THE STORY OF SIR RICHARD AND LADY ISABEL BURTON.

Otago Witness, Issue 2069, 19 October 1893, Page 49

THE STORY OF SIR RICHARD AND LADY ISABEL BURTON.

(Review of Reviews,

Last year I noticed at some length Mrs Butler's tribute to the memory of her husband. I have now to notice a not less remarkable tribute to a not less remarkable man by a woman, who, although not on the same line as Mrs Josephine Butler, is nevertheless a notable Englishwoman. Those two portly volumes, containing 1200 pages of small print, constitute one part of the monument which Lady Burton is raising to the memory of her husband. Sir Richard Burton was a remarkable character — a compound, complex polyglot of a human being. He presented .an individuality so marked and so unique as to be well worthy of study. But it is still more interesting to "know how this strange exceptional mortal succeeded in discovering and retaining a woman ideally fitted to be bis wife. She fell in love with him at first sight years before he discovered the existence of her affection; and now, when old and grey-haired, she counts it her supreme joy to proclaim to the world tbe manifold perfections of her deceased lord. There is a curious resemblance between Mrs Josephine Butlei's book and that of Lady Isabel Burton — a parallel which is only brought into clearer relief by the contrast which also exists between tbe two women and the subject of their respective biographies. Canon Butler was a saint; Sir Richard Burton was not. Canon Butlei's life was cast within the quiet closes of cathedrals, or within the walls ol English educational establishments; Sir Richard Burton's was lived beneath the fierce sun of the hottest countries in the world, amid tbe wildest men in the savagest centres of Asiatic and African barbarism.

A PARALLEL AND A CONTRAST,

Canon Butler was a blameless and devoted clergyman of the Church of England. Sir Richard Butler was— well, it would be easier to say what he was not than to describe what he was. But these two Englibhmen were equally products of the raarveilously fertile English stock, and both succeeded in securing women almost ideally fitted to be their companions in life. Of Mrs antler's experience I need not t-peak, for even this very month, as will be seen by extiactsin another page, she proclaims onoe more the supreme felicity of her married life. Yet in her wa,y Mrs Butler was as full of spirit, of daring adventure, indomitable courage, and restless energy as Lady Burton. But these two women, so diverse in bo many respects, are most enthusiastic idolators of their respective husbands. One of the great superstitions of society is that clever people make bad husbands or bad wives. Ie is a singular fact that the two biographies which of recent times have attracted the greatest amount of attention have been little more than one long pte^n of conjugal felicity relating to households in which commonplace mediocrity was most conspicuously absent. No woman of our century has so strongly marked a character as Mrs Josephine Butler ; no man of our time was more intensely original and absolutely unique in character tban Sir Richard Burton. Here we have these two books in which we are told with almost damnable iteration of the perfect felicity which was the prevailing characteristics of their homes.

THE MOST INTERESTING OF ALL PROBLEMS.

Great as is the contrast oetween the two books, they are both moit valuable for the light they throw upon the same problem, they are both authentic human documents recording the result of an experiment in living, which is the most; peroniiially and univerfaally interesting of all experiments of life. Mrs Butler and Lady Burtot are uoUi first-class witnesses as to the success which has attended their attempts to solve one universal difficulty of the r&ce. That, difficulty which may be described more or less pedantically as the co-ordinat.fng of two personalities of different st-xe3 in the unit of wedlock, may be more simply expressed by the familiar formula of How do they get on with their husbands? Both for husbands and wives the answer to that question is far more important than the question as to the precise share an explorer had in discovering the sources of the Nile, or the number of campaigns waged by a general in the course of a war ; for these exceptional enterprises are of necessity confined to a decimal-pointed percentage of the human race, whereas the experiences of man and woman in married life appeal to the universal heart of man. The highest aad greatest of our race have the same difficulties to overcome, the same problems to solve, the same infinite number of differences small and great to compose, as those which c^nfr^rst ' the artisan, the labourer, and tbe bcholar in the managemeni of life. HeLce for one person who will read wita interest the exciting adventures of the geographer, ihe c flbu), and the explorer, tin re are a thousand who will feel astracted to this touching narrative by the widow of how she got on wkh her husband.

