210 No. LXXXIX. MR BURNS to MR THOMSON. 12th July, 1796. AFTER all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to implore you for five pounds. A cruel ..... of a haberdasher, to whom I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. Do, for God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. Forgive me this earnestness, but the horrors of a jail have made me half distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for upon returning health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds worth of the neatest song genius you have seen. I tried my hand on "Rothiemurchie" this morning. The measure is so difficult, that it is impossible to infuse much genius into the lines; they are on the other side. Forgive, forgive me! SONG. Tune-"Rothiem urchie." Fairest maid on Devon banks, And smile as thou were wont to do. Full well thou knowest I love thee dear, Then come, thou fairest of the fair, * These verses, and the letter enclosing them, are No. XC. MR THOMSON to MR BURNE My Dear Sir, EVER since I received your melancholy letter 14th July, 1796. by Mrs Hyslop, I have been ruminating in your sufferings. Again and again I thought what manner I could endeavour to alleviate of a pecuniary offer, but the recollection of one of your letters on this subject, and the fear of offending your independent spirit, checked my for the frankness of your letter of the 12th, and resolution. I thank you heartily, therefore, with great pleasure inclose a draft for the very sum I proposed sending. Would I were the Chancellor of the Exchequer but for one day, for your sake. Pray, my good sir, is it not possible for you trouble to you in the present state of your to muster a volume of poetry? If too much health, some literary friend might be found here, who would select and arrange from your manuscripts, and take upon him the task of Editor. In the meantime it could be advertised to be published by subscription? Do not shun this mode of obtaining the value of your labour; remember Pope published the Iliad by subscription. Think of this, my dear Burns, and do not reckon me intrusive with my advice. You are too well convinced of the respect and friendship I bear you, to impute any thing I say to an unworthy motive. Yours faithfully. The verses to "Rothiemurchie " will answer finely. I am happy to see you can still tune your lyre. written in a character that marks the very feeble state of their author. Mr Syme is of opinion that he could not have been in any danger of a jail at Dumfries, where certainly he had many firm friends, nor under any necessity of imploring aid from Edinburgh. But about this time his mind began to be at times unsettled, and the horrors of a jail perpetually haunted his imagina tion. He died on f this month. APPENDIX. It may gratify curiosity to know some particu- | lars of the history of the preceding Poems, on which the celebrity of our Bard has been hitherto founded; and with this view the following extract is made from a letter of Gilbert Burns, the brother of our Poet, and his friend and confidant from his earliest years. DEAR SIR, MOSSGIEL, 2d April, 1798. YOUR letter of the 14th of March I received in due course, but, from the hurry of the season, have been hitherto hindered from answering it. I will now try to give you what satisfaction I can in regard to the particulars you mention I cannot pretend to be very accurate in respect to the dates of the poems, but none of them, except Winter, a Dirge, (which was a juvenile production,) the Death and Dying Words of poor Mailie, and some of the songs, were composed before the year 1784. The circumstances of the poor sheep were pretty much as he has described them; he had, partly by way of frolic, bought a ewe and two lambs from a neighbour, and she was tethered in a field adjoining the house at Lochlie. He and I were going out with our teams, and our two younger brothers to drive for us, at mid-day, when Hugh Wilson, a curious looking awkward boy, clad in plaiding, came to us with much anxiety in his face, with the information that the ewe had entangled herself in the tether, and was lying in the ditch. Robert was much tickled with Hughoc's appearance and postures on the occasion. Poor Mailie was set to rights, and when we returned from the plough in the evening, he repeated to me her Death and Dying words pretty much in the way they now stand. Among the earliest of his poems was the Epistle to Davie. Robert often composed without any regular plan. When any thing made a strong impression on his mind, so as to rouse it to poetic exertion, he would give way to the impulse, and embody the thought in rhyme. If he hit on two or three stanzas to please him, he would then think of proper introductory, connecting, and concluding stan zas; hence the middle of a poem was often first produced. It was, I think, in summer, 1784, when in the interval of harder labour, he and I were weeding in the garden (kail-yard), that he repeated to me the principal part of this epistle. I believe the first idea of Robert's becoming an author was started on this occasion. I was much pleased with the epistle, and said to him I was of opinion it would bear being printed, and that it would be well received by people of taste; that I thought it at least equal, if not superior, to many of Allan Ramsay's epistles, and that the merit of these, and much other Scotch poetry, seemed to consist principally in the knack of the expression-but here, there was a strain or interesting sentiment, and the Scotticism of the language scarcely seemed affected, but appeared to be the natural language of the poet; that, besides, there was certainly some novelty in a poet pointing out the consolations that were in