were mountain-peaks, virgin forests, andrivers. And oh the foliage of the forest ! Theimmenseavenues of leafage looked like mysterious labyrinths,with castles and arches of ferns fortyfeet high.Wecrossed an awful serra all in ruts, and full of scarpedrock, mud-holes, or atoleiros ;the highest point was fourthousand two hundred feet. Just as we were at theworst of our difficulties, and Mr. E had brokenhis crupper, we heard a cheery English voice shoutingbehind us,C 'O! da casa?" ("Any one at home?"),which is what people say in Brazil when they entera house apparently empty and want to make somebodyhear at the back. Turning,we beheld a Scotchgentleman with a merry face and snow-white hair,and a beard like floss silk down to his waist. TheBrazilians call him " O Padre Eterno,"as he is likethe picture of God the Father. He was Mr. Brown,

298 ttbe iRomance of Isabel Xafcg JSurtonSuperintendentof the Cuiaba Mine. After cordialgreetings he joined our party.We eventually arrived atCongo Soco, the originalpeat-mining village, once gay and rich, now worked out,abandoned, and poor. The river of the same name runsthrough it. It was now a little before five o'clock, andwe came to a better track, and rode on some milesfarther to the house and iron foundry of Senhor AntonioMarcos, the Ranger of Woods and Forests, who hadprepared hospitalityfor us. We dismounted at sixo'clock verystiff. We had been nine hours and aquarter in the saddle, and had ridden thirty-two milesof difficult country, which did not, however, preventus from passing a merry evening with Mr. Brown'sassistance.After a good night, yet still aching from the roughroad, we went out earlyto see the iron business. Thesoil is a mixture of iacutinga (iron and charcoal),and the process, slow and primitive, is known as the" Catalan process."We saw the whole thing donefrom beginning to end. We left the foundry at 10.15,and went down the watershed of the river Congo Soco,crossing it twice, and in an hour and a quarterarrivedat Sao Joao do Morro Grande. Thence we rode toBrumado, a decayed village.Here we stopped for anhour in the great house of the Commendador Joao Alvesde Sousa Continho, where we changed animals.This wasonce a gay and high house in great repute.It lookednow as if withered ;it has fallen into decay, and isinhabited by the old ex-courtier, once a favourite ofthe fir?t Emperor. We proceeded across the ridge to

the Santa Barbara, or main road.Delbo anb its Environs 2 99As we wound downa hill, in a somewhat romantic spot,we espied descendingfrom the opposite height a troop of people dressedin black and white, and my conventual eyeat oncedetected them to be Sisters of Charity.The rest ofour party could not make them out, and were quite ina state of excitement at seeing these pilgrims.We metupon the bridge crossingthe river. There were elevensisters and two priests,all in religioushabit and mountedon poor hack mules. They were going to form a newhouse at Dimantina, there being only one other conventin the interior, and that at Marianna. I recognizedsome old friends amongst them. They presented avery curious and pretty sight, as they came round acorner on the mountain-side, with their black habitsand white bonnets. After stopping and talking for alittle while, we rode on, and arrived at 4 p.m. at CatasAltas, having done twenty miles in five hours. Herewe called on the padre and saw the church.In the evening the good old padre came to visit us,but could not be persuaded to take a glass of champagne,of which we had a bottle in the provisionbasket.We left Catas Altas next morning at 6.20, androde for two miles till we reached Agua Quentecc(hot water ").Here we had to make divers arrangements.We stayed there less than an hour, and rodeon to a place about three hours' ride from AguaQuente, through forests and a mountain ascent, in aheavy rain.We eventually arrived at a piece of country that

300 ttbc "Romance of 30abel Xaog JSurtonappeared like a gigantic basin with a mountain-ridgerunning nearly all round it. The soil was lumpy andferruginous, and covered with a coarse, high grass, andvery difficult of passage.At the top of this ridge wehad to ride till we came successively to two places withsmall mountain torrents, which had sliced through therock, and the bits that were broken away were likecakes of coal. There we had to sit and breakfast,while Richard went to examine this curious coal formation,which it was supposed might some day be valuable.This operation over, we mounted again, and at aboutone o'clock arrived at a little ranch called Moreira.We had left one change of mules and horses to followus, and we missed them terribly, as we had to ridethe same wretched animals all day.Then Mr. Gordon, who had accompanied us thusfar, wished us good-bye for a few days, as his businesstook him another way, and we rode through prettywoods to Inficionado (" Infected "), twenty-four milesin all, and reached it at 3.30. It is a long village, withseveral ranches and a few churches, very pretty, butremarkable for its number of idiots and deformities.It was pleasant after the day's fatiguesto sit by arunning brook oppositethe ranch. The sun was notquite set yet ; the almost full moon was visible.Richard and Mr. E were sitting by the ranchdoor, and herds of mules were picketed in front. Itwas a most picturesque scene.We left Inficionado next morning at 9.30, and rodealong a bad road, which reminded me of the commonpictures of Napoleon on an impossible horse crossing

IDelbo anfc its Environs 301the Alps. We reached a ranch called Camargos at12.15. To-day we ate while riding, and did not stop;the ride was hot and steep.We never drew rein tillwe reached Sant' Anna, where we expected friends totake us in. We had fortunately sent on a blackmessenger with our letters of introduction, and toapprise them of our coming and he ran to meet us;a few hundred yards before we reached the house, andtold us that the owner, Captain Treloar, superintendentof these mines, could not receive us, as his wifewas dying.Much grieved and shocked, we returnedto a neighbouring vendha for a few minutes to writea note of sympathy and apology for our untimelyintrusion, and also to consult as to what we hadbetter do with ourselves, since we had " counted ourchickens" prematurely, certain of the never-failinghospitality of our compatriots, and had given awayall our provisions.world without so much as a biscuit.Now we were thrown on the wideWe soon decidedto prospect the place we were in, and then ride toMarianna, where we had a letter of introduction to aDr. Mockett. Sant' Anna looked a desolate, deadaliveplace, and consisted of the Casa Grande, orSuperintendent's house, a chapel on the hill, a biguniversal kitchen, and a hospital.These were theonly four large buildings; but there were plenty ofsmall white cottages, which looked like dots on thehill, for the English, and for the black settlers a lineof huts. The valley, which was pretty,was occupied bythe houses, which appeared small after Morro Velho.When we returned to our vendha, we found waiting

302 Ube IRomancc of Isabel ZafcB JSurtonfor us Mr. Symmonds, son-in-law of Captain Treloarwho insisted on our going to-morrow to his house.He said it was empty,all the family being togetherat Sant' Anna during their affliction ;but as hekindly remarked we should be more comfortablethere, we agreed, and mounted and rode with himalong a pleasant, sandy road not track for twomiles or more, till we passed a pretty villa in thecentre of some wild-looking mountains. There livedCaptain Treloar and his wife with a large familyof nine daughters,six of whom were married, andthree sons. All the men of the family, sons andsons-in-law, are connected with the mine.We had a pretty ride of two miles more, and arrivedon the brink of a height, and suddenly viewed amass of spires and domes in the valley beneath, whichwe at once knew was the pretty cathedral town ofMarian n a. We rode down into it,and sent ourletter to Dr. Mockett ;but he too was absent attendingMrs. Treloar a second disappointmentbut;we founda ranch. Marianna has nine churches, a seminary,a bishop's palace, a convent, hospital, college, andorphanage of Sisters of Charity, but no hotel save amiserable ranch. It is a regularcathedral city,andso dead-alive, so unvisited by strangers, that I supposeit would not pay to have one. Our fare was of theworst description. Myfeet stuck out of the end ofmy miserable, short, straw bed, and it was a bitterlycold night.We sent round all our letters of introduction;but that night no one seemed to wake uptothe fact of our arrival.

fl&orro tDelbo aitf> its Environs 303The next day, Sunday, was a wet and miserablemorning. However, later Captain Treloar's son-in-lawcame and rescued us, and took us to his house. Thiswas a comfortable English home, where we foundnicely furnished rooms, and were cheered with thesight of Bass's ale, sherry, and everything imaginableto eat and drink, a piano, and plenty of books. Wedid not tear ourselves away from these luxuries forthree days from Sunday to Wednesday.From here we went to visit the PassagemWe Mine.changed our clothes, and each with a lantern andstick descended a steep, dark, slippery tunnel of fortyfivefathoms deep the caverns large and vaulted, andin some places propped up with beams and drippingwith water. The stone is a mixture of quartz andgold. The miners were all black slaves. Theywere chanting a wild air in chorus in time to thestrokes of the hammer. They work with an ironcrowbar called a drill and a hammer, and each onebores away four palmes a day. If they do six, theyget paid for the two over. They were streaming withperspiration, but yet seemed very merry. The minewas litup with torches for us. We then descendedthirty-two fathoms deeper, seeingall the differentopenings and channels. To the uninitiated like myself,it looked probable that the caverns of stone, apparentlysupported by nothing, would fall in. I took downmy negret Chico. He showed great symptoms offear, and " "exclaimed, Parece O inferno ! I wasrather struck by the justice of the observation. Thedarkness, the depth of the caverns, the glare of the

304 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurtontorches lighting up the black figures humming againstthe walls, the heat and want of air, the horrid smells,the wild chant, reminded me of Dante. I wonderif he took some of his hells out of a mine ?Next day poor Mrs. Treloar died, after fifteen daysof bilious attack. In this country, if youare welland strong, in good nerve and spirits, and can fightyour own way, you do very well ;but the momentyou are sick, down with you,fall out of the ranksand die, unless you have some one who values yourlife as his own. But even this could not save poorMrs. Treloar. Mr. Symmonds requested Richard, asEnglish Consul, to perform the funeral service, as theyhad no church, no clergyman, no burial-ground;sothey would not distress her mind by the knowledgethat she was dying. My husband seemed to havebeen sent by Providence to perform this sad affair,as the English here hold greatly to their consulsperforming a ceremony in the absence of a clergyman.The Treloars were to have gone home to Englandfor good the previous month, having several of theirchildren at school in England, and itonly put offfor that " little while " often so fatal in the tropics.She was buried on the hilltop,and was followed byall the men in the neighbourhood,black and white.Women do not attend funerals, nor sales, nor shops,nor post-officesin Brazil. Richard read the service,and I was left in charge of the house and blacks whilethey were all absent. A little before the funeral Iheard a tremendous noise in the kitchen like thecrashing of crockery, black women screaming, and men

IDelbo an& its Environs 305swearing angry oaths. I ran in and found two ofthe men kniving each other over a piece of moneywhich we had given the servants for their attentionto us. Blood was upon the ground.I rushed inbetween them and wrenched their knives away, andordered them all out upon the grass upon their knees,and they obeyed. The funeral was now winding up thehill opposite the house, and I read prayers for the dead.Directly after the funeral we mounted our animalsand rode for six miles along a pretty mountainous'road to Ouro Preto. We rode down into the town(which looked rather imposing from the height weviewed it)as the clock struck six. It was nowdark, and we were received into the house of CommendadorPaula Santos, Director of the Bank, andwere made very comfortable.Ouro Preto is the capital of Minas Geraes. It isby far the most hilly town I ever saw ; walking upand down the streets is quite as difficult as ascendingand descending ladders, and there is an equal dangerof falling.I think one could throw a stone from thetop of a street to the bottom without its touchinganything en route. The President of the Provincelives here, and has a white palacelike a little fortress.There is a small theatre, a bank, two tramways (oneprovincial and one imperial), a prison and large policebarrack, a townhall, several carved stone fountains, andfifteen churches. We found the one usual Englishfamily, a general shopkeeper and watchmaker, with awife and children, brother and sister.They were veryhospitable. We stayed here two days.VOL. i. 20