TWO PHASES OP THE SAME QUESTION.

In Mrs Butler's " Life of Canun Butler " we had one side of the problem stated ; in Lsdy Burton's " Life of Captain Burton " we have the other side. We looked to Mrs Butler's nanativc to tell us how a married life can be happy when the woman is the master mind, where the mother is also an active and wearileys public worker, and where of necessity both hu=band and household are more or less subordinated to tbe wife's; higher duiits to the State and the Church. What we a>k Lady Burton to tell us is how the problem w.*s solved under different conditions Lady Bui lon is a woman of great cxpacity, bour> 'kss energy, and immense force of chaific^er. But nun all her gifts and giaces, sle was not the equal of Sir Richard Burton. He was the head, a».'d a very masterful head to boot. Seldom has the experiment of blending two lives into one in the crucible of wedlock been tried with what appeared to be more lefractory materials.

A CRUCIAL EXPERIMENT.

Sir Richard was independent, headstrong, original to the verge of eccentricity. He bad gipsy blood in his veins, and with it the itch of wandering. He loved daring adventure, imperilling life, as some men love the

wine cup. He was always doing the most reckless things, and he wrecked his career without hesitation whenever he deemed it incidental to the discharge of his duty. He was devoted to work, he toiled at his books as a galley slave at his oar, he was a marvellous linguist, with a more or less complete mastery of 29 languages; and his tastes often carried him into regions which she was forbidden to enter. She was his superior in rank, and he spent his life in what seemed to her relatives comparative poverty. She was a devout Catholic ; he was one of the broadest-spirited eclectic philosophers to whom every religion contains its pearl, which it i 3 for the wise man to extract. He investigated everything, including spiritualism, although every seance brought his wife, who never flinched from following his lead, into trouble with her priests. It is difficult to formulate a problem in which, owing to the extreme strength and originality of both the personal factors, and the stormy and adventurous life that they led, the odds seemed greater against the possibility of arriving at any tolerable equation in marriage ; for to all the other difficulties and obstacles to perfect union, add this, above all, that the marriage was childless. Sir Richard Burton worshipped children, but none came to gladden his married life, and the two had to adjust their differences without that constraiuing influence of the presence of sons and daughters which pervades a home and steadies life with the invisible but invincible potency of atmospheric pressure.

THIS MARRIAGE NOT A FAILURE.

And jet, despite all odd?, in face of all difficulties, this marriage was a brilliant and supreme success. Even after all allowance has been made for the passion of unavailing sorrow over the departed, no one can read these fascinating volume 3 without feeling that the Burtons' marriage was one that vindicates the possibilities latent in that much decried institution, and that renews our faith in the true human unit which is not man or woman, bat is man and woman united in a marriage of affection, and cemented by all the innumerable associations of a common life. To all households and all homes it speaks as with the inspiriting note of a bugle, to encourage failing hearts to attempt once more the almost miraculous work of realising the great ideal when they shall be no longer twain, but one. If the Burtons, who differed so widely, who were tried to roughly, and who had no children, could yet live such a life of unity, each adding to the other the whole force and wealth of an independent and original character, why may not others not so far apart, whose life lies in pleasantsr paths, and who have childien, not attain to something more resembling the ideal of married life?

THE SECRET OF THE SOLUTION.

The secret, of course, of this miracle — for miracle true marriage, or the merging of man and woman in the new unit of two in one, is, and always must be — is an open one. The alembic which dissolved all refractory elements of life was love, passionate, faithful, devoted love, of course. Without love there can be no marriage. A loveless marriage is a contradiction in terms, like hot ice or cold fire. Where love is not, marriage is not— tbe true marriage of the bknded life. But love alone, however passionate and noble, cannot stand the daily strain of busy life unless it brings forth fruit, not of selfindulgence and of self- pleasing, but of service and of sacrifice. And observe there must be capacity to be the helpmate There must be character to begin with. If Lady Burton had been indolent or stupid, if she had been so weak and conventional as to be unwilling to take risks and dare danger, moral as well as phy&ical, she might have loved her hus-bai-d to distraction, but she would never have been his real wife. Still less could she have helped him to be the man he was and to do tbe work he did, if she had not loyallyrecognised his superiority, and exulted in making herself his willing and enthusiastic helpmate, even when he was pursuing a course which commended itself neither to her religious convictions nor to her own instincts.

