CHAPTER IX.

ANOTHER SHORT LEAVE TO LONDON.

1882.

[Sidenote: _London and back_.]

I notice the pleasantest and most remarkable little events of this visit to London.

We made a pilgrimage to Hughenden to visit the grave of Lord Beaconsfield, and to put a wreath. We went to the Lyceum on the 10th of June, to see _Romeo and Juliet_, and had the pleasure of making Miss Ellen Terry's acquaintance; also to several great parties, and had a charming lunch at Putney with Swinburne and Mr. Watts. We had a very pleasant dinner at Lord and Lady Bath's. On Sunday afternoons we generally went to Sir Frederick Leighton's, or the Dowager Lady Howard of Glossop's, or Lady Holland's. We went down to visit Captain Cameron and his family at Sevenoaks.

On the 20th Miss Florence Monckton-Milnes was married to Major Henniker, of the Guards, and the wedding was exceedingly pretty at St. George's.

On the 23rd we dined with Lord Houghton, to meet H.R.H. Prince Leopold and the Duc d'Aumale; also Lord Stourton and Mowbray gave a great ball to all the Old Catholics (the cousinhood). It was a beautiful ball, and the Pope's picture was surrounded with garlands of flowers and lights, and I remember creating a stir by taking Richard there, who, I supposed, was _of course_ included in the invitations. This month Richard lectured at the Geographical Society. Amongst clever people we met Mr. Leslie Ward, the _other_ caricaturist of _Vanity Fair_, and a rising poet, Mr. St. Clair-Baddeley, who attracted us much. There was a meeting at St. James's Hall for protection for animals, Princess Beatrice giving the prizes, and quite at the end of the afternoon, after her Royal Highness had gone, I was asked to make a speech, which I did.

The members of the Royal Naval Club (founded 1765) gave a dinner at Willis's Rooms, St. James's, in Richard's honour.

The bombardment of Alexandria was on the 11th and 12th of July, 1882, and he was very much excited and interested about this, and he wrote a long history of what ought to be done for Egypt. Lady Fitzgerald (Lord Houghton's eldest daughter) arrived from Egypt about this time, and was the centre of attraction, both official and private, as she was able to tell us all about it. I left my Indian Christmas book with Mr. Bogue on the 7th of July, and never saw it after. We went to Sir Frederick Leighton's Academy party, to Mrs. Childers's, and Lady Wilson's ball.

Richard went to Paris on the 15th of July, 1882, and I followed him on the 22nd, taking my niece Blanche Pigott with me, and joined Richard and Captain Cameron. We saw a great deal of the traveller De Brazza and his brother, and on the 26th we bid good-bye to Cameron, and we three left for Turin, where our niece, who was for the first time in Italy, enjoyed the scene of the Piazza and Castle by moonlight, and a drive up to the Superga. The next day we arrived in Venice. There is always something amusing to people who have seen everything themselves, in taking a fresh young girl about, as long as she is fresh. She was just out of her convent, and Richard and I, having no children, thought it rather fun having a daughter. We arrived on the last day of July.

[Sidenote: _The Great Trieste Exhibition_.]

Next day, on the 1st of August, there was the opening of a Grand International Exhibition at Trieste. The City was illuminated at night almost as brilliantly as Venice had been for the Congress, and Trieste illuminated makes a grand effect with its rising mountain background. The Archduke Charles Louis was there to open it, and the Emperor and Empress, Prince Rudolf, and Princess Stephanie came later on. This had been a hobby of our (then) Governor's (Baron de Pretis) for a very long time, and for months and months endless workmen had been erecting magnificent buildings at the edge of the sea--I should say for a mile in length--all along the fashionable drive called St. Andrea. This great day was devoted to officialdom, and receptions, and bands, and at night Baron Morpurgo had one of his boats out, and supper on board, for his friends to see the illuminations. However, at night, there was an _émeute_ in the town, begun by the Italianissimi.

[Sidenote: _Émeute at Trieste_.]

Nothing was talked of but the _émeute_. Some Italians had thrown a bomb as an Austrian regiment was passing, but it did not go off till the wrong moment, so only a policeman's hand was crushed, and our poor friend Dr. Dorn, of the _Triester Zeitung_, had his leg shattered, was carried home in a pitiable state, and months after I saw the large pieces of bone that had come out of his leg. There were four men concerned in the throwing of the bombs, the chief of which was one Oberdank, a deserter from the 22nd Regiment of Infantry; they were taken at Ronchi. This had the effect of driving everybody away from the Exhibition. The people who had come from foreign parts to exhibit, swore they would not stay, that they did not feel safe, and they wanted to pack up their things. The Exhibition was always empty, which, of course, was the object of the Italians. Blanche and I went down one morning, and we saw everything most beautifully, for there were not twenty people in it.