306 Ube IRomance of Isabel Xafcp 3BurtonWe left Ouro Preto at 9.40 on Saturday morning,and rode along a neither very good nor very badroad, withfine mountain scenery, and the wind rathertoo cool. We were now turning our faces back againtowards Morro Velho. We followed the course ofthe river, ridingin the dryCasa Branca (a few ranches)atbed. We arrived at1.15, and came upwith a party of American immigrants. Here we onlychanged animals, and mounted againat two o'clock,as we had a long, weary ride facing wind and rainon the mountain-tops. We at last arrived at thehouse of Mr. Treloar (brother of the Mr. Treloar ofSant' Anna). Here we hoped to find hospitality ;but he too was in affliction, so we rode on to Riodas Pedras, and dismounted at 3 p.m. The hamletwas a few huts and a burnt-down church. We luckilygot in fifteen minutes before the Americans, andsecured some rough beds and food. Here we hadan amusing evening with the immigrants. They werean old father with an oldish daughter, two youngmarried couples, and one stray man, one old, greyhaired,swallowed-tailed gentleman, and a young womanwith a lot of chicks. They were wandering about insearch of land to settle down and be farmers, andwere amusing, clever, and intelligent.Richard awoke us at 3 a.m. It rained in torrentsallnight, and there was a succession of bad stormsof thunder and lightning ;so I was very loath to getup. But whether I liked it or not I was orderedto mount at 6 a.m.We had a long, muddy, rainy, weary, up and down

flDorro Iflelbo anO its Environs 307hillride, slipping back two steps for every one forward,and going downhill much faster than we wished,which made the journey appear double the distance.After eight miles we arrived at our old sleeping-placeon the borders of Morro Velho, Coche d'Agua. Theold people were gone, and the new ones were not verycivil, and we had great difficultyin getting even a cupof coffee. We had some amusement coming along.Mr. E was strongly in favour of riding with a looserein. We were scalinga greasy hill, and his animal,afterslithering about several minutes, fell on itsstomach. Chico and I dismounted, for our beastscouldn't stand ;but when we were off neither could we.Mr. E 's mule got up and ran away; and Richard,through wicked fun, though safe at the top,would notcatch it. Chico's mule was only donkeysize. Mr.E jumped upon it,and beingtall he looked as if hewere riding a dog and trailing his legs on the ground.He rode after his mule and caughtit in half an hour,and we were all right again.From Coche d'Agua next morning we rode on toMorro Velho, and found the church bells ringing, andpretty girls with sprays of flowers in their hairgoing to hear Mass. I was not allowed to go, so Ipaid two old women to go 'and hear Mass for me,much to the amusement of the party.We breakfastedby the roadside, and rode into Morro Velho and tothe Gordons. The journey, though only twenty-fourmiles, had been long and tedious on account of the rainand mud and constant steepascents and descents. Wearrived looking like wet dogs at our kind host's door ;

308 trbe iRomance of Isabel Xafcp JSurtonand my appearance especially created mirth, as myskirt up to my waist was heavy with mud, my hat tornto ribbons, with the rain running down the tatters. Abig bath was prepared for each of We us.changed ourclothes, and sat down to a comfortable and excellentdinner, thankful to be in the hospitableshelter of theCasa Grande again.Here we tarried for a fortnight, andthoroughly explored Morro Velho this time.Among other things, I determined to go down intothe mine, which has the reputation of being the largest,deepest, and richest gold-mine in Brazil. We had beenvery anxious to visit its depths when we were at MorroVelho before, but Mr. Gordon had put us off untilour return.It was considered rather an event for a lady to godown the mine, especially as Mrs. Gordon, the Superintendent'swife, who had been at Morro Velho nineyears and a half, had never been down. However, sheconsented to accompany me. She said, " I have neveryet taken courage ; I am sure if I don't do itnow, Inever shall." So the end of it was that a crowd ofminers and their families and blacks collected along theroad and at the top of the mine to see us descend.One lady stayingin the house with us (Casa Grande)could not make up her mind to go ; and when I askedChico, he wrung his hands, and implored me not to go,weeping piteously.As we went along we could hearthe miners' delighted remarks, and their wives wondering: " Well, to be sure now, to think of they twogoing down a mile and a quarter inthe dark, and theynot obliged to, and don't know but that they may never

IDorro IDelbo an& its Environs 309come"up again! I'd rather it was they than me !" Aye,that's our countrywomen ; they's not afearedof nothing! I'd like to see some o* they Brazzys putinto that 'ere kibble."We were dressed inbrown Holland trousers, blouse,belt, and miner's cap, and a candle was stuck on ourheads with a dab of clay.The party to go downconsisted of Mr. Gordon, Richard, Mr. E and>,Mr. John Whitaker, an engineer. There are twoways of going down, by ladders and by a bucket.The ladders are nearly a thousand yards long. If yousee lights moving like sparks at enormous distancesbeneath, it is apt to make you giddy. Should yourclothes catch in anything, should you make a falsestep, you fall into unknown space.The minersconsider this safe.They do it in half an hour, runningdown like cats, do their day's work, and run up againin three-quarters of an hour ;but to a new-comerit is dreadfully fatiguing, and may occupy four hoursto a woman it is next to impossible.The other way iseasy, but considered by the minersexcessively unsafe. It is to be put into an ironbucket called a kibble, which is like a huge gypsypot(big enough to hold two ordinary-sized peoplethinly clad), suspended by three chains. It is unwoundby machinery, and let down by an iron rope or chainas the lifts are in London. It takes about twentyminutes, and isonly used for hauling tons of stoneout of the mine or hauling up wounded men. Theminers said to me, " We make it a point of honourto go down by the ladders; for the fact is, on the

310 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog SSuctonladder we depend on ourselves, but in the kibble wedepend on every link of the chain, which breaks fromtime to time." If the slightest accident happens, youcan do nothing to help yourself, but are dashed intoan apparentlyfathomless abyss in darkness. Theopening where we first embarked was a narrow, darkhole, very hot and oppressive.The kibble wassuspended over the abyss. Richard and Mr. Ewent first. Mr. Gordon and Mr. Whitaker, beingsuperintendent and engineer, went by the ladders.In due time the kibble returned, and Mrs. Gordonand I were put into it, with some candles fastened tothe side by a dab of clay, a piece of lighted tow inthe chain above us that we might see the beauties ofthe lower regions, and a flask of brandyin case wegotAs we looked up many jokes were exchanged, andword was given to lower away. We waved afaint, which I am proud to say we did not touch.temporary farewell to the sea of faces, and the lastthingwe saw was Chico and Mrs. Gordon's blackmaid weeping bitterly and wringing their hands. Atremendouscheer reached us, even when some distancebelow.We began to descend slowly, and by means of ourrough illuminations we saw all that we passed through.Lower and lower on all sides were dark abysses likeDante's Inferno. The huge mountain-sides were keptapart by giant tree trunks. How they came there orhow fastened up is one of the wonders of man's powerand God's permission. As we went down, down intothe bowels of the earth, each dark, yawning cavern

IDorro Iflelbo ant) its Environs 31 1looked uglier than itsneighbour. Everyhere andthere was a forest of timber. Whenever we passedany works, the miners lifted their lighted caps, whichlooked like sparks in the immensity, and spoke or gaveus a viva fthat we might not be frightened. It wasa comfort to hear a human voice, thoughit coulddo us no good if anything went wrong. Suddenlyin a dark, desolate place our kibble touched someprojecting thing and tilted partly over. I clutchedat the chains above my head, and Mrs. Gordon heldme. It righted itself in a second. In their anxietyto do well they had put us into the wrong kibble,which had a superfluity of chain, and had playedout a little too much of it above. This happenedthree times, and they were three moments of agonysuch moments as make people'shair turn grey.Iwas too full of life and hope to want to die.Everyone ought to experience some such moments in hislife,when his heart fliesup in supplication to God.It was wonderful, when half-way down, to look belowand see the lights,like fireflies in the forest, movingabout. At length the kibble stood still, and beganto roll like a boat. Then itbegan to descend perpendicularlyand after a little while we saw the ; glareof lights,and friendly voices bid us welcome to themines. Loud vivas greeted us from the workmen.I cannot describe how kind and thoughtfulall therough workmen were. Everything was done to showus how much they were pleased and flattered by ourvisit, to allay fear, to amuse us, and to show us everythingof interest. It would have been a good lesson

312 TEbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonin manners to many London drawing-rooms. Weeach had two men to guide us about.It was a stupendousscene of its kind. Cavernsof quartz pyrites and gold, whose vaulted roofs, walls,and floors swarmed with blacks with lightedcandleson their heads, looked excessively infernal. Each manhad drill and hammer, and was singing a wild song andbeatingin time with his hammer. Each man boreseight palmes (pounds) a day, and is paid accordingly,though a slave. If he bores more, he ispaidfor hisover-work. Some are suspended to the vaulted roofby chains, and in frightful-looking positionsothers;are on the perpendicular walls.After seeing the whole of this splendid palace ofdarkness in the bowels of the earth, we sat on aslab of stone and had some wine. Richard said toMr. Gordon, " Supposethis timber should ever catch"fire, what would you do ? Mr. Gordon laughed, and" Oh, that isimpossible the whole ; placeissaid,dripping with water, and the wood is alldamp, andit would not take ;and we have no chance of firedampand other dangers of explosionas in other minescoal-mines, for instance. Oh, I'm not afraid ofthat." *At this time the mine was at its climax of greatnessand perfection, perfectly worked and regulated, andpaying enormously.We mounted as we came. I found it a much moreunpleasant sensation and more frighteningto ascend1Yet the mine was almost destroyed by fire some six monthsafter our visit.

than to descend./l&orro Delbo anb its Environs 313Yet sometimes out of some cavernsof horror on the way up would pop an urchin of tenor twelve laughing, and hop across a beam like afrog without the least fear. The Brazilian authoritieswanted to interfere to prevent children being employedin the mine, and Mr. Gordon to please them stoppedbut whole families came and implored on their kneesit ;to be taken back.They earned much, and their liveswere rendered respectable and well regulated, and theircondition superior under the existing regime. Butthere is no doubt that this part of the province woulddegenerate terribly, should the colony be broken up,or the present Superintendent leave.In the evening the miners and their officers gave usa concert. A large room in the stores was very prettilydecorated with palm and the flower of Saint John(which is a creeper like a rich orange honeysuckle anddark green leaves), and chandeliers were intermixed.There was a littlestage for the performers, adornedwith a large painted representation of the British arms,and a place for the band. The room, though large,was crowded ; all the little colony was present.Wehad comic performances, Christy Minstrels, and sentimentalsongs for about two hours, wound up by adance, and at midnight broke up with " God save theQueen."We were now preparingfor the second half of ourtrip to canoe down the Rio Sao Francisco (thirteenhundred miles) from Sabara to the sea. The expeditionwas to be Richard, myself (if permitted), and Mr.E who was to choose whether he would, go or

3MUbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JBurtonnot (asit turned out, fortunately for him, he preferredto return to Rio with the Gold Troop on July 28).I was entreating to go, and my fate was hanging inthe balance, when the question was settled for me byanaccident.Richard had been requested to give a lecture onhis travels. The night of July 27 was fixed. Theroom was arranged as before. Richard spoke of thepleasure he had in becoming acquainted with themall, and told them his impressions about Morro Velho.He thanked the officers, captains, miners, and all fortheir kindness and attention, and touched upon histravelsgenerally, especially the Nile, Mecca, andDahome. Mr. Gordon then spoke, and Mr. E,and many pretty little speecheswere made. It lastedabout an hour, and then we had a short concert. Isang four times and Chico was dressed; up, and sangvery prettily with the guitar, and danced. All thesingers did something, and a littledancing, and " Godsave the Queen " as usual terminated the festivities.Unfortunately for me, after my first song, as I wasgoing off the platform there was a deep step to takein the dark, and I fell off and sprained my ankleseverely but Imanaged to perform my ; part to theend by sitting still, excepting when I had to singso;that it was not found out until all was over, and I hadto be carried home. This was a dreadful bore forRichard, who could not take me, and did not like toleave me ;so he good-naturedly put off his journey forten days.The doctor at firstthought my leg was broken,

IDorro IDelbo ant) its Environs 315but it turned out to be only a severe contusion. Iwas five days in bed, and then was promoted tocrutches, litter, and sofa, which lasted me twentydays.At last the day came to see Richard off on hisimportant journey in a canoe from Sabara down theRio das Velhas and Rio Sao Francisco to the sea,visiting the diamond-mines at Diamantina from thenearest point (tothat city)of the river. Mr. Ehad already started for Rio. I did not think it convenableto travel alone with the jeune brigand, so hedid not wait for me. We set out from Morro Velhoon August 6, a large party on horse and mule back,poor me in a litter, and of course ordered to returnwith the party.The litter is a covered stretcher,with a mule in front and one behind, in shafts, and ittakes two men to manage it. It is expensive travelling,and a great luxury for those who tire soon inthe saddle ;but I would rather ride any distance, asthe motion makes me ill. It is not easy like thehammock. We rode for twelve miles over a prettymountainous road to Sabara, a very picturesque,ancientlookingtown, with eight churches and some importanthouses, and with a decent vendha, or ranch. It is ona head of the Rio das Velhas, and seems to be thecentre of North American emigrationhere. Thefirst view of the town and winding river is exceedinglypretty.A church on a hilltopis the first indicationor landmark of Sabara, the town being immediatelybelow it. We arrived, ranched ourselves, and got agood dinner. We went to the only shop, and bought