TO WHOM IS OBEDIENCE DUE 7

The old idea that the man qiia man must necessarily be the head of the house, and that his wife's supreme duty was to sacrifice her own life for him, is being modified by a more reasonable mode of looking at life. The question who is the head is decided by the head, not by the sex, and if the woman is wiser, nobler, greater than her husband, it ought to be the supreme glory of the latter to serve his wife, to minister to the full achievement of her life-work, and, in a word, to subordinate the less efficient minus to the more efficient greater personality with which his life is linked. Canon Butler was a &upreme illustration of the possibility of this solution of the problem. He waß good and noble ; but be was too good and too noble cot to reccgnite that his wife in dynamic influence \±\ on the lives and the souls of men and women was a thou>andfold greater than he could ever be. S.t h<? made H his pride and glory to be a minister to that handmaid of the Lord, whose saintly favour and sanctified passion are to day workirg invisibly all over the world in the hearts and consciences of millions. But in the Burton household the case was otherwise. There what they of old time would regard as the natural order prevailed. Sir Richard Burton was a man to match whom for native fnree and original genius and powerful intellect, it would be difficult, not to say impossible, whether among men or women. Ht had his fault? — like all men. As was natural with one of his superb independence and great initial velocity, the natural failings of the ordinary man were magnified in him us the lani.in magnifies the picture on the slide. But after all deductions are made he remains almost immeasurably and itfinitely greater t ven than the brilliant lady who kha^ed his life. And as she recognised that, recr gnised it loyally and enthusiastically, and acted upon her convictions without swerving, ber married life became a joy acd a c-plFndour unspeakable while it lasted, and a tbit g to be remembered with pride and gratitude after it catre to an end.

LOYALTY AND LIBERTY.

It is not as if Lady Bmton in her loving loyalty to her husband effaced herself, crushed her individuality, or abandoned her convictions. Had she done so, she would have been far less helpful to him. What constitutes the oharm of both the Butler and Burton marriages was the way in which in-

dependence was combined with loyalty. Where the spirit of God is, says the inscription in the old Catholic Church at Lucerne, there is liberty, and as it : s in the church so it is in the household. Sj Richard Barton never domineered over his wife ; he left hei perfectly frte to practise her religion, to frpeak in public in opposition to his views, to express herself in private or in print as freely as if she were unmarried. But never for a moment was there any doubt in the mind of either as to the right of Sir Richard to decide and the duty ot ibe wife to obey — not because one was man and the other woman, but because the direction naturally acd properly belongs to the man at the helm. In Mrs Butler's case that man was the woman. In Lady Barton's, Sir Richard had no need to quote texts for his right to rule. He was sometimes capricious, arbitral y, and trying 1 . But, taken as a whole, Lady Burton would be the first to assert that it was not 011/ her right but his duty to exercise that authority which must always be vested somewhere if anarchy and impotence are not to iesult. There is something of treason to the natural order, which ia the law of God, when the more capable allows the less capable to rule, aad when the supsrior intelect, wuh a wider outlook, allows the helm to be gra&ped by the inferior mind working on a narrower ranga. As iiollesse oblige, so strength and wisdom and genius have iheir obligations, and these assure 31y are not discharged by abdication in order th .t the less may mle the greater.

