246 THE CORRESPONDENCE. NOTICE. sionally enlarged his observations, and altered his expressions. In such instances his emendations have been adopted; but in truth there are but five of the letters thus selected by the poet, to be found in the present volume, the rest being thought of inferior merit, or otherwise unfit for the public eye. In printing this volume, the Editor has found some corrections of grammar necessary; but these have been very few, and such as may be supposed to occur in the careless effusions, even of literary characters, who have not been in the habit of carrying their compositions to the press. These corrections have never been extended to any habitual modes of expression of the Poet, even where his phraseology may seem to violate the delicacies of taste; or the idiom of our language, which he wrote in general with great accuracy. Some difference will indeed be found in this respect in his earlier and in his later compositions; and this volume will exhibit the progress of his style, as well as the history of his mind. In this Edition, several new letters were introduced not in Dr. Currie's Edition, and which have been taken from the works of Cromek and the more recent publishers. The series commences with the Bard's Love Letters Or the following letters of Burns, a considerable number were transmitted for publication, by the individuals to whom they were addressed; but very few have been printed entire. It will easily be believed, that in a series of letters written without the least view to publication, various passages were found unfit for the press, from different considerations. It will also be readily supposed, that our Poet, writing nearly at the same time, and under the same feelings to different individuals, would sometimes fall into the same train of sentiment and forms of expression. To avoid, therefore, the tediousness of such repetitions, it has been found necessary to mutilate many of the individual letters, and sometimes to exscind parts of great delicacy-the unbridled effusions of panegyric and regard. But though many of the letters are printed from originals furnished by the persons to whom they were addressed, others are printed from first draughts, or sketches, found among the papers of our Bard. Though in general no man committed his thoughts to his correspondents with less consideration or effort than Burns, yet it appears that in some instances he was dissatisfied with his first essays, and wrote out his communications in a fairer character, or perhaps in more studied language.—the first four being of that description. They In the chaos of his manuscripts, some of the original sketches were found; and as these sketches, though less perfect, are fairly to be considered as the offspring of his mind, where they have seemed in themselves worthy of a place in this volume, and they have been inserted, though they may not always correspond exactly with the letters transmitted, which have been lost or withheld. were omitted from Dr. Currie's Edition: why, has not been explained. They have been held to be sufficiently interesting to be here inserted. He states the issue of the courtship in these terms: -"To crown my distresses, a belle fille whom I adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet me in the field of matrimony, jilted me with peculiar circumstances of mortification." Mr. Lockhart remarks of the letters:-" They are surely Our author appears at one time to have form- as well worth preserving, as many in the Coled an intention of making a collection of his lection; particularly when their early date is letters for the amusement of a friend. Accord- considered."-He then quotes from them largeingly he copied an inconsiderable number of ly, and adds,—“ In such excellent English did them into a book, which he presented to Ro- Burns woo his country maidens, in at most his bert Riddel, of Glenriddel, Esq. Among these 20th year." But we suspect the fault of the was the account of his life, addressed to Dr. English was, that it was too good. It was too Moore, and printed in the Life. In copying coldly correct to suit the taste of the fair maiden: from his imperfect sketches (it does not appear had the wooer used a sprinkling of his native that he had the letters actually sent to his cor- tongue, with a deeper infusion of his constitutionrespondents before him) he seems to have occa-al enthusiasm, he might have had more success. LETTERS, &c. LOVE LETTERS. No. I. (WRITTEN ABOUT THE YEAR 1780.) heartily out of humour with myself, if I though No. II. TO THE SAME. MY DEAR ELIZA, I Do not remember in the course of your ac quaintance and mine, ever to have heard your opinion on the ordinary way of falling in love, amongst people of our station of life: I do not mean the persons who proceed in the way of bargain, but those whose affection is really pla very awkward lover myself, yet as I have some opportunities of observing the conduct of others who are much better skilled in the affair of courtship than I am, I often think it is owing to lucky chance more than to good management, that there are not more unhappy marriages than usually are. I VERILY believe, my dear Eliza, that the pure genuine feelings of love, are as rare in the world as the pure genuine principles of virtue and piety. This, I hope, will account for the ancommon style of all my letters to you. By ancommon, I mean, their being written in such a serious manner, which, to tell you the truth, has made me often afraid lest you