316 Ube "Romance of -Jsabel Xaog JSurtousome French jewelleryfor a few coppers, as partingpresents for each other, by way of " chaff" ;and afterseeing the town, ended the evening as usual seatedround an empty ranch on the floor or on our boxes,and drank execrable tea, which tasted like hot brandyand-waterwithout sugar, and some beer presentedto us by the great man of the place. As I was toldhe was very rich and stingy,I asked him to make mea present of a few bottles of beer formy party,as wewere thirsty ;but if I remember right, he sent me ina bill for it next morning.In the morning we got a good ranch breakfast,during which we were visited by all the " swells " ofSabara. We set out for the river, where the canoes were.Two canoes were lashed together, boarded, and coveredover with an awning justlike a tent. There was alittle brick stove, benches, and a writing-table erected.Richard and I went on board, and the young lady ofthe party, Miss Dundas, niece of " Uncle Brown,"the before-mentioned " Padre Eterno," broke abottleof caxassi over her bows, exclaiming, " Brig Eliza"whereby hangs an untold joke. Besides our ownparty, nearly all the village followed us. So therearose respectable cheers for the " Brig Eliza" " Captainand Mrs. Burton," "Success to the expedition,""TheSuperintendent and his wife," " Prosperity to" Sabara,"The Emperor of Brazil," The Queen of England,"with many vivas. We then took all our own partyon board, and sent the animals forward to meet us,and shoved off. There were two blacks in the stern,and two in the bows to paddle and pole, and one black

dDorro IDelbo anfc its Environs 317to cook for Richard and attend upon him. One oldblack was disagreeably nervous, and begged Richardto exchange him at the next town, which he did. Wespooned down with the stream, which ran very fast,and went down two rapids, and got aground twice, andtowards sunset arrived at Roc.a Grande. Here theyall took leave of Richard I need not say how sadly.They kindly left me behind for a space to follow, asit was a more serious business for me to say "goodbye" than for them." I was not to expect him tillI saw him. It might be two months, or four, orsix." He did not know what might happen. Thedangers were Indians, piranhas (a sort of river pike),fever and ague, and of course the rapids. At lastI parted from him on his *brig,' with the oldswallow-tailed gentleman (before mentioned), who hadbegged a two-days' passage, and a savage cao de felaand his five blacks ;and from a bank I watchedthe barque with dim eyes round a winding of theriver, which hid it from my sight.The sun wassinking as I turned Iaway. was put into my litter,and taken back to Sabara, where I fell in with myand we returned to Morro Velho as we came.party,This was August 7.I remained with mykind friends the Gordonstill I got well enough to ride all day without injury.On one occasion I was able to be of use to Mr.Gordon in a small matter which requireda littlediplomacy and a gallop of three leagues,twelve mileseither way, out and in within a given time, themessage he had sent having failed. I asked to go ; I

318 Ube IRomance of Isabel Xa&g JSurtonwanted to tryif I was fit formy long ride, and hegave me mychoice of all the stables. I selected awhite horse of remarkable speed and endurance, witha strong cross of the Arab in him, and itcertainlywould have been my own fault if I had failed as totime. I rode there, found the desired decision, andwalked into his office with the answer long beforethe time, which pleased him very much. After thatIthought I was fit to set out on my return journeyto Rio. I had already stayed so long in their house,receiving great kindness and hospitality; and thoughthey begged of me to continue with them until itwas time to meet Richard at Rio, I felt that life wastoo serious to pass my days in the pleasant dolce farniente of catching butterflies, which was really myprincipal occupation at Morro Velho. There wastoo much to be done elsewhere, so Ibegged Mr.Gordon to lend me seven animals, two slaves, andone of his tropeiro captains, or muleteers, and I preparedto leave this hospitable family on the comingAugust 25.Before this date, as I felt sufficiently recovered, Ihad gradually emancipated myself from litterand sofa,and triedmy strength as usual. I had one verypleasant and amusing excursion.There was a villagecalled Santa Rita, about fivemiles from Morro Velho, where they have a church,but no priest ;and being the Feast of the Assumptionof Our Lady, a great day, the villages had sent overto borrow the Morro Velho padre. They sent amounted attendant and a horse saddled with silver

d&orro Delbo anb its Environs 319trappings to bring him there and back. I askedhim to take me. Mr. Gordon lent me a horse anda mounted attendant, and we set out on a most lovelymorning for our pretty mountain ride. The padrewas in the height of Minas fashion and elegance.He wore jack-boots,white corduroys,a very smartcoat, waistcoat, watch-chain, embroidered Romancollar, a white pouche with tassels and silk cravat,and enormous silver spurs.On arriving, we werereceived by upwards of forty people in a privatehouse on the wayto the church. From there wewent on to the church, a small, tawdry, roadside chapel,where the padre said Mass ;and though the peoplewere very devout, the children and dogs were verydistracting.We then went to a vendha, and spreadour basket of provisions. This made the peoplefurious. The padre had passedme off as his niece,so everybody was anxious to have the honour ofdoing hospitality to the padre and his niece. Aboutfifteen messages were sent to us, so we said we wouldgo round and take coffee with them after our breakfast.The great attraction of the place was a handsome oldlady, Donna Floris Vella, civilized and intelligent bynature. She petted me a gooddeal at first forbeing the padre's niece, and called me bena moca(here to be young and fat is the highest personalcompliment they can pay you), and quarrelled withus for going off into the mato the forest, as shecalled the vendha to breakfast, instead of comingto her. But I suddenly forgot that I was the padre'sniece, and turned round and spoke to Mr. Fitzpatrick,

320 ttbe ttomance of Isabel Zaog Burtonthe Morro Velho Master of Horse, who had beensent to attend upon me, in English. When she heardme speaking English sofluently, she flew at thepadre and punched him in the ribs in a friendlyway, and told him he was a liar ;but she keptup the joke with the rest ;so we had coffee andvery interesting general conversation about Englandand civilization, church matters and marriages, andwere taken round to several houses.They wouldhave been jealousif we had only visited one ;so we did not reach home till late in the afternoon.One day afterwards, as I was sittingat the churchdoor at Morro Velho, I saw some hammocks withbodies lyingin them. They were carried by others,all dripping with blood. The kibble the same onewe had been down the mine in had broken a linkof its chain and fallen. How sorryit made me feel,and how thankful that it did not happen on ourday, as it easily might Mr. Gordon is so careful!about accidents that he has the chain hauled overand examined every twelve hours, and aprizegiven to any one who can find a faulty link ; yet inspite of all this from time to time it will break away.I think ithappened twice during my stay.Thereis not the smallest occurrence that happens in thatlarge colony that does not come under Mr. Gordon'seye between nine and ten o'clock every morning.The wonder is how he finds time for everything andevery one with so much ease to himself.While I was at Morro Velho he allowed me tois

flftorro Delbo anfc its Environs 321organize little singing parties every night. All whocould sing used to assemble, and he would join us,and we learnt duets, trios, quartettes, chorus glees,and so on. Itbrought people together ; and hesaid it was refreshing after the day's work, instead ofsitting reading or writing in a corner, always tired.So passed the time at Morro Velho, until theday of my departure dawned.VOL. i.

CHAPTER VIIIMY LONELY RIDE TO RIOON(1867)The day of my delight is the day when you draw near,And the day of mine affright is the day you turn away.ALF LAYLAH WA LAYLAH(Burtons "Arabian Nighti").Sunday, August 25, we had a sad dinner atthe Casa Grande at midday, on account of theI bade Mrs. Gordon farewell,breaking up our little party, which had been so pleasantoff and on for the past two months. We should probablynever meet again.and at 3.30 a considerable cavalcade set out from Mr.Gordon's hospitable door. I had to pass through thevillage of Morro Velho. There appeared many a wavinghandkerchief, and I received manya warm handshakeand" God-speed."At the top of the villagehill I turned to take a lastgrateful farewell of valley, church, and villagethe littlecolony, with its white settlements and pretty bungalows,where I had passed so many pleasant days. We rodealong one of the beautiful roads, which I have beforedescribed, for about six miles, often silent or tryingtomake cheerful remarks. Mr. Gordon accompanied me.322

%onel TRf&e to 1Rfo 323A littlebefore five o'clock the sun's rays were beginningto fade away into the pleasant, illuminated coolness oflate afternoon, and we stopped at a house agreed uponas the parting-place, the house of the same Donna FlorisVella before mentioned, an old widow lady with ashe wasdelicate son. Though already grey and aged,very buxom and clever, though deprived by circumstancesof cultivation. She was what we would call " aHere we stayed half an hour, and lookedgood fellow."at her flowers. Then we remounted, and rode on fora few hundred yards. My host, Mr. Gordon, whocommanded our party,here anticipated a little mutiny,as all in their kindness of heart wanted to accompanythe lone woman, and some begged to go with me forone day and some even for one stage. So we suddenlystopped in a tract of low brushwood, and he gentlybut firmly said," It was here that I parted with mydaughter when her husband took her to England, andit is here that I will part with you." I shook handssilently with him, and then with the others all round, andas the sun's last rays faded into Ievening turned the"head of my

324 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog 3Burtonacrossmy path and dark, brown birds of ;magpie shapeflitted along the ground like big bats or moths, sometimesperching for aninstant, and disappearing withoutnoise in a ghostlikefashion. I felt verysad. I wassorry to leave my friends. Two months even " offand on " is like twelve months to a wanderer and anEnglishwoman in exile, and above all in the wilds.She is glad to meet her country people when they aretynd ; and they had been so very kind. Moreover,I was returningafter a taste of bush life, not tomyeyrie in Sao Paulo, but to the cab shafts of semicivilizationin Rio de Janeiro.My retinue consisted of the Captain of the GoldTroop, a kind, attentive man. He rode down withthe Gold Troop from the mines, and protectedit withan old two-barrelled horse-pistol, which would nevergo off when we wanted to shoot anything (and byway of parenthesis I may remark that, with the assistanceof a small boy to look after the mules, I wouldundertake for a bet to rob the troop myself). Mycapitao,whom for the future I shall call Senhor Jorge,spoke but little, and that in Brazilian. I should callhim a very silent youth, which was an advantage inpassing beautiful scenery, or when taking notes, orfeeling inclined for thought but there were moments;when I wanted to glean information about the country,and then I used to draw him out with success.Besides this stalwart there was my faithful Chico, twoslaves to take care of the animals, six mules for baggageand riding, and my grey horse.We arrived at the ranch of Sant' Antonio d'Acima

Xonelg IRifce to 1Rio 325at about eight o'clock. Here I got a comfortablestraw bed and some milk. Some of the inhabitants,about fifteen in number, came over to our ranch, whichconsisted of four bare, whitewashed walls, a ceilingof plaited bamboo, a mud floor, a wooden shutter fora window, two wooden benches and table, and threetallow dips.These good people sang songs and glees,and danced Minas dances for me to the native wireguitar, snapping their fingers, and beating time withtheir feet.They sing and dance at the same time.They were all very merry. At ten I retired to tryand sleep, leaving them to continue their festivities ;but what with the excitement of the day, and thestilltwanging guitars at the other side of the partition,I did not succeed.At 2 a.m. I rose, and, callingto Senhor Jorge, askedhim to send for the animals. The two slaves weresent to the pasture to look for them, drive them in, andfeed them. While this operation was going on, I paidthe master for my night's entertainment the sum ofseven milreis, or fourteen shillings.When I mounted,it was 4 a.m. It was quite dark and foggy, but this Idid not mind. I had heard from all quartersthat thecountry was execrable. My mule, like Byron's corsair,possessed one virtue to a thousand crimes, and that wassurefooted ness, and had an objection to deep holes ;and were the whole journey to have been performed ona single plank, I would have ridden him in the darkwithout a bridle. I threw it on his neck, and tried tokeep my hands warm. Soon the fog lifted, and themoon's last crescent showed us the way, aided by

