PROFITS OF THE POEMS. 247 TO CLARINDA: WITH A PRESENT OF A PAIR OF DRINKING-GLASSES. Fair Empress of the Poet's soul, And fill them high with generous juice, And pledge me in the generous toast- To those who love us!'-second fill ; Burns would appear to have come to a reckoning with Mr Creech on the 20th, and thus to have been enabled to leave Edinburgh finally, or for a permanency, on the 24th. The amount of his profits by his poems has been variously stated, and probably could not now be ascertained. The most authoritative statement we have on the subject is from the poet himself, in a letter of January 1789, to Dr Moore, where he says 'I believe I shall, in whole, £100 copyright included, clear about £400, some little odds; and even part of this depends on what the gentleman [Creech] has yet to settle with me.' Mr William Nicol wrote to Mr Lewars of Dumfries, after Burns's death, 'he certainly told me that he received £600 for the first Edinburgh edition, and £100 afterwards for the copyright.' (MS. in possession of Mr Lockhart.) This report from so intimate a friend as Nicol would be entitled to weight, if it did not differ so violently from the bard's own statement. Dr Currie, who would have the best information which Gilbert Burns could give him on the subject, sets down the poet's profits at £500. I find that Mrs Begg considers this as the sum which was realised. Under the force of these testimonies, we are led to surmise that, when Burns spoke to Dr Moore of £400 and some little odds, he mentally discounted the expense attending his residence in Edinburgh while seeing the work through the press. It is also worthy of note that, on making up an ideal account of the expense of preparing the book, and deducting it from the receipts, a sum of about £420 is left for the author, to which, if we add £100 for copyright, the result comes to only a shade above the statement of Dr Currie,1 The probability accordingly is, that Burns had not so much as £400 wherewith to begin the world at this crisis; for we must of course understand that his tours, his accident, and even the time he spent in Edinburgh as a guest with Mr Cruikshank, were attended with expenses, which would be so much deducted from his little capital. If he had £380 at this time in his pocket, he had as much as there appears to be the least reason to expect. That it was by no means a time of exultation or happiness, or even placidity of temper, fully appears from a letter written immediately after he had taken his farewell of the capital. TO MR RICHARD BROWN. GLASGOW, 26th March 1788. I am monstrously to blame, my dear sir, in not writing to you, and sending you the Directory. I have been getting my tack extended, as I have taken a farm, and I have been racking shop accounts with Mr Creech; both of which, together with watching, fatigue, and a load of care almost too heavy for my shoulders, have in some degree actually fevered me. I really forgot the Directory yesterday, which vexed me; but I was convulsed with rage a great part of the day. I have to thank you for the ingenious, friendly, and elegant epistle from your friend Mr Crawford. I shall certainly write to him; but not now. This is merely a card to you, as I am posting to Dumfriesshire, where many perplexing arrangements await me. I am vexed about the Directory; but, my dear sir, forgive me: these eight days I have been positively crazed. My compliments to Mrs B. I shall write to you at Grenada. I am ever, my dearest friend, yours, R. B. The Mr Crawford here alluded to was the Laird of Cartsburn, near Greenock; an open-hearted, worthy man, who, having studied the works of the Ayrshire bard, and heard of his personal character from Richard Brown, was pleased to indite a letter, pressing him to pay a visit to that part of Scotland. FROM THOMAS CRAWFORD, OF CARTSBURN, ESQ., TO ROBERT BURNS. CARTSBURN, 16th March 1788. MY DEAR SIR-For congeniality of mind entitles me to the freedom 1 Heron, in his Life of Burns, says, 'Mr Creech has obligingly informed me, that the whole sum paid to the poet for the copyright, and for the subscription copies of his book, amounted to near £1100. Out of this sum, indeed, the expenses of printing the edition for the subscribers were to be deducted. I have likewise reason to believe, that he had consumed a much larger proportion of these gains than prudence could approve, while he superintended the impression, paid court to his patrons, and waited the full payment of the subscription.' All this must be taken as very doubtful. INVITATION TO CARTSBURN. 249 of this appellation, and never did I use it with more cordial sincerity. Through the medium of our mutual friend Brown, I hazard inviting you to the participation of an agreeable rural retirement, at a convenient distance from a town where there are many of your admirers (but indeed it is not distinguished by that from any town in Great Britain): a library I hope not ill chosen; a cellar not ill stored; a hearty cock of a landlord, whom his perhaps too partial friends regard as destitute neither of taste nor letters. He has reached his eighth lustre untrammelled by the matrimonial chain; and, having neither wife nor ostensible child to disturb his tranquillity or divide his affection, he can offer you a whole heart. Halt!