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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c813211 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69284 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69284) diff --git a/old/69284-0.txt b/old/69284-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 92fa792..0000000 --- a/old/69284-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3624 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Essay on Burns, by Thomas Carlyle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Essay on Burns - -Author: Thomas Carlyle - -Contributor: George R. Noyes - -Release Date: November 1, 2022 [eBook #69284] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAY ON BURNS *** - - - - - - - - The Riverside Literature Series - - - - ESSAY ON BURNS - - - BY - - THOMAS CARLYLE - - - EDITED - _WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES_ - BY GEORGE R. NOYES - - - - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY - Boston: 4 Park Street; New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street - Chicago: 158 Adams Street - - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - - - - - Copyright, 1896, - By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. - - _All rights reserved._ - - - _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ - Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. - - - - -{iii} - -INTRODUCTION. - -Carlyle's _Essay on Burns_ was first printed in the _Edinburgh -Review_ for December, 1828. Though in form a review of the _Life of -Robert Burns_, by John Gibson Lockhart, it is really, like many of -the articles in the _Edinburgh Review_, an entirely independent work. -The present art of book reviewing is a creation of our own times. -The English magazines of the eighteenth century were mere publishers' -organs, and are inferior to even second-rate periodicals of our own -day. The book notices in them are comparable to those that we see in -our poorer daily newspapers. The reviewers were usually mere -literary hacks, and were content to give a summary of the contents of -a book, and then pass judgment on it as a whole, meting out praise or -blame in set, formal terms. The foundation of the _Edinburgh -Review_, in 1802, by Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, Brougham, and others, -marks the beginning of a new era in English periodical literature. -The new magazine had for contributors men of marked learning and -originality, leaders in the thought of their time, who were not -satisfied, in reviewing a book, with recording the impression that -any sane man would gather from a casual reading, but took the title -of the book as the text for a thoroughly original treatment of its -subject. Succeeding periodicals, as the _Quarterly_ and -_Blackwood's_, however much they differed from the _Edinburgh_ in -politics and general tendencies, were all affected by its methods. -So it happens that many book reviews in the English magazines, by men -like Carlyle, Macaulay, and Matthew Arnold, have become permanent -additions to literature, sometimes surpassing in interest the works -that occasioned them. - -{iv} - -In the present case, however, the book reviewed continues to be a -standard authority. Its author, John Gibson Lockhart, was born in -1794, at Cambusnethan, about twelve miles southeast of Glasgow. When -_Blackwood's Magazine_ was founded, in 1817, Lockhart became one of -its chief contributors. In 1820 he married the eldest daughter of -Sir Walter Scott. In the years following his marriage he published -several novels, an edition of _Don Quixote_, and his translations of -_Ancient Spanish Ballads_. This last work has never been superseded, -and is often reprinted. In 1826 he became editor of the _Quarterly -Review_, and retained the position until the year before his death, -in 1854. His _Life of Robert Burns_ appeared in 1828, and a _Life of -Napoleon Bonaparte_ in the next year. His greatest work, the _Life -of Scott_, appeared in 1836-38, and by general consent has taken in -English biographical literature a place second only to that of -Boswell's _Life of Johnson_. - -Carlyle was introduced to Lockhart when on a visit to London, in -1832. In his Note Book at that time he calls Lockhart "a precise, -brief, active person of considerable faculty," and confesses that he -"rather liked the man."[1] A month later, in a letter to his -brother, he calls him "not without force, but barren and -unfruitful."[2] Seven years after this, when Carlyle was settled in -London, he formed the project of writing an article on the -working-classes for the _Quarterly_; with this in mind he called upon -Lockhart, and, he says, "found him a person of sense, good breeding, -even kindness."[3] Ever after this, though the two men were never -intimate friends, they had warm affection and esteem for each other. -Lockhart feared to accept Carlyle's article because of its radical -opinions, and it was published separately, under the title of -_Chartism_. One more link between {v} the men is Carlyle's -review--one of his least satisfactory essays--of the _Life of Scott_, -published in 1838, in the _London and Westminster Review_. And -Carlyle's own judgment of Lockhart widens our knowledge of the -character of both men. - -"A hard, proud, but thoroughly honest, singularly intelligent, and -also affectionate man, whom in the distance I esteemed more than -perhaps he ever knew. Seldom did I speak to him; but hardly ever -without learning and gaining something."[4] - - -Thomas Carlyle was born December 4, 1795, at Annandale, in -Dumfriesshire, in southeast Scotland. His life offers many -resemblances, though perhaps more contrasts, to that of Burns. Like -Burns, he came from the strong, rough stock of the Scotch peasantry. -Of his father, James Carlyle, a man like Burns's father in his -strength of character and deeply religious temperament, but unlike -him in his complete ignorance of all books except the Bible, Carlyle -has himself left us a grand portrait in the _Reminiscences_. When -ten years old, Carlyle was sent to the Annan grammar school. Of his -life there we may judge from the veiled account in _Sartor -Resartus_:-- - -"My Teachers were hide-bound Pedants, without knowledge of man's -nature, or of boy's; or of aught save their lexicons and quarterly -account-books. Innumerable dead Vocables (no dead Language, for they -themselves knew no Language) they crammed into us, and called it -fostering the growth of mind.... The Professors knew syntax enough; -and of the human soul thus much: that it had a faculty called Memory, -and could be acted-on through the muscular integument by the -appliance of birch-rods."[5] - -James Carlyle recognized his son's ability, and resolved {vi} that he -should be an educated man. Yet Carlyle can hardly be said to have -been "sent" to the University, for he _walked_ the distance of -seventy miles over rough country to Edinburgh. There he worked -industriously in the library, and laid the foundations for his -wonderful knowledge of books. He tells us later:-- - -"What I have found the University did for me, was that it taught me -to read in various languages and various sciences, so that I could go -into the books that treated of these things, and try anything I -wanted to make myself master of gradually, as I found it suit me."[6] - -Carlyle had been intended for the ministry, but money was lacking, -and he took up school teaching as a temporary occupation. In 1818, -having saved ninety pounds, he returned to Edinburgh for study. -Meanwhile, the ministry had become closed to him, for reading and -thought had undermined his belief in the creed of the Scotch Kirk. -But Carlyle's reaction from his ancestral beliefs was occasioned by -different circumstances from that of Burns. Carlyle, by deep study -and meditation, was stirred from the dogmas of the Scotch Kirk, but -adhered strictly to its stern, severe code of morals. Burns, who had -a lighter, more facile nature, became disgusted with the hypocrisy of -those high in church authority, and was attracted by the more winning -characters of the leaders of the progressive party. His passions had -already weakened his morals; and though he still professed the -highest respect for religion in the abstract, he was led on from -distrust of orthodox Calvinism to what often seems general skepticism -and indifference on religious matters. - -After an experiment in legal study, Carlyle finally settled on his -trade as a "writer of books." From 1818 to 1822 he lived in -Edinburgh, and did hack literary work, largely articles for the -_Edinburgh Encyclopedia_. In 1822 he {vii} became tutor in a private -family, with whom he travelled, not returning to Edinburgh until -1825. During these years of indecision as to what should be his life -pursuit he had been occupied with German literature, and had -published his translation of _Wilhelm Meister_ and his _Life of -Schiller_. For these works he received grateful acknowledgment from -Goethe, and by them established a reputation as a writer. In 1827 he -met Jeffrey, and made a contract with him to write for the _Edinburgh -Review_. - -Meanwhile, in 1826, Carlyle had married Jane Baillie Welsh. Two -years later, through the failure of some literary plans, he decided -to remove, for the sake of economy, to his wife's farm of -Craigenputtock, in southwest Dumfriesshire, in the wild moorland -country, fifteen miles from any town. There he resolved, in spite of -poverty, to publish no work that did not satisfy his ideal. -Carlyle's impressions of his hermit life vary with his changing -moods,--now he praises his home as a rural paradise; again he writes -in his diary, "Finished a paper on Burns September 16, 1828, at this -Devil's Den, Craigenputtock."[7] - -This last phrase shows us that the _Essay on Burns_ was one of the -first products of Carlyle's self-imposed exile. Of all his essays, -this is on the topic nearest to the author's life. Carlyle was drawn -to his subject by every bond of race, language, and association. His -birthplace, Annandale, is only ten miles from Dumfries, Burns's last -home. He had talked with many who had known Burns in life, among -them Gilbert Burns, the poet's brother. Though an estimate of the -merits of the essay will be more appropriate later, some -circumstances connected with its publication must here be noted, for -the light which they throw on Carlyle's character. The account of -them is quoted, with some small changes, from Froude. - -Jeffrey "found the article long and diffuse, though he {viii} did not -deny that 'it contained much beauty and felicity of diction.' He -insisted that it must be cut down," and received permission from -Carlyle to make some alterations.[8] "When the proof-sheets came, -Carlyle found 'the first part cut all into shreds,--the body of a -quadruped with the head of a bird, a man shortened by cutting out the -thighs and fixing the knee-caps on the hips.'[9] He refused to let -it appear 'in such a horrid shape.' He replaced the most important -passages, and returned the sheets with an intimation that the paper -might be cancelled, but should not be mutilated. Few editors would -have been so forbearing as Jeffrey when so audaciously defied. He -complained, but he acquiesced. He admitted that the article would do -the Review credit, though it would be called tedious and sprawling by -people of weight whose mouths he could have stopped. He had wished -to be of use to Carlyle by keeping out of sight in the Review his -mannerism and affectation; but if Carlyle persisted he might have his -way. - -"Carlyle was touched; such kindness was more than he had looked for. -The proud self-assertion was followed by humility and almost -penitence, and the gentle tone in which he wrote conquered Jeffrey in -turn. Jeffrey said that he admired and approved of Carlyle's letter -to him in all respects. 'The candour and sweet blood' which was -shown in it deserved the highest praise. 'Your virtues are your -own,' said Jeffrey, 'and you shall have anything you like.'"[10] - -During Carlyle's residence at Craigenputtock, which lasted, with -slight interruption, for six years, were produced most of the -miscellaneous essays, and his first great original work, _Sartor -Resartus_. This is the formative period of his literary life, from -which he came forth, to quote {ix} Mr. Stephen, "a master of his -craft." In 1834 he moved to London, where he resided until his -death, in 1881. To this later period belong his greatest works, on -which his fame depends: _Heroes and Hero-Worship_, _The French -Revolution_, _Cromwell's Letters and Speeches_, and _The History of -Frederick the Great_. But the earlier works have the same tonic -quality as the later, and are free from many of their defects. As a -teacher, especially if we take an American point of view, Carlyle -grows less trustworthy with advancing years. His cynicism becomes -more bitter, his hero-worship leads him to sympathize with autocracy, -while his contempt for the stupidity of the masses leads him to -distrust all popular government. In Lowell's words, quoting -Carlyle's contemptuous phrase, "he saw 'only the burning of a dirty -chimney' in the war which a great people was waging under his very -eyes for the idea of nationality and orderly magistrature." - -In the _Essay on Burns_, then, we have a work of Carlyle's early -prime. We might infer this from the style alone, which shows a -transition from his early clearness and simplicity to the "piebald, -entangled, hyper-metaphorical style of writing" characteristic of his -later works, and always associated with his name. - -In the _Essay on Burns_ it is not the author's intention to give a -connected sketch of Burns's life,[11] or to pass a cool, critical -judgment on his poetry as a whole. Carlyle has himself, on page 6 of -this essay, given us his idea of the true purpose of biography. The -following words from his second essay on Richter make his meaning -still clearer:-- - -"If the acted life of a _pius Vates_ is so high a matter, the written -life, which, if properly written, would be a translation and -interpretation thereof, must also have great value. It has been said -that no Poet is equal to his Poem, which saying is partially true; -but in a deeper sense, it {x} may also be asserted, and with still -greater truth, that no Poem is equal to its Poet. Now, it is -Biography which first gives us both Poet and Poem; by the -significance of the one, elucidating and completing that of the -other. That ideal outline of himself, which a man unconsciously -shadows forth in his writings, and which, rightly deciphered, will be -truer than any other representation of him, it is the task of the -Biographer to fill up into an actual coherent figure, and bring home -to our experience, or at least clear, undoubting admiration, thereby -to instruct and edify us in many ways. Conducted on such principles, -the Biography of great men, especially of great poets, that is, of -men in the highest degree noble minded and wise, might become one of -the most dignified and valuable species of composition. As matters -stand, indeed, there are few Biographies that accomplish anything of -this kind; the most are mere Indexes of a Biography, which each -reader is to write out for himself, as he peruses them; not the -living body, but the dry bones of a body, which should have been -alive. To expect any such Promethean virtue in a common Life-writer -were unreasonable enough. How shall that unhappy Biographic -brotherhood, instead of writing like Index-makers and -Government-clerks, suddenly become enkindled with some sparks of -intellect, or even of genial fire; and not only collecting dates and -facts, but making use of them, look beyond the surface and economical -form of a man's life, into its substance and spirit?" - -In pursuit of this great aim, Carlyle has to adapt his method to his -subject. In writing of Richter, a man unknown to the British public -of his time, he has to give us himself the "dry bones" of fact, -before he can give the "living body." But in the case of Burns, as -he can assume that his readers are familiar with Burns's chief poems, -and know the main events of his life, he brushes aside all detail, -and treats at once the inner meaning and value of the poet's life and -work. To appreciate Carlyle's essay, we must {xi} fulfil his -expectation of us, and know Burns at first hand before we start to -read about him. - -We must now ask how far Carlyle corresponds to his own ideal -biographer. No one can read this essay without admitting that we -have in it a powerful and sympathetic conception of Burns. To decide -whether this conception is just and impartial we must take into -account the writer's general temperament and leading ideas. - -Carlyle is a hero-worshipper in all his work, as a quotation from -_Sartor Resartus_ will best explain:-- - -"Meanwhile, observe with joy, so cunningly has Nature ordered it, -that whatsoever man ought to obey, he cannot but obey. Before no -faintest revelation of the Godlike did he ever stand irreverent; -least of all, when the Godlike showed itself revealed in his -fellow-man. Thus there is a true religious Loyalty forever rooted in -his heart; nay in all ages, even in ours, it manifests itself as a -more or less orthodox _Hero-worship_. In which fact, that -Hero-worship exists, has existed, and will forever exist, universally -among Mankind, mayest thou discern the corner-stone of living-rock, -whereon all Politics for the remotest time may stand secure. - -"Hast thou forgotten Paris and Voltaire? How the aged, withered man, -though but a skeptic, mocker, and millinery Court-poet, yet because -even he seemed the Wisest, Best, could drag mankind at his -chariot-wheels, so that princes coveted a smile from him, and the -loveliest of France would have laid their hair beneath his feet. All -Paris was one vast Temple of Hero-worship; though their Divinity, -moreover, was of feature too apish."