A LABOUR OF I.OVK,

" I do not begin this work," writes Lady Burtou. "the last important work of my life, without fear and trembling. If I can perform this sacred duty — this labour of love — well, I shall be gUd indeed ; but I begin it with unfeigned humility. I have never needed anyone to point oui, to me that my husband was on a pedestal far above me, or anybody else in the world I have known ifc f r m 1850 to 1893, from a youtg girl to an old widow — i.e., for 43

And thah lojal rtcogni'ion of his superiority, as frai.k and loyal as Canon Butler's recognition of his wife's superiority, was the savit g element in both marriages.

A FASCINATING VOLUME.

Lady's Bui ton's bcok is one of fatcinatiDg interebt. It is a page torn from the lecords of one of the most eventful lives of modern adventure. Its very faults are virtues. Lady Isabel'o loving iteration and reiteration of her husband's transcendent abilities, her complacent reflections upon the imoiecsity oE his life's work and tho mountainous mass of written matter which he left behind him, and her ill suppressed re?en raent at the indifference and neglect with which he was treated by his rulers, all contribute to the lifelike realism of one of the most notable books of self-revelation that have app aed since the journal of M u-ie BishkirtsefE Not that Lady Barton at all resembles the moibid, selfish, miserab'e girl, whose bowdlerised j jurnal left us so touching but so incomplete a picture of a modern woman. She is only lixe Marie in the. frank expression of her feeliogs. Both Mademoiselle Marie and Lady Isabel bel ng to tbe orr"eof the naked and unashamed. It is not difficult when you have done nothig to be ashamed of, and Lady Isabel at least has every reason to be proud of the romantic story of her lifelong devotion to her idtal man.

ISABEL ARUNDELL,

Isabel Arundell, who aftei wards bscame Lady Isabel Burton, from her childhood up was a subject of ttrange experiences, which enabled her to understand better than most women the marvellously complex peisonality of her husband. Her life, like his, was saturated through and through with what it is the fashion nowadays to desaribe as the psychic element. When a mere child phe almost crossed the Borderland, and sojourned for a time on the other side :—: —

This is what happened to me. In my younger days I had malignant typhus. I appeared to die. I was attended by two very clever doctors, who were with me at my supposed deatb, which they certified, and I was laid out. My mother's grief was so violent that my father judged ifc expedient to send for her confessor to give her some consolation. He happened to be the famous large-minded clever Jesuit and theologian, old Father Randal Lyfchegoe. He consoled my mother for seme time, then he knelt down and prayed for me, and then he got up and put on his stole. "What are you going to do, Father?" said my mother. "lam going to give her Extreme Unction," he said. " But you can't ; she has been dead several hours." " I don't care about that," he said ; " I am going to risk it " He did so, and about two hours after he was gone I opened my eyes and gradually came to. —Vol. ii, p. W.

Of what happened during her unconciousness as of death she has no recollection, but all her life long she, like her husband, dwelt on the B">rderland.

A DISCIPLE OF DISRAELI'S

" She was also much under the influence of Disraeli's idean. She says : —

Although a staunch Catholic, I was an ardent disciple of Mr Disraeli. Ido not mean Mr Disraeli as Prime Minister of England, bus the author of "Tanored." I read the book as a young girl in my father's house, and it inspired me with all the ideas and the yearning for a wild O/iental life which I have since been able to carry out. I passed two years of my early life, when emerging from the schoolroom, in my father's garden and the beautiful woods around us alone with "Tanered." My family were pained and anxious about me ; thought me odd, wished I would play the piano, do worsted work, write notes, read the circulating library — in short, what is genera'ly called improving one's mind ; and I was pained because I could not. My uncle used to pat my head, and "hope for better things." I did not know it then, I do now ; I was working out the problem of my future life, my after-mission. It lived in my saddle pocket throughout my Eastern life. I almost know ifc by heart, so that when I came to Bethany, to the Lebanon, and to Mukhtara ; wr en I found myself in a Bedawi camp, or amongst the Maronite and Druse str< ngholds, or in the society of Fakredeens, nothing surprised me. I felt as if I had lived that life for years. I felt that I went to the tomb of my Redeemer in the proper spirib, and I found what I sought. The presence of God wag actually felt, though invisible. The author possesses by descent a knowledge that we northerners lack (a high privilege reserved to his Semitic blood). — Vol. i., p. 534.

