Delphi Complete Works of Robert Burns (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

by Robert Burns

  IX. — TO HIS COUSIN, MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE.

  LOCHLIE, 21st June, 1783.

  DEAR SIR, — My father received your favour of the both current, and as he has been for some months very poorly in health, and is in his own opinion (and, indeed, in almost every body’s else) in a dying condition, he has only, with great difficulty, written a few farewell lines to each of his brothers-in-law. For this melancholy reason, I now hold the pen for him to thank you for your kind letter, and to assure you, Sir, that it shall not be my fault if my father’s correspondence in the north die with him. My brother writes to John Caird,6 and to him I must refer you for the news of our family.

  I shall only trouble you with a few particulars relative to the wretched state of this country. Our markets are exceedingly high; oatmeal 17d. and 18d. per peck, and not to be got even at that price. We have indeed been pretty well supplied with quantities of white peas from England and elsewhere, but that resource is likely to fail us, and what will become of us then, particularly the very poorest sort, Heaven only knows. This country, till of late, was flourishing incredibly in the manufacture of silk, lawn, and carpet-weaving; and we are still carrying on a good deal in that way, but much reduced from what it was. We had also a fine trade in the shoe way, but now entirely ruined, and hundreds driven to a starving condition on account of it. Farming is also at a very low ebb with us. Our lands, generally speaking, are mountainous and barren; and our land-holders, full of ideas of farming gathered from the English and the Lothians, and other rich soils in Scotland, make no allowance for the odds of the quality of land, and consequently stretch us much beyond what in the event we will be found able to pay. We are also much at a loss for want of proper methods in our improvements of farming. Necessity compels us to leave our old schemes, and few of us have opportunities of being well informed in new ones. In short, my dear Sir, since the unfortunate beginning of this American war, and its as unfortunate conclusion, this country has been, and still is, decaying very fast. Even in higher life, a couple of Ayrshire noblemen, and the major part of our knights and squires, are all insolvent. A miserable job of a Douglas, Heron & Co.’s bank, which no doubt you have heard of, has undone numbers of them; and imitating English and French, and other foreign luxuries and fopperies, has ruined as many more. There is a great trade of smuggling carried on along our coasts, which, however destructive to the interests of the kingdom at large, certainly enriches this corner of it, but too often at the expense of our morals. However, it enables individuals to make, at least for a time, a splendid appearance; but Fortune, as is usual with her when she is uncommonly lavish of her favours, is generally even with them at last; and happy were it for numbers of them if she would leave them no worse than when she found them.

  My mother sends you a small present of a cheese; ‘tis but a very little one, as our last year’s stock is sold off; but if you could fix on any correspondent in Edinburgh or Glasgow, we would send you a proper one in the season. Mrs. Black promises to take the cheese under her care so far, and then to send it to you by the Stirling carrier.

  I shall conclude this long letter with assuring you that I shall be very happy to hear from you, or any of our friends in your country, when opportunity serves.

  My father sends you, probably for the last time in this world, his warmest wishes for your welfare and happiness; and my mother and the rest of the family desire to inclose their kind compliments to you, Mrs. Burness, and the rest of your family, along with those of, dear Sir, your affectionate cousin,

  6 The writer’s uncle.

  Detailed Table of Contents for the letters

  X. — TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE.

  LOCHLIE, 17th Feb. 1784.

  DEAR COUSIN, — I would have returned you my thanks for your kind favour of the 13th of December sooner, had it not been that I waited to give you an account of that melancholy event, which, for some time past, we have from day to day expected.

  On the 13th current I lost the best of fathers. Though, to be sure, we have had long warning of the impending stroke, still the feelings of nature claim their part, and I cannot recollect the tender endearments and parental lessons of the best of friends and ablest of instructors, without feeling what perhaps the calmer dictates of reason would partly condemn.

  I hope my father’s friends in your country will not let their connection in this place die with him. For my part I shall ever with pleasure — with pride, acknowledge my connection with those who were allied by the ties of blood and friendship to a man whose memory I shall ever honour and revere.