[12] - -As Carlyle is fallible, like other men, the practical effect of his -doctrine is that he exalts those whom he likes, and throws contempt -on those whom he dislikes. Since he is attracted by Burns's noble -qualities, above all by his sincerity, he forms a grand ideal -conception of him. Indeed, {xii} in his _Heroes and Hero-Worship_, -written twelve years later, he boldly pronounces Burns "the most -gifted British soul we had in all that century of his." The lecture -upon "the hero as man of letters" should be studied carefully by all -who wish to understand Carlyle's attitude towards the great writers -of the world, and towards Burns as one of them. It would, however, -be of small use to read, as a sort of postscript to this essay, the -half-dozen pages which Carlyle there devotes especially to Burns. He -there repeats many of the thoughts of this essay,--when a writer has -once clearly and fully spoken his mind of a man he cannot well treat -of him again without repetition. The value of the lecture on "the -hero as man of letters" is, that it gives us in brief form general -ideas, of which the _Essay on Burns_ is a particular application. - -In consequence of his conception of Burns as a hero, Carlyle casts -aside, as of slight importance in the general estimate, evidence that -opposes his own view, or even entirely refuses to believe it. Thus -he dwells on Burns's finest poems, and pays little heed to his -affected English verse and stilted prose. Yet they, too, are of -Burns's writing, and demand full consideration, if we are to -understand the whole man. Again, he will not credit an anecdote for -which there is fairly good evidence, because it shows in Burns a -foolish vanity that seems to him impossible. So, at the best, our -essay gives only a partial view of Burns. Those who wish to learn -more of the seamy side of the poet's character will do well to read -an essay by as loyal a son of Scotland, and as kindly and sympathetic -a writer, as Carlyle himself,--Robert Louis Stevenson.[13] - -Much more might be said in dispraise of Carlyle's work, and yet its -essential greatness would remain unaffected. After the lapse of -nearly seventy years, this essay is still by far our best portrait of -Burns. All succeeding critics have had to take Carlyle into account. -They may differ {xiii} widely from his conclusions, but they cannot -fail to recognize his transcendent merits. Though the judgments of -Carlyle on Burns have, in the main, stood well the test of time, yet -in this, as in all his writings, his excellence lies less in his own -opinions than in his power to make others think for themselves. -Carlyle has little of the finish, proportion, discrimination, that we -find in Matthew Arnold or Sainte-Beuve. But for the ordinary reader -he is far more useful than many a writer who comes nearer the -absolute truth. He touches our hearts and arouses our sympathies. -Most readers of a critic ask, not: "After reading this essay can I -distinguish more accurately between the good and bad art in my -author, and judge better of their comparative importance?" but: "Does -this critic make me more able to understand the best that is in my -poet, so that I share more deeply in his highest life and thought?" -Let us then, with due reverence, approach the thoughts of one of the -greatest thinkers of Scotland upon the greatest of her poets. - - - -[1] Froude: _Thomas Carlyle, a History of the First Forty Years of -his Life_, ii. 188. - -[2] _Ibid._, ii. 212. - -[3] Quoted in Froude: _Thomas Carlyle, a History of his Life in -London_, i. 140, from a letter of Carlyle's to his brother. - -[4] See note by Carlyle in _Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh -Carlyle_, ed. Froude, i. 107. - -[5] _Sartor Resartus_, II. iii. - -[6] _Address delivered to the Students of Edinburgh -University_--April 2, 1866. - -[7] Froude: _Thomas Carlyle, a History of the First Forty Years of -his Life_, ii. 26. - -[8] _Letters of Thomas Carlyle_, 1826-1836, p. 123. - -[9] Quoted from a letter from Carlyle to his brother, October 10, -1828. There is here a reminiscence of the opening lines of Horace's -_Ars Poetica_. - -[10] Froude: _Thomas Carlyle, a History of the First Forty Years of -his Life_, ii. 31-35. - -[11] For this reason, a brief sketch of the poet's life is given the -reader after this Introduction. See pp. xiv.-xvii. - -[12] _Sartor Resartus_, III. vii. - -[13] In _Familiar Studies of Men and Books_. - - - - -{xiv} - -A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. - -Robert Burns was born on January 25, 1759, in a clay-built cottage, -at Alloway in Ayrshire, in southwest Scotland. Except for the -personal character of his father, his lot was that of any poor -peasant lad. But the elder Burns had a natural love of learning, -attended carefully to his sons' education himself, and, further, gave -them as good schooling as it lay in his power to do. The teacher of -Robert Burns and his younger brother Gilbert was John Murdoch, a -young man of uncommon merit, who interested himself in the boys, and -lent them various books. Robert grew thoroughly familiar with his -small library, learned French fairly well, and began Latin. He was -particularly fascinated by a book of English songs, and carried it -with him into the fields. He early became noted as the best -converser and the best letter writer in the parish. When Burns was -still a child his father had removed to another farm, at Mount -Oliphant; later, when Burns was eighteen, to Lochlea, in the parish -of Tarbolton. The family affairs were never long prosperous; and the -distress endured at Mount Oliphant from a tyrannical _factor_, or -landlord's agent, is commemorated in _The Twa Dogs_, just as the -happy home life is reproduced in _The Cotter's Saturday Night_. -Through all his youth Burns was a laborer for his father; and his -first song, _Handsome Nell_, written when he was only fifteen, is in -honor of a chance partner in the harvest field. - -In 1782, when he was twenty-three years old, Burns engaged in -business at the town of Irvine, but was reduced to poverty by the -burning of his shop, and returned to Lochlea. The short residence at -the thriving seaport affected for the {xv} worse his habits of life -and thought. Until then Burns had led an ordinarily correct life; -but at Irvine he learned to drink, and to think lightly of infidelity -to women. _The Poet's Welcome to his Illegitimate Child_ bears sad -witness to this alteration in his character. - -In 1784, soon after Burns's return home, his father died, leaving his -affairs in utter ruin. Three months before his death Robert and -Gilbert had taken the farm of Mossgiel, in the neighboring parish of -Mauchline, and thither the whole family now removed. The years 1785 -and 1786 are Burns's great period of poetical production; within them -fall most of the pieces, exclusive of _Tam O'Shanter_ and of his -songs, by which he is now best known. At this time the theological -controversy between the two parties in the Scotch Kirk occupied the -attention of every one. Burns was attracted by the personal -character of the leaders of the _New Light_, or progressive, party; -and aided them in their warfare upon the _Old Light_ divines by many -stinging satires, notably _The Holy Fair_, _The Twa Herds_, and _Holy -Willie's Prayer_. Readers to-day have come to have a new interest in -the _Old Lights_, or _Auld Lichts_, as the Scotch term is, through J. -M. Barrie's tales and sketches. - -In 1785 Burns met and fell in love with Jean Armour, and the next -year twin children were born to them. Burns, in order to save the -girl from disgrace, had given her a written acknowledgment of -marriage; but her father, who had a poor opinion of the poet's -general character, had forced her to destroy this. Burns, finding -himself without money or position in society, resolved to emigrate to -Jamaica, and published a thin volume of his poems in order to raise -money for the passage. The success of the book was great and -immediate, and altered the whole course of Burns's life. Dugald -Stewart, the philosopher, entertained him at his house; Henry -MacKenzie, the novelist, gave him a flattering review; and, finally, -an enthusiastic letter from Dr. Blacklock, one of the most celebrated -Edinburgh critics, {xvi} made him decide to give up his plan of -flight from his native country, and to try his fortune at the Scotch -capital. The volume of poems was also the means of his acquaintance -with the excellent Mrs. Dunlop, with whom he corresponded until the -end of his life. - -In November, 1786, Burns went to Edinburgh, and was the "lion" of the -following winter. A new edition of his poems received three thousand -subscribers, and brought him in about £500. Of this he lent £180 to -his brother Gilbert, to help in the management of Mossgiel,--the loan -was finally repaid some thirty years later to the poet's family. -During the following year he made two trips through Scotland, partly -to collect songs, and began to contribute to Johnson's _Scot's -Musical Museum_ and Thomson's _Collection of Scottish Airs_. The -poet applied for, and obtained, a commission in the Excise, the only -worldly advantage, except the profits of his poems, that he derived -from his triumphal Edinburgh season. Reserving his commission as a -last resort, Burns rented a farm at Ellisland, near Dumfries, where -he settled, in the summer of 1788. He had renewed his intimacy with -Jean Armour, and, when she became once more exposed to the anger of -her father, made her all the reparation in his power, by marriage. -The farm was not a success, and Burns tried to carry on the Excise -business along with it. When this division of labor also proved -unsatisfactory, he abandoned Ellisland, and, in November, 1792, moved -to Dumfries. - -At Dumfries Burns was advanced to all Excise division, with a salary -of seventy pounds, and retained the position until his death. His -hopes of further promotion were cut off by his ill-timed expressions -of sympathy with the American Revolution, and with the republican -party in France. He attended well to the duties of his office, but -occasional drunkenness and other misconduct brought on him the ill -favor of the "Dumfries aristocracy." The boon companions with whom -he mingled, and the curious tourists attracted by {xvii} his fame, -were in no small measure the cause of his poor success. On January -2, 1793, he writes to Mrs. Dunlop:-- - -"Occasionally hard drinking is the devil to me. Against this I have -again and again bent my resolution, and have greatly succeeded. -Taverns I have totally abandoned: it is the private parties in the -family way, among the hard-drinking gentlemen of this country, that -do me the mischief." - -The poet's excesses did not keep him from being an affectionate -father, and attending carefully to his children's education. He died -on July 21, 1796. - -Burns's life since leaving Edinburgh had, on the whole, been one of -decline. With the exception of his songs, which he never ceased to -contribute to Thomson's _Collection of Scottish Airs_, and of _Tam -O'Shanter_, written at Ellisland, he had produced no important poem -since that time. But this sketch of Burns's life must not attempt an -estimate of his character as poet or man. Its only object is to -furnish for ready reference a few of the facts necessary for -understanding Carlyle's work. - - - - -{xviii} - -BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. - -Every author should be studied, as far as possible, from his own -writings. Carlyle's voluminous correspondence furnishes rich -materials for the history of his life and thought. The best editions -of his letters are those edited by Professor Charles Eliot Norton: -_Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle_ (1814-1826), _Letters of Thomas -Carlyle_ (1826-1836), _Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph -Waldo Emerson_. These may be supplemented by Froude's edition of the -_Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle_. Next to these -first-hand documents, Froude's _Thomas Carlyle_, in spite of its -inaccuracy and its prejudiced point of view, will remain the great -storehouse of information for students of the subject. There are -good short lives of Carlyle by John Nichol (_English Men of Letters_ -Series) and Richard Garnett (_Great Writers_ Series). The former -deals more fully in criticism on his literary work. There are -excellent critical appreciations of Carlyle by James Russell Lowell, -Augustine Birrell (in _Obiter Dicta_), and Matthew Arnold (in _Essay -on Emerson_). - -The best way to study Burns is to learn the outline of the external -events of his life from any short sketch, and then to read his poems -and letters in chronological order. Besides the life by Lockhart, -there are good accounts of him by Principal Shairp (_English Men of -Letters_ Series) and John Stuart Blackie (_Great Writers_ Series). -Carlyle mentions by name Currie and Walker among the biographers of -Burns previous to Lockhart. Dr. James Currie (1756-1805), a famous -Scotch physician, published in 1800 an edition of Burns's works, with -an account of his life, in aid of the poet's family. The _Life of -Burns_, written by Josiah Walker, later Professor of Humanity in -Glasgow University, to accompany an edition of Burns's works -published in 1811, has no permanent value. - -Unlike the other two men, Lockhart does not appeal to us as much by -his personal character as by his writings. The _Life and Letters of -John Gibson Lockhart_, by Andrew Lang, is the best book with regard -to him. - - - - -{1} - -ESSAY ON BURNS.