Sir Richard Francis Burton, "Vanity Fair" cartoon, 1885.
After joining the British Foreign Office, Burton was appointed counsel in Fernando Po, Spanish West Africa from 1861-65. There he gathered the material for five books on African customs. Burton married Isabel Arundell (1831-1896) in 1861. She traveled with him and wrote his biography.
Burton served with the British Foreign Service in Damascus from 1869-71 and Trieste in 1872, where he made his family home. He explored the Gold Coast with Captain Cameron, 1881-82.
His skills as a translator are still respected: Burton translated the Kama Sutra in 1883; the Perfumed Garden in 1886. He was knighted in 1886; Burton died in Trieste in 1890.
 |
| George Atkinson, "Our Monshee" from "Curry and Rice on Forty Plates," (1859) thought to be a portrait of Sir Richard Francis Burton. CLICK AND READ THE BOOK ======================================================= India’s first ‘bibliomystery’ in English is about a unique manuscript by Sir Richard BurtonBooklovers will love Pradeep Sebastian’s novel, which is all about antiquarian books and the people who live with them.“What do you know about Richard Francis Burton, Ms Anbuchelvan?” Kayal wasn’t expecting to be addressed, much less queried. “Well...” she responded, “I guess what everyone knows: Translator, explorer, Arabian Nights, first white man to take the Hajj to Mecca, his troubled quest for the true source of the Nile – that sort of thing. Oh, and also that he spent some time in India.” “The most crucial years, Ms Anbuchelvan, the most crucial years!” bellowed Whitehead, growing visibly excited. “Arabia, Africa and England feature strongly in any discussion on Burton, but little is said about his India experience except as a footnote. The seven years he spent in India, from 1842 to 1849, in his early twenties formed Burton. This country made him the Burton the world knows and admires. This is where he discovered his gift for languages, his abilities as a translator, his love for libraries, his passion for and curiosity about other cultures, his interest in Arabic and Islam. This is where he entertained the idea of trying out disguises in order to ‘go native’, received his first exposure to a variety of sexual practices and developed his lifelong anthropological interest in this area.” There was a brief silence as Whitehead paused to take a sip of water. And then, shifting his piercing gaze back to Kayal, he asked, “And what do you know about me and my connection with Burton?” “That you collect him fiercely,” answered Kayal, refusing to be intimidated. “But I’m not just another Burton collector, Ms Anbuchelvan! I’m the second biggest collector of Burton material in the world – something your employer should have told you about me before our meeting.”“Come now, Nallathambi, you were being so coy about this meeting to begin with!” Neela protested feigning indignation, but suppressing a grin. “You didn’t say it had to do with Burton, did you?” Whitehead ignored her and resumed. “You see, Ms Anbuchelvan, among private collectors, only the collection of Viscount Pilkington truly rivals mine. I might also add that with his collection and mine put together, we’ve long surpassed the achievements of the great Burton collectors of the past, such as Quentin Keynes, Edward Metcalfe and Burke Casari. Of course, the Burton holdings with institutional collectors like the British Library and the Huntington Library beat us all. But that is as it should be; institutions and museums have resources and funds that private collectors lack. In any case, a great part of the Keynes and Metcalfe collections are now at the British and Huntington libraries, while among private collectors, I own the scarcest Burton material in Asia. Now, I hear you are making a little trip to Ooty and this is where I’d like you to assist me with something.” “I’m looking forward to it, Mr Whitehead.”  “Good. There’s a fellow up there who says he has some Burton material from the Indian years, something he thinks no other collector could possibly have. He isn’t willing to tell me what it is. He wants to show it to me, instead.” “What Burton material could he possibly possess that you don’t already have?” Neela wondered aloud. “It could be a number of things. Surely you didn’t think I’d finished with Burton entirely, did you, my dear Neelambari? I may have all his books in their first and variant printings, but I don’t have several of his manuscripts.” “Yes, but how is he so sure you don’t already own a copy of whatever it is he has?” “Because he – the chap’s name is Kenton Selvaganesan – claims that no one in the world could possibly have another copy. It’s a Burton manuscript, apparently.” “And he didn’t even hint at what it might be?” Neela asked. “This is how it all began. Two weeks ago, I received a phone call from a man who identified himself as Kenton Francis Selvaganesan – the Francis was a nice touch, I thought – a history teacher at the Beardsley School in Ooty. He said he had some Burton material on him that he was in a terrible quandary about. He didn’t know what to do with it and wanted my counsel. My interest was immediately aroused and I asked him to tell me more – and, before that, to also tell me how he knew of my interest in Burton. He said he had chanced on newspaper references to my last great Burton acquisition – well, you’ll remember the news stories – talking about how an Indian collector had paid the highest price ever offered for that fairly scarce Burton pamphlet – ” “The 1853 Bayonet Exercise,” Neela volunteered, nodding. ‘Yes, A Complete System of Bayonet Exercise. Satisfied that the man wasn’t wasting my time, I asked him to tell me about the Burton material he had and how he came to own it. Apparently, a family Burton had known while he