Then the Baron Morpurgo told us that every night the bands were playing, and the ices and refreshments always waiting, but that nobody ever came; and they went round and collected a few friends who would have the courage to go in the evening. Richard and I and Blanche willingly started off in their boat at night, to go and hear the band, to eat ices, and enjoy the illuminations; but as soon as we really began to enjoy ourselves, a telegram was handed to the Morpurgos that the town was in _émeute_; so they all jumped up, even the old Baron, who was very brave and active, and said, "That must be _our_ people, and we will go down and have the gates of the old town (Ghetto) shut, and let them calm down; they shall not get into the town, and that will stop the mischief; and you," he said to us, "don't attempt to go back through the town, but go round in the boat and land just under your own windows, and get in that way," which we did. I was again sent off, early August, for my second summer to Maríenbad--three are the usual course (and Richard went to Monfalcone for his gout baths)--where Blanche and I enjoyed ourselves very much in a quiet way. We walked, drove, read, studied German, made excursions, saw again Madame de Novikoff, and went to the little German plays, which were very amusing. There came Mr. and Mrs. Campbell-Bannerman, Mr. Robert Bourke (Lord Connemara), Mrs. and Miss Baldock, and Captain Bury. The band was the same as last year and quite exquisite. We had a very nice collection of people, and formed a pleasant little table at feeding time. I was not sorry when it was over, on the 9th September, to start again for Vienna, and on the 11th to go down to Trieste, for it never agreed with me.

I could not resist writing the following during my cure:--

"CAPTAIN BURTON.

"To the Editor of _Vanity Fair_.

"Dear Vanity,--It was very kind and nice of you to have noticed us in your paper, but, if I may make an observation, I should like to have had the rose without the thorn. The article is likely to make the public think that Captain Burton is living on the fat of the land at public expense, and doing nothing to earn it. I do not want any one to put the 'evil eye' upon the poor hard-earned little £600 a year--_well_ earned by forty years' hard toil in the public service. It is true that Government has sometimes, but not often, spared him for a few months at a time to do larger works, which have been for more general public benefit and wider extended good; but all the journeys quoted in _Vanity_ have been undertaken _between_ his various posts, when he has been out of employment, or during the usually _allowed_ leave that _other men_ spend in Pall Mall. On all the occasions when he has had 'leave' as above, he has gone _voluntarily_ on half-pay those few months. If any one grudges us our pittance, and will inquire in Africa, Brazil, Damascus, or Trieste, they will find that at no time, of those or any other months, has a single detail of Consular work been omitted, or neglected, or performed by incompetent or ordinary subordinates, whilst every penny of public money was nervously accounted for. They will learn that we have ever given double of what we have received; that every one of our four Consulates has been a credit to the Government; that the English of our district have always been proud of their Consul and Consulate; that foreigners are always on most friendly terms with them, and the authorities intimately so. If this be so, will not what you call an 'Amateur Consul' do quite as well as the other sort, whatever that may be? You are, however, my dear Vanity, mistaken on another point. The higher the post and the more important the duties, the greater is the ambition to discharge them nobly. How much more keenly would one feel as an Eastern diplomat, for instance, than settling a dispute between the cook and the mate of a merchant vessel, or signing passports? Your 'Series' writer must have dipped his pen in vinegar and gall when he wrote about the 'much-prized posts.'

"I am, my dear Vanity, yours obediently,

"ISABEL BURTON.

"Hôtel Klinger, Maríenbad, Bohemia,

"September 1st, 1882."

The Dowager Lady Galway and Count and Countess della Sala, also General Francis, arrived at Trieste for the Exhibition, which was a very great pleasure to us. The Emperor and Empress and the Prince and Princess now announced their intention of doing good to the Exhibition by coming to visit it; there was a grand reception prepared, bands of music, the houses decorated, the ships dressed, flags and triumphal arches, salutes of artillery, and shouts of "Eviva!" girls in white, and flowers to strew, and at night illuminations. The first evening there was a grand theatre night with the ballet "Excelsior," and the applause when the Imperial party entered was deafening, and lasted fully a quarter of an hour. Next day was the Exhibition. The Baron Morpurgo had prepared a splendid _fête_ on board the _Berenice_. The City was illuminated, so was the ship, and all the cream of Trieste was present. Every moment the Emperor and Empress were expected, and we all fell into our places in lines, through which they were to pass; several times they were announced, and several times did we retire and sit down again.

At last the Imperial boat actually arrived, and went several times round the _Berenice_ and steamed away again. The disappointment and mortification of the truly loyal givers of the _fête_ may easily be imagined; but it was perhaps as well, if the stories current next day had only a shadow of truth in them. It was commonly talked about afterwards that, unknown to the givers of the _fête_, the vessel had been observed to be much lower in the water than she ought to be, through somebody having taken out some plug that ought to have been in it, which caused a very gradual sinking. It was _suspected_ that amongst the workmen one had been bought, just as in Nihilist cases, and that the moment the Imperial party had set foot in the ship, that they, and of course all of us, were to be blown into the air by a dynamite clock, and the Chief of Police had begged--perhaps had had some intimation that there was something uncanny somewhere--the Imperial family not to sup on board. True or untrue, these were the stories on the morrow. Anyway, none of the authorities dared go to bed, or hardly breathe, as long as the Imperial family remained in the neighbourhood. It appeared there were bombs across the railway, bombs in the Exhibition, bombs in the boats, and bombs in the sausages; at least, that was the state of feeling in Trieste during those three days, and I should think the Imperial family must have been immensely glad when they saw the last of the town, and got out of the Irredentista country. The next day was the Arsenal inspection, a launch, and a boat serenade at night to Miramar. On the 20th they went, arrived in safety, and everybody breathed again.