[1] - - -In the modern arrangements of society, it is no uncommon thing that a -man of genius must, like Butler,[2] "ask for bread and receive a -stone;" for, in spite of our grand maxim of supply and demand, it is -by no means the highest excellence that men are most forward to -recognize. The inventor of a spinning-jenny is pretty sure of his -reward in his own day; but the writer of a true poem, like the -apostle of a true religion, is nearly as sure of the contrary. We do -not know whether it is not an aggravation of the injustice, that -there is generally a posthumous retribution. Robert Burns, in the -course of Nature, might yet have been living; but his short life was -spent in toil and penury; and he died, in the prime of his manhood, -miserable and neglected: and yet already a brave mausoleum shines -over his dust,[3] and more {2} than one splendid monument has been -reared in other places to his fame; the street where he languished in -poverty is called by his name;[4] the highest personages in our -literature have been proud to appear as his commentators and -admirers; and here is the _sixth_ narrative of his life that has been -given to the world![5] - -Mr. Lockhart thinks it necessary to apologize for this new attempt on -such a subject: but his readers, we believe, will readily acquit him; -or, at worst, will censure only the performance of his task, not the -choice of it. The character of Burns, indeed, is a theme that cannot -easily become either trite or exhausted; and will probably gain -rather than lose in its dimensions by the distance to which it is -removed by Time. No man, it has been said, is a hero to his valet; -and this is probably true; but the fault is at least as likely to be -the valet's as the hero's. For it is certain, that to the vulgar eye -few things are wonderful that are not distant. It is difficult for -men to believe that the man, the mere man whom they see, nay perhaps -painfully feel toiling at their side through the poor jostlings of -existence, can be made of finer clay than themselves. Suppose that -some dining acquaintance of Sir Thomas Lucy's, and neighbor of John a -Combe's,[6] had snatched an hour or two from the preservation of his -game, and written us a Life {3} of Shakespeare! What dissertations -should we not have had,--not on "Hamlet" and "The Tempest," but on -the wool-trade, and deer-stealing, and the libel and vagrant laws; -and how the Poacher became a Player; and how Sir Thomas and Mr. John -had Christian bowels, and did not push him to extremities! In like -manner, we believe, with respect to Burns, that till the companions -of his pilgrimage, the Honorable Excise Commissioners, and the -Gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt,[7] and the Dumfries Aristocracy, -and all the Squires and Earls, equally with the Ayr Writers,[8] and -the New and Old Light Clergy, whom he had to do with, shall have -become invisible in the darkness of the Past, or visible only by -light borrowed from _his_ juxtaposition, it will be difficult to -measure him by any true standard, or to estimate what he really was -and did, in the eighteenth century, for his country and the world. -It will be difficult, we say; but still a fair problem for literary -historians; and repeated attempts will give us repeated -approximations. - -His former Biographers have done something, no doubt, but by no means -a great deal, to assist us. Dr. Currie and Mr. Walker, the principal -of these writers, have both, we think, mistaken one essentially -important thing: Their own and the world's true relation to their -author, and the style in which it {4} became such men to think and to -speak of such a man. Dr. Currie loved the poet truly; more perhaps -than he avowed to his readers, or even to himself; yet he everywhere -introduces him with a certain patronizing, apologetic air: as if the -polite public might think it strange and half unwarrantable that he, -a man of science, a scholar and gentleman, should do such honor to a -rustic. In all this, however, we readily admit that his fault was -not want of love, but weakness of faith; and regret that the first -and kindest of all our poet's biographers should not have seen -farther, or believed more boldly what he saw. Mr. Walker offends -more deeply in the same kind: and both err alike in presenting us -with a detached catalogue of his several supposed attributes, virtues -and vices, instead of a delineation of the resulting character as a -living unity. This, however, is not painting a portrait; but gauging -the length and breadth of the several features, and jotting down -their dimensions in arithmetical ciphers. Nay, it is not so much as -that: for we are yet to learn by what arts or instruments the mind -_could_ be so measured and gauged. - -Mr. Lockhart, we are happy to say, has avoided both these errors. He -uniformly treats Burns as the high and remarkable man the public -voice has now pronounced him to be: and in delineating him, he has -avoided the method of separate generalities, and rather sought for -characteristic incidents, habits, actions, sayings; in a word, for -aspects which exhibit the whole man, as he looked and lived among his -fellows. The book accordingly, with all its deficiencies, gives more -insight, we think, into the true character of Burns than any prior -biography: though, being {5} written on the very popular and -condensed scheme of an article for "Constable's Miscellany,"[9] it -has less depth than we could have wished and expected from a writer -of such power; and contains rather more, and more multifarious -quotations than belong of right to an original production. Indeed, -Mr. Lockhart's own writing is generally so good, so clear, direct and -nervous, that we seldom wish to see it making place for another -man's. However, the spirit of the work is throughout candid, -tolerant and anxiously conciliating; compliments and praises are -liberally distributed, on all hands, to great and small; and, as Mr. -Morris Birkbeck[10] observes of the society in the backwoods of -America, "the courtesies of polite life are never lost sight of for a -moment." But there are better things than these in the volume; and -we can safely testify, not only that it is easily and pleasantly read -a first time, but may even be without difficulty read again.[11] - -{6} - -Nevertheless, we are far from thinking that the problem of Burns's -Biography has yet been adequately solved. We do not allude so much -to deficiency of facts or documents,--though of these we are still -every day receiving some fresh accession,--as to the limited and -imperfect application of them to the great end of Biography. Our -notions upon this subject may perhaps appear extravagant; but if an -individual is really of consequence enough to have his life and -character recorded for public remembrance, we have always been of -opinion that the public ought to be made acquainted with all the -inward springs and relations of his character. How did the world and -man's life, from his particular position, represent themselves to his -mind? How did co-existing circumstances modify him from without; how -did he modify these from within? With what endeavors and what -efficacy rule over them; with what resistance and what suffering sink -under them? In one word, what and how produced was the effect of -society on him; what and how produced was his effect on society? He -who should answer these questions, in regard to any individual, -would, as we believe, furnish a model of perfection in Biography. -Few individuals, indeed, can deserve such a study; and many _lives_ -will be written, and, for the gratification of innocent curiosity, -ought to be written, and read and forgotten, which are not in this -sense _biographies_. But Burns, if we mistake not, is one of these -few individuals; and such a study, at least with such a result, he -has not yet obtained. Our own contributions to it, we are aware, can -be but scanty and feeble; but we offer them with good-will, and trust -{7} they may meet with acceptance from those they are intended -for.[12] - - -Burns first came upon the world as a prodigy; and was, in that -character, entertained by it, in the usual fashion, with loud, vague, -tumultuous wonder, speedily subsiding into censure and neglect; till -his early and most mournful death again awakened an enthusiasm for -him, which, especially as there was now nothing to be done, and much -to be spoken, has prolonged itself even to our own time. It is true, -the "nine days" have long since elapsed; and the very continuance of -this clamor proves that Burns was no vulgar wonder. Accordingly, -even in sober judgments, where, as years passed by, he has come to -rest more and more exclusively on his own intrinsic merits, and may -now be well-nigh shorn of that casual radiance, he appears not only -as a true British poet, but as one of the most considerable British -men of the eighteenth century. Let it not be objected that he did -little. He did much, if we consider where and how. If the work -performed was small, we must remember that he had his very materials -to discover; for the metal he worked in lay hid under the desert -moor, where no eye but his had guessed its existence; and we may -almost say, that with his own hand he had to construct the tools for -fashioning it. For he found himself in deepest obscurity, without -help, without instruction, without model; or with models only of the -meanest sort. An educated man stands, as it were, in the midst of a -boundless arsenal and {8} magazine, filled with all the weapons and -engines which man's skill has been able to devise from the earliest -time; and he works, accordingly, with a strength borrowed from all -past ages. How different is his state who stands on the outside of -that storehouse, and feels that its gates must be stormed, or remain -forever shut against him! His means are the commonest and rudest; -the mere work done is no measure of his strength. A dwarf behind his -steam-engine may remove mountains; but no dwarf will hew them down -with a pickaxe; and he must be a Titan that hurls them abroad with -his arms. - -It is in this last shape that Burns presents himself. Born in an age -the most prosaic Britain had yet seen, and in a condition the most -disadvantageous, where his mind, if it accomplished aught, must -accomplish it under the pressure of continual bodily toil, nay of -penury and desponding apprehension of the worst evils, and with no -furtherance but such knowledge as dwells in a poor man's hut, and the -rhymes of a Ferguson or Ramsay[13] for his standard of beauty, he -sinks not under all these impediments: through the fogs and darkness -of that obscure region, his lynx eye discerns the true relations of -the world and human life; he grows into intellectual strength, and -trains himself into intellectual expertness. Impelled by the -expansive movement of his own irrepressible soul, he {9} struggles -forward into the general view; and with haughty modesty lays down -before us, as the fruit of his labor, a gift which Time has now -pronounced imperishable. Add to all this, that his darksome drudging -childhood and youth was by far the kindliest era of his whole life; -and that he died in his thirty-seventh year: and then ask, If it be -strange that his poems are imperfect, and of small extent, or that -his genius attained no mastery in its art? Alas, his Sun shone as -through a tropical tornado; and the pale Shadow of Death eclipsed it -at noon! Shrouded in such baleful vapors, the genius of Burns was -never seen in clear azure splendor, enlightening the world: but some -beams from it did, by fits, pierce through; and it tinted those -clouds with rainbow and orient colors, into a glory and stern -grandeur, which men silently gazed on with wonder and tears! - -We are anxious not to exaggerate; for it is exposition rather than -admiration that our readers require of us here; and yet to avoid some -tendency to that side is no easy matter. We love Burns, and we pity -him; and love and pity are prone to magnify. Criticism, it is -sometimes thought, should be a cold business; we are not so sure of -this;[14] but, at all events, our concern with Burns is not -exclusively that of critics. True and genial as his poetry must -appear, it is not chiefly as a poet, but as a man, that he interests -and affects us. He was often advised to write a tragedy;[15] time -and means were not lent him for {10} this; but through life he -enacted a tragedy, and one of the deepest. We question whether the -world has since witnessed so utterly sad a scene; whether Napoleon -himself, left to brawl with Sir Hudson Lowe, and perish on his rock, -"amid the melancholy main," presented to the reflecting mind such a -"spectacle of pity and fear" as did this intrinsically nobler, -gentler and perhaps greater soul, wasting itself away in a hopeless -struggle with base entanglements, which coiled closer and closer -round him till only death opened him an outlet. Conquerors are a -class of men with whom, for most part, the world could well dispense; -nor can the hard intellect, the unsympathizing loftiness and high but -selfish enthusiasm of such persons inspire us in general with any -affection; at best it may excite amazement; and their fall, like that -of a pyramid, will be beheld with a certain sadness and awe. But a -true Poet, a man in whose heart resides some effluence of Wisdom, -some tone of the "Eternal Melodies," is the most precious gift that -can be bestowed on a generation: we see in him a freer, purer -development of whatever is noblest in ourselves; his life is a rich -lesson to us; and we mourn his death as that of a benefactor who -loved and taught us.[16] - -Such a gift had Nature, in her bounty, bestowed on us in Robert -Burns; but with queenlike indifference she cast it from her hand, -like a thing of no {11} moment; and it was defaced and torn asunder, -as an idle bauble, before we recognized it. To the ill-starred Burns -was given the power of making man's life more venerable, but that of -wisely guiding his own life was not given. Destiny,--for so in our -ignorance we must speak,--his faults, the faults of others, proved -too hard for him; and that spirit, which might have soared could it -but have walked, soon sank to the dust, its glorious faculties -trodden under foot in the blossom; and died, we may almost say, -without ever having lived. And so kind and warm a soul; so full of -inborn riches, of love to all living and lifeless things! How his -heart flows out in sympathy over universal Nature; and in her -bleakest provinces discerns a beauty and a meaning! The "Daisy" -falls not unheeded under his ploughshare; nor the ruined nest of that -"wee, cowering, timorous beastie," cast forth, after all its -provident pains, to "thole the sleety dribble and cranreuch -cauld."[17] The "hoar visage" of Winter delights him; he dwells with -a sad and oft-returning fondness in these scenes of solemn -desolation; but the voice of the tempest becomes an anthem to his -ears; he loves to walk in the sounding woods, for "it raises his -thoughts to _Him that walketh on the wings of the wind_."[18] A true -Poet-soul, for it needs but to be struck, and the sound it yields -will be music! But observe him chiefly as he mingles with his -brother men. What warm, all-comprehending fellow-feeling; what {12} -trustful, boundless love; what generous exaggeration of the object -loved! His rustic friend, his nut-brown maiden, are no longer mean -and homely, but a hero and a queen, whom he prizes as the paragons of -Earth. The rough scenes of Scottish life, not seen by him in any -Arcadian illusion, but in the rude contradiction, in the smoke and -soil of a too harsh reality, are still lovely to him: Poverty is -indeed his companion, but Love also, and Courage; the simple -feelings, the worth, the nobleness, that dwell under the straw roof, -are dear and venerable to his heart: and thus over the lowest -provinces of man's existence he pours the glory of his own soul; and -they rise, in shadow and sunshine, softened and brightened into a -beauty which other eyes discern not in the highest. He has a just -self-consciousness, which too often degenerates into pride; yet it is -a noble pride, for defence, not for offence; no cold suspicious -feeling, but a frank and social one. The Peasant Poet bears himself, -we might say, like a King in exile: he is cast among the low, and -feels himself equal to the highest; yet he claims no rank, that none -may be disputed to him. The forward he can repel, the supercilious -he can subdue; pretensions of wealth or ancestry are of no avail with -him; there is a fire in that dark eye, under which the "insolence of -condescension" cannot thrive. In his abasement, in his extreme need, -he forgets not for a moment the majesty of Poetry and Manhood. And -yet, far as he feels himself above common men, he wanders not apart -from them, but mixes warmly in their interests; nay throws himself -into their arms, and, as it were, entreats them to love him. It is -moving to see how, in his darkest despondency, this proud being still -seeks {13} relief from friendship; unbosoms himself, often to the -unworthy; and, amid tears, strains to his glowing heart a heart that -knows only the name of friendship. And yet he was "quick to learn;" -a man of keen vision, before whom common disguises afforded no -concealment. His understanding saw through the hollowness even of -accomplished deceivers; but there was a generous credulity in his -heart. And so did our Peasant show himself among us; "a soul like an -Æolian harp, in whose strings the vulgar wind, as it passed through -them, changed itself into articulate melody."