HER MARRIAGE FORETOLD,

The early paturation of her mind with those mystical ideas rendered it possible for her to be to Sir Richard the helpmate she

became. When she was quite a young girl her marriage was predicted by a gipsy of the name of Hagar Burton, who wrote out in Romany the following notable forecast of her destiny : —

You will cross the sea, and be in the same town with your destiny, and know it nob. Every obstacle will rise up against you, and such a combination of circumstances, that ifc will require all your courage and energy and intelligence to meet them. Your life will be like one always swimming against big wavei, but God will always be with you, so you will always win. You will fix your eye on your polar star, and you will go for that without looking either right or left. You will bear the name of our tribe, and be right proud of ib. You will be as we are, but far greater than we. Your life is all wandering, change, and adventure. One soul in two bodies, in life or death ; never long apart. Show this to the man you take for your husband. — Haoah Burtox.

Every word of this prophecy, and indeed these two volumes, are little more thin the unfolding of the fulfilment of the gippy'o vision.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

She was staying with her mother at Boulogne when she met her destiny. This is how she tells the btory :—: —

One day, when we were on the ramparts, the vision of my awakening brain name towards us. He was sft llin in hti.ht, very broad, thin, and muscular ; he had very dark hair, black, clearly defined sagacious eyebrows, a brown weatherbeaten omplfxion, straighb Arab features, a determined-iooUing mouth and chin, uearly covered with an enormous black moustache 1 have since heard a clever friend say '■ that he had the brow of God, the ja.w of a devil." Bub the most remarkable parb of his appearance was two large black fUshing eyes, with long lashes, that pierced you through and through. He had a fierce, proud, melancholy expression, and when he smiled he smiled as though it hurt him, and looked with impatient contempt ab things generally. He was dressed in a bUi-k, short, shaggy coat, and shouldered a f-hor , thick stick, as if he was on guard.

He looked at me as though he read me through and through in a m.nnent, and started a little. I was completely magnetised, and when we had got a little dihtauce away I turned to my sister and whispered to her, "Thc.t man will marry me." Tha next day he was there again, and he followed us and chalked up. " May I speak to you ? " leaving tho chalk on 1 he wall, so I took up the chalk and wrote back, "No ; mother will be angry," and mother found it — and was angry ; and after that we were stricter prisoners than ever. However, "destiny is stronger than custom." — Vol. i, pp. 166, 167.

As she afterwards told her mother :—: —

The moment I saw^his brigand, dare-devil look I set him up as an idol, and determined he wa-> Ihe only man I would tver marry, but he nevr knew it until three years ago, before he went to Africa.

They met shortly after at a dance :—: —

My cousins gavo a tea party and dance, and " the great majority" flocked in, and there was Richard like a star amongnt rushlights. That was a night of nights ; he waltzed with me once, and spoke to me several times, and I kept my sash where he put his arm round my waist to waltz, and my gloves. I never wore them agaio. — Vol. i, p. 163.

He went away to Africa and elsewhere For six years Ye was absent, but bis imape was never absent from her heart. When he came back he found her again, and then after a time he proposed.

BETROTHAL.

It came about in this wi^e : —

At the end of a fortnight he asked me " If I could dream of doing anything so sickly as to give up civilisation, and if he could obtain the Consulate at Damascus, to go and live there." He Paid, " Don'tgive an answer now, because ifc will mean a very serious step for you, no less than giving up your people, and all that you are used to, and living the sort of life that Lady Hester Stanhope led. I see the capabilities in you, but you must think it over." I was so long silent from emotion — it was just as if the moon had tumbled down, and said, " I thought you cried for me, so I came " — that he thought I was thinking worldly thoughts, and said, " Forgive me ! I ought not to have asked so much " Afc last I found my voice, and said, " I don't want to think it over — I have been thinking it over for six years, ever since I first saw you afc Boulogne on the ramparts. I have prayed for you every day, morning and night. I have followed all your career minutely. I have read every word you ever wrote, and I would rather have a crust and a tent with you than be queen of all the world. And so I say now, ye«, yes, yes ! " I will pass over the next few minutes. Then he said, " Your people will not give you to me." I answered, " I know that, but I belong to myself— l give myself away." »' That is right," he answered ; "be firm, and so shall I."— Vol. i, p. 250.