On the 18th of September, Richard began his great book on the Sword. It is a very large work, entitled the "Book of the Sword"--the first part of three by R. F. Burton, _maître d'armes_, which appeared in 1884. The first part brought the sword, the prehistoric weapon, up to the Middle Ages. The second would have been the mediæval sword, and the third would have brought all the modern schools up to date, with illustrations.

At this time Richard took it into his head to interfere with my department--the maid-servants--and he sent away my cook and got one of his own. He said to me (quite with a knowing nod of the head), "The _ne plus ultra_ of Trieste;" so the first morning, when cooking our twelve o'clock meal, she asked for a bottle of wine. I should have refused it to my own cook, but I had to give it her, and when she drank that, she had another. She then hit the kitchenmaid over the head with the saucepan, and, being a very powerful woman, she threw the housemaid into the _scaffa_ (sink). Hearing screams, I ran into the kitchen, and then she went for me, but instead of throwing me out of the window, she threw her arms round my neck and said I was an angel. "All the same," I said, "I think you must go, and I should like to settle up with you at once." I went and asked Richard humbly if the "_ne plus ultra_" was to be kept; and he said, "Certainly not--the brute!" and he came and turned her out there and then, and sent her wages after her. So I said very quietly and seriously, "Now, Jemmy, I have got to cook the breakfast myself; won't you go out and find me another cook?" "No," said he, laughing; "I think I have had quite enough of that."

[Sidenote: _We lose an Old Vice-Consul_.]

In October we had a great loss in our dear old friend and Vice-Consul, Mr. Brock, which Richard and I both felt very much. He had that mania which all old Englishmen serving abroad get, that they must go and die, and "leave their bones in dear old England," which they remember as it _was_ thirty, forty, or fifty years ago; it is a madness they always repent when it is too late, as they are never rich enough to do what they invariably want, which is to put themselves back, and reinstate themselves in the climate, in the life, which suited them and the friends who _had_ surrounded them. I know my own husband would have enjoyed enormously coming over here and settling down, being independent in private life, but he would not have been able to stand it more than a year without travels. I only can, because I am so near him, and so near death, it is not worth while to change.

Mr. Brock and his family left on the 8th of October, and his place was taken by Mr. P. P. Cautley. He and his wife have both been dead for some time, leaving many daughters; but during the whole of his remaining years he wrote constantly, "Give me news of Trieste. I only care for my friends of Trieste; I am a stranger in my own land. One has no business to return; one is an intrusion. One's place has long ago been filled up; one's relations have forgotten one; one is no longer a member of the family."

[Sidenote: _Lord Wolseley_.]

On the 24th arrived Lord Wolseley in the _Iris_, Admiral Seymour. We received him and saw him to the station, collected the English, had a little procession of bouquets and a few British cheers to see him off, and then we got our friends of the _Iris_ to breakfast with us in the Hungarian part of the Exhibition.

[Sidenote: _Richard is sent to find Palmer_.]

On the 27th of October, I got a regular blow through a telegram ordering Richard off to look after Palmer, who was missing at Ghazzeh.

The telegram ran as follows:--

"October 27th, 1882, 4.40 p.m.

"H.M.'s Government wish to avail themselves of your knowledge of Bedouins and the Sinai country, to assist in search for Professor Palmer. There is a chance of his being still alive, though bodies of his companions, Charrington and Gill, have been found. Proceed at once to Ghazzeh; place yourself in communication with Consul Moore, who has gone from Jerusalem to institute inquiry."

Richard answered--

"Ready to start by first steamer. Will draw £100. Want gunboat from Alexandria to Ghazzeh or Sinai. Letter follows."

As all the world knows, Palmer, Charrington, and Gill went into the desert to buy camels for the English army and to bribe the Bedawi. Palmer had other secret service besides; that was, to cut the telegraph wire between Kántara and El Arish, and it was through the telegraph wire _not_ being cut that foul play was suspected. Palmer was such a good Arabist, and was in such friendly relations with all the people, that there seemed not the slightest danger. He had brotherhood with all the Bedawi, like Richard, but they carried £3000 (some say £20,000) with them; the Bedawi surrounded them, and they were, the newspapers said, given a choice of being shot or jumping over a precipice. It is said Charrington and Gill elected to be shot, and Palmer, covering his eyes, jumped over the precipice. The men (with whom both Richard and Palmer had brotherhood) who did this, belonged to the Huwaytat and Dubur, Terabin and Hasábli. There was Salem el Sheikh ibn Salámeh and twenty-three other men implicated in it, besides the Shaykh. To Richard, who knew the Bedawi, it was a puzzle; certainly they were slain, but he felt there was always something we shall never know: it was not Bedawi ways.