was recuperating in Ooty has had it in their possession all these years – that means, for more than a century. He listed two of the three items: two books that had belonged to Burton, with his ownership signature and annotations in the page margins – a very common feature with Burton – and a letter Burton had written from Karachi, after he returned there, to a woman he had known in Ooty. Nothing unusual in that; Burton was always writing letters, except that it’s the first I have heard of one addressed to someone he knew during his stay in Ooty. All this was very well, as I’m always interested in adding books to my collection that contain Burton’s scribbles, as well as his letters. But what was the third thing, I asked. He had mentioned three.” Whitehead paused to wipe his brow. “There was silence over the phone, even some hesitation,” he went on. “Then the voice on the other end said, ‘It’s a Burton manuscript.’ I was, as you can imagine, riveted by this piece of information. But he regretted that he was not at liberty to reveal what the manuscript was at that moment. Was he a crank, after all, I asked myself. Someone out to make quick money from me? With Francis as a middle name? When I asked him about it, he said his mother had apparently been some kind of devotee of Burton’s and had stuck her son with that name. He was really quite tired of people asking him about it. After I had gathered my wits, I said a manuscript would be special, but why did he think it was so unique? ‘From the time this came into my possession,’ he answered, ‘I have been researching Burton enough to be convinced of its singularity.’ And then he suggested I come down to Ooty and look at it myself; he would rather not describe it or reveal more.” “And you told him, of course, that you could not travel and that he should bring the Burton material here to you,” prompted Kayal. Whitehead suffered from severe gout and the only travelling he was capable of was confined within Chennai. It had been years since he had travelled anywhere out of the city.“Hmm,” Whitehead grunted, annoyed at being interrupted, “but the schoolteacher said he was unable to make a trip to Chennai any time soon – his mother was recovering from a stroke and he could not leave her unattended. To bait him, to draw him out, I said that if the material was, indeed, as unique as he claimed, and if it could be authenticated and its provenance verified, I would pay more for it than any Burton collector he could think of offering it to. But he remained firm. It would have to wait. And now you see, Neelambari, why I jumped at the chance of Ms Anbuchelvan checking on him when she’s in Ooty. I’ve rung him since and told him that someone from Biblio might look in, adding that the bookshop was the nearest thing I could think of that would serve his best interests and mine; a knowledgeable third party, with expertise in these matters that could also remain objective and perhaps even serve the best interests of Sir Richard Francis Burton himself!”  “Hmm...certainly intriguing,” remarked Neela, “and worth looking into. Come on, Nallathambi, what’s your guess about the Burton he has? He’s from Ooty, remember?” Neela was grinning now, because she knew what Whitehead must be thinking. “I admit I would be overjoyed if it were the Pilpay manuscript,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, as if making a wish. “Yes, of course, Pilpay’s Fables,” said Neela softly. “The first thing Burton ever translated.” When he opened them, Whitehead’s eyes were twinkling. “But how do you think he – this Kenton – came upon it? How would it come to be in Ooty?” asked Kayal, watching them both closely. “Because, young lady, Burton was in Ooty. Admittedly, not for very long, but he was there.”“Ooty? I thought he was stationed in Bombay.” “Not at all!” snorted Whitehead. “He was never stationed in Bombay – though he did land there and often went there later to write his language exams. He was posted to Baroda and then to Sindh – Karachi, specifically. In 1846, Burton was asked to take a vacation to convalesce from sickness and fatigue. He went to Goa, Calicut and then, finally, to the Niligiri hills, to a sanitorium in Ootacamund. He quickly grew bored and restless in the hills and set down to learning more new languages. By now, he already knew Hindustani, Sanskrit, Gujarati and Marathi. On his return to Sindh, he would learn Punjabi and Sindhi. But now in Ooty, using a local tutor, he began learning Telugu and Toda. Oddly enough, there is no record of him learning or even attempting to learn Tamil.” Whitehead paused as the waiter began laying out their food: Lemon linguine (without the garlic) for Neela, aglio olio peperoncino (without the cheese) for Kayal and a large piece of tiramisu for Whitehead (even though he had begged off ordering lunch, murmuring something about a diet). Spooning out a creamy layer of the pastry, the collector continued. “But something else Burton did in Ooty, while recovering from a bad eye infection, is of particular importance: He made his first foray into translation – a Sanskrit text of the Hitopadesha, retranslated in Hindi as the popular fables of Pilpay, something like an Indian Aesop. Burton discovered that he liked translating; enjoyed it so much, in fact, that he knew that’s how he wanted to use his genius for language. However, he didn’t complete the entire translation there. He returned to it later and finished it in 1847. The Pilpay manuscript is in the Huntington Library now. And, rather strangely, this first Burton translation was the very last of his works to come out in print – it would be published for the first time in book form only in 2003.” He now looked imploringly at the two women. “But I hope both of you can also see why part of that early translated manuscript – or a version of it – may have been left behind in Ooty? As to how this man, Kenton Selvaganesan, came to acquire it – if, indeed, that is what it really is – I do not know and cannot say. And this is where you come in, Ms Anbuchelvan. If you can coax him into at least telling you what the manuscript is, even if he won’t show it, it will give me sufficient incentive to pursue it. If it is a holograph copy of the Pilpay fables, I cannot wait; I must have it.”  Excerpted with permission from The Book Hunters of Katpadi, Pradeep Sebastian, Hachette India. |