SIR RICHARD'S DOUBLE.

No sooner did tbev get engag d than the old passion for travel came upon him, and he departed without even bidding her goodbye, save en astral, of which she gives the following curious account: —

We had been engaged for some months. One day in October we had passed several hours together, and he appointed to come ii'-xt day at 4 o'clock in the aftftrnoon. I went to bed quite happy, but I could not s'er-p at all. At 2 o'clock the door opened, and he came into my room. A current of warm air cime towards my bed. He said, " G.iod bje, my noor child. My time is up and I hvcv gone, 1-uh do not grieve. I shall be back iv less than three years, and / am your destiny. Good-bye.

She never faw him again for three years. During his absence she set herself diligently to work to help him. He told her after when he returned that —

All the time he had been away the greatest consolation he had had was my fortnightly journals, in letter form, to him, accompanied by all newspaper scraps and pubic and private information, and accounts of books, such as I knew would interest him, so that when he did get a mail, which was only in a huge batch now and then, he was as well posted up as if he were living in London. — Vol. i, p. 331.

RETURN FROar AFRICA..

When he came back he looked ghastly :—: —

I shall never forget Richard as he was then. He had had 21 attacks of fever, had been partially paralysed and partially blind. He was a mere skeleton, with brown yellow skin hanging in bags, his eyes protruding, aud his lips drawn away from his teeth. — Vol. i, p. 330.

But his wretched appearance only quickened her devotion: —

Never did I feel the strength of my love as then. Ho returned poorer, and dispirited by official rows and every species of annoyance ; bub he was still, had he been ever so unsuccessful, and had every man's hand against him, my earthly god and king, and I could have knelt at his feet and worshipped him. I used to feel so proud of him ; I used to like to sit

and look at him, and to think, " You are mine, and there is no man on earth the least like you." — Vol. i, p. 331.

WHY SHE LOVED HIM

The mother's objection to Captain Burton was invincible. Her daughter, therefore, addressed her a tolerably plain-spoken letter, from which I take the following extracts. AfUr declaring that she loved him alone, and that she would never marry anyone else, fche says of her beioved : —

He has had 21 fevers, temporary blindness, and partial paralysis of the limbs ; he has come back with flying colours ; but youth, health, good looks, and spirits temporarily broken up from hardships, privations, and dangers, and also many a scar. It surprises me that you should consider mine an infatuation, you who worship talent, and my father bravery and advenbure, and here they are both united. Look at his military services, India and the Crimea ! Look at his writings, his travels, his poetry, his languages, and dialects ! Now Mezzofanti is dead, he stands first in Europe ; he is tbe best horseman, swordsman, and pistol shot. He has been presented with the gold medal ; he ia an F.R G.S., and you must see in the newspapers of his glory and fame and public thanks, where he is called " The Crichton of the day," one of the Paladins ol the age, " the most iutsresting figure of the nineteenth century," the man par excellence of brain and pluck. . . A master-mind like his exercises power and influence over all around him ; but I love him because I find iv him so much depth of feeling, and a generous heart; because, knowing him to be as brave as a liou, he is yet so gentle, of a delicate, sensitive nature, and the soul of honour. lam fascinated by his manners, because they are easy, d'gnified, simple, and yet so original ; there is such a touching forgetfulness of himself and his fame. He appears to me a something so unique and romantic. He unites the wild aud daring with the true gentleman in every sense of the word, -and a stamp of a man of the world of the very best sort, having seen things without the artificial atmosphere we live in, as well as within. lie has even the noble faults I love in a man, if they can be s-> called. He is proud, fiery, satirical, ambitious ; how could I help lookirg up to him with fear and admiration ? I worship ambition. Farujy achieving a good which affects million*, niakitg your name, a national one. Ifc is infamous the way most men in tho world live and di 3. and are never missed, and, like us women, leave nothing but a tombstone. By ambition I mean men who have the will and power to change the face of things. I wish I were a man. If I were, I would be Hichard Burton ; bub, being only a woman, I would be Richard Burton's wife. He has not m^re brilliancy of talent, but brains thab are a rock of good sense, ami sbern decision of character. I love him, purely, passionately, and resprc'fully. There is no void in my heart ; it is at n 3fc for ever with him. It is part of my nature, part o? myself, the basis of all my actions, part of my religion; my whole soul is absorbed in it. I have given my every feeling to him, and kept nothing back for myself or for the world I would this moment sacrifice, and leave all to follow his fortunes*, even if you all cast me out, if the world tabooed me, and no compensation could b ; given to me for his loss. Whatever the world may condemn of lawless or strong opinions, whatever he is to the world, he is perfect to n,e, and I would not have him otherwise than he is. — Vol. i, p. 333-5.