  I expect, therefore, my dear Sir, you will not neglect any opportunity of letting me hear from you, which will very much oblige, — My dear Cousin, yours sincerely,

  ROBERT BURNESS.

  Detailed Table of Contents for the letters

  XI. — TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE.

  MOSSGIEL, 3rd August 1784.

  MY DEAR SIR, — I ought in gratitude to have acknowledged the receipt of your last kind letter before this time, but, without troubling you with any apology, I shall proceed to inform you that our family are all in good health at present, and we were very happy with the unexpected favour of John Caird’s6a company for nearly two weeks, and I must say it of him that he is one of the most agreeable, facetious, warm-hearted lads I was ever acquainted with.

  We have been surprised with one of the most extraordinary phenomena in the moral world, which, I dare say, has happened in the course of this half century. We have had a party of Presbytery relief, as they call themselves, for some time in this country. A pretty thriving society of them has been in the burgh of Irvine for some years past, till about two years ago a Mrs. Buchan from Glasgow came among them, and began to spread some fanatical notions of religion among them, and in a short time made many converts; and among others their preacher, Mr. Whyte, who, upon that account, has been suspended and formally deposed by his brethren. He continued, however, to preach in private to his party, and was supported, both he, and their spiritual mother, as they affect to call old Buchan, by the contributions of the rest, several of whom were in good circumstances; till, in spring last, the populace rose and mobbed Mrs. Buchan, and put her out of the town; on which all her followers voluntarily quitted the place likewise, and with such precipitation that many of them never shut their doors behind them; one left a washing on the green, another a cow bellowing at the crib without food or anybody to mind her, and after several stages they are fixed at present in the neighbourhood of Dumfries. Their tenets are a strange jumble of enthusiastic jargon; among others, she pretends to give them the Holy Ghost by breathing on them, which she does with postures and practices that are scandalously indecent; they have likewise disposed of all their effects, and hold a community of goods, and live nearly an idle life, carrying on a great farce of pretended devotion in barns and woods, where they lodge and lie all together, and hold likewise a community of women, as it is another of their tenets that they can commit no moral sin. I am personally acquainted with most of them, and I can assure you the above mentioned are facts.

  This, my dear Sir, is one of the many instances of the folly of leaving the guidance of sound reason and common sense in matters of religion.

  Whenever we neglect or despise these sacred monitors, the whimsical notions of a perturbated brain are taken for the immediate influences of the Deity, and the wildest fanaticism, and the most inconsistent absurdities, will meet with abetters and converts. Nay, I have often thought, that the more out-of-the-way and ridiculous the fancies are, if once they are sanctified under the sacred name of religion, the unhappy mistaken votaries are the more firmly glued to them.

  I expect to hear from you soon, and I beg you will remember me to all friends, and believe me to be, my dear Sir, your affectionate cousin,

  ROBERT BURNESS.

  P.S. — Direct to me at Mossgiel, parish of Mauchline, near Kilmarnock.

  6a Probably John Caird, junior, as the father woul
d be over sixty if he was about his wife’s age, and she, Elspat Burnes, was born, we know, in 1725.

  Detailed Table of Contents for the letters

  XII. — TO THOMAS ORR, PARK, KIRKOSWALD.

  DEAR THOMAS, — I am much obliged to you for your last letter, though I assure you the contents of it gave me no manner of concern. I am presently so cursedly taken in with an affair of gallantry that I am very glad Peggy7 is off my hand, as I am at present embarrassed enough7a without her. I don’t choose to enter into particulars in writing, but never was a poor rakish rascal in a more pitiful taking. I should be glad to see you to tell you the affair. — Meanwhile I am your friend, ROBERT BURNESS.

  MOSSGAVIL, 11th Nov. 1784.

  7 Peggy Thomson.

  7a Birth of his illegitimate child by Elizabeth Paton, once a servant with his father at Lochlie.