Richard started by the first steamer, and proceeded according to orders. I remember the last thing I said to him was, "Mind, if they are really dead, don't be put like a ferret into a hole to bring out the dead bodies" (for I remembered how economical England is, and that, whatever other men have had, Richard had never been given either money or men for any exploit); "that won't be worth while." He said, "If they are dead, no; but if there is a chance of saving dear old Palmer, I will go anywhere and do anything." On the road he met Gordon. Meantime Sir Charles Warren was scouring the country, well supported with money, and with two hundred picked men, and by the time Richard got there, he may be said to have nearly completed the task.

He describes Ghazzeh as a miserable, God-forgotten hole.

The trial of Arábi was going on, and Egypt was in great excitement in consequence. Richard was only absent six weeks and a half, returning in December. He wrote an account of all he had seen there, and the story of Palmer, and the state of Egypt, and he sent it to a magazine at once, which sent it back. He sent it round to many places, and I cannot remember now whether he ever got it printed, but certainly too late to have the fresh interest it ought to have had.[1]

It is curious to remember _now_, how frequently he used to send the most important articles, of vital use to the World, to the Press, and get them sent back with compliments and thanks, to say they would not suit such a paper or such a magazine, and how he frequently went from one publisher to another with his most invaluable books. It was one of the things that used to make us both boil with rage, and _now_ there has been a storm throughout the whole Press Universe for twenty-two months because I burnt a book which was the least valuable, nay, the _only_ book he ever wrote that was _not_ valuable to the world. Such are the waves and whims of public opinion.

It was the last journey he ever took that might be called an Expedition, and even that was not what it was meant to be, since he found another man (Sir Charles Warren) in the field, who did not want to be much interfered with. I was awfully glad to get him back again so soon, I need not say.

After having prepared Richard for his journey to Egypt and seeing him off, I went up to Opçina with Blanche, drove over to Duino to see the Princesses Hohenlöhe, and on to Gorizia (German Görz), where we went into a Convent, I wishing to make what we Catholics call a "spiritual retreat." It was November weather; our rooms were very cold, and naturally poorly furnished, as becomes convent cells. There was a church attached to the house, and Padre Bankich, a Dalmatian Jesuit, was our director. My niece would give a very amusing, though sad account of this expedition, but I do not think it has anything to do with the story. When we came out of retreat we made a delightful picnic-pilgrimage to the Monte Santo before alluded to. It is a most charming expedition, and the view repays the climb. Before leaving Gorizia I attended to our branch Society for Protection of Cruelty to Animals, and had two little rooms built for the lassoed dogs. We then returned to Opçina. There was a splendid comet at this time. On return to Opçina we gave a dinner-party to our friends at Trieste, and we (women) dressed like _mandriere_ (the peasants' costume on _fête_-days).

[Sidenote: _Trieste Life_.]

On the 6th of December we had an earthquake in the night and a tremulousness all day, and earthquakes all the month. We were walking on the Karso above; the sky was clear, and all of a sudden my niece said to me, "Oh, look up, there is a star walking into the moon!" "Glorious!" I answered. "We are looking at the Transit of Venus, which crowds of scientists have gone to the end of the world to see." We then went down to meet Richard, who returned at seven o'clock in the morning of the 10th, and all went happily up to Opçina. This day we had dreadful storms; the lightning fell in the town three times, and the telegraphs could not work.

Oberdank, the bomb-thrower, was hanged on the 19th. He said if he was pardoned he would kill the Emperor. He was more like a Nihilist than a disciple of Orsini.

On the 31st of December we went to the last happy St. Silvester we ever had, at Madame Gutmansthal's. We assembled at nine, and broke up at 3.30. Richard was a gold-digger rowdy; I was Hagar, a gypsy fortune-teller, and favourite of the Shah of Persia, exceedingly well acted by Monsieur Thomas, the chief superintendent of the railway; my niece Blanche was Miss Jex Blake; the Princess Wrede was a Neapolitan peasant, and Admiral Buchtá a Neapolitan fisherman. The two Neapolitans danced the tarantella most beautifully. We all had different characters. I told fortunes, and they sang, danced, and recited most perfectly. One lady (Madame Thomas) impersonated Sara Bernhardt, and took her off to the life. Our hostess was a marquise of the _ancienne régime_. We were thoroughly well amused. After this year, misfortunes began to come upon us _all_, and we never had another like it.

1883.

Early in the year Richard had a slight attack of gout, and a visit from Professor Leitner, King's College, London. He worked now at his Sword book, and, as well as I can remember, his book on the Jews (not published). He makes a note of Gustave Doré's death on the 22nd of January. Schapira writes a report that Palmer is still alive, but this was a false report.

On the 28th he notices that Colonel Warren is made a K.C.M.G., and that poor Mr. Zech, whom we visited last year, died on the 29th.

Colonel Rathborne wrote in 1883:--

"21, Leamington Road Villas, Westbourne Park, W.,

"December 4th, 1883.