326 ftbe iRomance of Isabel Xafcg JSurtonstarlight.The dawn grew upon us at 5.30, and at6.30 the sun gilded the mountain-tops. At eight wearrived at Rio das Pedras, our old station, breakfastedfrom our basket, and changed animals. I had arrangedto ridemy mule in the dark, but my good grey horsein the daylight,for he trotted well, and this wouldrelieve the journey greatly.We had now riddentwelve miles. My mule was lazy, I had no spur, andbesides the country was difficult. I had still twelvemiles to go. So I changed for the grey.I passedover several bits of prairie ground, where I gave mygrey " spirits."I arrived at twelve o'clock, two hourslater than I had intended, at Casa Branca, the stationwhere we had stopped five weeks previously.Thesun had already been fierce for two hours. It is anexcellent plan in Brazil to start early and ride yourtwenty-four or thirty miles before ten or eleven, and restduring the great heat of the day under shelter. It savesboth man and beast, and enables them to last longer; andon a moonlight or starlight morning in the tropics youlose nothing of scenery, it is so bright. Casa Brancawas an old broken-down house in a valley near a river.The only available room was occupied by an invalid.The woman of the house, be itremarked, had twentyfourchildren, and a cat for each child ;so we had scantyroom, but decent food canjica (a rice mess), fowl roastand stevted,farinha (flour),coves (cabbage), with tocinho(bacon fat),and feijao (black beans). My sleepingplacewas a room with four narrow mud walls, a rushceiling, mud floor, a door which only kept shut byplanting a stake against and a it,bit of sacking covered

the hole representinga window.atmy ranch,Xonels TCifce to IRio 327Every day, on arrivingI first looked after the animals and theircomforts, for on this all depends then settledmy;own, wrote up this journal, saw that the men had allthey wanted, dined, and then inspected the place, andread tillfalling asleep, always risingat I or 2 a.m.This eveningI took a stroll down the partially dried-upbed of the river by twilight, and met herds of cattlebeing driven home. The picture would have madea good Turner. On my return Chico brought me aof native rumcaxassi bath ;this is, literally, a grogand hot water, without sugar, which gives a refreshingsleep. In these countries there is a minute tick, whichcovers you by millions, burrowing into your flesh ;you cannot extract it, and it maddens you. At nightyou derive an inexpressible relief from having thegrog bath.Next morning we rose at 2.20, but did not get offtill4 a.m. It was pitch dark, raining, with high wind,and altogether a decidedly suicidal kind of morning.Instead of going down the bed of the river, we struckaway to the right (N.W.), on a new road to any Ihad been formerly.We groped our way throughrain and biting wind. At 7 a.m. we took a lastview of the cross of Morro Velho from a heightforty-six miles off, having passed through Cachoeirado Campo, a long, straggling village which climbed ahill and possesseda church and one or two respectablehouses. It should be remarked that in Minas Geraesthere are a great number of largeblack crosses, withall the instruments of the Passion, erected either before

328 ftbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonthe parish church or on heights ; they were introducedby the Jesuit missionaries. An Englishman having anygreat enterprise on hand will say as an incentive tothe " blacks, When such a work is completed, I willplant a cross in "your village and the ; hope of thismakes them anxious and hard-working. We passeda deserted house and ranch. The countryall aboutwas ugly, wild, and desolate, and composed chiefly ofbarren campos. At 9 a.m. we arrived at Chiquero, alittle village and ranch on a hill. We picnicked in theopen ranch with the mules, not liking to go into a hotshelter and come out again in the wind. Meantimethe sun came out and scorched us up.We changedanimals, and left Chiquero at ten. My mule " Camondongo" trotted after us like a dog. Our road was bad,but a little less ugly than hitherto. We saw a fox inthe wood, and Senhor Jorge tried to shoot it withthe old horse-pistol, but failed. Later on we passedthrough some woods, and finallysaw Ouro Brancoquite close to us from a height on the other sideof the serra. I was quite delighted, and exclaimed," Oh, we shallget in "early to-day." Patience,""said my capitao ; wait a little." We had to makean enormous detour of at least two leaguesto gettoOuro Branco, which seemed close to us, because wecould not cut straightacross the serra, which wasItimpassable. was very irritating always seeingthetown near us, and yet always unable to reach it.I wanted to ride straight down the serra, butSenhor Jorge wouldn't let me, and so we eventuallypassed round under the rocks beneath it. I saw that

OLonels fRifce to IRio 329he was right, thoughit seemed such a waste of time.Still, the delay was not to be regretted, as the onlycurious feature of this partis in this turn, which isfull of curious hills covered with stones of a wonderfuland natural formation, starting out of the earth ina slanting position.The only idea it conveys to themind is that of a hilly churchyard, overstocked withtombstones all blown on one side by the wind. Theyare intersected with a curious stunted tree or shrub,with a tuft at the end of each branch ;and every hereand there was a small patch or forest of them, andthey presented a very weird look in the surroundingdesolation. I did not know, nor could Senhor Jorgeinform me, what these stones were made of, nor whythis curious formation. Though he had travelled theroad for seven years, and been in the country sincehis birth, he had never remarked them before.Comingin we saw a peasant with a stick and a pistol fightinga cobra. It appeared a long day, as we had had fivehours of darkness, biting wind, and rain, followed byfour hours of scorching sun.We arrived at Ouro Branco at one o'clock. It isa long, straggling village, with a church and a fewnice, respectable, white houses. A wall of green serrafaces the village, which runs round on the top of asemicircular eminence under the serra. It had severalold houses, one marked 1759, a Minas cross, andan old stone fountain. The ranch was respectable,but very dirty behind the scenes. I went into theinner part to prepare food myself, and was thankfulthat I did so. The women were unwashed, dirtily

33 Ube IRomance of Isabel Xao$ Burtonclad, covered with snuff, and with hairstreamingdown their backs ;and the kitchen utensils cannot bedescribed. It is almost impossible for an Englishwomanin any part of the world, no matter how roughshe may become, even in bushranging,withcalm and indifference.to view dirtI left Ouro Branco at 4.30 a.m. It was then pitchdark, but finally the heavy clouds and small rain clearedaway, and we enjoyed starlight, then a delicious dawnand bright morning. We first rode through a long,straggling village,called Carreiras, and afterwardspassed a small fazenda, where there were evidences ofa refined mind ; it was radiant with flowers, and trellisedwith creepers.Our road to-day was prettier.Wepassed through well-wooded lanes with pretty foliagethe umbrella tree and feathery mimosa. The nextfeature worth remarking was a small river, which hadoverhanging trees of a white-and-pink feathery flowerwhich yields an edible bean. I sent one of our mento pick some. They have a branch of greenbuds inthe middle, and the external ones sprout forth infeather, which ismagenta pink at its base and snowwhite at the ends, terminating in a yellow knob. Wethen met some men hunting peccary ;the master witha horse and gun, and the beaters with dogs in couplesand hatchets. At 8 a.m. we arrived at a small ranch,in a forest called Holaria, kept byPortuguese. The former keeps hisan Italian and aoriginalgrindorgan,which attracted all the birds in the neighbourhood,who perched and sang loudly in the tree-topssurrounding He it. had, however, hisforgottennative

1Rioe to 1Rio 331tongue.We picketed the animals, and breakfasted inthe open.The gigantic earth-slips in this part of the worldpresent a very remarkable appearance. They appearedlike yawning gulfs,as if some awful convulsion ofNature had justtaken place ;and one can hardlybelieve the hubbub that is effected bylittle streamsof water wearing away and causingthe earth to fall.Some appeared as if a vast plain had sunk, leavinggigantic walls, fanciful castles, and pyramids of earthstanding alone in the middle. They are of a brightred clay,which the sun variegateslike a kaleidoscope.We left Holaria at nine, and came to Quelsez, along village with shops and a few decent houses. Istopped at the shop of a Portuguese Jew to look atviolas. We then rode along a rather pretty and levelroad, where we met mules and tropeiros, which indicatedthat we were joining the civilized world again, andsuggested more of highway and traffic than we hadas yet seen. We stopped at Bandeirinho, a few hutsand farm, and had a glass of water and witnessed greatexcitement amongst the juvenile population becausea cobra was killingall their chickens. All along theroad to-day our way was lined with a beautiful sortof lilac laburnum. We had plenty of level groundfor galloping.We arrived at 12.30 at a villagecalled Ribeirao doInferno, a few straggling houses and ranch, poor butclean. In the ranch and its surroundings lay a sickgirl, an old woman, two young married women, anda man. As I was known to be European, they came

332 trbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog Kurtonto ask me if I had any remedies ;sickness was rarehere, and doctor or medicines unknown. I produceda little medicine chest, with which they were quitesurprised and delighted.First I went to the oldwoman. She was seventy ;she had been travellingalong on a mule, when she was suddenly seized withspasms, was unable to proceed, and was carried into thefirst house. She was shut up in the dark, and wouldnot allow any light in the room, where about a dozensympathizers were collected, till I absolutely refused toprescribefor her in the dark. She then consented toa candle being brought. She then, after some beatingabout the bush, confessed to me that she had eatentoo much cabbage, upon which I prescribed for herto take a cup of " "English tea which I had with mewith milk and sugar, and left her quite happy. Thegirl had a serious chill. I made her some hot punchof caxasst water and sugar,with a large lump of hog'slard in it,in default of butter, and covered her upwith six blankets and rugs to produce perspiration.The family fought very hard about it, and declaredthat she should not and would not drink it ;butI insisted that she must, and she helped me by takingto itvery kindly. She was quite well, but weak,after a few hours. The two young women had headachesfrom other causes, and I gavethem carbonateof soda, which they insisted was sea-salt, and imaginationmade them sea-sick. But the worst of all was theman, who was seriously ill,and I found out at lastit resulted from decayed teeth, upon which I told himthat only a dentist could cure him. His wife told

SLonels TCtoe to iRfo 333me with tears that it was death to have a tooth out,and I must give him some medicine that would makethe decayed teeth drop out without pain ;but I toldher that that was beyond my, or any one's, power.Iwonder what a London doctor would have given formy reputation that night !It is worth noticingthat to-day the carapatos (ticks)were on the decrease. This seems to be the borderor barrier of their country ; but I do believe this placeto be unhealthy, for we were allslightly ailing thatnight.A young Portuguese engineer who has beeneducated in France arrived at the ranch in the eveningen route for Ouro Preto. He told me he had been inOuro Preto when we had passed throughit on our wayout, and had much wished to make our acquaintance.We were rather lazy the next morning, and did notleave Ribeirao until a few minutes to six.My invalidswere all well ;but I only saw the master. My fourmen and myself were all suffering from headache, sothe place must have been unhealthy.We had nothingto regretin starting so late, for it was darker, colder,and more mizzly than ever. We rode two and ahalf leagues, or ten miles, before breakfast. Neitherour road nor any events were worthy of remark.Thescenery would have been very beautiful for England,but it was tame for South America. We passedatintervals a few cottagesor a solitary fazenda.Webreakfasted in the open ground of a pretty ranch, calledFloresta, surrounded by wooded mountains. Therewe found several men lassoinga struggling bull, whowould not consent to leave his birthplace and little

334 Ube IRomance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonfriends, and gave them about twenty minutes' troubleover every hundred yards, tearingmen and trees downwith his lasso.Senhor Jorge would go inside the ranch,but I persistedin seeing the sport.We then passeda few straggling houses ;then an old fazenda ;then wecame to a stream with one plank, which we made ouranimals cross.We reached Gama at i.io p.m., having been outfor seven hours. I felt a little tired, and declinedto ride any farther, as there was no necessity.Gamais a ranch, and a poor, dirty one,in a desolateIt was fortunate for me that I arrived when Ispot.did, for half an hour later arrived en route for somedistant fazenda Senhor Nicolao Netto Carneiro Seao,a polished and travelled man who spoke excellentEnglish. He was travelling with his wife, children,and servants, numbering sixteen persons, some splendidanimals, and a liteira. We had a long conversationover a firegypsy which his servant made on the ranchfloor, during which he told me he had served for fiveyears in the British navy. He appeared to be anxiousto import everything European, and to civilize hiscountry. He was kind enough to saythat he longedto meet Richard, and gave us a generalinvitation tovisit his fazcnda, and we exchanged cards.The next morning we got up at 1.30 a.m.,but didnot start till 3.30. The morning was starlight, with abiting wind, but it soon grew dark and cloudy.Wehad no end of petty misfortunes. My change horse,being allowed to run loose, that we might go faster,instead of following us, ran back to his pasturage of last

