You want to know about Richard Burton? Well, let me tell you about one of cinema’s most captivating contradictions—a man who was called “the natural successor to Olivier” yet never won an Oscar despite seven nominations, who possessed one of the most magnificent voices ever heard on stage yet drank himself into self-destruction, who could have been the greatest Shakespearean actor of his generation yet chose Hollywood millions over theatrical immortality. From growing up as the twelfth of thirteen children in a tiny Welsh mining village to becoming Elizabeth Taylor’s tempestuous lover and twice-husband, Richard Burton lived multiple lifetimes in his fifty-eight years. Let me take you through the remarkable journey of Richard Walter Jenkins—the boy who became Burton.
Who Was Richard Burton? The Man Behind the Legend
Here’s where we start this Richard Burton biography—with his real name. He was born Richard Walter Jenkins Jr. on November 10, 1925, in Pontrhydyfen, a small mining village in the Afan Valley of Glamorgan, Wales. His birthplace was a modest house at 2 Dan-y-bont, standing in the shadow of an old aqueduct in the dramatic Welsh landscape. He died on August 5, 1984, in Céligny, Switzerland, at just fifty-eight years old, cutting short what should have been two more decades of brilliant performances.
Burton stood at about 5 feet 10 inches tall with striking good looks and, most memorably, that voice—a mellifluous baritone that critic Kenneth Tynan once described as capable of making the telephone directory sound like Shakespeare. It was rich, gravelly, yet authoritative, with a Welsh lilt that he never fully lost despite decades away from Wales.
What made Burton fascinating wasn’t just his talent—it was the tension between who he was and who he could have been. He was a working-class Welsh boy who quoted Shakespeare as naturally as breathing, a brilliant stage actor who chased Hollywood paychecks, a man of profound intelligence who often chose self-destruction over self-discipline.
The Tragic Beginning: A Mother Lost, A Father Gone
Let’s talk about Richard’s childhood because it shaped everything that came after. He was born into a Welsh-speaking family as the twelfth of thirteen children. His father, Richard Walter Jenkins Sr., known in the family as “Daddy Ni,” was a coal miner who, according to Burton’s later accounts, was “a twelve-pints-a-day man” who would disappear on drinking and gambling sprees for weeks at a time.
Burton’s mother, Edith Maude Jenkins, worked as a barmaid at a pub called the Miners Arms, where she met her future husband. They married on Christmas Eve 1900 at Neath Register Office, without the approval of her parents. She already had a daughter, Cecilia, from a previous relationship before marrying Jenkins Sr.
The tragedy that would define Richard’s life came when he was just two years old. On October 31, 1927, his mother died from puerperal fever—essentially blood poisoning from childbirth—just six days after giving birth to Richard’s younger brother Graham. Edith was only forty-four years old. For the rest of his life, Richard would idealize the mother he barely remembered, creating a romanticized image of her that may or may not have matched reality.
After Edith’s death, Daddy Ni, devastated and unable to cope, essentially abandoned his youngest children. He had been badly burned in a mining explosion and was already struggling with alcoholism. The family fragmented, with different children taken in by different siblings.
Rescued by Cis: The Sister Who Became a Mother
Richard’s salvation came in the form of his eldest sister, Cecilia, known as Cis. She was nineteen when Richard was born and had married a coal miner named Elfed James. When their mother died, Cis took the two-year-old Richard to live with her family in Taibach, Port Talbot, about six miles from Pontrhydyfen.
This wasn’t a legal adoption or formal fostering arrangement—it was simply what families did. Cis became Richard’s de facto mother, raising him alongside her own children in a small miner’s cottage. The household was crowded, money was tight, but there was love. Cis recognized early that Richard was special, encouraging his love of reading and ensuring he stayed in school despite the family’s poverty.
Richard would later speak with deep affection and gratitude about Cis, crediting her with saving him from the mines. Without her intervention, he would almost certainly have followed his father and brothers underground at age fourteen, and the world would never have known Richard Burton.
The Young Scholar: Discovering Shakespeare and Voice
Even as a young boy in Port Talbot, Richard displayed remarkable gifts. He had an excellent speaking and singing voice from childhood, winning an eisteddfod prize as a boy soprano. An eisteddfod is a Welsh festival of literature, music, and performance—essentially a competitive celebration of Welsh culture. Winning such a prize marked Richard as someone with genuine talent.
He became the first member of his family to attend secondary school, enrolling at Port Talbot Secondary School. This was no small achievement for a miner’s son in 1930s Wales. Most working-class boys left school at fourteen to start earning money for their families. That Richard continued his education showed both his intellectual promise and his family’s belief in him.
At school, Richard showed immense interest in reading poetry and English and Welsh literature. He was an avid reader who once said, “Home is where the books are.” He earned pocket money by running messages, hauling horse manure, and delivering newspapers—doing whatever work he could find to contribute to Cis’s household while still attending school.