-this is going too far, for he is not so forlorn a wretch as to be without both a friend and a mistress-a Davie and a Jean; but this does not hinder his having a very warm place in that same heart (for though the fellow's person be little, his heart is large) most cordially at your service! How do you like the bill of fare? Not amiss, provided it be not a vapouring sign to a wretched ale-house-'Good wine needs no "bush."' Well-come try (I must pun), and welcome, and I hope you will find it deficient neither in spirit nor flavour; but this sage reflection of yours prevents my proceeding to raise your expectations too high. This much I will, however, in justice to myself add-namely, that if you should be disappointed, I shall be much more so. Shall I, then, be blest with your society? Answer me, my dear boy! But I forget myself: you are no classic-no Latin one, I meanthough certainly to be classed (allow me a jingle) among the first Caledonian classics. Tell me where you are. God knows I would gladly come for you in person; but as this is not in my power, will you allow me to send a servant and a horse for you? Do, my dear Burns, and bless me with your assent. Your hearty friend, T. CRAWFORD. This letter shews the kind of feeling with which Burns was hailed at his début by men of warm feelings and unsuspicious temper. At an ordinary time, nothing could have afforded the bard greater pleasure than to cultivate the friendship of so frank a good-fellow as Cartsburn; but the crisis was most unpropitious. Between Wednesday, 26th March, and the end of the week, he had travelled from Glasgow into Dumfriesshire, and attended to business there-a pretty rapid movement for those days. During his recent absence in Edinburgh he must have received a succession of home letters, telling him, first, that twin infants were thrown upon his care; and next, that they had left this earthly scene. A composition of the Sunday, on his return from Dumfriesshire, reveals the depressed state of his mind at this crisis. TO MR ROBERT CLEGHORN. MAUCHLINE, 31st March 1788. Yesterday, my dear sir, as I was riding through a track of melancholy, joyless muirs, between Galloway and Ayrshire, it being Sunday, I turned my thoughts to psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs; and your favourite air, Captain O'Kean, coming at length into my head, I tried these words to it. You will see that the first part of the tune must be repeated. The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning, The murmuring streamlet winds clear through the vale; No flowers gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing, I am tolerably pleased with these verses; but as I have only a sketch of the tune, I leave it with you to try if they suit the measure of the music. I am so harassed with care and anxiety about this farming project of mine, that my muse has degenerated into the veriest prose-wench that ever picked cinders or followed a tinker. When I am fairly got into the routine of business, I shall trouble you with a longer epistle; perhaps with some queries respecting farming: at present, the world sits such a load on my mind, that it has effaced almost every trace of the poet in me. My very best compliments and good wishes to Mrs Cleghorn. R. B. Mr Cleghorn wrote in answer on the 27th April, expressing much gratification with the verses, and adding, 'I wish you would send me a verse or two more; and, if you have no objection, I would have it in the Jacobite style. Suppose it should be sung after the fatal field of Culloden by the unfortunate Charles.' Burns consequently added two verses, and called the whole The Chevalier's Lament. The deed that I dared, could it merit their malice, His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys, Alas! I can make you no sweeter return! LIBERALITY OF BURNS TO HIS RELATIONS. 251 Burns was now settled in Ayrshire for his instructions as an exciseman, the order for which was issued to an officer at Torbolton on the 31st March.1 It was his object to have this business accomplished before Whitsunday term (25th May), when he had to take possession of his farm in Dumfriesshire. He had, however, a sacred duty to perform towards the virtuous but unfortunate household at Mossgiel. Burns was a most faithfully-attached son and brother; and he must have felt that, by reason of the various consequences of his imprudence, obligations had hitherto been on his side. Gilbert had been struggling on with the ungrateful soil of Mossgiel, and only sinking year after year deeper into debt. The following undated letter of Robert Burns seems to have been addressed to Mr Gavin Hamilton, at some period prior to the present, when a proposal had been made to relieve Gilbert by the poet becoming his guarantee to a considerable amount. Robert, at no time wanton in the management of money, or reckless about his own affairs, such as they were, refused the request. TO MOSSGIEL, Friday Morning. The language of refusal is to me the most difficult language on earth, and you are the man in the world, excepting one of Right Honourable designation, to whom it gives me the greatest pain to hold such language. My brother has already got money, and shall want nothing in my power to enable him to fulfil his engagement with you; but to be security on so large a scale, even for a brother, is what I dare not do, except I were in such circumstances of life as that the worst that might happen could not greatly injure me. 1 The letter of instruction by the Board of Excise to the officer who trained Burns for the duties of an exciseman, is given in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of the poet's works: MR JAMES FINDLAY, OFFICER, TORBOLTON. 'The Commissioners order, that you instruct the bearer, Mr Robert Burns, in the art of gauging, and practical dry gauging casks and utensils; and that you fit him for surveying victuallers, rectifiers, chandlers, tanners, tawers, maltsters, &c.; and when he has kept books regularly for six weeks at least, and drawn true vouchers and abstracts therefrom (which books, vouchers, and abstracts must be signed by your supervisor and yourself, as well as the said Mr Robert Burns), and sent to the Commissioners at his expense; and when he is furnished with proper instruments, and well instructed and qualified for an officer (then and not before, at your perils), you and your supervisor are to certify the same to the Board, expressing particularly therein the date of this letter; and that the above Mr Robert Burns hath cleared his quarters both for lodging and diet; that he has actually paid each of you for his instructions and examination; and that he has sufficient at the time to purchase a horse for his business. I am your humble servant, A. PEARSON.' EXCISE OFFICE, Edinburgh, 31st March 1788. |