Xonelg 1Rioe to IRio 335night.The mule I was riding insisted on followinghim, and heeded neither bit nor whip, but nearly leftme in a ditch. Our cargo mule took advantage ofthe scrimmage to bolt in an opposite direction. Andit was at this crisis especially dark and cloudy. Welost nearly an hour in collecting again,as we couldnot see each other nor any path. It seemed a verylong two leagues (eight miles)before breakfast. Assoon as it was light we could see a church tower ofBarbacena on a neighbouring hill, apparently aboutthree miles from us, but in realityfifteen miles distant.At 7.10 we encampedin a clearing. My greyhorse (the change) was tied up to a tree preparatoryto being saddled, and got the staggers, threw himselfdown, and rolled and kicked so that, when we leftagain at eight o'clock, I had to remount my mule" Camondongo." We passed a village outside Barbacena,and met a very largeBrazilian family travelling somewherewith horses, mules, and liteiras. There wereso many girlsthat it looked like a school. Westopped at the ranch of Boa Vista that I might changesaddles. The grey seemed allright again.Themule was done up. I sent the cargo rnules, servants,and animals on to Registro, a leaguefarther thanBarbacena, and rode to Hermlano's Hotel, where wehad originally put upat Barbacena when we started.Here I found Godfrey, our former German coach -driver, and arranged my passage, and found thatHermlano or some other scoundrel had changed my caode fela pup for a white mongrel, which I presentedto Godfrey. I paid a visit of twenty minutes to a

336 tTbe TComauce of Isabel Xaos Burtonformer hospitable acquaintance,Dr. Regnault, and thenrode on five miles farther to Registro, and arrived at1.15 very tired, having been out ten hours.Registro, which I have cursorily noticed before, is apicturesque fazenda on the roadside, all constructed ina rude wooden style,and is a mule station.It is a fine,large building, and the coach, after leaving Barbacena,stops here first to pick up passengers and baggage.There is also a celebrated cigarette manufactory, whichcontains two rooms fullof workers, one for men and theother for women slaves. I went to visit them, andbought a packet for half a milreis, or thirteen penceThe cigarettesare hard and strong, and do not(then).draw well. I did not like them. The master makesabout i, 600 milreis,or about .160, a month by them;so some people evidentlyfind them good.I rose at 3.30 the next morning. Whilst dressingIheard what I supposed was threshing grain or beatingsacks ;it went on for about thirty minutes, and I didnot pay any attention to it till at last I heard a sob issuefrom the beaten mass at the other side of a thin partitionwall. I then knew what was taking place, and turnedso sick I could hardly reach the door. I roused thewhole house, and called out to the man to cease. I beggedthe girlslave off, and besought the master to stop,forI felt quite ill ;but it was fully ten minutes before Icould awaken any one's pity or sympathy ; they seemedto be so used to it they would hardly take the troubleto get up, and the man who was beating only laughedand beat on. I nearly fainted, though I could only hearand not see the operation. I thought the poor wretch

1Rtoe to 1Rto 337must have been pounded to a jelly before he left off;but she turned out to be a fine, strapping black girl,with marvellous recuperative powers, for when the manceased she just gave herself a shake and walked away.I left Registro at 7 a.m. Here I was to lose my escort.Senhor Jorge and the slaves accompanied me to see meoff, and appeared very sorry that our pleasant ride wasover. They were to start at the same time to rideback home to Morro Velho. It was quitea curioussensation, after three months' absence, to find myselfonce more on a road, and a road with a coach goingto civilized haunts. I found the motion of the coachas unpleasant as a steamer in a gale of wind aftera long stay on land.We descended the Serra de Mantiqueira so quicklythat I did not recognize our former laborious ascent.I noticed the trees and ferns were very beautiful inthe forests as we dashed alongall festoons and arches.We had a most beautiful and extensive view of theSerra de Mantiqueira and the surrounding mountains.We then came to our last station, just outside Juizde Fora. The country is very much the same duringall this journey, perpetual mountain, valley, forest, andriver, and the only greatfeature is the serra.We drove up to the hotel of Juiz de Fora at3.30, having done our sixty-four miles in eight hoursand twenty-three minutes. I asked Godfrey how itwas that we had come back so much faster than wemade the journey out. It transpired that he had gotmarried infor him at home.the interval, and now had somebody waitingVOL. I. 22

338 Ube Vomance of Isabel Xafcp JSurtonSome of my coach companions came to the hotel,one a very much esteemed old man ;a French engineer,with a pretty,delicate wife and child ;and three SouthernersGeneral Hawthorne, of the Southern army,an intelligentand very remarkable man, with twocompanions. We had rather a pleasantdinner.Next day was Sunday, and I called on the padreand went to church. After this I spent a pleasantafternoon under the Commendador's orange trees withthe tangerines.I collected plants and roots to sendback to Mrs. Gordon at Morro Velho, and was escortedby the padre, the chief manager of the company,and the head gardener, who cut them for me. Herewe found the three Southerners, who joined us, andwe had a violent political discussion.The coach left Juiz de Fora the next morning at6.30. To-day as well as yesterday I was compelled,much againstthe grain, to go inside by Richard'sexpress wish at parting.At the station I met CaptainTreloar on his way home, much better in spirits.Hewished me very much to return with him, which Ideclined with thanks.We soon came upon the winding river Parahybuna.We took up three Brazilian ladies, who were dreadfullyfrightened of the wild mules and speed, and alsoof the dust, and wanted to close the windows in spiteof the sickeningheat ;but I persuaded them otherwise.They wanted my place because it faced the mules,and also wished that I should make them a presentof my aromatic vinegar. They consisted of a youngmarried woman, whose husband, a mere boy, was on

3LonelB TCi&e to TCio 339the top of the coach, and she was chaperoning tworaw young girl cousins on a visit to her fazenda atsome distance. By-and-by the boy husband got toohot outside, and was crammed in with us, five personswhen three were more than enough, especially youngpeople, who sprawl about.Once more we arrived under the great granitemountain which overshadows the station of Parahybuna.At 2.30 we put down the Brazilian ladies,who mounted horses and rode somewhere into theinterior, and I was thankful for the space andcoolness.Then we reached Posse, where we took in a strappingGerman girl with big,flat feet, who trod all the wayupon mine. The German Protestant parson hadstarted with me from Juiz de Fora, but he had to giveup his place to the Brazilian ladies, and gladly resumedit when they left, as the heat outside was considerable,and besides which he practisedhis little English uponme. Soon after Posse arose the second wall of granite,and the scenery became doubly beautiful and the aircooler. We saw the sun set behind the mountains,and the scenery was fairyland and the air delicious;it was an evening one could not forgetfor manyweeks.I arrived at Petropolis at 7 p.m., where I got a heartywelcome and a good dinner, went to bed, and sleptassoundly as a person would who had been out in thesun for twelve hours and had driven one hundredmiles. This did not prevent my startingnext morningat 6 a.m.for Rio the

340 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaop JBurtonThe morning was clear, and we had a pleasant drivedown the mountains. When I got on board the littlesteamer to cross the Bay of Rio,I hid in the ladies'cabin, for I was ashamed of the state of my clothes.I could not explain to people whyI was so remarkable,and I was well stared at.My boots were in shreds,hat wasmy only dress had about forty slits in it, my in ribbons, while my face was of a reddish mahoganyhue and much swollen with exposure.I was harassedby an old Brazilian lady in the cabin, who asked meevery possible question on earth about England ; andat last, when she asked me if we had got any bacalhao(dried cod), to get rid of her I said " "No ! Thenshe said she could not think much of a country thathad no bacalhao, to which I returned no reply.On arrivingat Rio, I was told that the EstrangeirosHotel, where I had leftmy maid and my luggagebefore startingfor the interior three months previously,was full. As I did not want to be seen about Rioin such a plight,I waited till dusk, and then went tothe next best hotel in the town. The landlord, seeinga ragged woman, did not recognize me, and he pointedto a little tavern across the road where sailors' wiveswere wont to lodge, and" said, I think that will beabout your place, my good woman, not here."" Well,"I said, ** I think I am comingin here all the same."Wondering, he took me upstairs and showed me agarret but ; I would have none of it, and insisted onseeing his best rooms. There I stopped and said," This will do. Be kind enough to send this letterfor me to the Estrangeiros."

1Rioe to 1Rio 341Presently down came my maid, who was a greatswell, with my luggageand letters.After a bath andchange of garments I rang the bell and ordered supper.The landlord came up himself, as I was so strange abeing.When he saw me, he " said, Did that womancome to take apartments for you, madam? IbegyourIpardon, am afraid I was rather rude to her."" Well," I said, "I am 'that woman' myself; but youneed not apologize, because I saw myself in the glass,and I don't wonder at it." He nearly tumbled down ;and when I explained how I came to be in such aplight, he begged my pardon till I was quite tired ofhearing him.I spent the next few days resting my still weak foot,and reading and answering a sackful of welcome lettersfrom home, which had accumulated during my threemonths' absence. Then I went down to Santos.

CHAPTER IXHOME AGAIN(18671869)Home! there is magic in that little word;It is a mystic circle that surroundsPleasures and comforts never known beyondIts hallowed limits.T SABEL did not remain long at Santos.At the endJL of October she went upto Rio to gain news ofher husband, of whom she had heard nothing since theyparted at Roâ Grande nearly four months before, whenhe started in his canoe down the Rio Sao Francisco.As he did not return, she was naturally anxious. Shewrote to her mother :" I have come down to Rio to meet Richard. TheEnglish steamer from Bahia came in on November i .I was in a greatstate of joyful excitement ;went onboard in a man-of-war's boat. But, as once beforewhen I went to Liverpool, Richard was not there, norwas there any letter or Ianything. am very uneasy,and unless within two or three weeks some news comesI shall start to Bahia by steamer, changefor the smallone to Penedo Alagoas, and thence to a tiny one justwhich areput on from Penedo up the river to the falls,342

1bome again 343scarcely known yet [Paulo AfFonso Falls, the Niagaraof Brazil]. Here my difficulties would be great, as Ishould have to buymules and ride round an unnavigableport and then canoe up. I fear Richard is ill,or taken prisoner, or has his money stolen. He alwayswould carry gigantic sums in his pockets, hanging halfout ;and he only has four slaves with him, and has tosleep amongst them. I am not afraid of anythingexcept the wild Indians, fever, ague, and a vicious fishwhich can be easily avoided ;there are no otherdangers. However, I trust that news may soon come.I cannot remain here so long by myself as anothermonth. I had a narrow escape bathing the day beforeof sea-yesterday.What I thought was a big pieceweed was a ground shark a few yards from me ;but itreceded instead of comingat me. I shall feel rathershy of the water in future."As the steamers came in from Bahia Isabel went onboard them one after another in the hope of greetingher husband ;but still he did not come. At last, whenshe had made herself quiteill with anxiety, and whenshe had fully determined to start in search of him, heturned up unexpectedly of course by the one steamerwhich she did not meet and he was quite angry thatshe had not come on board to greethim. After tellingher all his adventures while canoeing down the river(which have been fully described elsewhere *), they wentdown to Santos.They moved about between Santos and Sao Paulo forthe next four months, until, in April, 1868, Burton broke1 The Highlands of Brazil, by Richard Burton.

