HONOR, NOT HONORS
Richard's physical decline was undeniable but he did not resign himself to accepting it. So, when news reached him that the consul of Morocco had retired, he applied for that post. On 21 November he left to go and see the post in Tangier and Isabel joined him two months later to celebrate their silver wedding together. While they were in the port city a telegram addressed to Sir Richard Francis Burton reached them. He thought it was a joke and asked Isabel to send it back without opening it. The dispatch had in fact been sent by Lord Salisbury and communicated that Queen Victoria had appointed Burton Knight of St. Michael and St. George for services rendered to the crown. He feared that the honor was in large part the result of her pleadings, she who cared about the title of Lady Burton, and not a reward for his military and diplomatic career.
Both found life in Tangier monotonous, without variety and without change. Moreover, the embassy premises were not at all attractive. They remained disappointed and their interest in transferring to that post disappeared completely. Therefore they took the steamer again to return to Italy via Genoa and Naples, but unfortunately they both had an accident on board. A violent storm lasting thirty hours had freed the cargoes from their hooks and had caused the ship to list. In the midst of that chaos Richard fell, hit his head and sprained a shin. Isabel instead fell from a staircase missing some steps and tumbled to the ground. He witnessed the fall and commented on it saying that, at first glance, it had seemed to him to see a large feather cushion rolling on the boards. To spare her further trauma, however, in Naples he put her on the train for Trieste, where she arrived three days before him. But Isabel's health problem was another, as she confessed a few days later to a friend in a letter. Her missive revealed in fact that the consequences of the bad fall were little compared to the serious health problem that had struck her. "I am a poor wretch with a tumor on my right ovary" she wrote. Richard knew nothing of it and would not have known anything even in the years to come. Isabel had decided to keep it hidden from him. His health was by now fragile and gout forced him to bed for long periods. They had already also talked about the possibility of buying a plot in the Catholic cemetery of Mortlake to erect their tomb there, even though there was hope that Richard would be received at Westminster. He declared himself in agreement with that choice and, with his usual humor, said that, since many relatives of hers were buried in that cemetery, it would be like finding himself in a small family club.
In 1887 they were both in a hotel in Cannes when a terrible earthquake struck the seaside town. Isabel looked out of the window and saw the street full of people in nightshirts, who had come out of the house frightened. She told Richard that they too should get to safety, but he, who was in bed, answered her: "My girl, we have gone through too many earthquakes in our life to show signs of fear at our age!". "Very well" she then answered him, returning to attend to her previous tasks. Richard, for his part, turned over to the other side and went back to sleep. Unfortunately, however, besides the tremor of the earth's crust, there was also a turmoil of his heart and the doctor confided to Isabel the danger that her husband could die from one moment to the next. She was again seized by the panic that he might die without being baptized, so she provided for it herself. She took some water, recited some prayers and administered the sacrament to him. When the doctor communicated to Richard the gravity of the situation, he shrugged his shoulders and, with great fatalism, said: "Well, what must be will be." Then he resumed reading the book he had in his hand, even though he realized he was becoming more and more fragile and completely dependent on his wife. "Without her help – he said – I would have been dead long ago from physical debilitation".
Burton loved his house in Trieste, but found it hard to spend the winter there, with the storms and hailstorms that came to break the window panes, as he had written on 22 September 1889 in a letter to a friend. His request to be allowed to retire a year early had been refused, but he and Isabel were nevertheless very often traveling. They had been to the spas of Geneva, to those of Montreux, of Berne, of Neuberg, of Brindisi, of Malta, of Tunis, of Innsbruck, of Ragaz, of Maloja and of Oberammergau. In this little town in Bavaria they had also attended the representation of the Passion and Isabel had remained deeply moved by this religious experience. Richard, on the contrary, had remained impassive as always, and had transferred his scornful gaze into a book. Isabel too had written her impressions in the same text, but the publisher decided to publish only the part written by him. One of Richard's considerations concerned the concepts of hell and paradise, which he considered dishonorable towards the Creator. In this period he had developed a constant restlessness, which led him to quickly grow bored of places and people. After two or three weeks in one place he could not wait to leave and go to another. Isabel wrote that he 'absorbed' the landscape and the people around him quickly, after which he asked to go elsewhere. Both tried to maintain a youthful appearance, Richard dyed his hair and bought elegant clothes, Isabel wore a blond wig. While they were at Maloja, in Switzerland, they met Henry Stanley, who was on his honeymoon with his wife Dorothy Tennant. Stanley found Richard very unwell and advised him to write his own autobiography. He said it was impossible because he would have had to talk about too many people, about whom he would have had to tell the truth. In reality, he had already begun to write part of it in India, a part that Isabel had entrusted to Francis Hitchman, who however had made improper use of it.