should take me for a zealous bigot, who conversed with his mistress as he would converse with his minister. I don't know how it is, my dear; for though, except your company, there is nothing on earth that gives me so much pleasure as writing to you, yet it never gives me those giddy raptures so much talked of among lovers. I have often thought, that if a well-grounded affection be not really a part of virtue, 'tis some-ced on the person. thing extremely a-kin to it. Whenever the Though I be, as you know very well, but thought of my Eliza warms my heart, every feeling of humanity, every principle of generosity, kindles in my breast. It extinguishes every dirty spark of malice and envy, which are but too apt to infest me. I grasp every creature in the arms of universal benevolence, and equally participate in the pleasures of the happy, and sympathise with the miseries of the unfortunate. It is natural for a young fellow to like the I assure you, my dear, I often look up to the acquaintance of the females, and customary for divine Disposer of events, with an eye of gra- him to keep them company when occasion serves; titude for the blessing which I hope he intends some one of them is more agreeable to him than to bestow on me, in bestowing you. I sincere- the rest; there is something, he knows not ly wish that he may bless my endeavours to what, pleases him, he knows not how, in her make your life as comfortable and happy as company. This I take to be what is called love possible, both in sweetening the rougher parts with the greatest part of us, and I must own, of my natural temper, and bettering the un-my dear Eliza, it is a hard game such a one as kindly circumstances of my fortune. This, my you have to play when you meet with such a dear, is a passion, at least in my view, worthy lover. You cannot refuse but he is sincere, and of a man, and I will add, worthy of a Chris- yet though you use him ever so favourably, pertian. The sordid earth-worm may profess love haps in a few months, or at farthest in a year to a woman's person, whilst, in reality, his af- or two, the same unaccountable fancy may make fection is centered in her pocket; and the sla-him as distractedly fond of another, whilst you vish drudge may go a-wooing as he goes to the horse-market, to choose one who is stout and firm, and, as we may say of an old horse, one who will be a good drudge and draw kindly. I disdain their dirty, puny ideas. I would be are quite forgot. I am aware, that perhaps the next time I have the pleasure of seeing you, you may bid me take my own lesson home, and tell me that the passion I have professed for you is perhaps one of those transient flashes I have been describing; but I hope, my dear Eliza, | be performed, if he be villain enough to praeyou will do me the justice to believe me, when tise such detestable conduct : 'but to a man I assure you, that the love I have for you is whose heart glows with the principles of infounded on the sacred principles of virtue and tegrity and truth; and who sincerely loves a honour, and by consequence, so long as you con- woman of amiable person, uncommon refinement tinue possessed of those amiable qualities which of sentiment, and purity of manners—to such a first inspired my passion for you, so long must I one, in such circumstances, I can assure you, continue to love you. Believe me, my dear, it my dear, from my own feelings at this present is love like this alone which can render the mar- moment, courtship is a task indeed. There is ried state happy. People may talk of flames and such a number of foreboding fears, and distrustraptures as long as they please; and a warm ful anxieties crowd into my mind when I am in fancy with a flow of youthful spirits, may make your company, or when I sit down to write to them feel something like what they describe; you, that what to speak or what to write I am but sure I am, the nobler faculties of the mind, altogether at a loss. with kindred feelings of the heart, can only be the foundation of friendship, and it has always been my opinion, that the married life was only friendship in a more exalted degree. There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall invariably keep with you, and that is, honestly to tell you the plain truth. There is something so mean and unIf you will be so good as to grant my wishes, manly in the arts of dissimulation and falsehood, and it should please providence to spare us to that I am surprised they can be used by any one the latest periods of life, I can look forward in so noble, so generous a passion as virtuous and see, that even then, though bent down love. No, my dear Eliza, I shall never endeawith wrinkled age; even then, when all other vour to gain your favour by such detestable worldly circumstances will be indifferent to me, practices. If you will be so good and so gener. I will regard my Eliza with the tenderest affection, and for this plain reason, because she is still possessed of those noble qualities, improved to a much higher degree, which first inspired my affection for her, "O! Lappy state, when souls each other draw, "When love is liberty, and nature law." I know, were I to speak in such a style to many a girl who thinks herself possessed of no small share of sense, she would think it ridiculous---but the language of the heart is, my dear Eliza, the only courtship I shall ever use to you. When I look over what I have written, I am musible it is vastly different from the ordinary style of courtship-but