as consul at the time. In fact he was on one of his cloak-and-dagger missions. Of all his roles, soldier, scholar, author, explorer, the one that made him happiest was secret agent.
Here’s the way he explained the whole thing to me and Sun Moon.
The British government wished to present a certain matter to Brigham Young for the Prophet’s consideration.
Among Her Majesty’s countless minions, only one was on terms of credit with the Prophet Brigham Young, none other than Captain Burton. Who, as chance would have it, was bored with his diplomatic work in Fernando Po.
How could he not have been bored? Captain Burton was by profession a soldier, by temperament a spy. He was the master of many guises.Disguised as an Arab, at the risk of his head, he made the pilgrimage to Mecca, traveling among Arabs. At various times he had passed himself off as a Persian, a Tibetan, an Egyptian, a Hindu, and a Sufi, speaking all these tongues like a native, and master of every custom and nuance. Expert in all matters about India, Persia, Arabia, the Hind, and East Africa, he spoke twenty-nine languages. (When Sir Richard translated the Kama Sutra into English, one of his enemies quipped wickedly, twenty-nine languages including pornography.) Most recently, he was an explorer, the discoverer of the source of the Nile. How long could such a man remain in his study writing books? How long spend his evenings making polite conversation with local potentates? How long do without his wife, for Fernando Po was so primitive white women couldn’t live there. It was a fever-hole island off the coast of West Africa so uncivilized I haven’t found it on a map yet.
So he was dispatched in the spring of 1862 to Salt Lake. The journey was to be secret, he was cautioned. That was the part Sir Richard liked.
This is how Sir Richard told it to us, and the way he wrote it down. When he knew that his mission would never be revealed publicly, he kindly had his journals of the journey copied out for me.
These journals revealed what he didn’t tell us at the time. Captain Burton was indeed the finest Orientalist and linguist of his time, and among the finest explorers. But in the army and Her Majesty’s government generally, instead of being praised, he’d been belittled. So at forty he was a bitter man, feeding miserably on the fruits of scorn.
Captain Burton noticed that his host got down from the carriage awkwardly, like a man with chronic back pain. It amused him that the Lion of the Lord had the same frailties as other men.
The two of them walked to the top of the knoll, where they could see the entire city laid out to the south. Burton turned to the west. The sun glinted harshly off the Great Salt Lake. He expanded his chest to let the desert air in. His skin welcomed the desert sun. “Very impressive indeed,” he said. “Great strides in only two years.”
Brigham Young nodded, immune to flattery. Burton decided to leave the man his silence, whether it was rooted in circumspection, superiority, or an aching back. President Young stood facing Temple Square. Here the man had erected the visible form of his hopes for himself, his vast family, and his people, the faithful of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. As an indefatigable reader and researcher, Burtonwell knew what these hopes were, to strive toward perfection, to have themselves sealed to their spouses for time and all eternity, to have their children and progeny sealed to them, creating an eternal family. He was no victim of the biases and foolishness of their enemies, who would say nearly anything to slander the Saints. No, Burton truly knew, from the testimony of the Saints themselves. He had journeyed across a great ocean and crossed a vast continent, twice, to visit Great Salt Lake City.
Burton appraised the man before him. He had appraised many powerful men in his time, men of many cultures and countries, making reports on their strengths and weaknesses to the
Here’s the way he explained the whole thing to me and Sun Moon.
The British government wished to present a certain matter to Brigham Young for the Prophet’s consideration.
Among Her Majesty’s countless minions, only one was on terms of credit with the Prophet Brigham Young, none other than Captain Burton. Who, as chance would have it, was bored with his diplomatic work in Fernando Po.
How could he not have been bored? Captain Burton was by profession a soldier, by temperament a spy. He was the master of many guises.Disguised as an Arab, at the risk of his head, he made the pilgrimage to Mecca, traveling among Arabs. At various times he had passed himself off as a Persian, a Tibetan, an Egyptian, a Hindu, and a Sufi, speaking all these tongues like a native, and master of every custom and nuance. Expert in all matters about India, Persia, Arabia, the Hind, and East Africa, he spoke twenty-nine languages. (When Sir Richard translated the Kama Sutra into English, one of his enemies quipped wickedly, twenty-nine languages including pornography.) Most recently, he was an explorer, the discoverer of the source of the Nile. How long could such a man remain in his study writing books? How long spend his evenings making polite conversation with local potentates? How long do without his wife, for Fernando Po was so primitive white women couldn’t live there. It was a fever-hole island off the coast of West Africa so uncivilized I haven’t found it on a map yet.
So he was dispatched in the spring of 1862 to Salt Lake. The journey was to be secret, he was cautioned. That was the part Sir Richard liked.
This is how Sir Richard told it to us, and the way he wrote it down. When he knew that his mission would never be revealed publicly, he kindly had his journals of the journey copied out for me.
These journals revealed what he didn’t tell us at the time. Captain Burton was indeed the finest Orientalist and linguist of his time, and among the finest explorers. But in the army and Her Majesty’s government generally, instead of being praised, he’d been belittled. So at forty he was a bitter man, feeding miserably on the fruits of scorn.
Captain Burton noticed that his host got down from the carriage awkwardly, like a man with chronic back pain. It amused him that the Lion of the Lord had the same frailties as other men.
The two of them walked to the top of the knoll, where they could see the entire city laid out to the south. Burton turned to the west. The sun glinted harshly off the Great Salt Lake. He expanded his chest to let the desert air in. His skin welcomed the desert sun. “Very impressive indeed,” he said. “Great strides in only two years.”
Brigham Young nodded, immune to flattery. Burton decided to leave the man his silence, whether it was rooted in circumspection, superiority, or an aching back. President Young stood facing Temple Square. Here the man had erected the visible form of his hopes for himself, his vast family, and his people, the faithful of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. As an indefatigable reader and researcher, Burtonwell knew what these hopes were, to strive toward perfection, to have themselves sealed to their spouses for time and all eternity, to have their children and progeny sealed to them, creating an eternal family. He was no victim of the biases and foolishness of their enemies, who would say nearly anything to slander the Saints. No, Burton truly knew, from the testimony of the Saints themselves. He had journeyed across a great ocean and crossed a vast continent, twice, to visit Great Salt Lake City.
Burton appraised the man before him. He had appraised many powerful men in his time, men of many cultures and countries, making reports on their strengths and weaknesses to the
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