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Richard Francis Burton
| Sir Richard Francis Burton | |
|---|---|
 Sir Richard Burton, portrait by Frederic Leighton, National Portrait Gallery | |
| Born | 19 March 1821 Torquay, England |
| Died | 20 October 1890 (aged 69) Trieste, Austria-Hungary |
| Resting place | St. Mary Magdalen's Church, London, England |
| Nationality | British |
| Known for | Exploration, Writing, Languages, Orientalist |
| Spouse | Isabel Burton (1861'1890) |
Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton KCMG FRGS (19 March 1821 ' 20 October 1890) was a British explorer, translator, writer, soldier, orientalist, ethnologist, spy, linguist, poet, fencer and diplomat. He was known for his travels and explorations within Asia and Africa as well as his extraordinary knowledge of languages and cultures. According to one count, he spoke 29 European, Asian, and African languages.[1]
Burton's best-known achievements include travelling in disguise to Mecca, an unexpurgated translation of One Thousand and One Nights (also commonly called The Arabian Nights in English after Andrew Lang's abridgement), bringing the Kama Sutra to publication in English, and journeying with John Hanning Speke as the first Europeans led by Africa's greatest explorer guide, Sidi Mubarak Bombay, utilizing route information by Indian and Omani merchants who traded in the region, to visit the Great Lakes of Africa in search of the source of the Nile. Burton extensively criticized colonial policies (to the detriment of his career) in his works and letters. He was a prolific and erudite author and wrote numerous books and scholarly articles about subjects including human behaviour, travel, fencing, sexual practices, and ethnography. A unique feature of his books is the copious footnotes and appendices containing remarkable observations and unexpurgated information.
He was a captain in the army of the East India Company serving in India (and later, briefly, in the Crimean War). Following this he was engaged by the Royal Geographical Society to explore the east coast of Africa and led an expedition guided by the locals which discovered Lake Tanganyika. In later life he served as British consul in Fernando Po, Santos, Damascus and, finally, Trieste. He was a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and was awarded a knighthood (KCMG) in 1886.
Early life and education (1822'1842)
Burton was born in Torquay, Devon, at 21:30 on 19 March 1821; in his autobiography, he erroneously claimed to have been born in the family home at Barham House in Elstree in Hertfordshire.[2][3] He was baptised on 2 September 1821 at Elstree Church in Borehamwood, Hertfordshire.[4] His father, Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Netterville Burton, 36th Regiment, was an Irish-born British army officer of Anglo-Irish extraction. His mother, Martha Baker, was the heiress of a wealthy squire from Hertfordshire, England. Burton had two siblings, Maria Katherine Elizabeth Burton (who married Lt.-General Sir Henry William Stisted) and Edward Joseph Netterville Burton, born in 1823 and 1824, respectively.[5]
Burton's family travelled considerably during his childhood. In 1825, they moved to Tours, France. Burton's early education was provided by various tutors employed by his parents. He first began a formal education in 1829 at a preparatory school on Richmond Green in Richmond, London run by Rev. Charles Delafosse.[6] Over the next few years, his family travelled between England, France, and Italy. Burton showed an early gift for languages and quickly learned French, Italian, Neapolitan, and Latin, as well as several dialects. During his youth, he was rumoured to have carried on an affair with a young Roma (Gypsy) woman, even learning the rudiments of her language. The peregrinations of his youth may have encouraged Burton to regard himself as an outsider for much of his life. As he put it, "Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause".[7]
Richard Francis matriculated at Trinity College, Oxford on 19 November 1840. Before getting rooms in college, he lived for a short time in the house of Dr. William Alexander Greenhill, then physician to the Radcliffe Infirmary. Here he met John Henry Newman, whose churchwarden was Dr. Greenhill. Despite his intelligence and ability, Richard Francis soon antagonized his teachers and peers. During his first term, he is said to have challenged another student to a duel after the latter mocked Burton's moustache. Burton continued to gratify his love of languages by studying Arabic; he also spent his time learning falconry and fencing. In 1842, he attended a steeplechase in deliberate violation of college rules and subsequently dared to tell the college authorities that students should be allowed to attend such events. Hoping to be merely "rusticated"'that is, suspended with the possibility of reinstatement, the punishment of some less provocative students who had visited the steeplechase'he was instead permanently expelled from Trinity College. In a final jab at the environment he had come to despise, Burton reportedly trampled the College's flower beds with his horse and carriage while departing Oxford.
