ryman screamed at him for abandoningnpoor Thomas, and then staggerednout of the hospital.”nThe point is simple: HafiFenden’sndead subject has been killed off, or atnthe very least deprived of emotionalnand creative energy, even before thenleap from the Washington AvenuenBridge. We are clearly more informednabout Berryman’s understanding in thenMariani version.nIn Dream Song, Mariani describesnhow a poet in our time achieves andimension sufficient to make poetrynthat will matter. This is done, he showsnus, not by the poet’s discarding ornescaping from his own personality tonassume the personality of a poet, butnby accepting it. Berryman did not live anconsoling life, but, being Berryman, henhad no other alternative than to “gonhaltingly.” Thus, the biographer whonwalks alongside should not be a transformer,nfancifully making Berrymannthe man into a timeless, metaphysicalngrand master seated austerely at hisndesk. Mariani affirms Berryman tonhave been one more perishable humannbeing who encountered his perishabilitynin poems. That seems in itself to bensignificant.nDaniel James Sundahl teaches Englishnat Hillsdale College in Hillsdale,nMichigan.nM O VnrnI N G ?nLET US KNOW BEFORE YOU GO!nTo assure uninterrupted delivery ofnChronicles, please notify us in advance.nSend change of address onnthis form with the mailing label fromnyour latest issue of Chronicles to:nSubscription Department, Chronicles,nP.O. Box 800, Mount Morris, Illinoisn61054.nNamenAddress .nCitynState ^ip.n36/CHRONICLESnThe Man WhonWould Be Kingnby Gregory McNameenCaptain Sir RichardnFrancis Burtonnby Edward RicenNew York: Scribner’s;n522 pp., $35.00nHe called himself an “amateur barbarian,”nbut his comrades in armsncalled him “that devil Burton” or, morenoften, “the white nigger.” None of thenepithets mattered much to their subject,nfor Richard Francis Burton (1821-n1890), junior officer in the IndiannArmy, had no time for petty indignations.nHe was too busy playing out thenlife of a hero in what Rudyard Kiplingncalled “the Great Game,” conqueringnthe worid on England’s behalf In doingnso, he became an inspiration for generationsnof schoolboys who marched intonthe jungles and deserts and trenches innthe service of the Empire.nBurton’s shadowy life has long eludednbiographers, although many haventried to capture the man in words. FawnnBrodie published a suitably swashbucklingnaccount. The Devil Drives, inn1967, and it ranked for two decades asnthe best life of Burton generally available.nIn the intervening years, however,nEnglish and American readers havenlearned a great deal more about theneffects of far-off adventures. They nownhave a superb retelling of his fascinatingnlife in Edward Rice’s book.nBurton, Edward Rice tells us, wasnfar from a model youth. The son of annEnglish officer billeted in France at thenend of the Napoleonic Wars, Burtonngrew up as a street gangster, bullyingnthe locals with knife and sword, seeminglynbound for an early grave. He wasnalso uncommonly intelligent, able tonmaster languages and sciences in a fewnweeks of study. His despairing father,nable to foresee a brilliant future for hisnchild if only he would settle down, soldnoff the family’s possessions to buynBurton a commission in the IndiannArmy, paying £500 — a sum approachingn$25,000 today.nBurton made his way to India andnwas promptly absorbed by the strangencultures he found there. Rather thannobserve them from afar, in the mannernnnof his fellow officers. Burton hauntednthe bazaars and ashrams, learning Hindustani,nSanskrit, Urdu, and a halfdozennother languages and doggingnthe masters of as many native religionsnfor instruction. Within months he wasninducted as a Hindu Brahmin, a membernof India’s highest caste; a Sufinmaster, the first Westerner to havenpenetrated that elegant and oncesecretnsociety; and a Shi’ite Muslim, andevotee of the doctrine of taqiya, ornstrategic dissimulation.nBurton saw no contradiction in honoringnthree separate religious tradidons,nadding them to the Kabbalism,nalchemy, Rosicrucianism, and othernJurfeo-Christian mysticisms he hadnstudied as a youth. What his fellownofficers thought of the now-turbaned,ndarkly tanned, and long-bearded Burtonnwe already know; he had “gonennative” and was no longer part of thenclub.nBut English practicality won outnover English snobbery, and Burton wasnallowed to roam throughout India as henpleased, a full-fledged spy for the Empire.nBurton kept extensive notes on hisnlinguistic and religious studies, butnwrote very little about his period ofnespionage. One of the great contributionsnof Edward Rice’s book is itsnreconstruction of the shadow years,nduring which Burton probably indulgednin religious and political assassinations,ncalming himself with a steadyndiet of cannabis and opium. Afternmonths of drug-induced visions andnsecret travels, during which he coinednthe term “extrasensory perception,” henhad played India out. It was time tonmove on, weeks ahead of the bloodynSepoy Mutiny.nBurton proceeded to Arabia. Disguisednas a Shia pilgrim, he smugglednhimself into the holy city of Meccanand, apparently without regard for thengrim consequences should he bencaught, entered the Black Stone of thenQaaba, Islam’s most sacred shrine. Henthen wandered to Europe, invalidingnhimself to the beaches of Normandy,nwhere he captured the attention of anyoung Englishwoman, Isabel Arundell,na devout Catholic who wouldnbecome his wife.nBut Burton was not quite ready forndomesticity. In 1857, in the companynof Captain John Hanning Speke, he setn