In 1939, at age thirteen, Richard won a certificate at an eisteddfod in Maesteg Town Hall and wanted to repeat his success. He chose to sing Sir Arthur Sullivan’s “Orpheus with his Lute,” a difficult composition. He asked for help from a new schoolmaster who had recently arrived at his school. That teacher’s name was Philip Burton, and this meeting would change Richard’s life forever.
Philip Burton: The Mentor Who Became a Father
Philip Burton was a young, sophisticated English teacher and BBC radio producer who recognized immediately that Richard Jenkins possessed extraordinary potential. Philip was openly gay at a time when homosexuality was illegal in Britain, living discreetly with his partner Dillwyn Dummer. He was cultured, educated, and saw in Richard the raw material for greatness.
Philip took Richard under his wing with an intensity that went beyond normal teacher-student relationships. He coached Richard’s voice, taking him to the hillsides around Port Talbot where they would recite Shakespeare aloud, working on projection and diction. He broadened Richard’s reading, introducing him to literature beyond the Welsh classics. He taught him manners and social graces that would allow him to move in circles far above his working-class origins.
When Richard was fifteen, he left school to work in a men’s outfitters shop. He hated it. After eighteen months of retail drudgery, Philip Burton convinced him to return to school, even though Richard was now older than his classmates. Philip saw potential that couldn’t be wasted selling suits.
In 1943, when Richard was seventeen, Philip Burton made him an extraordinary offer: Richard could move out of Cis’s crowded household and live with Philip and Dillwyn. Philip would provide room, board, continued education, and acting coaching. The arrangement was essentially foster care, though never formalized as such initially.
By 1943, Philip officially became Richard’s legal guardian through a deed poll arrangement, and Richard took Philip’s surname—becoming Richard Burton. There were practical reasons for this: it would ease Richard’s entry to Oxford University, where Philip had secured him a place. But it was also symbolic—Richard was consciously leaving behind Richard Jenkins, the miner’s son, and becoming Richard Burton, the actor.
Oxford and the RAF: Brief Interludes
In 1944, Burton went to Exeter College, Oxford, on a scholarship to study acting for six months before beginning compulsory military service. His time at Oxford was brief but significant—it exposed him to England’s elite educational system and gave him intellectual credentials that set him apart from other actors.
Burton joined the Royal Air Force in 1944, serving for over two years as a navigator. He later said that his time in the RAF was largely uneventful, though he did manage to take leave in 1946 to play a television role—his first professional acting job while still technically in military service.
After being discharged in 1947, Burton was ready to begin his professional acting career in earnest. Philip Burton had laid the groundwork, securing introductions and opportunities through his BBC connections. Richard was no longer a Welsh boy with potential—he was Richard Burton, trained actor with Oxford credentials and a voice that could command any stage.
The Stage Career: Shakespearean Excellence
Burton made his London stage debut in 1943 in Emlyn Williams’s play “The Druid’s Rest” at St. Martin’s Theatre. Williams, a fellow Welshman, had spotted Burton’s talent and created a role specifically for him. The play ran successfully, and Burton received positive notices despite being a complete unknown.
After his RAF service, Burton established himself as a formidable stage actor. In 1949, he appeared in Christopher Fry’s “The Lady’s Not for Burning” alongside John Gielgud, one of Britain’s greatest actors. Burton’s performance was acclaimed, and in 1950, he took the production to Broadway, making his New York debut.
From 1953 to 1956, Burton performed in Shakespearean productions at London’s Old Vic, one of Britain’s most prestigious theaters. He played Henry V, Hamlet, Othello, Coriolanus, and other major roles, establishing himself as the finest Shakespearean actor of his generation. Critic Kenneth Tynan called him “the natural successor to Olivier”—the highest praise imaginable.
His 1964 Broadway production of “Hamlet,” directed by John Gielgud, ran for an incredible 137 performances—a record for the play. Burton’s Hamlet was recorded and filmed, preserving his interpretation for posterity. Those who saw it said it was one of the great theatrical performances of the twentieth century.
Burton also starred in the musical “Camelot” on Broadway from 1960 to 1963, playing King Arthur opposite Julie Andrews as Guinevere. His performance won critical acclaim and showed his versatility—he could sing as well as speak verse.
The Film Career: From Promise to Stardom
Burton made his film debut in 1949 with “The Last Days of Dolwyn,” written and directed by Emlyn Williams. The film told a story set in Wales, and Williams had written a role specifically for Burton. During filming, Burton met a young Welsh actress named Sybil Williams. They married on February 5, 1949, and would have two daughters together.
His early film roles were in minor British productions, but Hollywood was already noticing Burton. In 1952, he was cast in “My Cousin Rachel” opposite Olivia de Havilland, earning his first Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. He followed this with “The Robe” in 1953, the first film released in CinemaScope, earning his second Oscar nomination, this time for Best Actor.