Army career (1842'1853)
In his own words "fit for nothing but to be shot at for six pence a day",[8] Burton enlisted in the army of the East India Company at the behest of his ex-college classmates who were already members. He hoped to fight in the first Afghan war but the conflict was over before he arrived in India. He was posted to the 18th Bombay Native Infantry based in Gujarat and under the command of General Sir Charles James Napier. While in India he became a proficient speaker of Hindustani, Gujarati, Panjabi, Sindhi and Marathi as well as Persian and Arabic. His studies of Hindu culture had progressed to such an extent that "my Hindu teacher officially allowed me to wear the Janeu (Brahmanical Thread)"[9] although the truth of this has been questioned since it would usually have required long study, fasting and a partial shaving of the head. Burton's interest (and active participation) in the cultures and religions of India was considered peculiar by some of his fellow soldiers who accused him of "going native" and called him "the White Nigger". Burton had many peculiar habits that set him apart from other soldiers. While in the army, he kept a large menagerie of tame monkeys in the hopes of learning their language.[10] He also earned the name "Ruffian Dick" for his "demonic ferocity as a fighter and because he had fought in single combat more enemies than perhaps any other man of his time."[11]
He was appointed to the Sindh survey, where he learned to use the measuring equipment that would later be useful in his career as an explorer. At this time he began to travel in disguise. He adopted the alias of Mirza Abdullah and often fooled local people and fellow officers into failing to recognise him. It was at this point that he began to work as an agent for Napier and, although details of exactly what this work entailed are not known, it is known that he participated in an undercover investigation of a brothel in Karachi said to be frequented by English soldiers where the prostitutes were young boys. His life-long interest in sexual practices led him to produce a detailed report which was later to cause trouble for Burton when subsequent readers of the report (which Burton had been assured would be kept secret) came to believe that Burton had, himself, participated in some of the practices described in his writing.
In March 1849 he returned to Europe on sick leave. In 1850 he wrote his first book Goa and the Blue Mountains, a guide to the Goa region. He travelled to Boulogne to visit the fencing school there and it was there where he first encountered his future wife Isabel Arundell, a young Catholic woman from a good family.
First explorations and journey to Mecca (1851'1853)
Motivated by his love of adventure, Burton got the approval of the Royal Geographical Society for an exploration of the area and he gained permission from the Board of Directors of the British East India Company to take leave from the army. His seven years in India gave Burton a familiarity with the customs and behaviour of Muslims and prepared him to attempt a Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca and, in this case, Medina). It was this journey, undertaken in 1853, which first made Burton famous. He had planned it whilst travelling disguised among the Muslims of Sindh, and had laboriously prepared for the ordeal by study and practice (including being circumcised to further lower the risk of being discovered).
Although Burton was not the first non-Muslim European to make the Hajj his pilgrimage is the most famous and the best documented of the time. He adopted various disguises including that of a Pashtun to account for any oddities in speech, but he still had to demonstrate an understanding of intricate Islamic ritual, and a familiarity with the minutiae of Eastern manners and etiquette. Burton's trek to Mecca was quite dangerous and his caravan was attacked by bandits (a common experience at the time). As he put it, although "... neither Koran or Sultan enjoin the death of Jew or Christian intruding within the columns that note the sanctuary limits, nothing could save a European detected by the populace, or one who after pilgrimage declared himself an unbeliever."[12] The pilgrimage entitled him to the title of Hajji and to wear green head wrap. Burton's own account of his journey is given in A Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Medinah and Meccah (1855).