"MY DEAR BURTON,

"Thanks for your kindly note, which came to hand this morning. Would that in reply I could give as good an account of my time as you give. What a constitution of brass--no, of iron--yours must be! I am so glad that you are writing your own biography.[2] What a tale of stirring adventure by sea and land you will have to narrate! I can quite fancy, however, that if you had the choice, you would add a little active work now and then to the _otium_ of endless scribbling. For the life of me, I cannot divine why your services have not been called into requisition during the late Egyptian imbroglios. As far as I know, we have not had a man in that country, save Rogers, conversant with the Arabic, and hardly one who can be accused of anything like a knowledge of Eastern peoples. I do not quite make out whether you are serious or not in the programme which you have drawn out for settling the Egyptian difficulty. In one point, at least, and that the principal point, viz. definite annexation, it coincides with what I wrote to our Jupiter Tonans."

He was very gouty all this month, but not laid up. He was able to attend the school feast and _fête_ at Opçina, and was able to go to a masquerade ball at Baroness Morpurgo's. He was "Cœur de Lion;" I was "Berengaria," his wife; and Blanche was the goose-girl, out of the Christmas number of the _Graphic_. There was a very witty _comédie_ performed by amateurs.

I now wrote a book called "The Sixth Sense," and was vain enough to think it very clever; but I was afraid it would do harm, and I took the courage to burn it.

We gave our usual Christmas-parties in January. He was also able to take plenty of drives with me, but could not walk much. We passed our lives between Trieste and Opçina, carrying our literature up and down. One of his great amusements was a small donkey which used to run into the terrace-garden, which overlooked the sea, where we used to breakfast, and the donkey and the setter used to have games of romps like two kittens playing, the donkey racing round the place, biting and kicking, and the setter dodging him. They seemed to know exactly what they were to do, and they came every day at the same hour to play.

Richard now took an immense dislike to our house in Trieste, where we had been over ten years. The fact is, I had increased it in my ambition to twenty-seven rooms, and just as I had made it perfection, he wanted to leave it. Certainly Providence directed, for shortly after that, the drainage got so very bad there as to be incurable, and after he got really ill, and his heart weak, it would have been impossible for him to mount the hundred and twenty steps, four stories high, to go in and out. We ransacked the whole of Trieste, but there was only one house that suited us in any way, and there was not the least likelihood of our being able to get it, as it was occupied; but, curiously to say, six months later we _did_ get it, and got housed in it the following July.

On the 24th of February we had a great shock in the death of poor Reich, our fencing-master. He went out well dressed, with a cigar in his mouth, very early, took a walk in the Via Riborgo, mounted some steps, put a pistol to his head, and blew his brains out. Some people ran, hearing the pistol; he was quite dead, but his cigar was still alight. Suicide is the commonest thing in the world in Trieste; nobody takes any account of it. The fact is that he had been getting into bad health. An Italian fencing-master had set up in the town, and got all his best Italian pupils away. I had not fenced at all the winter 1882-3, and Richard, of course, had been away so much and had had many twinges of gout, and therefore it was a matter of great reproach to us that we had not gone and paid him visits, and cheered him up, and looked after him--so often a little friendship prevents a man from going to this extremity. Richard felt it for a long time.

Reich was a Bohemian and an old trooper, and Richard said he was the best broadswordsman he had ever seen. He has frequently told me to stand steady, and he has made a _moulinet_ at me; you could hear the sword swish in the air, and he has touched my face like a fly in the doing of it. He did it frequently to show what he _could_ do, but he used to say that he would not do it to any of his men pupils, for fear they should flinch either one way or the other, which would of course have cut their faces open; but he knew I should stand steady. I liked that.

We then had a trip down the Dalmatian coast in an Austrian-Lloyd's, to Sebenico, Zara, and Spalato. On this day five of Palmer's murderers were hanged in the presence of thirty-five Bedawi chiefs. Richard could never understand why they only hanged five instead of twenty-four, the number of those concerned, and why the Governor of El Arish was not hanged too. We went on to Castelnuovo, and to Cattaro, and then back. It was only for a few days, but it did Richard a world of good. We then had a visit from Major Borrowes, and Richard went for a trip to San Daniele, to Wippach, to Heidenschaft, and Plani, and came back. We spent our birthdays, 19th and 20th of March, in Opçina, and received a telegram with twelve friends' names attached to it.

We now had a visit from Mr. Oswald, from the Foreign Office, and the Mudies arrived--we showed them the lions of the place, and saw them on board _en route_ to Corfu; also came Dr. Lewins, of the Army and Navy Club and Jermyn Street, a _savant_ from Bombay, the same who is bringing out Miss Näden's works.

On the 30th of January we gave a masked ball to a hundred and fifty-eight people, which was a great success. It began at half-past nine, and lasted till six. In a room close to the door were two gentlemen of the party, who were appointed to "receive." Everybody who arrived had to go into that room and unmask, in order to be sure that we did not get any "riff-raff" in; they then masked again, and passed in before any one else was admitted. The unmasking began at supper, when the great surprise was to see who you got next to you. One big Viennese lieutenant, six feet high, and big in proportion, came dressed as a woman, and his airs and graces were lovely.