  Detailed Table of Contents for the letters

  XIII. — TO MISS MARGARET KENNEDY.8

  [A young lady of seventeen, when this letter was addressed to her, and on a visit to Mrs. Gavin Hamilton at Mauchline.]

  [Probably Autumn, 1785.]

  MADAM, — Permit me to present you with the enclosed song as a small though grateful tribute for the honour of your acquaintance. I have in these verses attempted some faint sketch of your portrait in the unembellished simple manner of descriptive truth. Flattery I leave to your lovers whose exaggerating fancies may make them imagine you are still nearer perfection than you really are.

  Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly the powers of beauty, — as, if they are really poets of nature’s making, their feelings must be finer and their taste more delicate than most of the world. In the cheerful bloom of spring, or the pensive mildness of autumn, the grandeur of summer, or the hoary majesty of winter, the poet feels a charm unknown to the most of his species. Even the sight of a fine flower, or the company of a fine woman (by far the finest part of God’s works below), has sensations for the poetic heart that the herd of men are strangers to. On this last account, Madam, I am, as in many other things, indebted to Mr. Hamilton’s kindness in introducing me to you. Your lovers may view you with a wish — I look on you with pleasure; their hearts in your presence may glow with desire — mine rises with admiration.

  That the arrows of misfortune, however they should, as incident to humanity, glance a slight wound, may never reach your heart; that the snares of villainy may never beset you in the road of life; that innocence may hand you by the path of honour to the dwelling of peace — is the sincere wish of him who has the honour to be, etc. R. B.

  8 Niece of Sir Andrew Cathcait, of Carleton. A melancholy interest attaches to her subsequent history. Burns’s prayers for her happiness were unavailing.

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  XIV. — TO MISS —— , AYRSHIRE.9

  [1785.]

  MY DEAR COUNTRYWOMAN, — I am so impatient to show you that I am once more at peace with you, that I send you the book I mentioned, directly, rather than wait the uncertain time of my seeing you. I am afraid I have mislaid or lost Collins’s Poems, which I promised to Miss Irvin. If I can find them I will forward them by you; if not, you must apologise for me.

  I know you will laugh at it when I tell you that your piano and you together have played the deuce somehow about my heart. My breast has been widowed these many months, and I thought myself proof against the fascinating witchcraft; but I am afraid you will “feelingly convince me what I am.”. I say, I am afraid, because I am not sure what is the matter with me. I have one miserable bad symptom, — when you whisper, or look kindly to another, it gives me a draught of damnation. I have a kind of wayward wish to be with you ten minutes by yourself, though what I would say, Heaven above knows, for I am sure I know not. I have no formed design in all this; but just, in the nakedness of my heart, write you down a mere matter-of-fact story. You may perhaps give yourself airs of distance on this, and that will completely cure me; but I wish you would not; just let us meet, if you please, in the old beaten way of friendship.

  I will not subscribe myself your humble servant, for that is a phrase, I think, at least fifty miles off from the heart; but I will conclude with sincerely wishing that the Great Protector of innocence may shield you from the barbed dart of calumny, and hand you by the covert snare of deceit. R. B.

  9 Lady unidentified.

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  XV. — TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND, LAW CLERK, EDINBURGH.10

  MOSSGIEL, Feb. 17th, 1786.

  MY DEAR SIR, — I have not time at present to upbraid you for your silence and neglect; I shall only say I received yours with great pleasure. I have enclosed you a piece of rhyming ware for your perusal. I have been very busy with the muses since I saw you, and have composed, among several others, “The Ordination,” a poem on Mr. M’Kinlay’s being called to Kilmarnock; “Scotch Drink,” a poem; “The Cottar’s Saturday Night;” “An Address to the Devil,” etc. I have likewise completed my poem on the “Dogs,” but have not shown it to the world. My chief patron now is Mr. Aikin, in Ayr, who is pleased to express great approbation of my works. Be so good as send me Fergusson11, by Connell, and I will remit you the money. I have no news to acquaint you with about Mauchline, they are just going on in the old way. I have some very important news with respect to myself, not the most agreeable — news that I am sure you cannot guess, but I shall give you the particulars another time. I am extremely happy with Smith;11ahe is the only friend I have now in Mauchline. I can scarcely forgive your long neglect of me, and I beg you will let me hear from you regularly by Connell. If you would act your part as a friend, I am sure neither good nor bad fortune should estrange or alter me. Excuse haste, as I got yours but yesterday. — I am, my dear Sir, yours, ROBERT BURNESS.

