The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 196

Lx.x.x.

TO MISS MARGARET CHALMERS.

(NOW MRS. HAY.)

[To Margaret Chalmers, the youngest daughter of James Chalmers, Esq., of Fingland, it is said that Burns confided his affection to Charlotte Hamilton: his letters to Miss Chalmers, like those to Mrs. Dunlop, are distinguished for their good sense and delicacy as well as freedom.]

_Sept. 26, 1787._

I send Charlotte the first number of the songs; I would not wait for the second number; I hate delays in little marks of friends.h.i.+p, as I hate dissimulation in the language of the heart. I am determined to pay Charlotte a poetic compliment, if I could hit on some glorious old Scotch air, in number second.[179] You will see a small attempt on a shred of paper in the book: but though Dr. Blacklock commended it very highly, I am not just satisfied with it myself. I intend to make it a description of some kind: the whining cant of love, except in real pa.s.sion, and by a masterly hand, is to me as insufferable as the preaching cant of old Father Smeaton, whig-minister at Kilmaurs.

Darts, flames, cupids, loves, graces, and all that farrago, are just a Mauchline * * * * a senseless rabble.

I got an excellent poetic epistle yesternight from the old, venerable author of "Tullochgorum," "John of Badenyon," &c. I suppose you know he is a clergyman. It is by far the finest poetic compliment I ever got. I will send you a copy of it.

I go on Thursday or Friday to Dumfries, to wait on Mr. Miller about his farms.--Do tell that to Lady Mackenzie, that she may give me credit for a little wisdom. "I Wisdom dwell with Prudence." What a blessed fire-side! How happy should I be to pa.s.s a winter evening under their venerable roof! and smoke a pipe of tobacco, or drink water-gruel with them! What solemn, lengthened, laughter-quas.h.i.+ng gravity of phiz! What sage remarks on the good-for-nothing sons and daughters of indiscretion and folly! And what frugal lessons, as we straitened the fire-side circle, on the uses of the poker and tongs!

Miss N. is very well, and begs to be remembered in the old way to you.

I used all my eloquence, all the persuasive flourishes of the hand, and heart-melting modulation of periods in my power, to urge her out to Harvieston, but all in vain. My rhetoric seems quite to have lost its effect on the lovely half of mankind. I have seen the day--but that is a "tale of other years."--In my conscience I believe that my heart has been so oft on fire that it is absolutely vitrified. I look on the s.e.x with something like the admiration with which I regard the starry sky in a frosty December night. I admire the beauty of the Creator's workmans.h.i.+p; I am charmed with the wild but graceful eccentricity of their motions, and--wish them good night. I mean this with respect to a certain pa.s.sion _dont j'ai eu l'honneur d'etre un miserable esclave_: as for friends.h.i.+p, you and Charlotte have given me pleasure, permanent pleasure, "which the world cannot give, nor take away," I hope; and which will outlast the heavens and the earth.

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 179: Of the Scots Musical Museum]

Lx.x.xI.

TO MISS MARGARET CHALMERS.

[That fine song, "The Banks of the Devon," dedicated to the charms of Charlotte Hamilton, was enclosed in the following letter.]

_Without date._

I have been at Dumfries, and at one visit more shall be decided about a farm in that country. I am rather hopeless in it; but as my brother is an excellent farmer, and is, besides, an exceedingly prudent, sober man (qualities which are only a younger brother's fortune in our family), I am determined, if my Dumfries business fail me, to return into partners.h.i.+p with him, and at our leisure take another farm in the neighbourhood.

I a.s.sure you I look for high compliments from you and Charlotte on this very sage instance of my unfathomable, incomprehensible wisdom.

Talking of Charlotte, I must tell her that I have, to the best of my power, paid her a poetic compliment, now completed. The air is admirable: true old Highland. It was the tune of a Gaelic song, which an Inverness lady sung me when I was there; and I was so charmed with it that I begged her to write me a set of it from her singing; for it had never been set before. I am fixed that it shall go in Johnson's next number; so Charlotte and you need not spend your precious time in contradicting me. I won't say the poetry is first-rate; though I am convinced it is very well; and, what is not always the case with compliments to ladies, it is not only sincere, but just.

R. B.

Lx.x.xII.

TO JAMES HOY, ESQ.

GORDON CASTLE

[James Hoy, librarian of Gordon Castle, was, it is said, the gentleman whom his grace of Gordon sent with a message inviting in vain that "obstinate son of Latin prose," Nicol, to stop and enjoy himself.]

_Edinburgh, 20th October_, 1787.

SIR,

I will defend my conduct in giving you this trouble, on the best of Christian principles--"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them."--I shall certainly, among my legacies, leave my latest curse to that unlucky predicament which hurried--tore me away from Castle Gordon. May that obstinate son of Latin prose [Nicol] be curst to Scotch mile periods, and d.a.m.ned to seven league paragraphs; while Declension and Conjugation, Gender, Number, and Time, under the ragged banners of Dissonance and Disarrangement, eternally rank against him in hostile array.

Allow me, Sir, to strengthen the small claim I have to your acquaintance, by the following request. An engraver, James Johnson, in Edinburgh, has, not from mercenary views, but from an honest, Scotch enthusiasm, set about collecting all our native songs and setting them to music; particularly those that have never been set before. Clarke, the well known musician, presides over the musical arrangement, and Drs. Beattie and Blacklock, Mr. Tytler, of Woodhouselee, and your humble servant to the utmost of his small power, a.s.sist in collecting the old poetry, or sometimes for a fine air make a stanza, when it has no words. The brats, too tedious to mention, claim a parental pang from my bards.h.i.+p. I suppose it will appear in Johnson's second number--the first was published before my acquaintance with him. My request is--"Cauld Kail in Aberdeen," is one intended for this number, and I beg a copy of his Grace of Gordon's words to it, which you were so kind as to repeat to me. You may be sure we won't prefix the author's name, except you like, though I look on it as no small merit to this work that the names of many of the authors of our old Scotch songs, names almost forgotten, will be inserted.

I do not well know where to write to you--I rather write at you; but if you will be so obliging, immediately on receipt of this, as to write me a few lines, I shall perhaps pay you in kind, though not in quality. Johnson's terms are:--each number a handsome pocket volume, to consist at least of a hundred Scotch songs, with ba.s.ses for the harpsichord, &c. The price to subscribers 5s.; to non-subscribers 6s.

He will have three numbers I conjecture.

My direction for two or three weeks will be at Mr. William Cruikshank's, St. James's-square, New-town, Edinburgh.

I am,

Sir,

Your's to command,

R. B.

Lx.x.xIII.

TO REV. JOHN SKINNER.

[The songs of "Tullochgorum," and "John of Badenyon," have made the name of Skinner dear to all lovers of Scottish verse: he was a man cheerful and pious, nor did the family talent expire with him: his son became Bishop of Aberdeen.]

_Edinburgh, October 25,_ 1787.

REVEREND AND VENERABLE SIR,