On the 19th of March Richard began to write on the Congo, and on this day one of his friends died (Major Wemyss).

The remains of Palmer and his two companions, discovered by Sir Charles Warren in the desert at Tih, were carefully collected and placed in three coffins, painted black, with a white cross upon each; they were received by the dockyard officials, March 30, and were removed to London for interment at St. Paul's Cathedral. This is in his journal of the 31st of March.

Colonel and Mrs. Montgomery were now appointed American Consul-General. Very nice people, but they could not stand Trieste more than ten days; left it, and settled in Switzerland.

Richard was very bad all April; but it was honest gout in the feet, and he was quite healthy.

In his journal he much mourns the death of Abd-el-Kadir in Damascus, on the 24th of April, at the age of seventy-six.

[Sidenote: _Count Mattei's Cure_.]

On the 1st of May he sent me to Bologna to be under the famous Count Mattei for my complaint; the journey occupied eleven hours. I took my niece Blanche. We found that he had gone to Riola, two hours' rail from Bologna, so we went on there to a _pension Suisse_, called Hôtel della Rosa. The train runs along the Reno river. The Hôtel Rosa holds about twenty patients, and was kept by Monsieur and Madame Schmidt; she was his right-hand agent, was initiated in all his business, and superintended all his patients. Now she works on her own account in London and other capitals. It is a lovely mountain place, this castle perched on a high crag about half an hour's scramble above the pension. Count Mattei has restored the castle, I think, of Savignano. There was nothing left but a little tower on the raw rock, and he has constructed the most solid, handsome, fantastic, eccentric castle possible to conceive, of stone and marble, regardless of expense, for he is the Monte-Cristo of the country.

[Sidenote: _Count Mattei_.]

Having dropped my bag and secured a room at the pension, I climbed up there. First I had to conciliate a very doubtful-looking mastiff; then appeared a tall, robust, well-made, soldier-like looking form in English costume of blue serge, brigand felt hat, with a long pipe, who looked about fifty, and not at all like a doctor. He received me very kindly, and took me up flights of stairs, through courts, into a wainscoted oak room, with fruits and sweets on the table, with barred iron gates and drawbridges and chains in different parts of the room, that looked as if he could pull one up and pop one down into a hole. He talked French and Italian, but I soon perceived that he liked Italian best, and stuck to it; and I also noticed that, by his mouth and eyes, instead of fifty, he must be about seventy-five. A sumptuous dinner-table was laid out in an adjoining room, with fruit and flowers. I told him I could not be content, having come so far to see him, to have only a passing quarter of an hour. He listened to my long complaints about my health most patiently, asked me every question, but he did not ask to examine me, nor look at my tongue, nor feel my pulse, as other doctors do, but said that I did not look like a person with the complaint mentioned, but as if circulation and nerves were out of order. He prescribed four internal and four external remedies, and baths. I wrote down all his suggestions, and rehearsed it, that he might correct any mistakes; and then asked him of his remedies for gout.

After an hour I was dismissed and went down to the pension, where everything was clean; the air was beautiful, the supper delicious, though simple. They were going to build a larger pension. I never heard nightingales sing more beautifully. Mattei had a nephew and niece living with him, the governess, and six servants. His life passes in building and improving this château, and his medicinal studies. He is awfully good to the poor, and gives them advice, medicine gratis, and money. After dinner I had a long talk with Mrs. Schmidt, who carries out his directions, with great knowledge and tact. She enlightened me a great deal about my health and his remedies, and gave me a hint not to mention fees, or he would never speak to me again; and so, of course, I was careful not to look at my hotel or medicine bill, except the total.

The next morning I got up at five, and, with a strong horse and little cart, Blanche and I went up an awful breakneck road to a crag as high again as Mattei's castle, where was a solitary little country chapel. We asked to have Mass and Communion, as it was the first Friday in the month. A priest like an old family picture came out and said Mass and gave us Communion, and we scrambled down again by half-past nine for coffee at the pension. I then set off to have a second consultation with Mattei. This time the dog sat at my feet. And then he called his governess to show me over the castle. (Doré with a bad nightmare would be nothing to it.) It was grand, bold, splendid, and reckless; but the beds were marble--æsthetic biers--with classic garlands of flowers in marble vases on marble tables; the furniture a marble bench. Think of it in winter. There were drawbridges with bolts everywhere--the bedroom doors drawn up at night, showing black bottomless pits in the rock, into which a would-be assassin would fall. The look-out was splendid, wild and eerie. When I saw the mad allegories on the wall in fresco, I said, "Is it right to take medicine from such a lunatic? And yet he has cured hundreds and thousands, so I suppose I may."