[19] And this was he -for whom the world found no fitter business than quarrelling with -smugglers and vintners, computing excise-dues upon tallow, and -gauging ale-barrels! In such toils was that mighty Spirit -sorrowfully wasted: and a hundred years may pass on before another -such is given us to waste. - - -All that remains of Burns, the Writings he has left, seem to us, as -we hinted above, no more than a poor mutilated fraction of what was -in him; brief, broken glimpses of a genius that could never show -itself complete; that wanted all things for completeness: culture, -leisure, true effort, nay even length of life. His poems are, with -scarcely any exception, mere occasional effusions; poured forth with -little premeditation; expressing, by such means as offered, the -passion, opinion, or humor of the hour. Never in one instance was it -permitted him to grapple with {14} any subject with the full -collection of his strength, to fuse and mould it in the concentrated -fire of his genius. To try by the strict rules of Art such imperfect -fragments, would be at once unprofitable and unfair. Nevertheless, -there is something in these poems, marred and defective as they are, -which forbids the most fastidious student of poetry to pass them by. -Some sort of enduring quality they must have: for after fifty years -of the wildest vicissitudes in poetic taste, they still continue to -be read; nay are read more and more eagerly, more and more -extensively; and this not only by literary virtuosos, and that class -upon whom transitory causes operate most strongly, but by all -classes, down to the most hard, unlettered and truly natural class, -who read little, and especially no poetry, except because they find -pleasure in it. The grounds of so singular and wide a popularity, -which extends, in a literal sense, from the palace to the hut, and -over all regions where the English tongue is spoken, are well worth -inquiring into. After every just deduction, it seems to imply some -rare excellence in these works. What is that excellence? - -To answer this question will not lead us far. The excellence of -Burns is, indeed, among the rarest, whether in poetry or prose; but, -at the same time, it is plain and easily recognized: his _Sincerity_, -his indisputable air of Truth. Here are no fabulous woes or joys; no -hollow fantastic sentimentalities; no wire-drawn refinings, either in -thought or feeling: the passion that is traced before us has glowed -in a living heart; the opinion he utters has risen in his own -understanding, and been a light to his own steps. He does not write -from hearsay, but from sight and experience; it is the scenes that he -has lived and labored {15} amidst, that he describes: those scenes, -rude and humble as they are, have kindled beautiful emotions in his -soul, noble thoughts, and definite resolves; and he speaks forth what -is in him, not from any outward call of vanity or interest, but -because his heart is too full to be silent. He speaks it with such -melody and modulation as he can; "in homely rustic jingle;" but it is -his own, and genuine. This is the grand secret for finding readers -and retaining them: let him who would move and convince others, be -first moved and convinced himself. Horace's rule, _Si vis me -flere_,[20] is applicable in a wider sense than the literal one. To -every poet, to every writer, we might say: Be true, if you would be -believed. Let a man but speak forth with genuine earnestness the -thought, the emotion, the actual condition of his own heart; and -other men, so strangely are we all knit together by the tie of -sympathy, must and will give heed to him. In culture, in extent of -view, we may stand above the speaker, or below him; but in either -case, his words, if they are earnest and sincere, will find some -response within us; for in spite of all casual varieties in outward -rank or inward, as face answers to face, so does the heart of man to -man.[21] - -This may appear a very simple principle, and one {16} which Burns had -little merit in discovering. True, the discovery is easy enough: but -the practical appliance is not easy; is indeed the fundamental -difficulty which all poets have to strive with, and which scarcely -one in the hundred ever fairly surmounts. A head too dull to -discriminate the true from the false; a heart too dull to love the -one at all risks, and to hate the other in spite of all temptations, -are alike fatal to a writer. With either, or as more commonly -happens, with both of these deficiencies combine a love of -distinction, a wish to be original, which is seldom wanting, and we -have Affectation, the bane of literature, as Cant, its elder brother, -is of morals. How often does the one and the other front us, in -poetry, as in life! Great poets themselves are not always free of -this vice; nay it is precisely on a certain sort and degree of -greatness that it is most commonly ingrafted. A strong effort after -excellence will sometimes solace itself with a mere shadow of -success; he who has much to unfold, will sometimes unfold it -imperfectly. Byron, for instance, was no common man: yet if we -examine his poetry with this view, we shall find it far enough from -faultless. Generally speaking, we should say that it is not true. -He refreshes us, not with the divine fountain, but too often with -vulgar strong waters, stimulating indeed to the taste, but soon -ending in dislike, or even nausea. Are his Harolds and Giaours, we -would ask, real men; we mean, poetically consistent and conceivable -men? Do not these characters, does not the character of their -author, which more or less shines through them all, rather appear a -thing put on for the occasion; no natural or possible mode of being, -but something intended to look much grander than nature? {17} -Surely, all these stormful agonies, this volcanic heroism, superhuman -contempt and moody desperation, with so much scowling, and -teeth-gnashing, and other sulphurous humor, is more like the brawling -of a player in some paltry tragedy, which is to last three hours, -than the bearing of a man in the business of life, which is to last -threescore and ten years. To our minds there is a taint of this -sort, something which we should call theatrical, false, affected, in -every one of these otherwise so powerful pieces. Perhaps "Don Juan," -especially the latter parts of it, is the only thing approaching to a -_sincere_ work, he ever wrote; the only work where he showed himself, -in any measure, as he was; and seemed so intent on his subject as, -for moments, to forget himself. Yet Byron hated this vice; we -believe, heartily detested it: nay he had declared formal war against -it in words. So difficult is it even for the strongest to make this -primary attainment, which might seem the simplest of all: _to read -its own consciousness without mistakes_, without errors involuntary -or wilful! We recollect no poet of Burns's susceptibility who comes -before us from the first, and abides with us to the last, with such a -total want of affectation. He is an honest man, and an honest -writer. In his successes and his failures, in his greatness and his -littleness, he is ever clear, simple, true, and glitters with no -lustre but his own. We reckon this to be a great virtue; to be, in -fact, the root of most other virtues, literary as well as moral. - -Here, however, let us say, it is to the poetry of Burns that we now -allude; to those writings which he had time to meditate, and where no -special reason existed to warp his critical feeling, or obstruct his -{18} endeavor to fulfil it. Certain of his Letters, and other -fractions of prose composition, by no means deserve this praise. -Here, doubtless, there is not the same natural truth of style; but on -the contrary, something not only stiff, but strained and twisted; a -certain high-flown inflated tone; the stilting emphasis of which -contrasts ill with the firmness and rugged simplicity of even his -poorest verses. Thus no man, it would appear, is altogether -unaffected. Does not Shakespeare himself sometimes premeditate the -sheerest bombast! But even with regard to these Letters of Burns, it -is but fair to state that he had two excuses. The first was his -comparative deficiency in language. Burns, though for most part he -writes with singular force and even gracefulness, is not master of -English prose, as he is of Scotch verse; not master of it, we mean, -in proportion to the depth and vehemence of his matter. These -Letters strike us as the effort of a man to express something which -he has no organ fit for expressing. But a second and weightier -excuse is to be found in the peculiarity of Burns's social rank. His -correspondents are often men whose relation to him he has never -accurately ascertained; whom therefore he is either forearming -himself against, or else unconsciously flattering, by adopting the -style he thinks will please them.[22] At all events, we should -remember that these faults, even in his Letters, are not the rule, -but the exception. Whenever he writes, as one would ever wish {19} -to do, to trusted friends and on real interests, his style becomes -simple, vigorous, expressive, sometimes even beautiful. His letters -to Mrs. Dunlop are uniformly excellent. - -But we return to his Poetry. In addition to its Sincerity, it has -another peculiar merit, which indeed is but a mode, or perhaps a -means, of the fore-going: this displays itself in his choice of -subjects; or rather in his indifference as to subjects, and the power -he has of making all subjects interesting. The ordinary poet, like -the ordinary man, is forever seeking in external circumstances the -help which can be found only in himself. In what is familiar and -near at hand, he discerns no form or comeliness: home is not poetical -but prosaic; it is in some past, distant, conventional heroic world, -that poetry resides; were he there and not here, were he thus and not -so, it would be well with him. Hence our innumerable host of -rose-colored Novels and iron-mailed Epics, with their locality not on -the Earth, but somewhere nearer to the Moon. Hence our Virgins of -the Sun, and our Knights of the Cross, malicious Saracens in turbans, -and copper-colored Chiefs in wampum, and so many other truculent -figures from the heroic times or the heroic climates, who on all -hands swarm in our poetry. Peace be with them! But yet, as a great -moralist proposed preaching to the men of this century, so would we -fain preach to the poets, "a sermon on the duty of staying at home." -Let them be sure that heroic ages and heroic climates can do little -for them. That form of life has attraction for us, less because it -is better or nobler than our own, than simply because it is -different; and even this attraction must be of the most transient -{20} sort. For will not our own age, one day, be an ancient one; and -have as quaint a costume as the rest; not contrasted with the rest, -therefore, but ranked along with them, in respect of quaintness? -Does Homer interest us now, because he wrote of what passed beyond -his native Greece, and two centuries before he was born; or because -he wrote what passed in God's world, and in the heart of man, which -is the same after thirty centuries? Let our poets look to this: is -their feeling really finer, truer, and their vision deeper than that -of other men,--they have nothing to fear, even from the humblest -subject; is it not so,--they have nothing to hope, but an ephemeral -favor, even from the highest.[23] - -The poet, we imagine, can never have far to seek for a subject: the -elements of his art are in him, and around him on every hand; for him -the Ideal world is not remote from the Actual, but under it and -within it: nay he is a poet, precisely because he can discern it -there. Wherever there is a sky above him, and a world around him, -the poet is in his place; for here too is man's existence, with its -infinite longings and small acquirings; its ever-thwarted, -ever-renewed endeavors; its unspeakable aspirations, its fears and -hopes that wander through Eternity; and all the mystery of brightness -and of gloom that it was ever made of, in any age or climate, since -man first began {21} to live. Is there not the fifth act of a -Tragedy in every deathbed, though it were a peasant's, and a bed of -heath? And are wooings and weddings obsolete, that there can be -Comedy no longer? Or are men suddenly grown wise, that Laughter must -no longer shake his sides, but be cheated of his Farce? Man's life -and nature is, as it was, and as it will ever be. But the poet must -have an eye to read these things, and a heart to understand them; or -they come and pass away before him in vain. He is a _vates_, a seer; -a gift of vision has been given him. Has life no meanings for him, -which another cannot equally decipher? then he is no poet, and Delphi -itself will not make him one. - -In this respect, Burns, though not perhaps absolutely a great poet, -better manifests his capability, better proves the truth of his -genius, than if he had by his own strength kept the whole Minerva -Press[24] going, to the end of his literary course. He shows himself -at least a poet of Nature's own making; and Nature, after all, is -still the grand agent in making poets. We often hear of this and the -other external condition being requisite for the existence of a poet. -Sometimes it is a certain sort of training; he must have studied -certain things, studied, for instance, "the elder dramatists," and so -learned a poetic language; as if poetry lay in the tongue, not in the -heart. At other times we are told he must be bred in a certain rank, -and must be on a confidential footing with the higher classes; -because, above all things, he must see the world. As to seeing the -world, we {22} apprehend this will cause him little difficulty, if he -have but eyesight to see it with. Without eyesight, indeed, the task -might be hard. The blind or the purblind man "travels from Dan to -Beersheba, and finds it all barren." But happily every poet is born -in the world; and sees it, with or against his will, every day and -every hour he lives. The mysterious workmanship of man's heart, the -true light and the inscrutable darkness of man's destiny, reveal -themselves not only in capital cities and crowded saloons, but in -every hut and hamlet where men have their abode. Nay, do not the -elements of all human virtues and all human vices; the passions at -once of a Borgia and of a Luther, lie written, in stronger or fainter -lines, in the consciousness of every individual bosom, that has -practised honest self-examination? Truly, this same world may be -seen in Mossgiel and Tarbolton, if we look well, as clearly as it -ever came to light in Crockford's,[25] or the Tuileries itself. - -But sometimes still harder requisitions are laid on the poor aspirant -to poetry; for it is hinted that he should have _been born_ two -centuries ago; inasmuch as poetry, about that date, vanished from the -earth, and became no longer attainable by men![26] Such cobweb -speculations have, now and then, overhung the field of literature; -but they obstruct not the growth of any plant there: the Shakespeare -or the Burns, unconsciously and merely as he walks onward, silently -brushes them away. Is not every genius an impossibility till he -appear? Why do we call him new and original, if we saw where his -marble was lying, and what fabric he could rear from it? It is {23} -not the material but the workman that is wanting. It is not the dark -place that hinders, but the dim eye. A Scottish peasant's life was -the meanest and rudest of all lives, till Burns became a poet in it, -and a poet of it; found it a man's life, and therefore significant to -men. A thousand battlefields remain unsung; but the "Wounded Hare" -has not perished without its memorial; a balm of mercy yet breathes -on us from its dumb agonies, because a poet was there. Our -"Halloween" had passed and repassed, in rude awe and laughter, since -the era of the Druids; but no Theocritus, till Burns, discerned in it -the materials of a Scottish Idyl: neither was the "Holy Fair" any -Council of Trent or Roman Jubilee; but nevertheless, Superstition and -Hypocrisy and Fun having been propitious to him, in this man's hand -it became a poem, instinct with satire and genuine comic life.