BETWEEN MOTHER AND LOVER.

In response to thid appeal, her mother gave her a very long and solemn lecture, tilling her that Richard was not a Christian, and had no money. As Burton us&d to say afterwards, her mother and she were both gifted with the noMe firmness of the mule, po a ptate of considerable tension followed. Her mother remained obstinate ; her lover insisted that she should foliow the dictates of her heaTt, and marry him despite her mother's o^-j'-ctinns. S !-I e refused; be srt off to Sale Like Cry, giving her nine mon'hs to m»k-! up her mind as to what she wfuld do. Of his determination to depart she had telepathic communication before the letter arrived announcing his deci-ioc Sbe went to bed and became de'irion<=, and for six weeks struggled for life, and when she got better derided to ma y ry him coute qvi coute. As she was going to marry'a p or man, and to rough it in the midst of savage -y, she wnt. to a farmhou'p, where she learned every imaginable thing she might possible wart, so that if they had no servants, or if their servants mutinied, she would be able to do everything herself At last he came back and said to her, " I have waited five years ; three of those were unavoidable, owing to my absence in Africa, the last were not. Our lives are being spoiled by the unjust prejudices of your mother; choose now between your mother and me. Choose me, we marry, and I stay. Choose your mother, and I leave the country and return no more. Is your answer ready 1 " Miss Arundell said : " Quite ; I will marry you this day three week?, let who will say nay."

MARRIED.

Her father agreed, her mother refused ; they appealed to Cardinal Wiseman, who approved of the raa?ri?g' i I prcnised his prot' c i^n and a special dispensation from Rirr'e, and said he would ;>erfnr'ti the ct-re-»i ony himself. Un'ortnratHy l,f> took ill, ar.rl thty ww j te cnsTiid by the. Vioar geti(-r-.1. Tue fact of tbe marriage having taken place was not known to the mother for some time after, but she became quite reconciled to it, in the end. What Lady Burton herself felt about her marriage may be inferred from the following extract : —

To say that I was happy would be to say nothing ; a repose came over me that I had never known. I felt that it was for eternity, an immortal repose, and I was in a bewilderment of wonder at the goodness of God, who had almost worked miracles for me. — Vol. i, p. 343.

After seven months of uninterrupted bliss he was appointed to a Consulateship on the West Coast of Africa. Thr>n came an absence of 16 long months, during which she battled for him royally at home. looking after all his business, and acting for Mm in all respects with the Foieign Office, Indian Office, and publishers, as if she were a veritable alter eyo. Bat she could stand it no longer, aad in 1803 he carse b:ick on leave, and bhe accompanied him to Fernando Po. Lady Burton did not remain at Fernando Po, but returned home. ShQ had one wild spasm of jealousy concerning tho chief officer of the bngadu of Amazons of Dahomey, in whose army her husband was brigadier-general. The portrait of the lady in question in not calculated to inflame jealousy. (To be continued.)