Then I found that I was not to wait here, because all their beds were full at the pension, but I was to buy a month's medicines, to go to some quiet mountain place and rest, and perform my cure, and correspond with him. I was to eat and drink well, and do everything I always did; so my bourne will be Krapina-Teplitz in the Carniola, where Richard would also go for his gout-baths; a cheap, wild, quiet, mountain retreat. I found, however, just before going away from Mrs. Schmidt, that whereas he had told me to put one hundred globules of one medicine into my bath, that I must only put fifty, as he was very fond of beginning at the highest and letting you down, instead of beginning at the lowest, and bringing you up to what you can stand. I also found out that loads of people were frequently in agonies of pain, and had to remain so till they telegraphed for Madame Schmidt, who came with the antidote; and I did not like that prospect. I believe she has done away with all these risks now by her new improvements in treatment; but she was not a free agent then as she is now, and I should think must have a very great success.

These scraps of information will interest many people. I then came back to Venice, where I found dear Lady Marian Alford, which made me stop three days, and then I went on to Trieste.

After I got back Richard and I were dining, and I began my cure, "six globules dry on the tongue with the first spoonful of soup." Almost as soon as I had swallowed it, I began to feel very odd, as if I had a sort of private earthquake going on in me, and got frightened. Richard said, "Why, it can't be those miserable little globules. I would swallow the whole bottle." "Don't do that," I said, "but take what I have taken--six dry on the tongue with a spoonful of soup." In a few minutes he was deadly pale, and began to stagger about as I did. He said, "No more of that. These are things that ought to be done _under the eye of the Count himself, or Mrs. Schmidt,_ and so neither you nor I will do that cure." I do not want to choke anybody off from doing the cure, because I think it would be a great success under Mrs. Schmidt's personal directions.

The Karso air was now charming, so that we went up there for awhile, and went over again to Duino and Monfalcone. But first we went during this month to see the whole of the Niebelungen, first the Rheingold, the Walküre, Siegfried, the Götterdämerung, beautifully performed at Trieste.

[Sidenote: _We get the House we wanted_.]

On the 23rd of May, Richard went off to Krapina-Teplitz alone, and would not take me, as we had a chance of getting the house we wanted, and, in point of fact, I made the contract almost immediately, and gave notice to quit the old one. There is a curious law in Trieste that you must give notice, if you wish to quit a house, on the 24th of May, and on the 24th of August you must leave; so any stranger coming into Trieste on the last day mentioned, would see nothing but processions of carts and waggons covered with furniture and boxes, and it looks exactly as if a town was being deserted for a bombardment, or the moving of an army. The people, of course, who remain in their houses do not do this; it is the ones who change. I was resolved, for convenience' sake, to come to an agreement with my outgoing people to change at least a month before the time, to avoid the general confusion.

Just as Richard went off, an Arundell nephew of mine arrived in bad health. He was doing what a great many people do--embark at Liverpool on a Cunard, and do the round with the ship. You pay £40, you have two months' cruise, seeing the whole of the Mediterranean out and back, Trieste being the furthest port. The ship remained there a week.

Krapina-Teplitz did Richard no good--the waters were too strong--and he came back on the 11th of June. Mr. Aubertin arrived on a visit at the same time, and they had a great deal to discuss, both being students and translators of Camoens. The Squadron was reported the same afternoon, saluted at four p.m., and we went on board an hour after. It was two years since their last visit. It was very much a repetition of that of 1881; there were eleven or twelve ships, and they stayed thirteen days.

First came off the Austrian Admiral's ball--a magnificent affair in the illuminated garden, with singers from Vienna; then an equally fine ball on board the _Monarch_, my brother Jack Arundell's old ship. Our ball on the same plan as last year, but--once bit, twice shy--at the Jäger.

It is a palatial sort of residence, on the summit of a glorious wood, commanding a view of sea, town, mountains, and woods, and when illuminated with coloured lamps, Bengal lights, and electric light, was like the last scene of a pantomime. It contains a ball-room that would easily hold a thousand people, refreshment-room, large supper-rooms, a gallery for orchestra, and several cloak-rooms. There is a terrace all round it, and gardens. So we were not dependent on the weather, nor the police, nor the peasants, and the grounds were illuminated just the same for people to walk in, fireworks, etc. Our cordon of police this year behaved very well, and were under an Inspector. We all thoroughly enjoyed it, and the cotillon was a splendid fantasia, as it generally is in Austria. The next day, was my last _fête_ for the animals, and at night the opera. The Captains of the ships gave a dinner to Richard and me at Opçina.

Then came the Emperor's dinner at Miramar, a dance on board the _Inflexible_. We had a splendid ball on board the _Teméraire_ (Captain, now Admiral, Nicholson, who was an immense favourite with everybody), and on the 23rd they all left, to our great regret. Mr. Aubertin and Richard went to Zara, to Salona, and Spalato, and came back on the 4th of July, and then we went up to stay at the Jäger instead of Opçina, when, having deposited them there, I went back to change house.