[27] -Let but the true poet be given us, we repeat it, place him where and -how you will, and true poetry will not be wanting. - -Independently of the essential gift of poetic feeling, as we have now -attempted to describe it, a certain rugged sterling worth pervades -whatever Burns has written; a virtue, as of green fields and mountain -breezes, dwells in his poetry; it is redolent of natural life and -hardy natural men. There is a decisive strength in him, and yet a -sweet native gracefulness: he is tender, he is vehement, yet without -constraint or too visible effort; he melts the heart, or inflames it, -with a power which seems habitual and familiar to him. We see that -in this man there was {24} the gentleness, the trembling pity of a -woman, with the deep earnestness, the force and passionate ardor of a -hero. Tears lie in him, and consuming fire; as lightning lurks in -the drops of the summer cloud. He has a resonance in his bosom for -every note of human feeling; the high and the low, the sad, the -ludicrous, the joyful, are welcome in their turns to his -"lightly-moved and all-conceiving spirit." And observe with what a -fierce prompt force he grasps his subject, be it what it may! How he -fixes, as it were, the full image of the matter in his eye; full and -clear in every lineament; and catches the real type and essence of -it, amid a thousand accidents and superficial circumstances, no one -of which misleads him! Is it of reason; some truth to be discovered? -No sophistry, no vain surface-logic detains him; quick, resolute, -unerring, he pierces through into the marrow of the question; and -speaks his verdict with an emphasis that cannot be forgotten. Is it -of description some visual object to be represented? No poet of any -age or nation is more graphic than Burns: the characteristic features -disclose themselves to him at a glance; three lines from his hand and -we have a likeness. And, in that rough dialect, in that rude, often -awkward metre, so clear and definite a likeness! It seems a -draughtsman working with a burnt stick; and yet the burin of a -Retzsch[28] is not more expressive or exact. - -Of[29] this last excellence, the plainest and most {25} comprehensive -of all, being indeed the root and foundation of _every_ sort of -talent, poetical or intellectual, we could produce innumerable -instances from the writings of Burns. Take these glimpses of a -snowstorm from his "Winter Night" (the italics are ours):-- - - When biting Boreas, fell and doure, - _Sharp shivers_ thro' the leafless bow'r, - And Phœbus _gies a short-liv'd glowr - Far south the lift, - Dim-darkening thro' the flaky shower - Or whirling drift:_ - - 'Ae night the storm the steeples rock'd, - Poor labour sweet in sleep was lock'd, - While burns _wi' snawy wreeths upchok'd - Wild-eddying swirl,_ - Or thro' the mining outlet bock'd[30] - Down headlong hurl. - -Are there not "descriptive touches" there? The describer _saw_ this -thing; the essential feature and true likeness of every circumstance -in it; saw, and not with the eye only. "Poor labour locked in sweet -sleep;" the dead stillness of man, unconscious, vanquished, yet not -unprotected, while such strife of the material elements rages, and -seems to reign supreme in loneliness: this is of the heart as well as -of the eye!--Look also at his image of a thaw, and prophesied fall of -the "Auld Brig:"-- - - When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains - Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains; - When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, - Or stately Lugar's _mossy_ fountains _boil_, - Or where the Greenock winds his _moorland_ course, - Or haunted Garpal[31] draws his feeble source, -{26} - Arous'd by blust'ring winds and _spotting_ thowes,[32] - _In mony a torrent down his snaw-broo rowes;[33] - While crashing ice, borne on the roaring speat,[34] - Sweeps dams and mills and brigs a' to the gate;_ - And from Glenbuck down to the Rottonkey, - Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd _tumbling_ sea; - Then down ye'll hurl, Deil nor ye never rise! - And _dash the gumlie jaups[35] up to the pouring skies_.[36] - -The last line is in itself a Poussin-picture of that Deluge! The -welkin has, as it were, bent down with its weight; the "gumlie jaups" -and the "pouring skies" are mingled together; it is a world of rain -and ruin.--In respect of mere clearness and minute fidelity, the -_Farmer's_ commendation of his _Auld Mare_ in plough or in cart, may -vie with Homer's Smithy of the Cyclops, or yoking of Priam's -Chariot.[37] Nor have we forgotten stout Burn-the-wind[38] and his -brawny customers, inspired by Scotch Drink: but it is needless to -multiply examples. One other trait of a much finer sort we select -from multitudes of such among his "Songs." It gives, in a single -line, to the saddest feeling the saddest environment and local -habitation:-- - - _The pale Moon is setting beyond the white wave, - And time is setting wi' me, O;_ -{27} - Farewell, false friends! false lover, farewell! - I'll nae mair trouble them nor thee, O.[39] - - -This clearness of sight we have called the foundation of all talent; -for in fact, unless we see our object, how shall we know how to place -or prize it, in our understanding, our imagination, our affections? -Yet it is not in itself, perhaps, a very high excellence; but capable -of being united indifferently with the strongest, or with ordinary -power. Homer surpasses all men in this quality: but strangely -enough, at no great distance below him are Richardson and Defoe. It -belongs, in truth, to what is called a lively mind; and gives no sure -indication of the higher endowments that may exist along with it. In -all the three cases we have mentioned, it is combined with great -garrulity; their descriptions are detailed, ample and lovingly exact: -Homer's fire bursts through, from time to time, as if by accident; -but Defoe and Richardson have no fire. Burns, again, is not more -distinguished by the clearness than by the impetuous force of his -conceptions. Of the strength, the piercing emphasis with which he -thought, his emphasis of expression may give a humble but the -readiest proof. Whoever uttered sharper sayings than his; words more -memorable, now by their burning vehemence, now by their cool vigor -and laconic pith? A single phrase depicts a whole subject, a whole -scene. We hear of "a gentleman that derived his patent of nobility -direct {28} from Almighty God." Our Scottish forefathers in the -battlefield struggled forward "_red-wat-shod_:"[40] in this one word -a full vision of horror and carnage, perhaps too frightfully accurate -for Art! - -In fact, one of the leading features in the mind of Burns is this -vigor of his strictly intellectual perceptions. A resolute force is -ever visible in his judgments, and in his feelings and volitions. -Professor Stewart says of him, with some surprise:[41] "All the -faculties of Burns's mind were, as far as I could judge, equally -vigorous; and his predilection for poetry was rather the result of -his own enthusiastic and impassioned temper, than of a genius -exclusively adapted to that species of composition. From his -conversation I should have pronounced him to be fitted to excel in -whatever walk of ambition he had chosen to exert his abilities." But -this, if we mistake not, is at all times the very essence of a truly -poetical endowment. Poetry, except in such cases as that of Keats, -where the whole consists in a weak-eyed maudlin sensibility, and a -certain vague random tunefulness of nature, is no separate faculty, -no organ which can be superadded to the rest, or disjoined from them; -but rather the result of their general harmony and completion.[42] -The feelings, the gifts {29} that exist in the Poet are those that -exist, with more or less development, in every human soul: the -imagination, which shudders at the Hell of Dante, is the same -faculty, weaker in degree, which called that picture into being. How -does the Poet speak to men, with power, but by being still more a man -than they? Shakespeare, it has been well observed, in the planning -and completing of his tragedies, has shown an understanding, were it -nothing more, which might have governed states, or indited a "Novum -Organum." What Burns's force of understanding may have been, we have -less means of judging: it had to dwell among the humblest objects; -never saw Philosophy; never rose, except by natural effort and for -short intervals, into the region of great ideas. Nevertheless, -sufficient indication, if no proof sufficient, remains for us in his -works: we discern the brawny movements of a gigantic though untutored -strength; and can understand how, in conversation, his quick sure -insight into men and things may, as much as aught else about him, -have amazed the best thinkers of his time and country. - -But, unless we mistake, the intellectual gift of Burns is fine as -well as strong. The more delicate relations of things could not well -have escaped his eye, for they were intimately present to his heart. -The logic of the senate and the forum is indispensable, but not -all-sufficient; nay perhaps the highest Truth is that which will the -most certainly elude it. For {30} this logic works by words, and -"the highest," it has been said, "cannot be expressed in words." We -are not without tokens of an openness for this higher truth also, of -a keen though uncultivated sense for it, having existed in Burns. -Mr. Stewart, it will be remembered, "wonders," in the passage above -quoted, that Burns had formed some distinct conception of the -"doctrine of association." We rather think that far subtler things -than the doctrine of association had from of old been familiar to -him. Here for instance:-- - -"We know nothing," thus writes he, "or next to nothing, of the -structure of our souls, so we cannot account for those seeming -caprices in them, that one should be particularly pleased with this -thing, or struck with that, which, on minds of a different cast, -makes no extraordinary impression. I have some favorite flowers in -spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the harebell, the -foxglove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary -hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight. I never -hear the loud solitary whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the -wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plover in an autumnal morning, -without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion -or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing? Are -we a piece of machinery, which, like the Æolian harp, passive, takes -the impression of the passing accident; or do these workings argue -something within us above the trodden clod? I own myself partial to -such proofs of those awful and important realities: a God that made -all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, {31} and a world of -weal or woe beyond death and the grave."[43] - -Force and fineness of understanding are often spoken of as something -different from general force and fineness of nature, as something -partly independent of them. The necessities of language so require -it; but in truth these qualities are not distinct and independent: -except in special cases, and from special causes, they ever go -together. A man of strong understanding is generally a man of strong -character; neither is delicacy in the one kind often divided from -delicacy in the other. No one, at all events, is ignorant that in -the Poetry of Burns keenness of insight keeps pace with keenness of -feeling; that his _light_ is not more pervading than his _warmth_. -He is a man of the most impassioned temper; with passions not strong -only, but noble, and of the sort in which great virtues and great -poems take their rise. It is reverence, it is love towards all -Nature that inspires him, that opens his eyes to its beauty, and -makes heart and voice eloquent in its praise. There is a true old -saying, that "Love furthers knowledge:" but above all, it is the -living essence of that knowledge which makes poets; the first -principle of its existence, increase, activity. Of Burns's fervid -affection, his generous all-embracing Love, we have spoken already, -as of the grand distinction of his nature, seen equally in word and -deed, in his Life and in his Writings. It were easy to multiply -examples. Not man only, but all that environs man in the material -and moral universe, is lovely in his sight: "the hoary hawthorn," the -"troop of gray plover," the "solitary {32} curlew," all are dear to -him; all live in this Earth along with him, and to all he is knit as -in mysterious brotherhood. How touching is it, for instance, that, -amidst the gloom of personal misery, brooding over the wintry -desolation without him and within him, he thinks of the "ourie -cattle" and "silly sheep," and their sufferings in the pitiless storm! - - I thought me on the ourie cattle, - Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle - O' wintry war, - Or thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle,[44] - Beneath a scaur. - Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing, - That in the merry months o' spring - Delighted me to hear thee sing, - What comes o' thee? - Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing? - And close thy ee?[45] - -The tenant of the mean hut, with its "ragged roof and chinky -wall,"[46] has a heart to pity even these! This is worth several -homilies on Mercy; for it is the voice of Mercy herself. Burns, -indeed, lives in sympathy; his soul rushes forth into all realms of -being; nothing that has existence can be indifferent to him. The -very Devil he cannot hate with right orthodoxy:-- - - But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben; - O, wad ye tak a thought and men'! - Ye aiblins might--I dinna ken,-- - Still hae a stake; - I'm wae to think upo' yon den, - Even for your sake![47] - -"He is the father of curses and lies," said Dr. Slop; {33} "and is -cursed and damned already."--"I am sorry for it," quoth my uncle -Toby![48]--a Poet without Love were a physical and metaphysical -impossibility. - -But[49] has it not been said, in contradiction to this principle, -that "Indignation makes verses"?[50] It has been so said, and is -true enough: but the contradiction is apparent, not real. The -Indignation which makes verses is, properly speaking, an inverted -Love; the love of some right, some worth, some goodness, belonging to -ourselves or others, which has been injured, and which this -tempestuous feeling issues forth to defend and avenge. No selfish -fury of heart, existing there as a primary feeling, and without its -opposite, ever produced much Poetry: otherwise, we suppose, the Tiger -were the most musical of all our choristers. Johnson said, he loved -a good hater; by which he must have meant, not so much one that hated -violently, as one that hated wisely; hated baseness from love of -nobleness. However, in spite of Johnson's paradox, tolerable enough -for once in speech, but which need not have been so often adopted in -print since then, we rather believe that good men deal sparingly in -hatred, either wise or unwise: nay that a "good" hater is still a -desideratum in this world. The Devil, at least, who passes for the -chief {34} and best of that class, is said to be nowise an amiable -character.[51] - -Of the verses which Indignation makes, Burns has also given us -specimens: and among the best that were ever given. Who will forget -his "Dweller in yon Dungeon dark;" a piece that might have been -chanted by the Furies of Æschylus? The secrets of the infernal Pit -are laid bare; a boundless baleful "darkness visible;"[52] and -streaks of hell-fire quivering madly in its black haggard bosom! - - Dweller in yon Dungeon dark, - Hangman of Creation, mark! - Who in widow's weeds appears, - Laden with unhonoured years, - Noosing with care a bursting purse, - Baited with many a deadly curse![53] - - -Why should we speak of "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled;" since all -know of it, from the king to the meanest of his subjects? This -dithyrambic was composed on horseback; in riding in the middle of -tempests, over the wildest Galloway moor, in company with a Mr. Syme, -who, observing the poet's looks, forbore to speak,--judiciously -enough, for a man composing "Bruce's Address" might be unsafe to -trifle with. Doubtless this stern hymn was singing itself, as he -formed it, through the soul of Burns; but to the external ear, it -should be sung with the throat {35} of the whirlwind.