By far the most agreeable hours I spend For the honour Miss W. has done me, in Edinburgh must be placed to the ac- please, Sir, return her, in my name, my count of Miss Lowrie and her piano-forte. most grateful thanks. I have more than I cannot help repeating to you and Mrs. once thought of paying her in kind, but Lowrie a compliment that Mr. Macken- have hitherto quitted the idea in hopeless zie, the celebrated "Man of Feeling," despondency. I had never before heard paid to Miss Lowrie, the other night, at of her; but the other day I got her po the concert. I had come in at the inter-ems, which, for several reasons, some belude, and sat down by him, till I saw Miss longing to the head, and others the offLowrie in a seat not very far distant, and spring of the heart, gave me a great dea. went up to pay my respects to her. On of pleasure. I have little pretensions to my return to Mr. Mackenzie, he asked critic lore: there are, I think, two cha me who she was; I told him 'twas the racteristic features in her poetry-the undaughter of a reverend friend of mine in fettered wild flight of native genius, and the west country. He returned, There the querulous, sombre tenderness of timewas something very striking, to his idea, settled sorrow. in her appearance. On my desiring to know what it was, he was pleased to say, "She has a great deal of the elegance of a well-bred lady about her, with all the sweet simplicity of a country-girl." PARDON my seeming neglect in delaying so long to acknowledge the honour you have done me, in your kind notice of me, January 23d. Not many months ago, I knew no other employment than following the plough, nor could boast any thing higher than a distant acquaintance with a country clergyman. Mere greatness never embarrasses me; I have nothing to ask from the great, and I do not fear their judgment; but genius, polished by learning, and at its proper point of elevation in the eye of the world, this of late I frequently meet with, and tremble at its approach. I scorn the affectation of seeming modesty to cover self-conceit. That I have some merit, I do not deny; but I see, with frequent wringings of heart, that the novelty of my character, and the honest national prejudice of my countrymen, have borne me to a height altogether untenable to my abilities. I only know what pleases me, often without being able to tell why. No. XVI. FROM DR. MOORE. Clifford-Street, 28th February, 1787. DEAR SIR, YOUR letter of the 15th gave me a great deal of pleasure. It is not surpri sing that you improve in correctness and taste, considering where you have been for some time past. And I dare swear there is no danger of your admitting any polish which might weaken the vigour of your native powers. I am glad to perceive that you disdain the nauseous affectation of decrying your own merit as a poet, an affectation which is displayed with most ostentation by those who have the greatest share of self-conceit, and which only adds undeceiving falsehood to disgusting vanity. For you to deny the merit of your poems, would be arraigning the fixed opinion of the public. As the new edition of my View of Society is not yet ready, I have sent you the former edition, which I beg you will ac cept as a small mark of my esteem. It is sent by sea to the care of Mr. Creech; and along with these four volumes for yourself, I have also sent my Medical Sketches, in one volume, for my friend Mrs. Dunlop, of Dunlop: this you will be so obliging as to transmit, or, if you chance to pass soon by Dunlop, to give to her. I am happy to hear that your subscrip- has not in some other instances always tion is so ample, and shall rejoice at eve-been the case with me, the weight of the obligation is a pleasing load. I trust I have a heart as independent as your Lordship's, than which I can say nothing more: And I would not be beholden to favours that would crucify my feelings. Your dignified character in life, and manner of supporting that character, are flattering to my pride; and I would be jealous of the purity of my grateful attachment where I was under the patronage of one of the much-favoured sons of fortune. ry piece of good fortune that befalls you, for you are a very great favourite in my family; and this is a higher compliment than, perhaps, you are aware of. It includes almost all the professions, and, of course, is a proof that your writings are adapted to various tastes and situations. My youngest son, who is at Winchester School, writes to me that he is translating some stanzas of your Hallow E'en into Latin verse, for the benefit of his comrades. This union of taste partly proceeds, no doubt, from the cement of Scottish partiality, with which they are all somewhat tinctured. Even your translator, who left Scotland too early in life for recollection, is not without it. I remain, with great sincerity, Almost every poet has celebrated his patrons, particularly when they were names dear to fame, and illustrious in their country; allow me, then, my Lord, if you think the verses have intrinsic merit, to tell the world how much I have the honour to be, Your Lordship's highly indebted, and ever grateful humble servant. I WANTED to purchase a profile of your Lordship, which I was told was to be got in town: but I am truly sorry to see that a blundering painter has spoiled a "human face divine." The enclosed stanzas I intended to have written below a picture or profile of your Lordship, could I have been so happy as to procure one with any thing of a likeness. No. XVIII. TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN. MY LORD, THE honour your Lordship has done me, by your notice and advice in yours of the 1st instant, I shall ever gratefully remember: "Praise from thy lips 'tis mine with joy to boast, They best can give it who deserve it most." Scottish scenes. Your Lordship touches the darling chord of my heart, when you advise me to fire my muse at Scottish story and I wish for nothing more than to make a leisurely, pilgrimage through my native country: to sit and As I will soon return to my shades, I muse on those once hard-contended fields wanted to have something like a material where Caledonia, rejoicing, saw her object for my gratitude; I wanted to have bloody lion borne through broken ranks it in my power to say to a friend, There to victory and fame; and catching the inis my noble patron, my generous benefac-spiration, to pour the deathless names in But, my Lord, in the midst of tor. Allow me, my Lord, to publish these verses. I conjure your Lordship, by the these enthusiastic reveries, a long-visahonest throe of gratitude, by the generous ged, dry, moral-looking phantom strides wish of benevolence, by all the powers across my imagination, and pronounces and feelings which compose the magnanithese emphatic words: mous mind, do not deny me this petition.