Some members of his entourage suspected there was more to Burton than met the eye. He came close to being discovered one night when he lifted his robe to urinate, rather than squatting as an Arab would. He thought he was unseen, but the youngest member of his group happened to see him. The lad accused him of being an impostor, but let Burton convince him to keep his doubts to himself.[13]
When Burton returned to the British Army he sat for examination as an Arab linguist, which he failed.[14]
Early explorations (1854'1855)
Following his return to Cairo from Mecca, Burton sailed to India to rejoin his regiment. In March 1854, he transferred to the political department of the East India Company and went to Aden on the Arabian Peninsula in order to prepare for a new expedition, supported by the Royal Geographical Society, to explore the interior of the Somali Country and beyond, where Burton hoped to discover the large lakes he had heard about from Arab travellers. It was in Aden in September of this year that he first met Captain (then Lieutenant) John Hanning Speke who would accompany him on his most famous exploration. Burton undertook the first part of the trip alone. He made an expedition to Harar (in present day Ethiopia), which no European had entered (indeed there was a prophecy that the city would decline if a Christian was admitted inside). This leg of the expedition lasted three months, although much of the time was spent in the port of Zeila, where Burton, once again in disguise, awaited word that the road to Harar was safe. Burton not only travelled to Harar but also was introduced to the Emir and stayed in the city for ten days, officially a guest of the Emir but in reality his prisoner. The journey back was plagued by lack of supplies, and Burton wrote that he would have died of thirst had he not seen desert birds and realised they would be near water.
Following this adventure, he prepared to set out for the interior accompanied by Lieutenant Speke, Lieutenant G. E. Herne and Lieutenant William Stroyan and a number of Africans employed as bearers. However, before the expedition was able to leave camp, his party was attacked by a group of Somali waranle ("warriors"). The officers estimated the number of attackers at 200. In the ensuing fight, Stroyan was killed and Speke was captured and wounded in eleven places before he managed to escape. Burton was impaled with a javelin, the point entering one cheek and exiting the other. This wound left a notable scar that can be easily seen on portraits and photographs. He was forced to make his escape with the weapon still transfixing his head. However, the failure of this expedition was viewed harshly by the authorities, and a two-year investigation was set up to determine to what extent Burton was culpable for this disaster. While he was largely cleared of any blame, this did not help his career. He describes the harrowing attack in First Footsteps in East Africa (1856).
In 1855, Burton rejoined the army and travelled to the Crimea hoping to see active service in the Crimean War. He served on the staff of Beatson's Horse a corps of Bashi-bazouks, local fighters under the command of General Beatson, in the Dardanelles. The corps was disbanded following a "mutiny" after they refused to obey orders and Burton's name was mentioned (to his detriment) in the subsequent inquiry.
Exploring the African Great Lakes (1856'1860)
In 1856 the Royal Geographical Society funded another expedition in which Burton set off from Zanzibar to explore an "inland sea" that had been described by Arab traders and slavers. His mission was to study the area's tribes and to find out what exports might be possible from the region. It was hoped that the expedition might lead to the discovery of the source of the River Nile, although this was not an explicit aim. Burton had been told that only a fool would say his expedition aimed to find the source of the Nile because anything short of that would be regarded as a failure.
Before leaving for Africa, Burton became secretly engaged to Isabel Arundell. Her family, particularly her mother, would not allow a marriage since Burton was not a Catholic and was not wealthy, although in time the relationship became tolerated.
Speke again accompanied him and on the 27 June 1857 they set out from the east coast of Africa heading west in search of the lake or lakes. They were helped greatly by the Omani Arabs who lived and traded in the region. They followed the traditional caravan routes, hiring the professional porters and guides, who had been making similar treks for years. From the start the outward journey was beset with problems such as recruiting reliable bearers and the defalcation of equipment and supplies by deserting expedition members.
Both men were beset by a variety of tropical diseases on the journey. Speke was rendered blind for some of the journey and deaf in one ear (due to an infection caused by attempts to remove a beetle). Burton was unable to walk for some of the journey and had to be carried by the bearers.
The expedition arrived at Lake Tanganyika in February 1858. Burton was awestruck by the sight of the magnificent lake, but Speke, who had been temporarily blinded by a disease, was unable to see the body of water. By this point much of their surveying equipment was lost, ruined, or stolen, and they were unable to complete surveys of the area as well as they wished. Burton was again taken ill on the return journey and Speke continued exploring without him, making a journey to the north and eventually locating the great Lake Victoria, or Victoria Nyanza. Lacking supplies and proper instruments Speke was unable to survey the area properly but was privately convinced that it was the long sought source of the Nile. Burton's description of the journey is given in Lake Regions of Equatorial Africa (1860). Speke gave his own account in The Journal of the Discovery of the Source of the Nile (1863).[15]
Both Burton and Speke were in extremely poor health after the journey and returned home separately. As usual Burton kept very detailed notes, not just on the geography but also on the languages, customs, and even sexual habits of the people he encountered. Although it was Burton's last great expedition his geographical and cultural notes proved invaluable for subsequent explorations by Speke and James Augustus Grant, Sir Samuel Baker, David Livingstone and Henry Morton Stanley. Speke and Grant's (1863) exploration began on the east coast near Zanzibar again and went around the west side of Lake Victoria to Lake Albert and finally returning in triumph via the River Nile. However, crucially, they had lost track of the river's course between Lake Victoria and Albert. This left Burton, and others, unsatisfied that the source of the Nile was conclusively proven.