Throughout the 1950s, Burton balanced his film career with continued stage work, refusing to abandon theater for Hollywood millions. He starred in “Alexander the Great” in 1956 and “Look Back in Anger” in 1959, both critically acclaimed performances that showcased his range.
But everything changed in 1963 when he was cast as Mark Antony in “Cleopatra,” replacing Stephen Boyd. The film was already notorious as the most expensive production in history, and Burton’s casting opposite Elizabeth Taylor would create a scandal that made both of them global superstars.
Elizabeth Taylor: The Love Story That Defined an Era
Let’s talk about what everyone remembers about this Richard Burton biography—his relationship with Elizabeth Taylor. They met on the set of “Cleopatra” in Rome in 1962. Burton was thirty-seven and married to Sybil Williams, with whom he had two daughters. Taylor was thirty and married to Eddie Fisher, her fourth husband.
The chemistry between them was instant and explosive. Taylor later recalled that when they first met, Burton was recovering from a hangover and his hands were trembling so badly he couldn’t hold his coffee cup. She held it to his lips for him, their eyes locked, and that was it—the beginning of one of cinema’s most legendary love affairs.
Their on-set romance became a worldwide scandal. The Vatican condemned their “erotic vagrancy.” Politicians denounced them. The press followed them everywhere. Remember, this was 1962—extramarital affairs were still genuinely shocking, especially when conducted so publicly.
Burton and Taylor divorced their respective spouses, and on March 15, 1964, they married in Montreal. For the next decade, they were the world’s most famous couple—more famous than any modern celebrity couple because media saturation was just beginning. They flew in private jets, sailed on yachts, stayed in presidential suites, and lived with a level of glamour that seems impossible today.
Burton bought Taylor extravagant gifts, most famously the Krupp Diamond (now called the Elizabeth Taylor Diamond)—a 33.19-carat diamond ring that cost over three hundred thousand dollars in 1968. He also gave her the La Peregrina pearl, which had been owned by Spanish royalty, and countless other jewels.
They made eleven films together, including “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” in 1966, for which Taylor won her second Oscar and Burton received his fifth Oscar nomination. “The Taming of the Shrew” in 1967 showcased their chemistry in Shakespeare. Other collaborations included “The V.I.P.s,” “The Sandpiper,” “The Comedians,” and several others of varying quality.
But the relationship was volatile. Both drank heavily. They fought publicly and reconciled dramatically. In 1974, after a decade of marriage, they divorced. Burton later said, “You can’t keep clapping a couple of sticks of dynamite together without expecting them to blow up.”
Then, in a move that shocked everyone, they remarried on October 10, 1975, in Botswana. This second marriage lasted less than a year—they divorced again in 1976. The Burton-Taylor saga was finally over, though they remained close friends until Burton’s death.
The Oscar Curse: Seven Nominations, Zero Wins
Here’s one of the great tragedies of this Richard Burton biography—despite being nominated for the Academy Award seven times, he never won. His nominations were for “My Cousin Rachel” in 1952, “The Robe” in 1953, “Becket” in 1964, “The Spy Who Came in from the Cold” in 1965, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” in 1966, “Anne of the Thousand Days” in 1969, and “Equus” in 1977.
Each loss stung. By the time of his seventh nomination for “Equus,” the press was calling him “the Susan Lucci of the Oscars”—constantly nominated, never winning. Burton claimed not to care, but those close to him said the Oscar rejection hurt deeply. He felt the Academy looked down on him for choosing commercial films over artistic ones, for his drinking, for the Elizabeth Taylor circus.
The irony is that Burton didn’t need an Oscar to validate his talent. His stage performances were legendary, his voice was iconic, and his best film work—”Becket,” “The Spy Who Came in from the Cold,” “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”—stands among cinema’s finest acting.
The Drinking: A Talent Drowned in Alcohol
We can’t write an honest Richard Burton biography without addressing his alcoholism. Burton was a prodigious drinker who, by his own admission, consumed extraordinary amounts of alcohol daily throughout most of his adult life. He once said, “When I played drunks I had to remain sober because I didn’t know how to play them when I was drunk.”
His drinking was partly cultural—Welsh mining communities had a heavy drinking culture, and Burton grew up watching his father disappear into alcohol. It was partly professional—heavy drinking was common among actors of his generation. But it was also self-destructive—a way of numbing disappointment, boredom, and the sense that he’d wasted his talent.
The alcohol took its toll physically. Burton’s once-handsome face became puffy and reddened. His magnificent voice, which had been his greatest asset, became rougher and less controlled. By his fifties, he looked a decade older than his years.