[54] So long as -there is warm blood in the heart of Scotchman or man, it will move in -fierce thrills under this war-ode; the best, we believe, that was -ever written by any pen. - -Another wild stormful Song, that dwells in our ear and mind with a -strange tenacity, is "Macpherson's Farewell." Perhaps there is -something in the tradition itself that cooperates. For was not this -grim Celt, this shaggy Northland Cacus,[55] that "lived a life of -sturt and strife, and died by treacherie,"--was not he too one of the -Nimrods and Napoleons of the earth, in the arena of his own remote -misty glens, for want of a clearer and wider one? Nay, was there not -a touch of grace given him? A fibre of love and softness, of poetry -itself, must have lived in his savage heart: for he composed that air -the night before his execution; on the wings of that poor melody his -better soul would soar away above oblivion, pain and all the ignominy -and despair, which, like an avalanche, was hurling him to the abyss! -Here also, as at Thebes, and in Pelops' line,[56] was material Fate -matched against man's Free-will; matched in bitterest though obscure -duel; and the ethereal soul sank not, even in its blindness, without -a cry which has survived it. But who, except Burns, could have given -words to such a soul; words that we never {36} listen to without a -strange half-barbarous, half-poetic fellow-feeling? - - Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, - Sae dauntingly gaed he; - He play'd a spring, and danced it round, - Below the gallows-tree. - - -Under a lighter disguise, the same principle of Love, which we have -recognized as the great characteristic of Burns, and of all true -poets, occasionally manifests itself in the shape of Humor. -Everywhere, indeed, in his sunny moods, a full buoyant flood of mirth -rolls through the mind of Burns; he rises to the high, and stoops to -the low, and is brother and playmate to all Nature. We speak not of -his bold and often irresistible faculty of caricature; for this is -Drollery rather than Humor: but a much tenderer sportfulness dwells -in him; and comes forth here and there, in evanescent and beautiful -touches; as in his "Address to the Mouse," or the "Farmer's Mare," or -in his "Elegy on poor Mailie," which last may be reckoned his -happiest effort of this kind. In these pieces there are traits of a -Humor as fine as that of Sterne;[57] yet altogether different, -original, peculiar,--the Humor of Burns. - -Of the tenderness, the playful pathos, and many other kindred -qualities of Burns's Poetry, much more might be said; but now, with -these poor outlines of a sketch, we must prepare to quit this part of -our subject. To speak of his individual Writings, adequately and -with any detail, would lead us far beyond our limits. As already -hinted, we can look on {37} but few of these pieces as, in strict -critical language, deserving the name of Poems: they are rhymed -eloquence, rhymed pathos, rhymed sense; yet seldom essentially -melodious, aerial, poetical. "Tam o' Shanter" itself, which enjoys -so high a favor, does not appear to us at all decisively to come -under this last category. It is not so much a poem, as a piece of -sparkling rhetoric; the heart and body of the story still lies hard -and dead. He has not gone back, much less carried us back, into that -dark, earnest, wondering age, when the tradition was believed, and -when it took its rise; he does not attempt, by any new-modelling of -his supernatural ware, to strike anew that deep mysterious chord of -human nature, which once responded to such things; and which lives in -us too, and will forever live, though silent now, or vibrating with -far other notes, and to far different issues. Our German readers -will understand us, when we say, that he is not the Tieck but the -Musäus of this tale.[58] Externally it is all green and living; yet -look closer, it is no firm growth, but only ivy on a rock. The piece -does not properly cohere: the strange chasm which yawns in our -incredulous imaginations between the Ayr publichouse and the gate of -Tophet, is nowhere bridged over, nay the idea of such a bridge is -laughed at; and thus the Tragedy of the adventure becomes a mere -drunken phantasmagoria, or many-colored spectrum painted on -ale-vapors, and the Farce {38} alone has any reality. We do not say -that Burns should have made much more of this tradition; we rather -think that, for strictly poetical purposes, not much was to be made -of it. Neither are we blind to the deep, varied, genial power -displayed in what he has actually accomplished; but we find far more -"Shakespearean" qualities, as these of "Tam o' Shanter" have been -fondly named, in many of his other pieces; nay we incline to believe -that this latter might have been written, all but quite as well, by a -man who, in place of genius, had only possessed talent. - -Perhaps we may venture to say, that the most strictly poetical of all -his "poems" is one which does not appear in Currie's Edition; but has -been often printed before and since, under the humble title of "The -Jolly Beggars." The subject truly is among the lowest in Nature; but -it only the more shows our Poet's gift in raising it into the domain -of Art. To our minds, this piece seems thoroughly compacted; melted -together, refined; and poured forth in one flood of true _liquid_ -harmony. It is light, airy, soft of movement; yet sharp and precise -in its details; every face is a portrait: that _raucle carlin_,[59] -that _wee Apollo_, that _Son of Mars_, are Scottish, yet ideal; the -scene is at once a dream, and the very Ragcastle of -"Poosie-Nansie."[60] Farther, it seems in a considerable degree -complete, a real self-supporting Whole, which is the highest merit in -a poem. The blanket of the Night is drawn asunder for a moment; in -full, ruddy, flaming light, these rough tatterdemalions are seen in -their boisterous revel; for the strong pulse of {39} Life vindicates -its right to gladness even here; and when the curtain closes, we -prolong the action, without effort; the next day as the last, our -_Caird_ and our _Balladmonger_ are singing and soldiering; their -"brats and callets" are hawking, begging, cheating; and some other -night, in new combinations, they will wring from Fate another hour of -wassail and good cheer. Apart from the universal sympathy with man -which this again bespeaks in Burns, a genuine inspiration and no -inconsiderable technical talent are manifested here. There is the -fidelity, humor, warm life and accurate painting and grouping of some -Teniers,[61] for whom hostlers and carousing peasants are not without -significance. It would be strange, doubtless, to call this the best -of Burns's writings: we mean to say only, that it seems to us the -most perfect of its kind, as a piece of poetical composition, -strictly so called. In "The Beggar's Opera,"[62] in the "Beggar's -Bush,"[63] as other critics[64] have already remarked, there is -nothing which, in real poetic vigor, equals this _Cantata_; nothing, -as we think, which comes within many degrees of it. - - -But by far the most finished, complete and truly inspired pieces of -Burns are, without dispute, to be found among his "Songs." It is -here that, although through a small aperture, his light shines with -least obstruction; in its highest beauty and pure sunny clearness. -The reason may be, that Song is a brief simple species of -composition; and requires nothing {40} so much for its perfection as -genuine poetic feeling, genuine music of heart. Yet the Song has its -rules equally with the Tragedy; rules which in most cases are poorly -fulfilled, in many cases are not so much as felt. We might write a -long essay on the Songs of Burns; which we reckon by far the best -that Britain has yet produced: for indeed, since the era of Queen -Elizabeth, we know not that, by any other hand, aught truly worth -attention has been accomplished in this department. True, we have -songs enough "by persons of quality;" we have tawdry, hollow, -wine-bred madrigals; many a rhymed speech "in the flowing and watery -vein of Osorius the Portugal Bishop,"[65] rich in sonorous words, -and, for moral, dashed perhaps with some tint of a sentimental -sensuality; all which many persons cease not from endeavoring to -sing; though for most part, we fear, the music is but from the throat -outwards, or at best from some region far enough short of the _Soul_; -not in which, but in a certain inane Limbo of the Fancy, or even in -some vaporous debatable-land on the outskirts of the Nervous System, -most of such madrigals and rhymed speeches seem to have originated. - -With the Songs of Burns we must not name these things. Independently -of the clear, manly, heartfelt {41} sentiment that ever pervades -_his_ poetry, his Songs are honest in another point of view: in form, -as well as in spirit. They do not _affect_ to be set to music, but -they actually and in themselves are music; they have received their -life, and fashioned themselves together, in the medium of Harmony, as -Venus rose from the bosom of the sea. The story, the feeling, is not -detailed, but suggested; not _said_, or spouted, in rhetorical -completeness and coherence; but _sung_, in fitful gushes, in glowing -hints, in fantastic breaks, in _warblings_ not of the voice only, but -of the whole mind. We consider this to be the essence of a song; and -that no songs since the little careless catches, and as it were drops -of song, which Shakespeare has here and there sprinkled over his -Plays, fulfil this condition in nearly the same degree as most of -Burns's do. Such grace and truth of external movement, too, -presupposes in general a corresponding force and truth of sentiment -and inward meaning. The Songs of Burns are not more perfect in the -former quality than in the latter. With what tenderness he sings, -yet with what vehemence and entireness! There is a piercing wail in -his sorrow, the purest rapture in his joy; he burns with the sternest -ire, or laughs with the loudest or sliest mirth; and yet he is sweet -and soft, "sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, and soft as -their parting tear." If we further take into account the immense -variety of his subjects; how, from the loud flowing revel in "Willie -brew'd a Peck o' Maut," to the still, rapt enthusiasm of sadness of -"Mary in Heaven;" from the glad kind greeting of "Auld Lang Syne," or -the comic archness of "Duncan Gray," to the fire-eyed fury of "Scots -wha hae wi' Wallace bled," he has found a tone and words for {42} -every mood of man's heart,--it will seem a small praise if we rank -him as the first of all our Song-writers; for we know not where to -find one worthy of being second to him. - -It is on his Songs, as we believe, that Burns's chief influence as an -author will ultimately be found to depend: nor, if our Fletcher's[66] -aphorism is true, shall we account this a small influence. "Let me -make the songs of a people," said he, "and you shall make its laws." -Surely, if ever any Poet might have equalled himself with Legislators -on this ground, it was Burns. His Songs are already part of the -mother-tongue, not of Scotland only, but of Britain, and of the -millions that in all ends of the earth speak a British language. In -hut and hall, as the heart unfolds itself in many-colored joy and woe -of existence, the _name_, the _voice_ of that joy and that woe, is -the name and voice which Burns has given them. Strictly speaking, -perhaps no British man has so deeply affected the thoughts and -feelings of so many men, as this solitary and altogether private -individual, with means apparently the humblest. - -In another point of view, moreover, we incline to think that Burns's -influence may have been considerable: we mean, as exerted specially -on the Literature of his country, at least on the Literature of -Scotland. Among the great changes which British, particularly -Scottish literature, has undergone since that period, one of the -greatest will be found to consist in its {43} remarkable increase of -nationality. Even the English writers most popular in Burns's time -were little distinguished for their literary patriotism, in this its -best sense. A certain attenuated cosmopolitanism had, in good -measure, taken place of the old insular home-feeling; literature was, -as it were, without any local environment; was not nourished by the -affections which spring from a native soil. Our Grays and -Glovers[67] seemed to write almost as if _in vacuo_; the thing -written bears no mark of place; it is not written so much for -Englishmen, as for men; or rather, which is the inevitable result of -this, for certain Generalizations which philosophy termed men. -Goldsmith is an exception: not so Johnson; the scene of his "Rambler" -is little more English than that of his "Rasselas." - -But if such was, in some degree, the case with England, it was, in -the highest degree, the case with Scotland. In fact our Scottish -literature had, at that period, a very singular aspect; unexampled, -so far as we know, except perhaps at Geneva, where the same state of -matters appears still to continue. For a long period after Scotland -became British, we had no literature; at the date when Addison and -Steele were writing their "Spectators," our good John Boston was -writing, with the noblest intent, but alike in defiance of grammar -and philosophy, his "Fourfold State {44} of Man."[68] Then came the -schisms in our National Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body -Politic: Theologic ink, and Jacobite blood, with gall enough in both -cases, seemed to have blotted out the intellect of the country: -however, it was only obscured, not obliterated. Lord Kames made -nearly the first attempt at writing English; and ere long, Hume, -Robertson, Smith, and a whole host of followers, attracted hither the -eyes of all Europe. And yet in this brilliant resuscitation of our -"fervid genius," there was nothing truly Scottish, nothing -indigenous; except, perhaps, the natural impetuosity of intellect, -which we sometimes claim, and are sometimes upbraided with, as a -characteristic of our nation. It is curious to remark that Scotland, -so full of writers, had no Scottish culture, nor indeed any English; -our culture was almost exclusively French. It was by studying Racine -and Voltaire, Batteux and Boileau, that Kames had trained himself to -be a critic and philosopher; it was the light of Montesquieu and -Mably that guided Robertson in his political speculations; Quesnay's -lamp that kindled the lamp of Adam Smith.[69] Hume was too rich a -man to borrow; and perhaps he reacted on the French more than he was -acted on by them; but neither had he aught to do with Scotland; -Edinburgh, equally with La Fleche,[70] {45} was but the lodging and -laboratory, in which he not so much morally _lived_, as -metaphysically _investigated_. Never, perhaps, was there a class of -writers so clear and well-ordered, yet so totally destitute, to all -appearance, of any patriotic affection, nay of any human affection -whatever. The French wits of the period were as unpatriotic: but -their general deficiency in moral principle, not to say their avowed -sensuality and unbelief in all virtue, strictly so called, render -this accountable enough. We hope there is a patriotism founded on -something better than prejudice; that our country may be dear to us, -without injury to our philosophy; that in loving and justly prizing -all other lands, we may prize justly, and yet love before all others, -our own stern Motherland, and the venerable Structure of social and -moral Life, which Mind has through long ages been building up for us -there. Surely there is nourishment for the better part of man's -heart in all this: surely the roots, that have fixed themselves in -the very core of man's being, may be so cultivated as to grow up not -into briers, but into roses, in the field of his life! Our Scottish -sages have no such propensities: the field of their life shows -neither briers nor roses; but only a flat, continuous thrashing-floor -for Logic, whereon all questions, from the "Doctrine of Kent" to the -"Natural History of Religion," are thrashed and sifted with the same -mechanical impartiality![71] - -With Sir Walter Scott at the head of our literature, it cannot be -denied that much of this evil is past, or rapidly passing away: our -chief literary men, {46} whatever other faults they may have, no -longer live among us like a French Colony, or some knot of Propaganda -Missionaries; but like natural-born subjects of the soil, partaking -and sympathizing in all our attachments, humors, and habits. Our -literature no longer grows in water but in mould, and with the true -racy virtues of the soil and climate. How much of this change may be -due to Burns, or to any other individual, it might be difficult to -estimate.[72] Direct literary imitation of Burns was not to be -looked for. But his example, in the fearless adoption of domestic -subjects, could not but operate from afar; and certainly in no heart -did the love of country ever burn with a warmer glow than in that of -Burns: "a tide of Scottish prejudice,"[73] as he modestly calls this -deep and generous feeling, "had been poured along his veins; and he -felt that it would boil there till the flood-gates shut in eternal -rest." It seemed to him, as if _he_ could do so little for his -country, and yet would so gladly have done all. One small province -stood open for him,--that of Scottish Song; and how eagerly he -entered on it, how devotedly he labored there! In his toilsome -journeyings, this object never quits him; it is the little -happy-valley of his careworn heart. In the gloom of his own -affliction, {47} he eagerly searches after some lonely brother of the -muse, and rejoices to snatch one other name from the oblivion that -was covering it![74] These were early feelings, and they abode with -him to the end:-- - - ... A wish (I mind its power), - A wish, that to my latest hour - Will strongly heave my breast,-- - That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake, - Some useful plan or book could make, - Or sing a sang at least. - - The rough bur Thistle spreading wide - Amang the bearded bear, - I turn'd my weeding-clips aside, - And spared the symbol dear.