, but
henceforth, though he attained a green old age, he lived a life of utter
silence. Except on one solitary occasion he never after--and that is to
say for forty years--uttered a single word. Always resembling a Greek
statue, there was now added to him the characteristic of all statues,
rigid and solemn silence. From a man he had become aching marble. To
Burton, with his great, warm, affectionate heart, Edward's affliction
was an unceasing grief. In all his letters he enquires tenderly after
his "dear brother," and could truly say, with the enemy of his boyhood,
Oliver Goldsmith:

"Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee:
Still to my Brother turns." [162]

Arrived in England, General Beatson promptly instituted civil
proceedings against his enemies; and Burton was in constant expectation
of being subpoenaed. He thoroughly sympathized with Beatson, but he had
no wish to be forced to remain in London, just as he had no wish at
any time in his life to be mewed up anywhere. Consequently he disguised
himself by wearing green spectacles and tying a pillow over his stomach
to simulate corpulence. To one friend who met him, he made himself
known. "Are you really Burton?" inquired his friend. "I shall be,"
replied Burton, "but just now I'm a Greek doctor." Burton's conscience,
however, finally had the mastery. He did attend the trial and he
corroborated the statements of his late chief. The verdict of the jury
went against Beatson, but it was generally felt that the old war dog had
fully vindicated his character.

35. Engaged to Isabel Arundell, August 1856.

In August, after a lapse of four years, Burton renewed acquaintance
with Isabel Arundell, who one day met him, quite by accident, in the
Botanical Gardens, and she kept meeting him there quite by accident
every day for a fortnight. He had carried his life in his hand to
Mecca and to Harar, he had kept at bay 200 Somalis, but like the man in
Camoens, he finally fell by "a pair of eyes." [163] According to Lady
Burton, [164] it was Burton who made the actual proposal; and it is just
possible.

"You won't chalk up 'Mother will be angry' now I hope," said Burton.

"Perhaps not," replied Miss Arundell, "but she will be all the same."

Mrs. Arundell, indeed, like so many other English mothers, was violently
prejudiced against Burton. When her daughter broached the subject
she replied fiercely: "He is not an