I shall make no apologyl know your good nature will excuse what your good sense may see amias. ous as to admit me for your partner, your com panion, your bosom friend through life; there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts unworthy of a man, and I will add of a Christian. There is one thing, my dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this; that you would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or cure me of my fears by a generous consent. It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when convenient. I shall only add further, that if a behaviour regulated (though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest endeavour to promote your happiness; and if these are qualities you would wish in a friend, in a busband; I hope you shall ever find them in your real friend and sincere lover, No. IIL TO THE SAME. MY DEAR ELIZA, No. IV. TO THE SAME. I OUGHT in good manners to have acknow. ledged the receipt of your letter before this time, I HAVE often thought it a peculiarly un- but my heart was so shocked with the contents mcky circumstance in love, that though, in of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts every other situation in life, telling the truth is so as to write to you on the subject. I will not not only the safest, but actually by far the easi- attempt to describe what I felt on receiving your est way of proceeding, a lover is never under letter. I read it over and over, again and again, greater difficulty in acting, or more puzzled for and though it was in the politest language of reexpression, than when his passion is sincere, fusal, still it was peremptory; 66 you were sorry and his intentions are honourable. I do not you could not make me a return, but you wish think that it is very difficult for a person of or- me" what, without you, I never can obtain, dinary capacity to talk of love and fondness," you wish me all kind of happiness." It would which are not felt, and to make vows of con- be weak and unmanly to say, that without you I stancy and fidelity, which are never intended to never can be happy; but sure I am, that shar ing life with you, would have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I never can taste. pretty well as un homme des affaires, I might have been what the world calls a pushing, acYour uncommon personal advantages, and tive fellow; but, to tell you the truth, Sir, your superior good sense, do not so much strike there is hardly any thing more my reverse. I me; these, possibly in a few instances, may be seem to be one sent into the world to see, and met with in others; but that amiable goodness, observe; and I very easily compound with the that tender feminine softness, that endearing knave who tricks me of my money, if there be sweetness of disposition, with all the charming any thing original about him which shows me offspring of a warm feeling heart-these I never human nature in a different light from any thing again expect to meet with in such a degree in I have seen before. In short, the joy of my this world. All these charming qualities, heigh-heart is to "study men, their manners, and their tened by an education much beyond any thing ways;" and for this darling subject, I cheerI have ever met with in any woman I ever dar-fully sacrifice every other consideration. I am ed to approach, have made an impression on my quite indolent about those great concerns that heart that I do not think the world can ever ef- set the bustling busy sons of care agog; and if face. My imagination has fondly flattered itself I have to answer for the present hour, I am very with a wish, I dare not say it ever reached a easy with regard to any thing further. Even hope, that possibly I might one day call you the last, worst shift of the unfortunate and mine. I had formed the most delightful images, the wretched, does not much terrify me: I know and my fancy fondly brooded over them; but that even then my talent for what country folks now I am wretched for the loss of what I really call "a sensible crack," when once it is sanctihad no right expect. I must now think no fied by a hoary head, would procure me so much more of you as a mistress, still I presume to ask esteem, that even then-I would learn to be to be admitted as a friend. As such I wish to happy. However, I am under no apprehensions be allowed to wait on you, and as I expect to about that; for, though indolent, yet, so far as remove in a few days a little farther off, and you, an extremely delicate constitution permits, I am I suppose, will perhaps soon leave this place, I not lazy; and in many things, especially in tawish to see you or hear from you soon; and if vern matters, I am a strict economist; not inan expression should perhaps escape me rather deed for the sake of the money, but one of the too warm for friendship, I hope you will pardon principal parts in my composition is a kind of it in, my dear Miss (pardon me the dear pride of stomach, and I scorn to fear the face of expression for once.) any man living: above every thing, I abhor as hell, the idea of sneaking in a corner to avoid a dun-possibly some pitiful, sordid wretch, who in my heart I despise and detest. 