Burton and Speke
Burton and Speke's exploration to Lake Tanganyika and Lake Victoria was, arguably, his most celebrated exploration but what followed was a prolonged public quarrel between the two men, which for a time damaged Burton's reputation. Speke was never Burton's first choice, but, due to illness, Speke was available. Speke being unable to speak any African language or capable of exploring was a severe trial during the trek. Speke exemplified the typical arrogant Imperialist attitudes despising Africans and Asians, hunting and killing animals indiscriminately. Burton solved the problem of Speke's handicap by hiring Sidi Mubarak Bombay who was able to communicate and guide Speke. From surviving letters it is clear that Speke's paranoia already was evident where he mistrusted and disliked Burton before the start of their second expedition. There are several reasons why they became estranged. It seems obvious that the two men were very different in character, with Speke being more in tune with the prevailing morality of Victorian England and imperialistic attitude to other cultures. There was obviously a great element of professional rivalry. Some biographers have suggested[who?] that homosexual friends of Speke (particularly Laurence Oliphant) stirred up trouble between the two. It also seems that Speke resented Burton's position as expedition leader and claimed that this leadership was nominal only and that Burton was an invalid for most of the second expedition. There were problems with debts run up by the expedition that were left unpaid when they left Africa. Speke, in collusion with the new Consul Rigby (a sworn enemy of Burton who had bested Rigby in every linguist test in India), claimed that Burton had sole responsibility for these debts and Rigby used every official method to falsely undermine Burton. Finally, there was the issue of the source of the Nile, perhaps the greatest prize of its day to European explorers though well known to the Arab, Indian, and Omani merchants and traders. It is now known that Lake Victoria is a source, but at the time the issue was controversial. Speke's expedition with Burton's permission was led by Sidi Mubarak Bombay. It was undertaken without Burton who was incapacitated by several illnesses at the time. Speke's survey of the area was, by necessity, rudimentary and completely erroneous, leaving the issue unresolved. Burton (and indeed many eminent explorers such as Livingstone) were very sceptical that the lake was the primary source.
After the expedition, the two men travelled home to England separately with Speke arriving in London first. Despite an agreement between them that they would give their first public speech together, Speke gave a lecture at the Royal Geographical Society in which he made the claim that his discovery, Lake Victoria, was the source of the Nile. When Burton arrived in London he found Speke being lionised, and felt his own role was being considered as that of sickly companion. Furthermore, Speke was organising other expeditions to the region and clearly had no plans to include Burton. Burton had many enemies because of his "going native" and anti-imperialist sentiments.
In the subsequent months, Speke and his clique did much to attempt to harm Burton's reputation, even going so far as to claim that Burton had tried to poison him during the expedition.[citation needed] Meanwhile Burton spoke out against Speke's claim to have discovered the source of the Nile, saying that the evidence was inconclusive and the measurements made by Speke were inaccurate. It is notable that in Speke's expedition with Grant he made Grant sign a statement saying, amongst other things, "I renounce all my rights to publishing ... my own account [of the expedition] until approved of by Captain Speke or the R. G. S. (Royal Geographical Society)".[16]
Speke undertook a second expedition, along with Captain James Grant and Sidi Mubarak Bombay, to prove that Lake Victoria was the true source of the Nile. After a harrowing journey through the kingdom of Buganda, Speke found a large river issuing from the north of the lake. He followed the river, off and on, until he met Samuel Baker, who had ascended the Nile from Khartoum. Because Speke did not follow the river's course where it bends into Lake Albert (which Baker subsequently discovered), Speke left room for doubt that the river flowing out of Lake Victoria was the same river flowing into Lake Albert, which Baker proved to be at least a secondary source of the Nile. Several geographers, including Burton and Livingstone were still unconvinced that Lake Victoria was the true source of the Nile, although most members of the Royal Geographical Society, which awarded Speke its Gold Medal, believed the matter to be settled. On 16 September 1864 Burton and Speke were due to debate the issue of the source of the Nile in front of the British Association for the Advancement of Science at that body's annual meeting in Bath. Burton was regarded as the superior public speaker and scholar and was likely to get the better of such a debate.[citation needed] On the day prior to the debate, Burton and Speke sat near each other in the lecture hall. According to Burton's wife, who was present, Speke stood up, said "I can't stand this any longer," and abruptly left the hall. That afternoon, while hunting on the nearby estate of a relative, Speke was discovered lying near a stone wall, felled by a fatal gunshot wound from his hunting riffle. Burton learned of Speke's death the following day while at the lecture hall waiting for the debate to begin. It has been speculated that Speke's death was a suicide. However, based on the evidence of the two persons present at the scene, the jury at the coroner's inquest ruled it an accident. The London Times obituary surmised that Speke, while climbing over the wall, had carelessly pulled the gun after himself with the muzzle pointing at his chest and accidentally discharged it by knocking it against the wall. Speke's only biographer, Alexander Maitland, concurs. However, because of the eerie coincidence of the timing of his death, speculation of suicide has never abated. One motive often given is that Speke killed himself to avoid losing a meaningless debate with Burton. Another is that Speke was ashamed of the way he had treated Burton. There is no documentary evidence to support either claim.[citation needed]
Diplomatic service, scholarship, and death (1861'1890)
In January 1861, Richard and Isabel married in a quiet Catholic ceremony although he did not adopt the Catholic faith at this time. Shortly after this, the couple were forced to spend some time apart when he formally entered the Foreign Service as consul at Fernando Po, the modern island of Bioko in Equatorial Guinea. This was not a prestigious appointment; because the climate was considered extremely unhealthy for Europeans, Isabel could not accompany him. Burton spent much of this time exploring the coast of West Africa.