store for him when he should go a-begging. Robert seemed very well pleased with my criticism; and we talked of sending it to some magazine, but as this plan afforded no opportunity of knowing how it would take, the idea was dropped. It was, I think, in the winter following, as we were going together with carts for coal to the family fire (and I could yet point out the particular spot), that the author first repeated to me the Address to the Deil. The curious idea of such an address was suggested to him, by running over in his mind the many ludicrous accounts and representations we have, from various quarters, of this august personage. Death and Dr Hornbook, though not published in the Kilmarnock edition, was produced early in the year 1785. The schoolmaster of Tarbolton parish, to eke up the scanty subsistence allowed to that useful class of men, had set up a shop of grocery goods. Having accidentally fallen in with some medical books, and become most hobby-horsically attached to the study of medicine, he had added the sale of a few medicines to his little trade. He had got a shop-bill printed, at the bottom of which, overlooking his own incapacity, he had adver tised, that "Advice would be given in com mon disorders at the shop, gratis." Robert ( was at a mason-meeting, in Tarbolton, when | noons (those precious breathing-times to the the "Dominie" unfortunately made too os- labouring part of the community), and enjoytentatious a display of his medical skill. As ed such Sundays as would make one regret to he parted in the evening from this mix-see their number abridged. ture of pedantry and physic, at the place where he describes his meeting with Death, one of those floating ideas of apparition, he mentions in his letter to Dr Moore, crossed his mind; this set him to work for the rest of the way home. These circumstances he related when he repeated the verses to me next afternoon, as I was holding the plough, and he was letting the water off the field beside me. The Epistle to John Lapraik was produced exactly on the occasion described by the author. He says in that poem, On fasten e'en he had a rockin' (p. 144). I believe he has omitted the word rocking in the glossary. It is a term derived from those primitive times, when the countrywomen employed their spare hours in spinning on the rock, or distaff. This simple instrument is a very portable one, and well fitted to the social inclination of meeting in a neighbour's house; hence the phrase of going a-rocking, or with the rock. As the connection the phrase had with the implement was forgotten when the rock gave way to the spinning-wheel, the phrase came to be used by both sexes on social occasions, and men talk of going with their rocks as well as women. It was at one of these rockings at our house, when we had twelve or fifteen young people with their rocks, that Lapraik's song, beginning-" When I upon thy bosom lean," was sung, and we were informed who was the author. Upon this Robert wrote his first epistle to Lapraik; and his second in reply to his answer. The verses to the Mouse and Mountain Daisy were composed on the occasions mentioned, and while the author was holding the plough: I could point out the particular spot where each was composed. Holding the plough was a favourite situation with Robert for poetic compositions, and some of his best verses were produced while he was at that exercise. Several of the poems were produced for the purpose of bringing forward some favourite sentiment of the author. He used to remark to me, that he could not conceive a more mortifying picture of human life, than a man seeking work. In casting about in his mind how this sentiment might be brought forward, the elegy, Man was made to Mourn, was composed. Robert had frequently remarked to me, that he thought there was something peculiarly venerable in the phrase, "Let us worship God," used by a decent sober head of a family introducing family worship. To this sentiment of the author the world is indebted for the Cotter's Saturday Night. The hint of the plan, and title of the poem, were taken from Fergusson's Farmer's Ingle. When Robert had not some pleasure in view in which I was not thought fit to participate, we used frequently to walk together when the weather was favourable on the Sunday after It was in one of these walks that I first had the pleasure of hearing the author repeat the Cotter's Saturday Night. I do not recollect to have read or heard any thing by which I was more highly electrified. The fifth and sixth stanzas, and the eighteenth, thrilled with peculiar ecstasy through my soul. I mention this to you, that you may see what hit the taste of unlettered criticism. I should be glad to know, if the enlightened mind and refined taste of Mr Roscoe, who has borne such honourable testimony to this poem, agrees with me in the selection. Fergusson, in his Hallow Fair of Edinburgh, I believe, likewise furnished a hint of the title and plan of the Holy Fair. The farcical scene the poet there describes was often a favourite field of his observation, and the most of the incidents he mentions had actually passed before his eyes. It is scarcely necessary to mention, that the Lament was composed on that unfortunate passage in his matrimonial history, which I have mentioned in my letter to Mrs Dunlop, after the first distraction of his feelings had a little subsided. The Tale of Twa Dogs was composed after the resolution of publishing was nearly taken. Robert had had a dog, which he called Luath, that was a great favourite. The dog had been killed by the wanton cruelty of some person the night before my father's death. Robert said to me, that he should like to confer such immortality as he could bestow