* I owe much to your Lordship; and, what song. "I wisdom, dwell with prudence. Friend I do not come to open the ill-closed wounds of your follies and misfortunes, merely to give you pain; I wish through these wounds to imprint a lasting lesson on your heart. I will not mention how many of my salutary advices you have despised; I have given you line upon line, and precept upon precept; and while I was chalking out to you the straight way to wealth and character, with audacious effrontery, you have zig-zagged across the path, contemning me to my face; you know the consequences. It is not yet three months since home was so hot for you, that you were on the wing for the western shore of the Atlantic, not to make a fortune, but to hide your misfor tune. Session-house within the Kirk of Ca- SEDERUNT OF THE MANAGERS OF THE KIRK unknown. WHICH day, the treasurer to the said funds produced a letter from Mr. Robert Burns, of date the sixth current, which was read, and appointed to be engrossed in their sederunt-book, and of which letter the tenor follows: "To the Honourable Bailies of Canongate, Edinburgh. Gentlemen, I am sorry to be told, that the re"Now that your dear-loved Scotia puts it in your power to return to the situation mains of Robert Fergusson, the so justly of your forefathers, will you follow these celebrated poet, a man whose talents, for Will-o'-Wisp meteors of fancy and whim, ages to come, will do honour to our Catill they bring you once more to the brinkledonian name, lie in your church-yard, of ruin? I grant that the utmost ground among the ignoble dead, unnoticed and you can occupy is but half a step from the veriest poverty; but still it is half a step from it. If all that I can urge be ineffectual, let her who seldom calls to you in vain, let the call of pride, prevail with you. You know how you feel at the iron grip of ruthless oppression: you know how you bear the galling sneer of contumelious greatness. I hold you out the conveniences, the comforts of life, independence and character, on the one hand; I tender you servility, dependence, and wretchedness, on the other, I will not insult your understanding by bidding you make a choice."* This, my Lord, is unanswerable. I must return to my humble station, and woo my rustic muse in my wonted way at the plough-tail. Still, my Lord, while the drops of life warm my heart, gratitude to that dear loved country in which I boast my birth, and gratitude to those her distinguished sons, who have honoured me so much with their patronage and approbation, shall while stealing through my humble shades, ever distend my bosom, and at times, as now, draw forth the swelling tear. the lovers of Scottish Song, when they "Some memorial to direct the steps of wish to shed a tear, over the 'narrow house' of the bard who is no more, is surely a tribute due to Fergusson's memory; a tribute I wish to have the honour of paying. "I petition you, then, gentlemen, to permit me to lay a simple stone over his revered ashes, to remain an unalienable the honour to be, Gentlemen, your very property to his deathless fame. I have humble servant, (sic subscribitur,) "ROBERT BURNS." Thereafter the said managers, in consideration of the laudable and disinterested motion of Mr. Burns, and the propriety of his request, did and hereby do, unanimously, grant power and liberty to the said Robert Burns to erect a headstone at the grave of the said Robert Fergusson, and to keep up and preserve the same to his memory in all time coming. Extracted forth of the records of the ma nagers, by WILLIAM SPROT, Clerk received so many repeated instances of kindness from you, and yet never putting pen to paper to say-thank you; but if you knew what a devil of a life my conscience has led me on that account, your good heart would think yourself too much avenged. By the by, there is nothing in the whole frame of man which seems to me so unaccountable as that thing called conscience. Had the troublesome, yelping cur powers efficient to prevent a mischief, he might be of use; but at the beginning of the business, his feeble efforts are to the workings of passion as the infant frosts of an autumnal morning to the unclouded fervour of the rising sun: and no sooner are the tumultuous doings of the wicked deed over, than, amidst the bitter native consequences of folly in the very vortex of our horrors, up starts conscience, and harrows us with the feelings of the d*****. shall know, in this world. But I must not speak all I think of him, lest I should be thought partial. So you have obtained liberty from the magistrates to crect a stone over Fergusson's grave? I do not doubt it; such things have been, as Shakspeare says, "in the olden time:" "The poet's fate is here in emblem shown, He ask'd for bread, and he receiv'd a stone." It is, I believe, upon poor Butler's tomb that this is written. But how many brothers of Parnassus, as well as poor Butler and poor Fergusson, have asked for bread, and been served the same sauce! The magistrates gave you liberty, did they? O generous magistrates! * * * * *** celebrated over the