New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1890-11-02
SIR RICHARD BURTON.
SOME PERSONAL RECOLLECTIoNS OF AN
EXTRAORDINARY MAN.


London, October 90.
believe first met Richard Burton at a dinner
given by MIR. Bateman, at that time manager OF
the Lyceum Theatre, some twenty years ago.
He was then about fifty in the prime OF
strength and vigor which it seemed as II nothing
could shake. His fame had been established since
1859, when he returned to England aIter ms
discovery of Lake Tanganyika. In every way ne
was a notable figure; man at whom you wouio
look more than once whether You knew who ne
was or not. He looked like what ne was-a
traveller who had seen many men ana many
climes An Eastern sun had tanned him brown;
yellowish, muddy, frecklcd brown; complexion
a man may be born with, but seldom attains 10
later in life From the mere hue OF bis skin you
would set him down as a native OF the tropics /:
born somewhere in Asia or Polynesia III such
notion came into your head, it was cispeiled at
once by the features and bearing OF the man.
There was about him such an air of energy and
force and masterfuness as we do not readily
associate with Orientals Those rugged features
and the burning light of his blue eyes, deepsunk.
with certain ierceness about them and him, the
stature, the broad shoulders, the muscular frame.
the air of alertncss and cool readiness for what
ever might be coming-in none Of these traits
was there any likeness to the languor and eisurely
Incidence of the softer races. He had, indeed,
something of the Arab about him. and still more
Of the Malay, for whatever the WesterncrJnay
think, there are plenty of Oriental peoples with
all the vital force Of the European; or of the
tigers in their own jungles. He had points OF
resemblance with Mr. Stanley, l afterward
thought the mouth and especially the singular
smile were in each of the two men very much the
same. The muscles OF the mouth seemed trained
to other uses than the expression of pleasurable
emotion.
This dinner lasted or the talk lasted from
eight in the evening till four next morning.
There were other interesting persons, but 1t was
Burton who kept us till this unreasonable hour.
His talk had the kind of fascination which Robin
son Crusoc's might have on his return from his
island in the Pacific: or which Othello's had; or
which Mr.. Stanlcy's has when he unbosoms HIM
self frankly, as he sometimes docs when the COM
pany is TO his mind or when most of the com
pany have departed. 1t had a dramatic power
which remarkable: and use of pantomme
which both men evidently learned from long IN
tercOurse with African tribes. on whom any other
language than that of pantOmime was thrown
away, unless you happened to know their own
But there l drop the comparison. Burton's con-
versation. with all its merits and its quite IRE
sstible attmctiveness had other qualities which
were altogether his own. Some Of them have since
come out in his translation of the Arabian Nights
and still more in his notes to the translation.
II is better to indicate them and pass on. But
whatever his faults were. it might be hard TO
name another man who could and would nave
kept about him for eight or nine hours group
mostly composed of hardened men Of the world
of journalists of men who had to go far in search
of novelty, and who. moreover, had to be up
early next morning for work. most Of them
le1 of Rurt maj n
materials which he himself supplied on that
occasion, would be something of which there is
no present example in literature.
He was at this time j think. consul in
Damascus. Some years after there was smoking
party given by a well-known LondOner. went
late and on my way upstairs stumbled against
a man sitting on the steps, with a book and pencil
in his hand, absorbed in his reading and tho
notes he was making. 1t was Burton When l
spoke to him he woke up as il from dream,
with the dazed air of one not quite sure where he
is | asked him what he was reading 1t proved
TO be Camoens. and he told me he was translat1ng
the Portuguese poet. 1t seemed an add place for
such work. and said much. "Oh, answered
Burton, Il can read anywhere or write anywhere.
And always carry Camoens about with me. You
see he is little book and have done most Of
my translating in these odd moments,-or, as you
say, in this odd fashion, And he added, with
a kind of cynical grin on his face You will
find plenty Of dull people in the rooms above
He had been bored and this was his refuge.
Besides" he said, Il have been up all last
night, and | can't waste time" l looked at
him with that sort of curiosity one has in the
presence of perfectly unique, or. at any rate,
original person, whose character and capacities
are both evidently beyond the common. And
| asked. Are you never tred?" He answered
Never" Indeed now that he had fairly with
drawn his attention from his book. he seemed
wide awake and fresh. AS he did not seem to
mind. pursued him with questions.
what do you mean by never p
al mean that | cannot remember that I ever
knew what it was to feel tired or to be unable to
90 on with any work wanted to do
do you know Portuguese well?"
"Yes. il is no effort to master a language or
dialect"
How many do you know?'
"Twenty-seven!
I forbore to ask him what they were. He
added, however: u include different dialects OF
the same language in the twenty -seven" Bayard
Taylor had similar gift of tongues and power OF
mastering local peculiarities of speech. 81 know,
said Taylor once, ali the various patois and
dialects of South Germany well as any peasant
knows any one of them which he speaks
There came from the drawing-room on the floor
above a great noise of talk; You might call 1T
roar of human voices. There were clouds oil
smoke drifting and eddying about. Guests and
servants were passing anu repassing And there
in the centre Of this stream and annie all the
social huryburly sat Burton Indifferent to every
thing around him. forgetful of it, hearing nothing
but the music of Portuguese verse, living over
again the miserable yet heroic life of poor poet
who had been dead three hundred years There
YOU saw one side of Burton which not everybody
has seen: or had then seen. lie was known, of
course, as a writer Of books. lie had written
many books, too many; some of them good, but
the Burton the world knew was the daring ad-
venturer, the explorer, the great traveller, the
man who delighted to put his life at the mercy
OF a multitude of Moslem fanatics at Mecca, or Of
black sayages in Central Africa.