The couple were reunited in 1865 when Burton was transferred to Santos in Brazil. Once there, Burton traveled through Brazil's central highlands, canoeing down the Sao Francisco river from its source to the falls of Paulo Afonso.[17]
In 1869 he was made consul in Damascus, an ideal post for someone with Burton's knowledge of the region and customs. However, Burton made many enemies during his time there. He managed to antagonize much of the Jewish population of the area because of a dispute concerning money lending. It had been the practice for the British consulate to take action against those who defaulted on loans but Burton saw no reason to continue this practice and this caused a great deal of hostility. He and Isabel greatly enjoyed their time there and befriended Lady Jane Digby, the well-known adventurer, and Abd al-Qadir al-Jazairi, a prominent leader of the Algerian revolution then living in exile.
However, the area was in some turmoil at the time with considerable tensions between the Christian, Jewish and Muslim populations. Burton did his best to keep the peace and resolve the situation but this sometimes led him into trouble. On one occasion, he claims to have escaped an attack by hundreds of armed horsemen and camel riders sent by Mohammed Rashid Pasha, the Governor of Syria. He wrote "I have never been so flattered in my life than to think it would take three hundred men to kill me."[18]
In addition to these incidents, there were a number of people who disliked Burton and wished him removed from such a sensitive position. Eventually, to resolve the situation, Burton was transferred to Trieste (then part of Austria-Hungary) during 1871. Burton was never particularly content with this post but it required little work and allowed him the freedom to write and travel.
In 1863 Burton co-founded the Anthropological Society of London with Dr. James Hunt. In Burton's own words, the main aim of the society (through the publication of the periodical Anthropologia) was "to supply travellers with an organ that would rescue their observations from the outer darkness of manuscript and print their curious information on social and sexual matters". On 5 February 1886 he was awarded a knighthood (KCMG) by Queen Victoria.
He wrote a number of travel books in this period that were not particularly well received. His best-known contributions to literature were those considered risqué or even pornographic at the time and which were published under the auspices of the Kama Shastra society. These books include The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana (1883) (popularly known as the Kama Sutra), The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night (1885) (popularly known as The Arabian Nights), The Perfumed Garden of the Shaykh Nefzawi (1886) and The Supplemental Nights to the Thousand Nights and a Night (sixteen volumes 1886'1898).
Published in this period, but composed on his return journey from Mecca, The Kasidah[7] has been cited as evidence of Burton's status as a Sufi. The poem (and Burton's notes and commentary on it) contain layers of Sufic meaning, and seem to have been designed to project Sufi teaching in the West.[19] "Do what thy manhood bids thee do/ from none but self expect applause;/ He noblest lives and noblest dies/ who makes and keeps his self-made laws" is The Kasidah's most oft-quoted passage.
Other works of note include a collection of Hindu tales, Vikram and the Vampire (1870); and his uncompleted history of swordsmanship, The Book of the Sword (1884). He also translated The Lusiads, the Portuguese national epic by Luís de Camões, in 1880 and wrote a sympathetic biography of the poet and adventurer the next year. The book The Jew, the Gipsy and el Islam was published posthumously in 1898 and was controversial for its criticism of Jews and asserted the existence of Jewish human sacrifices. (Burton's investigations into this had provoked hostility from the Jewish population in Damascus (see the Damascus affair). The manuscript of the book included an appendix discussing the topic in more detail, but by the decision of his widow it was not included in the book when published).
Burton died in Trieste early on the morning of 20 October 1890 of a heart attack. His wife Isabel persuaded a priest to perform the last rites, although Burton was not a Catholic and this action later caused a rift between Isabel and some of Burton's friends. It has been suggested that the death occurred very late on 19 October and that Burton was already dead by the time the last rites were administered.