  10 Three months before this letter was written Richmond was a clerk in the office of Mr. Gavin Hamilton, writer, Mauchline.

  11 Fergusson’s Poems.

  11a Keeper of a haberdashery store in Mauchline.

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  XVI. — TO MR. JAMES SMITH12, SHOPKEEPER, MAUCHLINE.

  [Spring of 1786.]

  ... Against two things I am fixed as fate, — staying at home, and owning her conjugally. The first, by Heaven, I will not do! — the last, by Hell, I will never do! A good God bless you, and make you happy up to the warmest weeping wish of parting friendship! ... If you see Jean tell her I will meet her, so help me God in my hour of need! R. B.

  12 The confidant of his amour with Jean Armour, daughter of James Armour, mason, Mauchline. Notwithstanding the blustering threat — for which Smith was probably more than half responsible — Burns was afterwards content to “own bonny Jean conjugally.”

  Detailed Table of Contents for the letters

  XVII. — TO MR. ROBERT MUIR, WINE MERCHANT, KlLMARNOCK.

  MOSSGIEL, 20th March, 1786.

  DEAR SIR, — I am heartily sorry I had not the pleasure of seeing you as you returned through Mauchline; but as I was engaged, I could not be in town before the evening.

  I here inclose you my “Scotch Drink,” and “may the deil follow with a blessing for your edification.” I hope, sometime before we hear the gowk, to have the pleasure of seeing you at Kilmarnock, when I intend we shall have a gill between us, in a mutchkin-stoup; which will be a great comfort and consolation to, dear Sir, your humble servant, ROBERT BURNESS.

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  XVIII. — TO MR. JOHN BALLANTINE, BANKER, AYR. (?)

  [April 1786.]

  HONOURED SIR, — My proposals12a came to hand last night, and, knowing that you would wish to have it in your power to do me a service as early as any body, I enclose you half a sheet of them. I must consult you, first opportunity, on the propriety of sending my quondam friend, Mr. Aiken,12b a copy. If he is now reconciled to my character as an honest man, I would do it with all my soul; but I would not be beholden to the noblest being ever God created if he im
agined me to be a rascal. Apropos, old Mr. Armour prevailed with him to mutilate that unlucky paper12c yesterday. Would you believe it? though I had not a hope, nor even a wish to make her mine after her conduct, yet when he told me the names were cut out of the paper, my heart died within me, and he cut my veins with the news. Perdition seize her falsehood! ROBERT BURNS.

  12a Proposals for publishing his Scottish Poems by subscription.

  12bWriter in Ayr.

  12c The written acknowledgment of his marriage which Burns gave to Jean. She, influenced by her father, consented to destroy it.

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  XIX. — TO MR. M’WHINNIE, WRITER, AYR.

  [MOSSGIEL, 17th April 1786.]

  IT is injuring some hearts, those hearts that elegantly bear the impression of the good Creator, to say to them you give them the trouble of obliging a friend; for this reason, I only tell you that I gratify my own feelings in requesting your friendly offices with respect to the enclosed, because I know it will gratify yours to assist me in it to the utmost of your power.

  I have sent you four copies, as I have no less than eight dozen, which is a great deal more than I shall ever need.

  Be sure to remember a poor poet militant in your prayers He looks forward with fear13 and trembling to that, to him, important moment which stamps the die with — with — with, perhaps, the eternal disgrace of, my dear Sir, your humble, afflicted, tormented, ROBERT BURNS.