The Life of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton, volume 2 (of 2): By His Wife, Isabel BurtonBurton, Isabel, Lady
History
The Life of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton, volume 2 (of 2): By His Wife, Isabel Burton
Burton, Isabel, Lady
Burton, Richard Francis, Sir, 1821-1890; Explorers -- Great Britain -- Biography; Scholars -- Great Britain -- Biography
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
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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