344 TTbe "Romance of Ssabel Xaog JBurtondown. The climate at last proved too much even forhis iron frame, and he had a very severe illness how;severe it was may be gathered from the following letter :" SAO PAULO, May 3, 1868." MY DEAREST MOTHER," I have been in the greatest trouble since I lastwrote. You may remember Richard was veryill witha painin the side. At last he took to incessantparoxysms of screaming, and seemed to be dying, and Iknew not what to do. Fortunately a doctor came fromRio on the eighth day of his illness. I sent at once tohim, and he kindly took up his quartersin our house.On hearing my account, and examining Richard, hesaid he did not know if he could save him, but woulddo his best. He put twelve leeches on, and cuppedhim on the right breast, lanced him inthirty-eightplaces, and put on a powerful blister on the whole ofthat side. He lost an immense deal of black clottedblood. It would be impossible to detail all we havegone through. This is the tenth day the doctor hashad him in hand, and the seventeenth of his illness.Suffice it to saythat the remedies have been legion, andthere has been something to do every quarter of anhour day and night. For three days the doctor wasuncertain if he could live. The disease is one that growsupon you unconsciously, and you only know it when itknocks you down. It was congestion of the liver,combined with inflammation of the lung, where theyThejoin. agony was fearful, and poor Richard couldnot move hand or foot, nor speak, swallow, or breathe

Ibome Hoafn 345without a paroxysm of painthat made him scream fora quarter of an hour. When I thought he was dying,I took the scapulars and some holy water, and I said,4The doctor has tried all his remedies;now let me tryone of mine.* I put some holy water on his head,and knelt down and said some prayers, and put on theblessed scapulars.He had not been able to raise hishead for days to have the pillow turned,but he raisedit of his own accord sufficiently to let the string passunder his head, and had no pain.It was a silentconsent. He was quitestill for about an hour, and thenche said in a whisper, Zoo, I think I'm a little better.'From then to now he slowly and painfully got better,and has never had a bad paroxysmsince.Day and nightI have watched byhis bed for seventeen days andnights, and I begin to feel very nervous, as I am quitealone ;he won't let any one do anythingfor him butme. Now, however, thank God ! all the symptoms aredisappearing ; he is out of danger ;he can speak better,swallow, and turn a little in bed with my help. To-dayI got him upin a chair for half an hour for the firsttime, and he has had chicken broth. For fifteen daysnothing passed his lips but medicine. He is awfullythin and grey, and looks about sixty.He isquiteand it is sad to look at him. The worst of it isgaunt,that I'm afraid that his lungs will never be quite rightagain.He can't get the affected lungwell at all. Hisin it.breathing is still impeded, and he has a twingeHe cannot go to England because of the cold but if he;is wellenough in three months from this to spare me,I am to go and remain till Easter. He has given up

346 ttbe ttomance ot Isabel Xafcg JSurtonhis expedition (Iam afraid he will never make another),but will take a quiet tripdown to the River Plata andParaguay (a civilized trip). My servants have all beenvery kind and attentive, and our doctor excellent, andthe neighbours have all shown the greatest kindness andIsympathy. have not been out of the house for ages,but I believe there have been all sorts of religious fetesgoing on, and our poor old bishop has died and wasburied with great pomp.I tried to go out in thegarden yesterday, but I nearly fainted, and had to comeback. Don't mention my fatigue or health "in writingback."Burton recovered slowly.His illness, however, hadthe effect of disgusting him with Brazil, and of makinghim decide to throw uphis consulate, a thing he hadlong been wishing to do, if a favourable opportunitypresented itself. The present was a decidedly unfavourableopportunity, but nevertheless he came to theconclusion that he could not stand Brazil any longer." It had given him his illness ; it was far from theworld ; it was no advancement ; it led to nothing." Hehad been there three years, and he wanted to be onthe move again.His slightest wish was his wife's law.Though she wasin a way sorry, for Sao Paulo had been the only homeshe had ever enjoyedwith her husband so far, she atonce set to work to carry out his desire. She soldup everything at Sao Paulo. Burton applied to theForeign Office for leave ;and that obtained, they wentdown to Santos together.Here it was decided that

Dome Boain 347they should part for a time. He was to go to the Pacificcoast for a trip,and return by way of the Straits ofMagellan, Buenos Ayres, and Rio to London. Isabelwas to go direct to London, see if she could not inducethe Foreign Office to give him another post, transactcertain business concerning mines and company promoters,arrange for the publication of certain books,and await the arrival of her husband.While they were at Santos Isabel wrote the followingletter to her mother :"THE COAST NEAR SANTOS, June 16, 1868.

348 ube Vomance of Isabel Xaog Burtonand talked so much, that theywere exhausted beforethey started. The 'English ladies' (?) objected totheir rowing in jerseys, as improper ! And they didnot know how to feather their oars (had perhaps neverheard of it),so they came in last. The Portuguese, whostepped quietly into their boat without a word, came infirst, Brazil second, German third, and the three bignations, French, American, and English,last.We lastby half a boat's length ! Tremendous fighting andquarrelling ensued, red and angry faces, and * bargeeIlanguage.am very gladit will ; produce a goodfeeling on the Brazilian side, a general emulation, andtake our English snobs down a peg, which they sadlywant. The native caiques were really pretty blackmen with paddles standing upright, and allmovingtogetherlike a machine."I leave Sao Paulo on the 3ist, Santos on the ist,Rio on the 9th, and will reach home early in September.I could not stay here any longer without a change.Ithink you had better leave town for your countrychange now, as I cannot leave London earlier than themiddle of October. Allmy wealth depends on myediting a book and a poem of Richard's and two thingsof my own for the October press ; and, moreover, I amgrown so fat and coarse and vulgar I must brush myselfand I have noup in town a little before appearing,clothes, and I am sure you will faint when you see mycomplexion and my hands. So try and start early outof town, and return early.I can join in any fun inOctober. I got your little note from ICossy. dare saythe woods are very nice ;but I think if you saw the'

virgin1bome Hgatn 349forests of South America in which I am nowsitting alone, far from any human creature, with gaudybutterflies and birds fluttering around me, big vegetation,and a shark playing in the boiling green sea, whichwashes up to my feet, and the bold mountain backgroundon a very blue sky, the thick foliage coveredwith wild flowers and creepers such as no hothouse inEngland could grow, arum leaves, one alone biggerthan me, which shade me from the burning sun, thedistant clatter of monkeys, the aromatic smells andmysterious whisperings of the forest, you would ownthat even the Cossy woods were tame for to be;thoroughly alone thus with Nature is glorious. Chicoiscooking a mysterious mess in a gypsy kettle for me ;my pony is browsing near ;and I, your affectionatechild, am sittingin a short petticoat and jacket, bareleggedto the knees, writing to you and others to catchthe next mail." Richard starts with me, and turns the opposite wayfrom Rio. He goes via Rosario, Rio Grande do Sul,Buenos Ayres, Monte Video, the Plata River, andParaguay, to see the war. A voyage de luxe for him,for these placesare all within writinglatitudes andsome littlecivilization."On July 24 Isabel embarked for London, and arrivedat Southampton on September i, after a rough voyage.Her mother and two of her sisters came down toSouthampton to meet her ;and greatwas the joy oftheir meeting.As soon as Isabel had settled down at home she

35 TTbe "Romance of -Jsabel Xaog JSurtonturned to her work, and good luck attended her.She carried through all her husband's mining business,and arranged for the publication of his books, notablyfor the one he had just written on 'The Highlands of'Brazil. As it was to be brought out at once, shewas also commissioned to correct and passthe proofsfor press. She did so ;but as the book contained certainthings of which she did not approve,she inserted thefollowing preface in the book by way of protest.isquoted in full, because it illustrates a much-vexedquestion the attitude which she adopted towards herhusband's writings.Her action in these matters hascalled down upon her the fiercest criticism ;but thisbrief preface shows that her views were consistentthroughout, and her husband was fully aware of themwhen he left her his sole literary executor.ItBefore the reader dives into the interior of Brazil with myhusband as a medium,let me address two words to him.I have returned home, on six months' leave of absence, afterthree years in Brazil. One of the many commissions I am toexecute for Captain Burton is to see thefollowing pages throughthe press.It has been my privilege, during those three years, to have beenhis almost constant companion ;and I consider that to travel,write, read, and study under such a master is no small boon toany one desirous of seeing and learning.Although he frequently informs me, in a certain oriental way,that " the Moslem can permit no equality with women," yet hehas chosen me, his pupil, for this distinction, in preference to amore competent stranger.As long as there is anything difficult to do, a risk to be incurred,or any chance of improving the mind and of educating oneself, Iam a very faithful disciple ;but I now begin to feel that, while

LADY BURTON IN 1869. [Page 35-

1bome Hcjain 35*he and his readers are old friends, I am humbly standingunknown in the shadow of his glory. It is therefore time forme respectfully but firmly to assert that, although I proudlyaccept of the trust confided to me, and pledge myself not toavail myself of my discretionary powers to alter one word ofthe original text, I protest vehemently against his religiousand moral sentiments, which belie a good and chivalrous life.Ipoint the finger of indignation particularly at what misrepresentsour Holy Roman Catholic Church, and at what upholdsthat unnatural and repulsive law, Polygamy, which the Author iscareful not to practise himself, but from a high moral pedestalhe preaches to the ignorant as a means of population in youngcountries.I am compelled to differ with him on many other subjects ; but,be itunderstood, not in the common spirit of domestic jar, butwith a mutual agreement to differ and enjoy our differences,whence points of interest never flag.Having now justified myself, and given a friendly warning toa fair or gentle reader the rest must take care of themselvesI leave him or her to steer through these anthropological sandbanksand hidden rocks as best he or she may.Isabel's greatest achievement at this time was theobtaining for her husband the long-coveted Consulshipof Damascus from Lord Stanley,who was an old friendand neighbourof her uncle, Lord Gerard. Lord Stanley(afterwards Lord Derby) was then Foreign Secretaryin Disraeli's brief first Administration. He was afriend of the Burtons, and had a high opinion of themboth. To him Isabel repaired, and brought the wholeof her eloquence and influence to bear : no light thing,as Burton's enemies and he had many guessingwhat she was after, endeavoured to influence theForeign Secretary by representing that his appointmentwould be unpopular, both with the Moslems and the

35* tTbe Romance of Isabel %afc JBurtonChristian missionaries in Syria.In Lord Stanley'sopinion, however, Burton was the man for the post, andhe appointed him Consul of Damascus, with a salary ofi,000 a year.Isabel telegraphed and wrote the gladnews ;but neither her letter nor her telegram reachedher husband, who was then roving about South America.Burton heard thenews of his appointment accidentallyin a cafe at Lucca. He telegraphed at once acceptingit,and started for England.In the meantime there had been a change of Government,and Lord Clarendon succeeded Lord Stanleyat the Foreign Office. Burton's enemies renewedtheir opposition to hisappointment, and besoughtLord Clarendon to cancel it. Isabel, whose vigilancenever slumbered for one moment, got wind of this,and immediately dispatched copies of the followingletter to her husband at Rio, Buenos Ayres, andValparaiso : "LONDON, January 7, 1869."Mv DARLING," If you get this, come home at once by shortestway. Telegraph from Lisbon and Southampton, andI will meet youat latter and have all snug." Strictly private. T^he new Government have triedto upset some of the appointments made by the last.There is no little jealousy about yours. Others wantedit even at 700 a year, and were refused. LordStanley thinks, and so do that I, you mayas well beon the ground as soon as " possible.Your faithful and attached wife."

Dome Hoain 353Burton did not receive this letter, as he had alreadystarted for home with all speed. His wife met himat Southampton. Burton went to the Foreign Office,and had along interview with Lord Clarendon,who told him that the objections to his appointmentat Damascus were " very serious." Burton assuredLord Clarendon that the objections raised were unfounded.Lord Clarendon then Jet the appointmentgo forward, though he plainly warned Burton that,if the feelingstated to exist againsthim at Damascusshould prevent the proper performance of his officialduties, he would immediately recall him. It isnecessary to call attention to this, as it has a directbearing on the vexed question of Burton's recall twoyearslater.No shadow of that untoward event, however, dimmedthe brightness of Burton's prospects just now. Hegave an assurance that he would act with "unusualprudence,"and it was hinted that if he succeededat Damascus he might eventually get Morocco orTeheran or Constantinople.Isabel writes : "We were,in fact, at the zenith of our career." She might wellthink so, for they were baskingin the unaccustomedlight of the official favour ; they received a most enthusiasticwelcome from their 'friends, and were dinedand feted everywhere. The new year (1869) openedmost auspiciously for them.They spent the spring in London and in paying around of visits to many friends. Later they crossedover to Boulogne, and visited the old haunts wherethey met for the first time eighteen years before.VOL. i. 23