[75] - - -But to leave the mere literary character of Burns, which has already -detained us too long. Far more interesting than any of his written -works, as it appears to us, are his acted ones: the Life he willed -and was fated to lead among his fellow-men. These Poems are but like -little rhymed fragments scattered here and there in the grand -unrhymed Romance of his earthly existence; and it is only when -intercalated in this at their proper places, that they attain their -full measure of significance. And this too, alas! was but a -fragment! The plan of a mighty edifice had been sketched; some -columns, porticos, firm masses of building, stand completed; the rest -more or less clearly indicated; with many a far-stretching {48} -tendency, which only studious and friendly eyes can now trace towards -the purposed termination. For the work is broken off in the middle, -almost in the beginning; and rises among us, beautiful and sad, at -once unfinished and a ruin! If charitable judgment was necessary in -estimating his Poems, and justice required that the aim and the -manifest power to fulfil it must often be accepted for the -fulfilment; much more is this the case in regard to his Life, the sum -and result of all his endeavors, where his difficulties came upon him -not in detail only, but in mass; and so much has been left -unaccomplished, nay was mistaken, and altogether marred. - -Properly speaking, there is but one era in the life of Burns, and -that the earliest. We have not youth and manhood, but only youth: -for, to the end, we discern no decisive change in the complexion of -his character; in his thirty-seventh year, he is still, as it were, -in youth. With all that resoluteness of judgment, that penetrating -insight, and singular maturity of intellectual power, exhibited in -his writings, he never attains to any clearness regarding himself: to -the last, he never ascertains his peculiar aim, even with such -distinctness as is common among ordinary men; and therefore never can -pursue it with that singleness of will which insures success and some -contentment to such men.[76] To the last, he wavers between two -purposes: glorying in his talent, like a true poet, he yet cannot -consent to make this his chief and sole glory, and to follow it as -the one thing needful, through poverty or riches, through good or -evil {49} report.[77] Another far meaner ambition still cleaves to -him; he must dream and struggle about a certain "Rock of -Independence;" which, natural and even admirable as it might be, was -still but a warring with the world, on the comparatively -insignificant ground of his being more completely or less completely -supplied with money than others; of his standing at a higher or at a -lower altitude in general estimation than others. For the world -still appears to him, as to the young, in borrowed colors; he expects -from it what it cannot give to any man; seeks for contentment, not -within himself, in action and wise effort, but from without, in the -kindness of circumstances, in love, friendship, honor, pecuniary -ease. He would be happy, not actively and in himself, but passively -and from some ideal cornucopia of Enjoyments, not earned by his own -labor, but showered on him by the beneficence of Destiny. Thus, like -a young man, he cannot gird himself up for any worthy well-calculated -goal, but swerves to and fro, between passionate hope and remorseful -disappointment: rushing onwards {50} with a deep tempestuous force, -he surmounts or breaks asunder many a barrier; travels, nay advances -far, but advancing only under uncertain guidance, is ever and anon -turned from his path; and to the last cannot reach the only true -happiness of a man, that of clear decided Activity in the sphere for -which, by nature and circumstances, he has been fitted and appointed. - -We do not say these things in dispraise of Burns; nay, perhaps, they -but interest us the more in his favor. This blessing is not given -soonest to the best; but rather, it is often the greatest minds that -are latest in obtaining it; for where most is to be developed, most -time may be required to develop it. A complex condition had been -assigned him from without; as complex a condition from within: no -"pre-established harmony" existed between the clay soil of Mossgiel -and the empyrean soul of Robert Burns; it was not wonderful that the -adjustment between them should have been long postponed, and his arm -long cumbered, and his sight confused, in so vast and discordant an -economy as he had been appointed steward over. Byron was, at his -death, but a year younger than Burns; and through life, as it might -have appeared, far more simply situated: yet in him too we can trace -no such adjustment, no such moral manhood; but at best, and only a -little before his end, the beginning of what seemed such. - -By much the most striking incident in Burns's Life is his journey to -Edinburgh; but perhaps a still more important one is his residence at -Irvine so early as in his twenty-third year. Hitherto his life had -been poor and toilworn; but otherwise not ungenial, and, with all its -distresses, by no means unhappy. In his {51} parentage, deducting -outward circumstances, he had every reason to reckon himself -fortunate. His father was a man of thoughtful, intense, earnest -character, as the best of our peasants are; valuing knowledge, -possessing some, and, what is far better and rarer, openminded for -more: a man with a keen insight and devout heart; reverent towards -God, friendly therefore, at once, and fearless towards all that God -has made: in one word, though but a hard-handed peasant, a complete -and fully unfolded _Man_. Such a father is seldom found in any rank -in society; and was worth descending far in society to seek.[78] -Unfortunately he was very poor; had he been even a little richer, -almost never so little, the whole might have issued far otherwise. -Mighty events turn on a straw; the crossing of a brook decides the -conquest of the world. Had this William Burns's small seven acres of -nursery-ground anywise prospered, the boy Robert had been sent to -school; had struggled forward, as so many weaker men do, to some -university; come forth not as a rustic wonder, but as a regular -well-trained intellectual workman, and changed the whole course of -British Literature,--for it lay in him to have done this![79] But -the nursery did not prosper; poverty sank his whole family below the -help of even our cheap school-system: Burns remained a hard-worked -ploughboy, and British literature took its own course. Nevertheless, -even in this rugged scene there is much to nourish him. If he -drudges, it is {52} with his brother, and for his father and mother, -whom he loves, and would fain shield from want. Wisdom is not -banished from their poor hearth, nor the balm of natural feeling: the -solemn words, "Let us worship God," are heard there from a -"priest-like father;"[80] if threatenings of unjust men throw mother -and children into tears, these are tears not of grief only, but of -holiest affection; every heart in that humble group feels itself the -closer knit to every other; in their hard warfare they are there -together, a "little band of brethren." Neither are such tears, and -the deep beauty that dwells in them, their only portion. Light -visits the hearts as it does the eyes of all living: there is a -force, too, in this youth, that enables him to trample on misfortune; -nay to bind it under his feet to make him sport. For a bold, warm, -buoyant humor of character has been given him; and so the -thick-coming shapes of evil are welcomed with a gay, friendly irony, -and in their closest pressure he bates no jot of heart or hope. -Vague yearnings of ambition fail not, as he grows up; dreamy fancies -hang like cloud-cities around him; the curtain of Existence is slowly -rising, in many-colored splendor and gloom: and the auroral light of -first love is gilding his horizon, and the music of song is on his -path; and so he walks - - ... "in glory and in joy, - Behind his plough, upon the mountain side."[81] - - -We ourselves know, from the best evidence, that up to this date Burns -was happy; nay that he was {53} the gayest, brightest, most -fantastic, fascinating being to be found in the world; more so even -than he ever afterwards appeared.[82] But now, at this early age, he -quits the paternal roof; goes forth into looser, louder, more -exciting society; and becomes initiated in those dissipations, those -vices, which a certain class of philosophers have asserted to be a -natural preparative for entering on active life: a kind of mud-bath, -in which the youth is, as it were, necessitated to steep, and, we -suppose, cleanse himself, before the real toga of Manhood can be laid -on him. We shall not dispute much with this class of philosophers; -we hope they are mistaken: for Sin and Remorse so easily beset us at -all stages of life, and are always such indifferent company, that it -seems hard we should, at any stage, be forced and fated not only to -meet but to yield to them, and even serve for a term in their leprous -armada. We hope it is not so. Clear we are, at all events, it -cannot be the training one receives in this Devil's service, but only -our determining to desert from it, that fits us for true manly -Action. We become men, not after we have been dissipated, and -disappointed in the chase of false pleasure; but after we have -ascertained, in any way, what impassable barriers hem us in through -this life; how mad it is to hope for contentment to our infinite soul -from the _gifts_ of this extremely finite world; {54} that a man must -be sufficient for himself; and that for suffering and enduring there -is no remedy but striving and doing. Manhood begins when we have in -any way made truce with necessity; begins even when we have -surrendered to necessity, as the most part only do; but begins -joyfully and hopefully only when we have reconciled ourselves to -Necessity; and thus, in reality, triumphed over it, and felt that in -Necessity we are free. Surely such lessons as this last, which, in -one shape or other, is the grand lesson for every mortal man, are -better learned from the lips of a devout mother, in the looks and -actions of a devout father, while the heart is yet soft and pliant, -than in collision with the sharp adamant of Fate, attracting us to -shipwreck us, when the heart is grown hard, and may be broken before -it will become contrite. Had Burns continued to learn this, as he -was already learning it, in his father's cottage, he would have -learned it fully, which he never did; and been saved many a lasting -aberration, many a bitter hour and year of remorseful sorrow. - -It seems to us another circumstance of fatal import in Burns's -history, that at this time too he became involved in the religious -quarrels of his district; that he was enlisted and feasted, as the -fighting man of the New-Light Priesthood, in their highly -unprofitable warfare. At the tables of these freeminded clergy he -learned much more than was needful for him. Such liberal ridicule of -fanaticism awakened in his mind scruples about Religion itself; and a -whole world of Doubts, which it required quite another set of -conjurers than these men to exorcise. We do not say that such an -intellect as his could have escaped similar doubts at some period of -his history; or even {55} that he could, at a later period, have come -through them altogether victorious and unharmed: but it seems -peculiarly unfortunate that this time, above all others, should have -been fixed for the encounter. For now, with principles assailed by -evil example from without, by "passions raging like demons"[83a] from -within, he had little need of sceptical misgivings to whisper treason -in the heat of the battle, or to cut off his retreat if he were -already defeated. He loses his feeling of innocence; his mind is at -variance with itself; the old divinity no longer presides there; but -wild Desires and wild Repentance alternately oppress him. Ere long, -too, he has committed himself before the world; his character for -sobriety, dear to a Scottish peasant as few corrupted worldlings can -even conceive, is destroyed in the eyes of men; and his only refuge -consists in trying to disbelieve his guiltiness, and is but a refuge -of lies. The blackest desperation now gathers over him, broken only -by red lightnings of remorse. The whole fabric of his life is -blasted asunder; for now not only his character, but his personal -liberty is to be lost; men and Fortune are leagued for his hurt; -"hungry Ruin has him in the wind." He sees no escape but the saddest -of all: exile from his loved country, to a country in every sense -inhospitable and abhorrent to him. While the "gloomy night is -gathering fast,"[83b] in mental storm and solitude, as well as in -physical, he sings his wild farewell to Scotland:-- - - Farewell, my friends; farewell, my foes! - My peace with these, my love with those: -{56} - The bursting tears my heart declare; - Adieu, my native banks of Ayr![84] - - -Light breaks suddenly in on him in floods; but still a false -transitory light, and no real sunshine. He is invited to Edinburgh; -hastens thither with anticipating heart; is welcomed as in a triumph, -and with universal blandishment and acclamation; whatever is wisest, -whatever is greatest or loveliest there, gathers round him, to gaze -on his face, to show him honor, sympathy, affection. Burns's -appearance among the sages and nobles of Edinburgh must be regarded -as one of the most singular phenomena in modern Literature; almost -like the appearance of some Napoleon among the crowned sovereigns of -modern Politics. For it is nowise as "a mockery king,"[85] set there -by favor, transiently and for a purpose, that he will let himself be -treated, still less is he a mad Rienzi, whose sudden elevation turns -his too weak head: but he stands there on his own basis; cool, -unastonished, holding his equal rank from Nature herself; putting -forth no claim which there is not strength in him, as well as about -him to vindicate. Mr. Lockhart has some forcible observations on -this point:-- - -"It needs no effort of imagination," says he, "to conceive what the -sensations of an isolated set of {57} scholars (almost all either -clergymen or professors) must have been in the presence of this -big-boned, black-browed, brawny stranger, with his great flashing -eyes, who, having forced his way among them from the plough-tail at a -single stride, manifested in the whole strain of his bearing and -conversation a most thorough conviction, that in the society of the -most eminent men of his nation he was exactly where he was entitled -to be; hardly deigned to flatter them by exhibiting even an -occasional symptom of being flattered by their notice; by turns -calmly measured himself against the most cultivated understandings of -his time in discussion; overpowered the _bon-mots_ of the most -celebrated convivialists by broad floods of merriment, impregnated -with all the burning life of genius; astounded bosoms habitually -enveloped in the thrice-piled folds of social reserve, by compelling -them to tremble,--nay to tremble visibly,--beneath the fearless touch -of natural pathos; and all this without indicating the smallest -willingness to be ranked among those professional ministers of -excitement, who are content to be paid in money and smiles for doing -what the spectators and auditors would be ashamed of doing in their -own persons, even if they had the power of doing it; and last, and -probably worst of all, who was known to be in the habit of enlivening -societies which they would have scorned to approach, still more -frequently than their own, with eloquence no less magnificent; with -wit, in all likelihood still more daring; often enough, as the -superiors whom he fronted without alarm might have guessed from the -beginning, and had ere long no occasion to guess, with wit pointed at -themselves."[86] - -{58} - -The farther we remove from this scene, the more singular will it seem -to us: details of the exterior aspect of it are already full of -interest. Most readers recollect Mr. Walker's personal interviews -with Burns as among the best passages of his Narrative: a time will -come when this reminiscence of Sir Walter Scott's, slight though it -is, will also be precious:-- - -"As for Burns," writes Sir Walter, "I may truly say, _Virgilium vidi -tantum_.