"The Press are calling me 'the neglected Englishman,' and I want to express to them the feelings of pride and gratitude with which I have seen the exertions of my brethren of the Press to procure for me a tardy justice. The public is a fountain of honour which amply suffices all my aspirations; it is the more honourable as it will not allow a long career to be ignored for reasons of catechism or creed. With a general voice so loud and so unanimous in my favour, I can amply console myself for the absence of what the world calls 'honours,' which I have long done passing well without; nor should I repine at a fate which I share with England's most memorable men, and most honourable, to go no further than Gordon and Thackeray. It certainly is a sad sight to see perfectly private considerations and petty bias prevail against the claims of public service, and let us only hope for better things in future days."
It has been an oft-told tale, but it is a true one, that Richard went to the Zoological Gardens one Sunday, and he asked for a glass of beer. The girl was going to give it him, when she changed her mind, and then she said, "Now, are you really a bonâ-fide traveller?" "Well," he said, "I think I am." Then she thought he was taking her in, and she would not give it him. The others laughed and told her who he was; still she would not let him have it.
This year we had some expeditions down the Thames. My brothers and sisters had a boat, and we used to go down to Oxford, sleeping at little inns on the river-side at night, and cooking our food on the banks at lunch-time.
Richard and I went down to Oxford to see Professors Vaux, Jowett, Thomas Short, and McLaren, and, as he was fond of doing, to revisit the colleges—his own Trinity, and Magdalen and Oriel—and to go on the river. I note in our journals of this year, 1875, that we often breakfasted twice and lunched twice, that is to say, to fulfil invitations, and one night we had thirteen invitations, and made a bet that we would do them all, beginning by a dinner-party; and we won it by passing the night in the streets, and only staying a quarter of an hour everywhere.
Richard was lounging at a supper-room door of a ball one night, when an impertinent young "masher" walked up to him and said, "Aw—are you one of the waitahs?" So Richard smiled and pulled his long moustache, and said with a quiet drawl, "No—are you? For you look a damned sight more like a waiter than I do, and I was in hopes you were, because I might have got something to drink."[7]
Richard's picture, by Sir Frederick Leighton, was exhibited in the Academy of 1875.
Meeting Mr. Gladstone—Incidents of London Life.
On the 10th of June we had the pleasure of being asked to meet Mr. Gladstone at Lord Houghton's. Very late in the evening Mrs. Gladstone said to me, "I don't know what it is, but I can't get Mr. Gladstone away this evening." And I said to her, "I think I know what it is; he has got hold of my husband, Richard Burton, and they are both so interested one with the other, and have so many points of interest to talk over, that I venture to hope that you will not take him away."
Richard lectured at the Numismatic, the Royal Geographical, the Anthropological, and several other societies, and we were invited to attend on the Sultan of Zanzibar at the Duchess of Sutherland's, mother of the present Duke, and his Crystal Palace party. The members of the Urban Club gave Richard a dinner and welcome on the 15th of June at St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell. We also had a very pleasant dinner at Mr. Edmund Yates', where we met Wilkie Collins and others, and had some very pleasant literary parties at the Brinsley Sheridans', and Mr. Dicey's. At Lady Derby's we were presented to the Queen of Holland. Her Majesty took a great deal of notice of Richard and me at Lady Salisbury's, and at Lady Egerton of Tatton's, and also at Lady Holland's, and expressed a wish to have his last book, which I had the pleasure of leaving with her secretary.
There was a great Licensed Victuallers' dinner at which two thousand were present, Alfred Bates Richards, who was editor of their paper, the Morning Advertiser, and Richard's great friend, being the President. Richard was a guest, and was asked to make a speech.