Isabel never recovered from the loss. After his death she burned many of her husband's papers, including journals and a planned new translation of The Perfumed Garden to be called The Scented Garden, for which she had been offered six thousand guineas and which she regarded as his "magnum opus." She believed she was acting to protect her husband's reputation, and that she had been instructed to burn the manuscript of The Scented Garden by his spirit, but her actions have been widely condemned.[20]
Isabel wrote a biography in praise of her husband.[21] The couple are buried in a remarkable tomb in the shape of a Bedouin tent at Mortlake in southwest London.[22]
Kama Shastra Society
Burton had long had an interest in sexuality and erotic literature. However, the Obscene Publications Act of 1857 had resulted in many jail sentences for publishers, with prosecutions being brought by the Society for the Suppression of Vice. Burton referred to the society and those who shared its views as Mrs Grundy. A way around this was the private circulation of books amongst the members of a society. For this reason Burton, together with Forster Fitzgerald Arbuthnot, created the Kama Shastra Society to print and circulate books that would be illegal to publish in public.[23]
One of the most celebrated of all his books is his translation of The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night (more commonly known in English as The Arabian Nights because of Andrew Lang's abridged collection) in ten volumes, (1885) with six further volumes being added later. The volumes were printed by the Kama Shastra Society in a subscribers-only edition of one thousand with a guarantee that there would never be a larger printing of the books in this form. The stories collected were often sexual in content and were considered pornography at the time of publication. In particular, the Terminal Essay in volume 10 of the Nights contained an 14,000 word essay entitled "Pederasty" (Volume 10, section IV, D). Burton postulated that male homosexuality was prevalent in an area of the southern latitudes named by him the "Sotadic zone".[24] Rumors about Burton's own sexuality were already circulating and were further incited by this work.
Perhaps Burton's best-known book is his translation of The Kama Sutra. In fact, it is untrue that he was the translator since the original manuscript was in ancient Sanskrit which he could not read. However, he collaborated with Forster Fitzgerald Arbuthnot on the work and provided translations from other manuscripts of later translations. The Kama Shastra Society first printed the book in 1883 and numerous editions of the Burton translation are in print to this day.[23]
His English translation from a French edition of the Arabic erotic guide The Perfumed Garden was printed as The Perfumed Garden of the Cheikh Nefzaoui: A Manual of Arabian Erotology (1886). After Burton's death, Isabel burnt many of his papers, including a manuscript of a subsequent translation, The Scented Garden, containing the final chapter of the work, on pederasty. Burton all along intended for this translation to be published after his death, to provide an income for his widow,[25] and also, as a final gesture of defiance against Victorian society.
Scandals
Burton's writings are unusually open and frank about his interest in sex and sexuality. His travel writing is often full of details about the sexual lives of the inhabitants of areas he travelled through. Burton's interest in sexuality led him to make measurements of the lengths of the sexual organs of male inhabitants of various regions which he includes in his travel books. He also describes sexual techniques common in the regions he visited, often hinting that he had participated[citation needed], hence breaking both sexual and racial taboos of his day. Many people at the time considered the Kama Shastra Society and the books it published scandalous.
Biographers disagree on whether or not Burton ever experienced homosexual sex (he never directly acknowledges it in his writing). Allegations began in his army days when General Sir Charles James Napier requested that Burton go undercover to investigate a male brothel reputed to be frequented by British soldiers. It has been suggested that Burton's detailed report on the workings of the brothel may have led some to believe he had been a customer.[26] There is no documentary evidence that such a report was written or submitted, nor that Sir Charles ordered such research by Burton, and it has been argued that this is one of Burton's embellishments[27]
Burton was believed to have murdered the boy who caught him urinating in European fashion on the trip to Mecca. Burton denied this, pointing out that killing the boy would almost certainly have led to his being discovered as an impostor. Burton became so tired of denying this accusation that he took to baiting his accusers. A doctor once asked him, "How do you feel when you have killed a man?" Burton retorted, "Quite jolly, what about you?" When asked by a priest about the same incident Burton is said to have replied "Sir, I'm proud to say I have committed every sin in the Decalogue."[28]
These allegations coupled with Burton's often-irascible nature were said to have harmed his career and may explain why he was not promoted further, either in army life or in the diplomatic service. As an obituary described: "... he was ill fitted to run in official harness, and he had a Byronic love of shocking people, of telling tales against himself that had no foundation in fact."[29] Ouida reported that "Men at the FO [Foreign Office] ... used to hint dark horrors about Burton, and certainly justly or unjustly he was disliked, feared and suspected ... not for what he had done, but for what he was believed capable of doing".[30] Whatever the truth of the many allegations made against him, Burton's interests and outspoken nature ensured that he was always a controversial character in his lifetime.
Chronology
In popular culture
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