The Politically Incorrect Guide to the British Empire (40 page)

The Burton-Speke rivalry did not end until 16 September 1864 when Speke, who was supposed to debate Burton at the British Association for the Advancement of Science, instead went hunting and died in an apparent accident, shooting himself in the chest while crossing a stone wall. Some, including Burton, thought Speke had committed suicide; he had been openly distraught at having to debate Burton again, and had left the Association the day before saying, “I cannot stand this any
longer.”
⁷
Whatever the animosities between the two men, Speke's death shook Burton; in the public eye, it left Burton looking all the worse.

Between his return from Africa (1859) and Speke's death, Burton had not been idle. He had written his book on
The Lake Regions of Central Africa
, traveled to America where he hoped to do a little Indian fighting (which never happened) and study the Mormons (which he did; he was impressed by and liked Brigham Young, whom he interviewed), and in 1861 married Isabel Arundell to whom he had become unofficially engaged before his African safari. He pledged that he would allow her to practice her religion (he made occasional bows in its direction as well, dipping his fingers in holy water and making the sign of the cross at their wedding), saying later: “Practice her religion indeed! I should rather think she
shall
. A man without a religion may be excused, but a woman without a religion is not the woman for me.”
⁸

Burton joined the diplomatic corps. He was dispatched to be the British representative at Fernando Po—an assignment that brought no prestige but a high risk of deadly fevers. Burton felt ill-used; all the more so after John Company's
⁹
army was absorbed into the British army and Burton lost his commission. “They want me to die, but I intend to live, to spite the devils.”
¹⁰
He prudently left Isabel behind in England.

He hated the Africans, whom he regarded as bloodthirsty, cruel, and uppity; but he had kind words for the Muslims whose religion he continued
to admire even if he flouted its prohibition on alcohol. In Africa he drank heavily to protect himself from the innumerable tropical diseases, just as in America liquor was a useful precaution against snake bite. Burton didn't need an excuse, but it was nice to have one. He also consoled himself with travel to the West African coast where there were mountains to be climbed and named, gorillas to be sought after (for scientific purposes), as well as the usual research into circumcision and polygamy, in addition to West African cannibalism and Amazons (who were, as a rule, large and ugly). He also wrote nine books and became the British ambassador to Dahomey where his principal duties were to discourage slavery and human sacrifice (the sacrifices being made from criminals or captured enemies); the Dahomey king toasted Burton drinking from a cup made from a human skull.

Through Isabel's machinations Burton was transferred to where she thought she could join him, Brazil (1864), though it proved less salubrious than she imagined. She was ravaged by tropical fevers and disease. When she became delirious, Burton used hypnosis to cure her; when she wasn't bedridden, she tried converting black slaves to Catholicism (though Burton told her not to bother); and often when she needed him Burton had gone galumphing off on another adventure (including a search for a sea serpent). Burton almost died from tropical disease and misadventures and was gratified to be granted medical leave in 1869. Isabel sailed for England; Burton deferred his departure
to investigate Paraguay and Argentina and drink himself well. As Wilfred Blunt wrote of this low point in Burton's life, he looked like “a released convict” or a “black leopard, caged but unforgiving” and would talk of “all things in Heaven and on Earth . . . till he grew dangerous in his cups, and revolver in hand would stagger home to bed.”
¹¹

Isabel saved Burton. She won him the job he had coveted, British Consul in Damascus. The Foreign Office warned Burton to be on his best behavior—and he was, relishing the opportunity. He had his moments, staring down rock-throwing Greek Orthodox Christians; criticizing Jewish moneylenders (which aroused accusations of anti-Semitism); and trying to help a sect of Muslims who wanted to convert to Catholicism (though apostasy and conversion were capital offenses to the Islamic authorities). This last act ended Burton's diplomatic career in the Middle East, though after his departure he was celebrated as someone who had opposed Ottoman oppression and defended honesty and fair play; Muslims in particular prayed that he would be sent back.

As a sop, he was offered the position of British consul in Trieste. This, surely, was a post that would keep him out of trouble, though it was here that he wrote his translation of the
Kama Sutra
, which would only add to his notoriety. Burton still had his adventures—always titillated by stories of lost fortunes and mining millions to be made, he plunged into the Arabian desert searching for the riches of Solomon—but age was beginning to tell, and he increasingly devoted his hours to his scholarly pursuits, including an unexpurgated translation of the
Arabian Nights
.

In 1886, Burton was stunned to discover that he had been knighted—he was now Sir Richard Francis Burton, and though he never knew it, the honor was the result of Isabel's incessant lobbying on his behalf. Burton died in October 1890 and even his death was controversial. Isabel insisted her husband was a Catholic and browbeat a priest to give the already dead Burton the last rites. Many of Burton's friends and relations scoffed at this,
though Isabel had in her possession a signed letter from Burton, dating from the last year of his life, affirming his adherence to the Catholic Church. To her critics, Isabel compounded her sins by burning vast quantities of Burton's papers—presumably those she thought would do his reputation harm, though the harm fell chiefly on
her
reputation. Still, she did, as she always had done, what she thought was best for him. They are buried together (Isabel died in 1896) in Mortlake Catholic Cemetery, London, in a tomb fashioned in the shape of an Arabian tent with a crucifix atop its faux entry.

“Is this man God, to know everything?”

 

T
. E. Lawrence was a crusader. As a boy he aspired to chivalric ideals (he later confessed that since boyhood he had always wanted to be a hero); at Oxford his thesis was on crusader castles; as an officer he tried to lead Arabs (of all people) on a crusade against the Ottoman Empire; and he is perhaps the only crusader after whom Arabs still name their sons (Aurens). After World War I, he immured himself, under an assumed name, in the ranks of the RAF, which was, for him, the rough equivalent of a monastic life: if lacking prayer (save for church parades), it provided anonymity, a sort of poverty, work (he was mechanically minded), and time for literary pursuits (including translating
The Odyssey
). Modern views of Lawrence are colored by the myth that he was an Arab nationalist, but he was in fact a British imperialist; Winston Churchill was his political patron.