'Tis this, and this alone, that endears economy to me. In the matter of books, indeed, I am very profuse. My favourite authors are of the sentimental kind, such as Shenstone, particularly his Elegies; Thomson'; Man of Feeling, a book I prize next to the Bible; Man of the World; Sterne, especially his Sentimental Journey; Macpher son's Ossian, &c. These are the glorious models after which I endeavour to form my conduct; and 'tis incogruous, 'tis absurd, to suppose that the man whose mind glows with sentiments lightened up at their sacred flame-the man whose heart distends with benevolence to all the human race-he "who can soar above this little scene of things," can he descend to mind the paltry concerns about which the terrefilial race fret, and fume, and vex themselves? O how the glorious triumph swells my heart! I do not doubt, Sir, but you will wish to forget that I am a poor insignificant devil, unknow what has been the result of all the pains noticed and unknown, stalking up and down of an indulgent father, and a masterly teacher; fairs and markets, when I happen to be in them, and I wish I could gratify your curiosity with reading a page or two of mankind, and "catchsuch a recital as you would be pleased with; ing the manners living as they rise," whilst the but that is what I am afraid will not be the case. men of business jostle me on every side as an I have, indeed, kept pretty clear of vicious ha-idle encumbrance in their way.-But I dare say bits; and in this respect, I hope, my conduct I have by this time tired your patience; so I will not disgrace the education I have gotten; shall conclude with begging you to give Mrs. but as a man of the world, I am most miserably deficient. One would have thought, that bred as I have been, under a father who has figured LETTERS, 1783, 1784. No. V. TO MR. JOHN MURDOCH, SCHOOLMASTER, STAPLES INN BUILDINGS, LONDON. DEAR SIR, Lochlee, 15th January, 1783. As I have an opportunity of sending you a letter, without putting you to that expense which any production of mine would but ill repay, I embrace it with pleasure, to tell you that I have not forgotten, nor ever will forget, the many obligations I lie under to your kindness and friendship. I The last shift alluded to here, must be the condi ion of an itinerant beggar Murdoch-not my compliments, for that is a she repays him with an equal return of affecmere common-place story, but-my warmest, tion. kindest wishes for her welfare; and accept of the same for yourself, from, Dear Sir, No VI. Yours, &c. [THE FOLLOWING IS TAKEN FROM THE MS. PROSE PRESENTED BY OUR BARD TO MR. RIDDEL.] ON rummaging over some old papers, I lighted on a MS. of my early years, in which I had determined to write myself out, as I was placed by fortune among a class of men to whom my ideas would have been nonsense. I had meant that the book should have lain by me, in the fond hope that, some time or other, even after I was no more, my thoughts would fall into the hands of somebody capable of appreciating their value. It sets off thus: Observations, Hints, Songs, Scraps of Poetry, &c. by R. B.-a man who had little art in making money, and still less in keeping it; but was, however, a man of some sense, and a great deal of honesty, and unbounded good-will to every creature, rational and irrational. As he was but little indebted to scholastic education, and bred at a plough-tail, his performances must be strongly tinctured with his unpolished rustic way of life; but as I believe they are really his own, it may be some entertainment to a curious observer of human nature, to see how a ploughman thinks and feels, under the pressure of love, ambition, anxiety, grief, with the like cares and passions, which, however diversified by the modes and manners of life, operate pretty much alike, I believe, on all the species. "There are numbers in the world who do not want sense to make a figure, so much as an opinion of their own abilities, to put them upon recording their observations, and allowing them the same importance which they do to those which appear in print."-SHENSTONE. "Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to trace The forms our pencil, or our pen designed! Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face, Such the soft image of our youthful mind." Ibid. April, 1783. Notwithstanding all that has been said against love, respecting the folly and weakness it leads a young inexperienced mind into; still I think it in a great measure deserves the highest encomiums that have been passed on it. If any thing on earth deserves the name of rapture or transport, it is the feelings of green eighteen, in the company of the mistress of his heart, when August. There is certainly some connection between love, and music, and poetry; and, therefore, I have always thought a fine touch of nature, that passage in a modern love composition: "As tow'rd her cot, he jogg'd along, For my own part, 'I never had the least thought or inclination of turning poet, till I got once heartily in love; and then rhyme and song were, in a manner, the spontaneous language of my heart. September. I entirely agree with that judicious philosopher, Mr. Smith, in his excellent Theory of Moral Sentiments, that remorse is the most painful sentiment that can embitter the human bosom. Any ordinary pitch of fortitude may bear up tolerably well, under those calamities, in the procurement of which we ourselves have had no hand; but when our follies or crimes have made us miserable and wretched, to bear up with manly firmness, and at the same time have a proper penitential sense of our misconduct, is a glorious effort of self-command. Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace, That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish, Beyond comparison the worst are those |