upon his old friend Luath, and that he had a great mind to introduce something into the book under the title of Stanzas to the Memory of a quadruped Friend: but this plan was given up for the Tale as it now stands. Cæsar was merely the creature of the poet's imagination, created for the purpose of holding chat with his favourite Luatb. The first time Robert heard the spinet played upon was at the house of Di Lawrie, then minister of the parish of Loudon now in Glasgow, having given up the parish in favour of his son. Dr Lawrie has several daughters; one of them played; the father and mother led down the dance; the rest of the sisters, the brother, the poet, and the other guests, mixed in it. It was a delightful family scene for our poet, then lately introduced to the world. His mind was roused to a poetic enthusiasm, and the stanzas, p. 125, were left in the room where he slept. It was to Dr Lawrie that Dr Blacklock's letter was addressed, which my brother, in his letter to Dr Moore, mentions as the reason of his going to Edinburgh. When my father feued his little property near Alloway-Kirk, the wall of the church-yard had gone to ruin, and cattle had free liberty of pasture in it. My father, with two or three other neighbours, joined in an application to the town council of Ayr, who were superiors of the adjoining land, for liberty to rebuild it, and raised by subscription a sum for enclosing this ancient cemetery with a wall; hence he came to consider it as his burial place, and we learned that reverence for it people generally have for the burial-place of their ancestors. My brother was living in Ellisland, when Captain Grose, on his peregrinations through Scotland, staid some time at Carse-house in the neighbourhood, with Captain Robert Riddel of Glenriddel, a particular friend of my brother's. The Antiquarian and the Poet vere" Unco pack and thick thegither." Robert requested of Captain Grose, when he ould come to Ayrshire, that he would make drawing of Alloway-Kirk, as it was the urial-place of his father, and where he himself ad a sort of claim to lay down his bones when hey should be no longer serviceable to him; .nd added, by way of encouragement, that it was the scene of many a good story of witches and apparitions, of which he knew the Captain was very fond. The Captain agreed to the request, provided the poet would furnish a witch story, to be printed along with it. "Tam o' Shanter" was produced on this occasion, and was first published in "Grose's Antiquities of Scotland." The poem is founded on a traditional story. The leading circumstances of a man riding home very late from Ayr, in a stormy night, his seeing a light in Alloway Kirk, his having the curiosity to look in, his seeing a dance of witches, with the devil playing on the bag-pipe to them, the scanty covering of one of the witches, which made him so far forget himself as to cry-" Weel loupen, short sark!"-with the melancholy catastrophe of the piece; it is all a true story, that can be well attested by many respectable old people in that neighbourhood. I do not at present recollect any circumstances respecting the other poems, that could be at all interesting; even some of those have mentioned, I am afraid, may appear trifling enough, but you will only make use of what appears to you of consequence. The following poems in the first Edinburgh edition were not in that published in Kilmarnock. "Death and Dr Hornbook; "The Brigs of Ayr," "The Calf ;” (the poet had been with Mr Gavin Hamilton in the morning, who said jocularly to him when he was going to church, in allusion to the injunction of some parents to their children, that he must be sure to bring a note of the sermon at mid-day; this address to the Reverend Gentleman on his text was accordingly produced ;) "The Ordination;" The Address to the Unco Guid;" "Tam Samson's Elegy;" "A Winter Night;""Stanzas on the same occasion as the preceding prayer:" "Verses left at a Reverend Friend's house;" "The first Psalm;"" Prayer under the pressure of violent anguish; "The first six Verses of the ninetieth Psalm;"" Verses to Miss Logan, with Beattie's Poems :" "To a Haggis ;"" Address to Edinburgh;" " John Barleycorn;" "When Guildford Guid;" "Behind yon bills where Stinchar flows;" "Green grow the Rashes;" "Again rejoicing Nature sees;" "The gloomy Night;" "No Churchman am I." If you have never seen the first edition, it will, perhaps, not be amiss to transcribe the preface, that you may see the manner in which the Poet made his first awe-struck approach to the bar of public judgment. Preface to the first Edition of Burns' Poems, published at Kilmarnock. "The following Trifles are not the production of the poet, who with all the advantages of learned art, and perhaps, amid the elegances and idlenesses of upper life, looks down for a rural theme, with an eye to Theocritus or Virgil. To the author of this, these and other celebrated names, their countrymen, are, at least in their original language, “a fountain shut up, and a book sealed." Unacquainted with the necessary requisites for commencing poet by rule, he sings the sentiments and manners, he felt and saw in himself and his rustic compeers around him, in his and their native language. Though a rhymer from his earliest years, at least from the earliest impulses of the softer passions, it was not till very lately that the applause, perhaps the partiality of friendship, awakened his vanity so far as to make him think any thing of his worth showing; and none of the following works were composed with a view to the press. To amuse himself with the little creations of his own fancy, amid the toil and fatigues of a laborious life; to transcribe the various feelings, the loves, the