For several days, long processions of carts were going up to the new house, and Blanche and I and the servants worked for a month, but on the 8th of July we were able to sleep in our new place, and it was fit for Richard to come into on the 16th of July, 1883. Our new residence was one of those old Palazzone which the Italians used to build in the good old time; but it so happens it was built by an English merchant, as in old days there were English merchant-princes here, but they have long since died out. It had a good entrance, so that you could drive your carriage into the hall; and a marble staircase took you into the interior, then a very mean staircase of stone took you up to the rooms; the large ones were magnificent in size, and there were twenty of all sorts. The air, the light, was delicious, and the views, had they been in England, would have had express trains to see them. One showed you the City and Adriatic at your feet; one looked out on the open sea, this being a wooded promontory; one on an arm of the sea, a little gulf that looked like a lake surrounded by mountains, dotted with churches, spires, and little villages; and the other looked into gardens and orchards, dotted with villas. A peasant's house close to ours (about which there had been some litigation) bore a squib painted on the lintel by a wag of that time--"Carta, canta, villan dorme" ("Sing, paper; the peasant sleeps"). We also had a very large garden, and campagna (orchard) below it, wherein one could take a very tidy walk, and it overlooked the gulf in which the Austrian fleet always anchors. This was a far better home for Richard (ailing), for getting up and down stairs, for sitting in the garden, and for air, being in the hot summers eight degrees cooler than the City. He unfortunately, however, would have no bedroom, except the biggest room in the house--so large that he could divide it into four parts, sleeping in one, dressing in another, writing in another, and breakfasting in another; but it looked direct to the north, it received the full force of the _Bora_, it never saw the sun, and though in winter it was thoroughly well warmed, everything got damp there, arms rusted, and so forth, and it was not until we had been there for four years that I was able to persuade him to change his abode to the best room in the house, the second largest on the other side of the house, which looked to the south and the west. I always feel that his malady would not have made such rapid progress if he would have listened to that arrangement at first.

[Sidenote: _Scorpions_.]

We swam and bathed all the summer; but Richard and I found for the first time that it did not agree with us, and that our long swimming days were over. I was playing with a little puppy in early August which bit me in play, and drew blood, but in a couple of days I woke with headache and very sick, and shooting pains all up the arm, and we thought I had got hydrophobia. The arm was swelled, scarlet, very painful, and I felt light-headed. I sent for a doctor, who examined the bite, and found I had been bitten by a scorpion, of which our new house was full, just in the same place that the tooth of the dog had broken the skin. He rubbed in laudanum. I had several doses of bromide of potassium, and got all right. I was stung three times after that, which produced the same effect; but we soon exterminated the scorpions.

We used to read and write a great deal in the garden, and very often used to spend the greater part of the day there.

[Sidenote: _"Gup"_.]

He notices Sir William Williams of Kars died on the 26th of July, aged eighty-three, and the great earthquake at Casamicciola, in the island of Ischia, took place on the 28th. Poor Haji Wali died on the 3rd of August, at the age of eighty-four. He was Richard's companion in the days of Midian.

On the 12th of August arrived our new Consular Chaplain (the Rev. Mr. Thorndike), a charming, gentlemanly, and devout man, who had been in the army.

Richard's friend, Mr. George Paget, now arrived--he had bought a house at Scutari.

On the Emperor's birthday, 18th of August, there were two rows in the town between Austrians and Italians.

On Friday, the 24th, the Comte de Chambord (Henri V.) died. No need to comment upon such a misfortune.

Further on in August there was an Italian regatta, and we had a delightful dinner on the P. and O. _Lombardy_, the Lascar crew rowing us to San Bartolo to supper and back. We then had a visit from Mr. Lavino, correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_, whom we had met so often in Vienna, and Mr. Oswald from the Foreign Office.

We went over to Monfalcone to get rid of Richard's flying gout, and Miss H. E. Bishop again came to stay with us, and we had a charming time at Dr. Gregorutti's villa and museum, and afterwards at Aquileja close by. Miss Bishop and I were delighted; but we had to hang back a little, because there was an old gentleman staying at Aquileja who did not know Richard, and he was teaching him very elementary science and ancient history in the museum, as if he were a little boy of five; and Richard was such an awfully kind man, and had such a respect for age, that he listened with as much gravity and respect as if he really were five; but he did not dare to turn round and look at us. We then had a visit from Mrs. Moore, the Consul's wife from Jerusalem. We went in to Trieste to receive Sir E. Malet; and then we made a little pilgrimage to Henri V.'s tomb at Gorizia, and the monks gave me a bit of wood off the coffin of Charles V. Richard got much better, we returned home, and Lord Campbell arrived.

At this time poor "Zæo" was performing in the theatre, and taking her nightly leaps of seventy-five feet. One night she missed and fell. Miss Bishop and I used to visit her daily and try to do what we could for her.

To our great regret, our niece, Blanche Pigott, had to leave us on the 2nd of October, 1883, having been with us for about eighteen months; but she was required at home, and so we lost our whilom daughter. I was very glad at having Miss Bishop with me; not only a devoted friend, but so knowing about sickness. After seeing our niece off, Richard walked home, and when Miss Bishop and I had finished various commissions we arrived home, and found him with his first serious attack of gout.

[1] It is in the Appendices (H).

[2] The biography alluded to, never made any further way than what I now make public.--I. B.