Friends and colleagues spoke of the waste—here was one of the century’s greatest actors, drowning his talent in vodka. Laurence Olivier, during the height of the “Cleopatra” scandal, cabled Burton asking, “Make up your mind, dear heart. Do you want to be a great actor or a household word?” Burton cabled back, “Both.”
But increasingly, he was neither. The great roles stopped coming. By the 1970s, he was appearing in terrible films just to pay bills—”The Klansman,” “Exorcist II: The Heretic,” films that embarrassed him but funded his lifestyle.
The Other Wives: Beyond Elizabeth Taylor
While Elizabeth Taylor dominated Burton’s romantic narrative, he was married four other times. His first wife, Sybil Williams, whom he married in 1949, bore him two daughters: Kate Burton, born in 1957, who became a successful actress, and Jessica Burton, born in 1959. Burton’s divorce from Sybil to marry Taylor caused a painful rift with his Welsh family, many of whom felt he’d betrayed a good woman.
After his final divorce from Taylor in 1976, Burton married Suzy Hunt, a model who was the ex-wife of racing driver James Hunt. This marriage lasted from 1976 to 1982 and was reportedly tumultuous, with Burton still drinking heavily.
His fourth and final marriage was to Sally Hay in 1983. Sally was a production assistant he’d met while filming. By this time, Burton was seriously ill, though he tried to hide it. Sally stayed with him until his death the following year.
Burton also had adopted a daughter, Maria Burton, who was of German descent and had physical disabilities. He adopted her during his first marriage to Elizabeth Taylor, and by all accounts, he was a loving and devoted father to her.
The Final Years: Decline and Death
By the early 1980s, Burton’s health was failing. Years of heavy drinking had ravaged his body. He had cirrhosis of the liver, though he tried to quit drinking in his final years. His last performances were in “1984,” George Orwell’s dystopian masterpiece, where he played the sinister O’Brien, and the TV miniseries “Ellis Island.”
In “1984,” despite his deteriorating health, Burton gave a powerful performance that reminded critics of his brilliance. Reviews praised his work, suggesting that if he could stay sober and healthy, he might enjoy a career resurgence.
It was not to be. On August 5, 1984, while at his home in Céligny, Switzerland, Burton suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. He died suddenly, just months before what would have been his fifty-ninth birthday. He was buried in Céligny, far from the Welsh valleys where he was born.
The outpouring of grief was global. Fellow actors praised him as one of the greatest of his generation. Critics mourned what might have been if alcohol hadn’t derailed his talent. And in Wales, they mourned the loss of their greatest cultural ambassador—the boy from Pontrhydyfen who had shown the world what the Welsh could achieve.
Legacy: What Burton Left Behind
So what’s the legacy of this Richard Burton biography? On one hand, it’s a story of squandered potential—a man who could have been the greatest stage actor of his generation but chose Hollywood money and the Elizabeth Taylor circus instead. On the other hand, it’s the story of a Welsh miner’s son who conquered the world, who spoke Shakespeare like it was his native language, whose voice could make grown men weep.
Burton’s influence on acting is undeniable. His approach to verse-speaking influenced generations of actors. His willingness to play flawed, self-destructive characters paved the way for more complex male performances. And his life story—from poverty to stardom, from brilliance to self-destruction—remains one of cinema’s most compelling narratives.
In 2011, a bust of Richard Burton was unveiled at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama in Cardiff. The college’s main theater is named the Richard Burton Theatre. In his birthplace of Pontrhydyfen, tourists visit the house where he was born. In Port Talbot, there’s a monument inscribed with a poem Burton wrote about his Welsh childhood.
Wales hasn’t forgotten its most famous son. And neither has the world. In 2025, the centenary of his birth, Wales celebrated Richard Burton with exhibitions, performances, and tributes. A new film is in development, with actor Charlotte Church’s son making his debut. Burton’s legend endures.
Final Thoughts: The Man Who Became a Legend
So here’s the final word on this Richard Burton biography. Richard Walter Jenkins became Richard Burton, and Richard Burton became a legend—but legends are complicated. They’re part truth, part myth, part what we need them to be.
Was Burton a great actor who wasted his talent? Yes. Was he also someone who brought joy to millions through his performances? Also yes. Did he choose money over art? Sometimes. Did he also give brilliant, searing performances that justified every ounce of praise? Absolutely.
He was the twelfth of thirteen children who should have died in the Welsh coal mines but instead conquered Hollywood. He was the working-class boy who quoted Shakespeare perfectly and drank vodka for breakfast. He was the man who could have been Olivier’s successor but became Elizabeth Taylor’s lover instead. He was Richard Burton—and there will never be another quite like him.
That’s Richard Burton—Welsh legend, Hollywood star, Shakespearean genius, self-destructive drunk, Elizabeth Taylor’s great love, and one of the most magnificent voices ever heard on stage or screen. He died too young at fifty-eight, but in those years, he lived enough for three lifetimes.