354 TTbe IRomance of Isabel Xa>g JBurtonBurton's leave was now running short, and the timewas drawing near when he was due at Damascus. Hedecided to go to Vichy and take a month's course ofthe waters, and then proceed via Brindisi to Damascus.His wife was to come out to Damascus later. AtBoulogne therefore they parted ; he went to Vichy,and she was to return to London and carry out theusual plan of "pay, pack, and follow."Isabel went round by way of Paris, and then shebegan to feel unhappy at being separated from herhusband, and to want to join him at"Vichy. I didnot see Iwhy could not have the month there withhim, and make up double-quick time after." Soinstead of returning to London, she started off forVichy, and spentthe month there with her husband.Algernon Swinburne and Frederick Leighton (bothgreat friends of the Burtons) were there also, andthey made many excursions together.When Burton's

foome H0afn 35 5axles, oiling and putting them on again ; and lessonsin taking her own guns and pistols to pieces, cleaningand putting them together again. Then she had tobuy a heap of useful and necessary things to stock thehouse at Damascus with. One of her purchases almostrivalled her famous "jungle suit." She invested in apony-carriage, a thing unheard of in Syria and her;uncle, Lord Gerard, also made her a present of an oldfamily chariot. This tickled the late Lord Houghtonimmensely, and he made so many jokes about " Isabeldriving through the desert in a chariot drawn bycamels " that she left it. But she took out the ponycarriageand as there was ;only one road in the country,she found it useless, though she was lucky enough tosell it to some one at Damascus, who boughtit notfor use, but as a curio.Other work of a different nature also came toher hand, the work of vindicatingher husband anddefending his position. At a meeting of the RoyalGeographical Society, at which she was present, SirRoderick Murchison, who was in the chair, spoke off 'Central or Equatorial Africa, in which lie those greatwater-basins which, thanks to the labours of Speke,AfterGrant, and Baker, are known to feed the Nile."the meeting was over she went upto Sir Roderickand asked him why Burton had not been mentionedwith the others. He repliedit was an oversight, andhe would see that it was rectified in the reportstothe press.It was not. So she wrote to The Times,protesting againstthe omission of her husband's name,and to The Athenaeum. These letters have been

356 Ube TRomance ot 3sabel Xa&E JBurtonpublishedin her Life of Sir Richard. But thefollowing letter from Sir Roderick Murchison, calledforth by her letter to The Times, and her reply thereto,have not been published:" 16, BELGRAVE SQUARE, November 14, 1869."MY DEAR MRS. BURTON," I regret that you did not call on me as youproposed, instead of making your complaint in TheTimes."No change in the wording of the address couldhave been made when you appealed to me ;for theprinted article was in the hands of severalu reporters.Nor can I, in looking at the address nowbefore me), see why you should be offended at myspeaking of ' the greatLake Tanganyika,first visitedby Burton and " Speke.'My little opening address was not a history of allAfrican discoveries ;and if you will only refer to thetwenty-ninth volume of The Journal of the RoyalGeographical Society (1859), you will see how, inpresenting the medal to your husband as the chief of theEast African Expedition,I strove to do him all justicefor his successful and bold explorations. But I wasunder the necessity of coupling Speke with Burton asjoint discoverers of the Lake Tanganyika^(asinasmuch asthey both worked together until prostrated by illness ;and whilst your husband was blind or almost so, Spekemade all the astronomical observations which fixed thereal position of places near the lake." Thus your husband, in his replyto me after receiv-

Dome Baafn 357ing the medal, says, 'Whilst I undertook the history,ethnography, the languages and peculiarities of the people,to Captain Speke fell the arduous task of delineating theexact topography and of laying down our positions byastronomical observations, a labour to which at timeseven the undaunted Livingstone found himself unequal'(Journal R. G. S. 9 vol. xxix., p. 97)." Ibeg you also to read your husband's masterlyand eloquent description of the lake regions of CentralEquatorialAfrica in the same volume. No memoir inour journalis more striking than this, and I think itwill gratify you to have Captain Burton's most effectivewriting brought once more to the notice of geographers.I will with great pleasure add a full footnote to theparagraph in which I first allude to the Tanganyika,and point out how admirably Captain Burton has illustratedthat portion of Lake Tanganyika which he andhis companion visited ; though, as you know,he wasthen prostrated byillness and almost blind." With this explanation, which will appear in all theofficial and public copies of my little, imperfect, openingaddress, I hope you will be satisfied, and exonerate mefrom any thought of not doingfull to justice yourmeritorious husband, who, if he had been in health,would doubtless have worked out the path whichLivingstone is still engaged in :discoveringthe settlementof whether the waters of Tanganyikaflow intothe said discovered Albert Nyanza by Baker." Believe me to be ever, dear Mrs. Burton," Yours sincerely,"RODERICK MURCHISON."

Ube TComance ot Isabel Xaos Burton"14, MONTAGU PLACE, MONTAGU SQUARE, W.,"November 15, 1869."DEAR SIR RODERICK," I have every intention of calling upon you, andI think you know Ihave always looked upon you as avery sincere and particular friend nor;had I the slightestidea of being offended with you and if; you have readmy letter, you will have seen that I particularly laid astress upon your kindness ;but what you and I knowon this subject, and perhaps many connected with theRoyal Geographical Society, is now, considering thefast flow of events, almost ancient history, unless broughtbefore the public.I did feel nettled the other night ;but I might have kept quiet, had I not had many visitsand letters of condolence on my husband having beenpassed over. I then felt myself obligedto remind thepublic what the Society the other night had forgotten.Had I visited you, and had we talked it over, and hadthe reports been run over and corrected, it would hardlyhave set the largenumber of people rightwho were atthe meeting of lastMonday, who heard Captain Burtonmentioned only once, and the other four twenty times.Indeed, I was not offended at the only mention youdid make of him, but at the mention of the otherthree, excluding him. I shall be truly grateful for yourproposed notice of him. And do not think I grudgeanything to any other traveller. I am glad you mentionedSpeke with him. Speke was a brave man, andfull of fine qualities. I grudge his memory no honourthat can be paidI never wish to detract from; any ofthe greatmerits of the other four. Ionlyask to

Ifoome Hsain 359maintain my husband's right place amongst them,which is only second to Livingstone. I hope I shallsee you in a few days, and" Believe me, most sincerely yours,"ISABEL BURTON."A month later all her business was completed, andIsabel left London for Damascus, to enter upon themost eventful epoch of her eventful life.

CHAPTER X 1MY JOURNEY TO DAMASCUS(18691870)The East isa Career.DISRAELI'S " Tancred"SHALL not readily forgetthe evening of Thursday,I December 16, 1869. I had a terrible partingfrom my dear ones, especially from my mother. As aFrenchman would say," Je quittaisma mere."We alldined together the last dinner at five o'clock, andthree hours later I set out for the station.My brothersand sister came down to Victoria to see me off, andat the last moment my brother Rudolph decided toaccompany me to Dover, for which I was truly thankful.It was a wild night, and the express to Dover rushedthrough the raging winter storm. My mind was acurious mixture of exultation and depression, and withit all was a sense of supernormal consciousness thatsomething of this had been enacted before. About afortnight previously I dreamed one of my curiousdreams. Ithought that I came to a small harbour,1 The chapters on Damascus are compiled from letters anddiaries of Lady Burton, and from some of the rough manuscriptnotes from which she wrote her Inner Life of Syria.360

-Journeg to Damascus 361and it was as black as night, and the wind was sobbingup mournfully, and there were two steamers in theharbour, waiting. One refused to go out, but the otherwent, and came to grief.So in the train, as we torealong, I prayed silently that I might have a sign fromHeaven, and it should be that one captain should refuseto go. Between my prayers my spirits rose and fell.They rose because my destination was Damascus, thedream of mychildhood. I should follow the footstepsof Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Lady HesterStanhope, the Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne, thattrio of famous European women who lived of theirown choice a thoroughly Eastern life, and of whom Ilooked to make a fourth. fellThey because I was leavingbehind me my home, my family, and many dearties in England, without any definite hope of return.We arrived at Dover, and walked to the boat, andcould hardly keep on our legsfor the wind. When Iset out to embark, lo ! there were two steamers. TheOstend boat refused to go out the other one was;to start. Now I was most anxious to sailpreparingwithout an hour's delay, but I turned tomy brotherand said," Rody,if it is my duty to go I will go, forI do not like to on stay my own Iresponsibility.am scrupulous about Dick's time and money, and hetold me to lose no time." The answer was," Dutybe damned !I won't letyou go."StillI hesitated, andas I was between the ways an old sailor stepped outof the darkness as I stood on the quay, and said, " Gohome, missie ;I haven't seen such a nightthis fortyyear."I remembered my dream, and decided.

362 TTbe IRomance of Isabel Xaog JSurtonI turned into the nearest shelter, a small inn oppositethe boats, so as to be able to start at daylight;and theresult justified my foresight.The captain of the firstvessel, by which I had intended to go, went out. Aftershipping awful seas, and being frightfully knockedabout, he moored some way off Calais Pier ;but the seaand the wind drove the boat right on to it, and carriedaway one of the paddles, the tiller, and hurt severalpassengers.The waves drove her backwards andforwards on to the pier like a nutshell for half an hour,and she was nearly going down, but some smacks hauledher off and out to sea again. She beat about all night,and returned to Dover in a pitiable plight, havingneither landed the passengers nor the baggage.It was thus I met her when I embarked on theother boat at nine o'clock the next morning. Theweather was terribly rough even then, but at leastwe had the advantage of daylight.We had a roughpassage, the sea mountains high but we reached Calais;eventually, where I managed to get some food at thebuffet, such as it was, but I had to sit on the floor witha plate on my lap, so great and rude was the crowd.The boat accident caused me to miss my proper trainto Marseilles, and to lose two of my many trunks. Itwould almost seem as if some malignant spirithadpicked these two trunks out, for the one containednearly all my money, and the other all my littlecomforts for the journey.I had to decide at oncebetween missing my passage at Marseilles and forsakingmy missing trunks. I decided to go on, and leavethem to look after themselves. Six months later they

Soutmes to Damascus 363turned upat Damascus safe and sound. We travelledthrough the weary night and most of the next day, andonly reached Marseilles at 5 p.m., after having metwith many contretemps and discomforts. I at once wenton board, arranged my cabin, did allmy little business,and went back alone to the hotel to have a hot bathand a cutlet, having been nearly forty-eight hours onthe road without rest or stopping.Our ship was one of the P. & O. floating hotels,superblyfitted. We steamed out from Marseilles athalf-past nine the next morning. It was agreatpleasure to exchange the fogs and cold of Englandfor the climate of the sunny, smiling south, the olivegroves, and the mother-o'-pearl sea ; yet these beautiesof Nature have no meaningin them when the heartfeels lonely and desolate, as mine did then.Yet on the whole I had a very pleasant passage fromMarseilles to Alexandria. We had not more than fiftypassengers on board, all Anglo-Indians, and middlingclass. I got a very nice cabin forward, all to myself,with my maid. The ship was full of young marriedcouples going out to India. They were not used toships, and were evidently unaware of the ventilators atthe top of the cabin, so at night one gotthe full benefitof their love-making. One night,for instance, I hearda young bride fervently calling upon her "Joey" tokiss her. It was amusingat first,but afterwards itbecame rather monotonous. I did not know a soul onboard with whom I could exchange ideas, and I keptas much as possibleto myself without appearing rude.I was asked to choose my place at table, and Ihumbly

364 TTbe "Romance of Isabel Xaog 3Burtonchose one some way down ;move upto the seat of honour on hisbut the captain asked me toright hand, and Ifelt quite at a loss to account for the distinction, becausenot a soul on board knew anything about me. I didnot find the captain, though, a bad companion. He wasa short, fat, dark, brisk little man, justthe sort of man acaptain and a sailor should be. I am glad to say hehad not the slightest idea of being unduly attentive.The conversation was dull at table. The ladies talkedchiefly about Colonel " This " and Captain" That,"peppering their conversation with an occasionalHindustani word, a spice of Anglo-Indian gossip, andplentiful regimentalisms, such as " "griffin," tiffen,"" the Staff," and " allgymkhana," of which was Greekto me.Take it all round, the six days' passage was not sobad. I particularly admired the coast of Sicily, themountains rising one above another, Etna smokinginthe distance, the sea like glass,and the air adding asensuous charm, a soft, balmybreeze like the Arabianseas. Yet, as I had been spoiled by Brazilian scenery,I did not go into the same ecstasies over it as myfellow-passengers. We spent Christmas Eve as ourlast night on board. In the evening we went in forsnapdragon and other festivities of the season, andtried to be as merry as we could. The ship couldnot go into the harbour of Alexandria at night ; it has adangerous entrance so we sent ;up our rockets and bluelights,and remained outside the lighthouse till dawn.On Christmas Day morning I first set myfoot onEastern ground. We steamed into the harbour of