In 1888 the Burtons returned to London. His health no longer allowed him to lead a social life, his appearance was tired, his lips were bluish and his cheeks livid. However, even though he was weaker, he continued to work on the Thousand and One Nights, to write and to translate books that caused Isabel worries about their content. Starting in 1857, in fact, in England the 'Obscene Publications Act' was in force, which gave magistrates the power to destroy books suspected of obscenity and to punish their authors and publishers. If the books on erotic subjects secretly published by Richard starting in 1876 had been discovered, he would have been prosecuted criminally and the damage would have been enormous. The proceeding could also have ended with a prison sentence. Isabel lived in fear that the publisher Smithers would be arrested and that he would involve her husband in the punishment as well.
Since the date of Richard's retirement and therefore of their return to London was approaching Isabel thought it would be nice to bring with her as a memento the images of their dwelling. So she asked Dr. Baker to photograph the various rooms of Palazzo Gossleth and asked the painter Letchford to make paintings from them. He also made two portraits of Burton, one at his work table, the other in the pose of a fencing master.
In August 1890 Richard and Isabel were in Trieste. He was now 69 years old, was weak and watched worriedly the end of the fine season. He had written to a friend that he would have liked to return to London the following summer, but there was still a long time to go and "malign Fate" could intervene... For this reason he decided to put in writing his wish to appoint Isabel his executrix, that is, testamentary executrix. "In the event of my death I leave as inheritance to my wife Isabel Burton every book, sheet, manuscript so that it be examined by her and dealt with at her discretion and in the way she deems most appropriate, she having been my sole help for thirty years." He was perfectly aware of her religious point of view, of her moral opinion and of her possible reaction towards unapproved material. Despite this, however, he left to her the responsibility of taking care of his literary work.
Richard would go for walks through the city with his wife, bought little caged birds at the markets and then freed them in the garden at home. One day, passing in front of a monkey imprisoned in a barred enclosure he said to it: "Jocko, what crime did you commit in some other world to be condemned to this purgatory?" Isabel offered the animal pieces of fruit and sweet, while Richard continued to repeat that consideration to himself. One morning he told Isabel he had heard a bird tapping for a long time on the glass of his window, a bad omen... She, to play it down, attributed the little bird's conduct to the habit he had given it of finding crumbs on the windowsill. Not having found any that morning it was soliciting service in that way. Isabel also recounts that that day her husband scribbled some verses on the margin of his diary, dedicated to the 'pilgrim swallow'. He asked her what it wanted to tell him, with its shrill and wild verses...
On Sunday 19 October Richard fished a robin out of the water cistern in the garden. He warmed it between his hands and in his coat before setting it free. In the evening he had a frugal dinner, chatted and joked and at half past nine went to bed. At midnight he complained of a pain in his foot, then fell asleep and when, shortly after, he woke up he told Isabel he had dreamed of their small apartment in London, which however, in the dream, had a beautiful large room. At 4:30 he complained of feeling suffocated. "Puss – he shouted – chloroform, ether, or I am a dead man!" She however had to deny him the anesthetic, telling him it would kill him. The doctor intervened, who had him lie down and applied an electric battery to his heart, even though he saw that he was dying. Isabel later wrote that at that moment she would have given her blood to save him, but, while she held him in her arms, she felt his body becoming more and more inert and heavy. She sent the maids to look for a priest, while she implored God to keep his soul there until the arrival of the priest. At 5 Richard had stopped breathing, Father Martelani arrived at 6. He told Isabel that he could not administer Extreme Unction to a man who had never professed himself Catholic, but she replied that she had proof that Richard had converted in secret. She therefore begged him to give him the sacraments without losing time. The priest, looking perplexed at Richard, asked if he was dead. She answered no in a resolute manner and he proceeded to administer Extreme Unction and to say the prayers for the dying soul. "From the squeeze of the hand and from the thin trickle of blood that ran under a finger – Isabel said – I judged that there was still a little life until 7, when I knew I was alone and sad forever.