The bystanders were moved according to their temperaments and religious views, but all were touched by the tempestuousness of Lady Burton’s grief.  She seemed as “one of the Eumenides.”  To some the pomp and scenic effects were gratifying.  Others were affected by the reflection that the great traveller, after roaming through almost every known land, had at last been laid in a quiet nook in an English graveyard.  Others who were familiar with Burton’s religious views considered “the whole ceremony an impertinence.”  All, however, whatever their opinions, were united in the desire to honour the great Englishman whose motto had been “Honour not Honours.”  So at last, after four funerals, Sir Richard Burton was left in peace.

The interior of the tomb remains much as it did on that day.  Facing the entrance is an altar with pictures, vases and the other customary appurtenances.  Sir Richard’s sarcophagus lies to one’s left, and on the right has since been placed the coffin of Lady Burton, while over all hang ropes of camel bells, which when struck give out the old metallic sound that Sir Richard heard so often in the desert.

The ceremony over, Lady Burton went to spend ten days in the convent of the canonesses of the Holy Sepulchre at Chelmsford—­“my convent,” as she called it, because she was educated there.  She then hired longing at No. 5, Baker Street, London, until a house—­No. 67—­in the same street could be made ready for her.  By the kindness of Queen Victoria she was allowed a pension of (pounds)150 a year.

179.  The Scented Garden Storm, June 1891.

In the meantime, the fifteen hundred subscribers to The Scented Garden kept writing to Lady Burton to ask when the promised work was to be in their hands.  As she could not possibly reply to so many persons, and as the nature of some of the letters cast her into a state of wild perturbation, there seemed only one course open to her—­namely, to write to the press.  So she sent to The Morning Post the well-known letter which appeared 19th June, 1891, mentioning some of her reasons for destroying the manuscript, the principal being her belief that out of fifteen hundred men, fifteen would probably read it in the spirit of science in which it was written, the other fourteen hundred and eighty-five would read it “for filth’s sake.”  The principal cause, the apparition of her husband, she did not mention.[FN#674]

The letter in The Morning Post had no sooner appeared than a cry arose against her from one end of the country to the other.  The Press castigated her, private persons expressed their indignation by post.  Burton’s family in particular bitterly resented what they considered a “foolish, mad act, insulting alike to the dead and the living.”