griefs, the hopes, the fears, in his own breast: to find some kind of counterpoise to the struggles of a world, always an alien scene, a task uncouth to the poetical mind-these were his motives for courting the muses, and in these he found poetry to be its own reward." "Now that he appears in the public character of an author, he does it with fear and trembling. So dear is fame to the rhyming tribe, that even he, an obscure, nameless Bard, shrinks aghast at the thought of being branded as an impertinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense on the world; and, because he can make a shift to jingle a few doggerel Scotch rhymes together, looking upon himself as a poet of no small consequence forsooth! "It is an observation of that celebrated poet Shenstone, whose divine elegies do honour to our language, our nation, and our species, that Humility has depressed many a genius to a hermit, but never raised one to fame! If any critic catches at the word "genius,” the author tells him once for all, that he certainly looks upon himself as possessed of some poetic abili ties, otherwise his publishing in the manner he has done, would be a manoeuvre below the self; the muse, as he himself inf rms us, found him at the plough. In this si aation, it was necessary to fix his verses on his memory, and it was often many days, nay weeks, after a poem was finished, before it was written down. During all this time, by frequent re worst character, which he hopes his worst I enemy will ever give him. But to the genius of a Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings of the poor unfortunate Fergusson, he, with equal unaffected sincerity, declares, that even in his highest pulse of vanity, he has not the most distant pretensions. These two justly admir-petition, the association between the thought ed Scotch poets he has often had in his eye in the following pieces; but rather with a view to kindle at their flame, than for servile imitation. " "To his Subscribers the Author returns his most sincere thanks. Not the mercenary bow over a counter, but the heart-throbbing gratitude of the bard, conscious how much he owes to benevolence and friendship, for gratifying him, if he deserves it, in that dearest wish of every poetic bosom-to be distinguished. He begs his readers, particularly the learned and the polite, who may honour him with a perusal, that they will make every allowance for education and circumstances of life; but, if after a fair, candid, and impartial criticism, he shall stand convicted of dulness and non sense, lets him be done by as he would in that case do by others-let him be condemned, without mercy, to contempt and oblivion." I am, dear Sir, DR CURRIE, Liverpool. To this history of the poems which are contained in this volume, it may be added, that our author appears to have made little alteration in them after their original composition, except in some few instances, where considerable additions have been introduced. After he had attracted the notice of the public by his first edition, various criticisms were offered him on the peculiarities of his style, as well as of his sentiments, and some of these which remain among his manuscripts, are by persons of great taste and judgment. Some few of these criticisms he adopted, but the far greater part he rejected; and, though something has by this means been lost in point of delicacy and correctness, yet a deeper impression is left of the strength and originality of his genius. The firmness of our poet's character, arising from a just confidence in his own powers, may, in part, explain his tenaciousness of his peculiar expressions; but it may be in some degree accounted for also, by the circumstances under which the poems were composed. Burns did not, like men of genius born under happier auspices, retire, in the moment of inspiration, to the silence and solitude of his study, and commit his verses to paper as they arranged themselves in his mind. Fortune did not afford him this indulgence. It was during the toils of daily labour that his fancy exerted it and the expression was confirmed, and the impartiality of taste with which written language is reviewed and retouched after it has faded on the memory, could not in such instances be exerted. The original manuscripts of many of his poems are preserved, and they differ in nothing material from the last printed edition. Some few variations may be noticed. In The Author's earnest Cry and Prayer, after the stanza, p. 93, beginning, Erskine, a spunkie Norland Billie, there appears, in his book of manuscripts, the following : Thee, sodger Hugh, my watchman stented Sodger Hugh is evidently the present Earl of Eglinton, then Colonel Montgomery of Coilsfield, and representing in Parliament the county of Ayr. Why this was left out in printing, does not appear. The noble Earl will not be sorry to see this notice of him, familiar though it be, by a bard whose genius he admired, and whose fate he lamented. 2. In The Address to the Deil, the seventh stanza, in page 49, ran originally thus: Lang syne in Eden's happy scene, When strappin' Adam's days were green, And Eve was like my bonnie Jean, My dearest part, A dancin', sweet, young, handsome quean, 3. In The Elegy on Poor Mailie, the second stanza, in page 105, beginning, She was nae get o' moorland tips, She was the flower o' Fairlie lambs, Now Robin, greetin, chows the hams O' Mailie dead. It were a pity that the Fairlie lambs should lose the honour once intended them. 4. But the chief variations are found in the poems introduced, for the first time, in the edition in two volumes small octavo, published in 1792. Of the poem written in Friars Carse Hermitage there are several editions, |