three kingdoms for his public spirit, gives a poor poet liberty to raise a tomb to a poor poet's memory! most generous! **** upon a time gave that same poet the mighty sum of eighteen pence for a copy of his works. But then it must be considered that the poet was at this time absolutely starving, and besought his aid once The Inscription of the stone is as follows: with all the earnestness of hunger; and HERE LIES ROBERT FERGUSSON, POET, Born, September 5th, 1751-Died, 16th October, 1774. No sculptur'd Marble here, nor pompous lay, "No storied urn nor animated bust ;" This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her Poet's dust. On the other side of the Stone is as follows: "By special grant of the Managers to Robert Burns, who erected this stone, this burial place is to remain for ever sacred to the memory of Robert Fergusson." No. XXI. Extract of a Letter from 8th March, 1787. I AM truly happy to know that you have found a friend in * ** * ** *; his patronage of you does him great honour. He is truly a good man; by far the best I ever knew, or, perhaps, ever over and above, he received a **** worth, at least one third of the value, in exchange, but which, I believe, the poet afterwards very ungratefully expunged. the Dutchess of Next week I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in Edinburgh; and as my stay will be for eight or ten days, I wish you or **** would take a snug wellaired bed-room for me, where I may have the pleasure of seeing you over a morning cup of tea. But, by all accounts, it will be a matter of some difficulty to see you at all, unless your company is bespoke a week before-hand. There is a great rumour here concerning your great intimacy with -, and other ladies of distinction. I am really told that "cards to invite fly by thousands each night;" and, if you had one, I suppose there would also be "bribes to your old secretary." It seems you are resolved to make hay while the sun shines, and avoid, if possible, the fate of poor Fergusson, ***** Quærenda pecunia primum est, virtus post nummos, is a good maxim to thrive by; you seemed to despise it while in this country; but probably some philosopher in Edinburgh has taught you better sense. Pray, are you yet engraving as well as for whicn, heaven knows! I am unfit printing? Are you yet seized I READ your letter with watery eyes. A little, very little while ago, I had scarce a friend but the stubborn pride of my own bosom; now I am distinguished, patronised, befriended by you. Your friendly advices, I will not give them the cold name of criticisms, I receive with reverence. I have made some small alterations in what I before had printed. I have the advice of some very judicious friends among the literati here, but with them I sometimes find it necessary to claim the privilege of thinking for myself. The noble Earl of Glencairn, to whom I owe more than to any man, does me the honour of giving me his strictures; his hints, with respect to impropriety or indelicacy, I follow implicitly. You kindly interest yourself in my future views and prospects: there I can give you no light :-it is all "Dark as was chaos, ere the infant sun The appellation of a Scottish bard is by far my highest pride; to continue to deserve it, is my most exalted ambition. Scottish scenes and Scottish story are the themes I could wish to sing. I have no dearer aim than to have it in my power, unplagued with the routine of business, enough, to make leisurely pilgrimages through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles; to wander on the romantic banks of her rivers; and to muse by the stately towers or venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes. But these are all Utopian thoughts: I have dallied long enough with life; 'tis time to be in earnest. I have a fond, an aged mother to care for; and some other bosom ties perhaps equally tender. Where the individual only suffers by the consequences of his own thoughtlessness, indolence, or folly, he may be excusable; nay, shining abilities, and some of the nobler virtues may half-sanctify a heedless character: but where God and nature have intrusted the welfare of others to his care, where the trust is sacred, and the ties are dear, that man must be far gone in selfishness, or strangely lost to reflection, whom these connexions will not rouse to exertion. I guess that I shall clear between two and three hundred pounds by my authorship with that sum I intend, so far as I may be said to have any intention, to return to my old acquaintance, the plough; and if I can meet with a lease by which I can live, to commence farmer. I do not intend to give up poetry: being bred to labour secures me independence; and the muses are my chief, sometimes have been my only employment. If my practice second my resolution, I shall have princi pally at heart the serious business of life; but, while following my plough, or building up my shocks, I shall cast a leisure glance to that dear, that only feature of my character, which gave me the notice Wallace. of my country, and the patronage of a Thus, honoured Madam, I have given you the bard, his situation, and his views, native as they are in his own bosom. No. XXIII. TO THE SAME. The above extract is from a letter of one of the ablest of ourPoet's correspondents, which contains some interesting anecdotes of Fergusson, that we should have been happy to have inserted, if they could have been authenticated. The writer is mistaken in supposing the magistrates of Edinburgh had any share in the transaction respecting the monument erected for Fergusson by our bard; this, it is evident, passed between Burns and the Kirk-Session of the Canongate. Neither at Edinburgh nor any where else, do magistrates usually trouble themselves to inquire how the house of a poor poet is furnished, or how his grave is adorned. E. which I dislike. MADAM, Edinburgh, 15th April, 1787. * THERE is an affectation of gratitude The periods of Johnson |