Journey to Damascus 365Alexandria slowly ; everybody was going on to Indiaexcept me, and I landed. The first Ithing did wasto go straight to a telegraph office and pay nineteenshillings and sixpence for a telegram to Richard atBeyrout, which of course arrived there after I did. Icannot say that I was struck with Alexandria ;in pointof fact, I mentally called " ita hole," in vulgar parlance.I went to the Hotel de 1'Europe, a second-rate hotel,though one of the best in Alexandria. It was not sobad as might have been expected. In the afternoonwe made a party up to see Pompey'sPillar andCleopatra's Needle and the bazars and other things.But I am bound to say that, on the whole, I thoughtAlexandria " neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good redherring." It was a sort of a jumble of Easternand Western, and the worst of each. The onlyamusing incident which happened to me there waswhen two dragomans got up a fictitious quarrelas towho should take me to the bazars. Of course theyappealed to me, and I " said, You may both come, butI shall only pay one." Whereupon they fastened uponeach other tooth and nail, tore each other's clothes,and bit each other's cheeks. These two, thoughInever suspectedit at the time, were, it appeared, inthe habit of thus dealing with ladies and missionariesand amiable English tourists ;and they always got upthis farce, because, to avoid a street fight,the kindheartedlooker-on would generally employ and paythem both, and perhaps give them a tipin additionto calm them down. But I innocently did the rightthing without knowing it. I had so often seen negroes

366 Ube TRomance of Ssabel Xafcs Surtonfight with knives in Brazil that the spectacle of twodragomans biting each other's cheeks appeared to meto be supremely ridiculous. Ilaughed, and waitedpatiently until one of them pretended to be very muchhurt. Then turning to the other, I said, " You seemthe better man ;I will take you " and; they were bothvery much crestfallen.I spent the evening alone in my small room at thehotel. A strange Christmas truly.Next morningI went on board the Russian Ceres,which was bound for Beyrout, a three days' passage.It was an uneventful journey.The best thing about theboat was the caviare, which was delicious. The deckwas simply filthy,as it was crowded with Orientalsfrom every part of the East, allnations and creeds andtongues. But it was the most interesting part of theshipto me, as I had always been dreaming of the East.Each of these Eastern families had their mattresses andtheir prayer-carpets, on which they seemed to squatnight and day. No matter how rough or how sea-sick,they were always there saying their prayers,or devouringtheir food, or dozing, or reclining on their backs.Occasionally they chanted their devotions throughtheir noses. I could not help laughing at the sound ;and when Ilaughed theydid the same. I used tobring all the sweets out of the saloon for the children,so they were always glad to see me. The otherpassengers thought it passing strangethat I shouldelect to spend the whole of my days with " Easternrabble."We passed Port Said and got to Jaffa in about two

Journey to Damascus 367I was not impressed with Jaffa. The towndays.looks like dirty, well-rubbed dice running down theside of a conical-shaped, greenhill. Here I sentanother telegram to Damascus to Richard the RussianVice-Consul kindly took charge of it but all the sameit never reached its destination, thoughI am certain itwas not the Consul's fault. At Jaffa we picked upan Effendi and his harim, and two Italian musicians,who played the concertina and guitar.The latter pairconfided in me, and said they had made a mariage decceur, and were really very hard up, in fact dependenton their talent ;so I hit on a plan to help them. Iasked the captain to let us have a little music afterbreakfast and dinner. They played,and I carriedround the plate, and my gleanings paid their passageand something more. As for the Effendi's harimshe was carefully veiled and wrapped upin an tzar, orsheet, and confined to her cabin, except when she waspermitted at rare intervals to appear on deck. HerEffendi jealously watched her door, to see that nobodywent in but the stewardess. However, she freelyunveiled before me. I was not impressed with hercharms, and I thought what a fine thing the sheet andthe veil would be to some of our European women.There is an irresistible suggestion of concealed charmabout them. It was my first experienceof a realharim.On the third day, very early,we anchored offBeyrout. The town as viewed from the water's edgeis beautiful. Its base is washed by the blue Mediterranean.It straggles along the coast and crawls up part

368 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog 3Burtonof the lower hills. The yellow sand beyond the town,and the dark green pine forests which surround it, contrastwell with the deep blue bay and the turquoiseskies. It is backed by the splendid range of theLebanon. The air is redolent with the smell of pinewood. Every town in the East has its peculiar odour,and when once you have been in one you can tell itblindfold afterwards. I went ashore, and put upat aclean and comfortable hotel facing the sea, which waskept by a Greek. This hotel later on came to be tomy eyes the very centre of civilization ;for during oursojourn at Damascus Beyrout was our Biarritz, andthis little hotel the most luxurious house inSyria.Here I had breakfast, and after that I called on ourConsul-General. His wife was ill in bed, but heasked me kindly to remain to luncheon, and showedme how to smoke my first Inarghileh. was veryanxious to start at once for Damascus, but the diligencehad gone. So I had to stop, willy-nilly,for the nightat Beyrout. In the evening the Duchesse de Persignyarrived from Damascus, and sent me word that shewould like to dine with me. Of course I was delighted.She gave me some news of Richard, andenlivened my dinner very much by anecdotes ofDamascus. She was a very witty,eccentric woman,one knows who had to do with her whenas everyshe was in England. She had manyadventures inDamascus, which she related to me in her racy,inimitable way.It didn't sound so bad in French,but I fear her humour was a trifle too spicytobear translation into plain English prose.When I

5outnes to Damascus 369got to Damascus, I heard a good dealf 'goings on ' ' there.more about herI went to bed, but not to sleep, for itseemed to methat I was at the parting of the ways. To-morrow Iwas to realize the dream of mylife. I was to leavebehind me everything connected with Europe and itspetty civilization, and wend my way to " The Pearl ofthe East." As soon as you cross the Lebanon Rangeyou quit an old life for a new life, you forsake thenew world and make acquaintance with the old world,you relapse into a purely oriental and primitive phaseof existence.Early the next morning "the private carriage"which the Consul-General had kindly obtained for me,a shabby omnibus drawn by three old screws, made itsappearance.I was to drive in it over the Lebanons,seventy-two miles, to Damascus ;so I naturally viewedit with interest, not unmingled with apprehension.Quite a little crowd assembled to see me off, andwatched with interest while my English maid, a largepet St. Bernard dog, my baggage, and myself wereall squeezed into the omnibus or on top of it. TheConsul-General sent his kawwass as guard. Thisofficial appeared a most gorgeous creature, with silvermountedpistolsand all sorts of knives and danglingthings hanging about him. He inrejoicedthe name ofSakharaddin, which I pronounced " Sardine," and thisseemed to afford great amusement to the gaping crowdwhich had assembled to see me off.The drive from Beyrout to Damascus was charming,and it lasted two days.VOL.I* 24

37 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaop JBurtonFirst we drove over the Plain of Beyrout, behind thetown. The roadside was lined with cactus hedges andrude cafes,which are filled on Sundays and holidays byall classes.They go to smoke, sip coffee and raki, andwatch the passers-by. Immediately on arriving at thefoot of the Lebanon, we commenced a winding, steepascent, every turn of which gave charming views of thesea and of Beyrout, which we did not lose sight of forseveral hours. We wound round and round the ascentuntil Beyrout and the sea became invisible. The coldmade me hungry, and I refreshed myself with somebread, hard-boiled eggs, and a cigarette."Sardine"was keeping Ramadan, but the sight of these luxuriestempted him, and he broke his fast. I couldn't helpoffering him something, he looked so wistful ! Atlast we reached the top, and a glorious wintry sunsetgave us a splendid view. It was of course midwinter,and one saw little of the boasted fertilityof the Lebanon.After the beauties of Brazil the scenery looked to melike a wilderness of rock and sand, treeless and barren ;the very mountains were onlyhills. I could not helpcontrasting the new world and the old. In Brazil,though rich in luxuriant vegetable and animal life,there is no historyall is new and progressive, butvulgar and parvenu whereas ;Syria,in her abominationof desolation,is the old land, and she teems with relicsof departed glory.I felt that I would rather abidewith her, and mourn the past amid her barren rocksand sandy desert, than rush into the progress and thehurry of the new world.We descended the Lebanon at a full canter into the

3ourne to Damascus 371Buka'a Plain. On the road I met three strangers, whooffered me a little civilitywhen I was searching for aglass of water at a khan,or inn. As I was bettermounted than they, I said that in the event of myreaching our night-halt first I would order supper andbeds for them, and they informed me that every houseon the road had been retenue for me,really making quite a royal progress.so that I wasI was able tokeep my promise to them. The halt was at Shtora,a littlehalf-way inn kept by a Greek. The threetravellers soon came up. We supped together andspent a pleasant evening. They turned out to bea French employe at the Foreign Office, a Bavarianminister on his travels, and a Swedish officer on leave.The next morning we parted. My new acquaintancesset out in an opposite direction, and I went on toDamascus. We trotted cheerfullyacross the rest ofthe Buka'a Plain, and then commenced the ascent of theAnti-Lebanon. To my mind the Anti-Lebanon, offthe beaten track, is wilder and more picturesque thanthe other range. The descent of the Anti-Lebanon wedid at a good pace, but it seemed a long time until welanded on the plainEs Sahara. That reached, compensationfor the ugly scenery we had to pass throughbegan when we entered a beautiful mountain defile,about two hours from Damascus. Here, betweenmountains, runs the road and the Barada the ancient;Abana, they say rushes through the mountains and bythe roadside to water the gardens of Damascus.Between Salahiyyeh and Damascus is a quarter ofan hour's ride through gardens and orchards. I had

372 Ube -Romance of Isabel Xaog Burtonheard of them often, and of the beautiful white city,with her swelling domes, tapering minarets, and glitteringgolden crescents looming againstthe far horizonof the distant hills. So I had heard ot Damascus, so Ihad pictured it,and so I often saw it later ;but I didnot see it thus on thismy first entrance to it, for it waswinter. As we rumbled along the carriage road I askedever and " again,Where are the beautiful gardens" ofDamascus"? Here," said the kawwass, pointing towhat in winter-time and to English eyes appearedonly ugly shrubberies, wood clumps, and orchards. Isaw merely scrubby woods bordered by green, whichmade a contrast to the utter sterilityof Es Sahara.We passed Dummar, a village which contains severalsummer villas belonging to the Wali (the Governor-General of Syria) and other personages.The Baradaran along the right of the road, and gradually broadenedinto the green Merj, which looked then like a villagecommon. And thus I entered Damascus.We passeda beautiful mosque, with the domeflanked by two slender minarets. I scarcely noticedit at the time, for I drove with all haste to the onlyhotel in Damascus" Demetri's." It is a good housewith a fine courtyard, which has orange and lemon trees,a fountain full of goldfishin it,and a covered galleryrunning round it. All this would have been cool andpleasant in the summer, but it was dark, damp, anddreary that winterIevening. must own frankly thatmy first impression of Damascus was not favourable,and a feeling of disappointment stole over me. It wasvery cold ;and drivinginto the cityas I did tired out,

Sourneg to Damascus 373the shaky trap heaving and pitching heavily throughthe thick mire and slushy, narrow streets, filled withrefuse and wild dogs, is, to speak mildly, not liableto give one a pleasant impression.However, all my discomfort, depression, and disappointmentwere soon swallowed up in the joy ofmeeting Richard, who had also put up, pending myat this hotel. He came in about an hourappearance,aftermy arrival, and I found him lookingill and worn.After our firstgreetingswere over he told me hisreception at Damascus had been most cordial, but hehad been dispirited by not getting anyletters fromme or telegrams. Theyall arrived in a heap somedays after I came. And this explained how it wasthat he had not come to meet me at Beyrout, as I hadexpected him to do. In fact, I had felt sorely hurtthat he had not come. But he told me he had goneto Beyrout over and over again to^meet me, and Ihad not turned up, and now the steamer by which Ihad arrived was the only one which he had not goneto meet. He was feeling very low and sad about mynon-appearance. It was therefore a joyful surprisefor him when he came in from his lonely walk to findme settled down comfortably in his room. Though hegreeted me in that matter-of-fact waywith which hewas wont to represshis emotions, I could feel thathe was both surprised and overjoyed.He had alreadybeen three months at Damascus, and the climate andloneliness had had a bad effect upon him, both mentallyand physically. However, we had a comfortable littledinner, the best that " Demetri's " could give us,

374 Ube "Romance of Isabel Xaog Burtonwhich was nothing special, and after dinner was overwe warmed ourselves over a mangal, a large brass dishon a stand, full of live charcoal embers. Then we hada smoke, and began to discuss our plans for our newhome.It had taken me fifteen days and nights withoutstoppingto come from London to Damascus..END OF VOL. I.

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