[87] I was a lad of fifteen in 1786-87, when he came first -to Edinburgh, but had sense and feeling enough to be much interested -in his poetry, and would have given the world to know him: but I had -very little acquaintance with any literary people, and still less -with the gentry of the west country, the two sets that he most -frequented. Mr. Thomas Grierson was at that time a clerk of my -father's. He knew Burns, and promised to ask him to his lodgings to -dinner; but had no opportunity to keep his word; otherwise I might -have seen more of this distinguished man. As it was, I saw him one -day at the late venerable Professor Ferguson's,[88] where there were -several gentlemen of literary reputation, among whom I remember the -celebrated Mr. Dugald Stewart. Of course, we youngsters sat silent, -looked and listened. The only thing I remember which was remarkable -in Burns's manner, was the effect produced upon him by a print of -Bunbury's,[89] representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog -sitting in misery on one side,--on the other, his widow, {59} with a -child in her arms. These lines were written beneath:-- - - 'Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, - Perhaps that mother wept her soldier slain; - Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, - The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, - Gave the sad presage of his future years, - The child of misery baptised in tears.' - - -"Burns seemed much affected by the print, or rather by the ideas -which it suggested to his mind. He actually shed tears. He asked -whose the lines were; and it chanced that nobody but myself -remembered that they occur in a half-forgotten poem of Langhorne's -called by the unpromising title of 'The Justice of Peace.'[90] I -whispered my information to a friend present; he mentioned it to -Burns, who rewarded me with a look and a word, which, though of mere -civility, I then received and still recollect with very great -pleasure. - -"His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish; -a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity, which received part of -its effect perhaps from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents. -His features are represented in Mr. Nasmyth's[91] picture: but to me -it conveys the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in -perspective. I think his {60} countenance was more massive than it -looks in any of the portraits. I should have taken the poet, had I -not known what he was, for a very sagacious country farmer of the old -Scotch school, _i.e._, none of your modern agriculturists who keep -laborers for their drudgery, but the _douce gudeman_ who held his own -plough. There was a strong expression of sense and shrewdness in all -his lineaments; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical -character and temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, which -glowed (I say literally _glowed_) when he spoke with feeling or -interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I -have seen the most distinguished men of my time. His conversation -expressed perfect self-confidence, without the slightest presumption. -Among the men who were the most learned of their time and country, he -expressed himself with perfect firmness, but without the least -intrusive forwardness: and when he differed in opinion, he did not -hesitate to express it firmly, yet at the same time with modesty. I -do not remember any part of his conversation distinctly enough to be -quoted; nor did I ever see him again, except in the street, where he -did not recognize me, as I could not expect he should. He was much -caressed in Edinburgh: but (considering what literary emoluments have -been since his day) the efforts made for his relief were extremely -trifling. - -"I remember, on this occasion I mention, I thought Burns's -acquaintance with English poetry was rather limited; and also that, -having twenty times the abilities of Allan Ramsay and of Ferguson, he -talked of them with too much humility as his models: there was -doubtless national predilection in his estimate, - -{61} - -"This is all I can tell you about Burns. I have only to add, that -his dress corresponded with his manner. He was like a farmer dressed -in his best to dine with the laird. I do not speak _in malam -partem_, when I say, I never saw a man in company with his superiors -in station or information more perfectly free from either the reality -or the affectation of embarrassment. I was told, but did not observe -it, that his address to females was extremely deferential, and always -with a turn either to the pathetic or humorous, which engaged their -attention particularly. I have heard the late Duchess of Gordon -remark this.--I do not know anything I can add to these recollections -of forty years since."[92] - -The conduct of Burns under this dazzling blaze of favor; the calm, -unaffected, manly manner in which he not only bore it, but estimated -its value, has justly been regarded as the best proof that could be -given of his real vigor and integrity of mind. A little natural -vanity, some touches of hypocritical modesty, some glimmerings of -affectation, at least some fear of being thought affected, we could -have pardoned in almost any man; but no such indication is to be -traced here. In his unexampled situation the young peasant is not a -moment perplexed; so many strange lights do not confuse him, do not -lead him astray. Nevertheless, we cannot but perceive that this -winter did him great and lasting injury. A somewhat clearer -knowledge of men's affairs, scarcely of their characters, it did -afford him; but a sharper feeling of Fortune's unequal arrangements -in their social destiny it also left with him. He had seen the gay -and gorgeous arena, in which the powerful are born {62} to play their -parts; nay had himself stood in the midst of it; and he felt more -bitterly than ever, that here he was but a looker-on, and had no part -or lot in that splendid game. From this time a jealous indignant -fear of social degradation takes possession of him; and perverts, so -far as aught could pervert, his private contentment, and his feelings -towards his richer fellows. It was clear to Burns that he had talent -enough to make a fortune, or a hundred fortunes, could he but have -rightly willed this; it was clear also that he willed something far -different, and therefore could not make one. Unhappy it was that he -had not power to choose the one, and reject the other; but must halt -forever between two opinions, two objects; making hampered -advancement towards either. But so is it with many men: we "long for -the merchandise, yet would fain keep the price;" and so stand -chaffering with Fate in vexatious altercation, till the night come, -and our fair is over! - -The Edinburgh Learned of that period were in general more noted for -clearness of head than for warmth of heart: with the exception of the -good old Blacklock,[93] whose help was too ineffectual, scarcely one -among them seems to have looked at Burns with any true sympathy, or -indeed much otherwise than as at a highly curious _thing_. By the -great also he is treated in the customary fashion; entertained at -their {63} tables and dismissed: certain modica of pudding and praise -are, from time to time, gladly exchanged for the fascination of his -presence; which exchange once effected, the bargain is finished, and -each party goes his several way. At the end of this strange season, -Burns gloomily sums up his gains and losses, and meditates on the -chaotic future. In money he is somewhat richer; in fame and the show -of happiness, infinitely richer; but in the substance of it, as poor -as ever. Nay poorer; for his heart is now maddened still more with -the fever of worldly Ambition; and through long years the disease -will rack him with unprofitable sufferings, and weaken his strength -for all true and nobler aims. - -What Burns was next to do or to avoid; how a man so circumstanced was -now to guide himself towards his true advantage, might at this point -of time have been a question for the wisest. It was a question too, -which apparently he was left altogether to answer for himself: of his -learned or rich patrons it had not struck any individual to turn a -thought on this so trivial matter. Without claiming for Burns the -praise of perfect sagacity, we must say, that his Excise and Farm -scheme does not seem to us a very unreasonable one; that we should be -at a loss, even now, to suggest one decidedly better. Certain of his -admirers have felt scandalized at his ever resolving to _gauge_; and -would have had him lie at the pool, till the spirit of Patronage -stirred the waters, that so, with one friendly plunge, all his -sorrows might be healed.[94] Unwise counsellors! They know not the -manner of this spirit; and how, in the lap of most golden dreams, a -man might have happiness, {64} were it not that in the interim he -must die of hunger! It reflects credit on the manliness and sound -sense of Burns, that he felt so early on what ground he was standing; -and preferred self-help, on the humblest scale, to dependence and -inaction, though with hope of far more splendid possibilities. But -even these possibilities were not rejected in his scheme: he might -expect, if it chanced that he _had_ any friend, to rise, in no long -period, into something even like opulence and leisure; while again, -if it chanced that he had no friend, he could still live in security; -and for the rest, he "did not intend to borrow honor from any -profession."[95] We reckon that his plan was honest and -well-calculated: all turned on the execution of it. Doubtless it -failed; yet not, we believe, from any vice inherent in itself.[96] -Nay, after all, it was no failure of external means, but of internal, -that overtook Burns. His was no bankruptcy of the purse, {65} but of -the soul; to his last day, he owed no man any thing.[97] - -Meanwhile he begins well: with two good and wise actions. His -donation to his mother, munificent from a man whose income had lately -been seven pounds a-year, was worthy of him, and not more than -worthy. Generous also, and worthy of him, was the treatment of the -woman whose life's welfare now depended on his pleasure. A friendly -observer might have hoped serene days for him: his mind is on the -true road to peace with itself: what clearness he still wants will be -given as he proceeds; for the best teacher of duties, that still lie -dim to us, is the Practice of those we see and have at hand. Had the -"patrons of genius," who could give him nothing, but taken nothing -from him, at least nothing more! The wounds of his heart would have -healed, vulgar ambition would have died away. Toil and frugality -would have been welcome, since Virtue dwelt with them; and Poetry -would have shone through them as of old: and in her clear ethereal -light, which was his own by birthright, he might have looked down on -his earthly destiny, and all its obstructions, not with patience -only, but with love. - -But the patrons of genius would not have it so. Picturesque -tourists,[98] all manner of fashionable {66} danglers after -literature, and, far worse, all manner of convivial Mæcenases,[99] -hovered round him in his retreat; and his good as well as his weak -qualities secured them influence over him. He was flattered by their -notice; and his warm social nature made it impossible for him to -shake them off, and hold on his way apart from them. These men, as -we believe, were proximately the means of his ruin. Not that they -meant him any ill; they only meant themselves a little good; if he -suffered harm, let _him_ look to it! But they wasted his precious -time and his precious talent; they disturbed his composure, broke -down his returning habits of temperance and assiduous contented -exertion. Their pampering was baneful to him; their cruelty, which -soon followed, was equally baneful. The old grudge against Fortune's -inequality awoke with new bitterness in their neighborhood; and Burns -had no retreat but to "the Rock of {67} Independence," which is but -an air-castle after all, that looks well at a distance, but will -screen no one from real wind and wet. Flushed with irregular -excitement, exasperated alternately by contempt of others, and -contempt of himself, Burns was no longer regaining his peace of mind, -but fast losing it forever. There was a hollowness at the heart of -his life, for his conscience did not now approve what he was doing. - -Amid the vapors of unwise enjoyment, of bootless remorse, and angry -discontent with Fate, his true loadstar, a life of Poetry, with -Poverty, nay with Famine if it must be so, was too often altogether -hidden from his eyes. And yet he sailed a sea, where without some -such loadstar there was no right steering. Meteors of French -Politics rise before him, but these were not _his_ stars. An -accident this, which hastened, but did not originate, his worst -distresses. In the mad contentions of that time, he comes in -collision with certain official Superiors; is wounded by them; -cruelly lacerated, we should say, could a dead mechanical implement, -in any case, be called cruel: and shrinks, in indignant pain, into -deeper self-seclusion, into gloomier moodiness than ever. His life -has now lost its unity: it is a life of fragments; led with little -aim, beyond the melancholy one of securing its own continuance,--in -fits of wild false joy when such offered, and of black despondency -when they passed away. His character before the world begins to -suffer: calumny is busy with him; for a miserable man makes more -enemies than friends. Some faults he has fallen into, and a thousand -misfortunes; but deep criminality is what he stands accused of, and -they that are _not_ without sin cast the first stone at {68} him! -For is he not a well-wisher to the French Revolution, a Jacobin, and -therefore in that one act guilty of all? These accusations, -political and moral, it has since appeared, were false enough: but -the world hesitated little to credit them.[100] Nay his convivial -Mæcenases themselves were not the last to do it. There is reason to -believe that, in his later years, the Dumfries Aristocracy had partly -withdrawn themselves from Burns, as from a tainted person, no longer -worthy of their acquaintance. That painful class, stationed, in all -provincial cities, behind the outmost breastwork of Gentility, there -to stand siege and do battle against the intrusions of Grocerdom and -Grazierdom, had actually seen dishonor in the society of Burns, and -branded him with their veto; had, as we vulgarly say, _cut_ him! We -find one passage in this Work of Mr. Lockhart's, which will not out -of our thoughts:-- - -"A gentleman of that county, whose name I have already more than once -had occasion to refer to, has often told me that he was seldom more -grieved, than when riding into Dumfries one fine summer evening about -this time to attend a county ball, he saw Burns walking alone, on the -shady side of the principal street of the town, while the opposite -side was gay with successive groups of gentlemen and ladies, all -drawn together for the festivities of the night, not one of whom -appeared willing to recognize him. The horseman dismounted, and -joined Burns, who on his proposing to cross the street said: 'Nay, -nay, my young friend, that's all over now;' and quoted, after a -pause, some verses of Lady Grizzel Baillie's pathetic ballad:-- - -{69} - - 'His bonnet stood ance fu' fair on his brow, - His auld ane look'd better than mony ane's new; - But now he lets 't wear ony way it will hing, - And casts himsell dowie upon the corn-bing. - - 'O, were we young as we ance hae been, - We sud hae been gallopping down on yon green, - And linking it ower the lily-white lea! - _And werena my heart light, I wad die_.' - -It was little in Burns's character to let his feelings on certain -subjects escape in this fashion. He, immediately after reciting -these verses, assumed the sprightliness of his most pleasing manner; -and taking his young friend home with him, entertained him very -agreeably till the hour of the ball arrived."[101] - -Alas! when we think that Burns now sleeps "where bitter indignation -can no longer lacerate his heart,"[102] and that most of those fair -dames and frizzled gentlemen already lie at his side, where the -breastwork of gentility is quite thrown down,--who would not sigh -over the thin delusions and foolish toys that divide heart from -heart, and make man unmerciful to his brother! - -It was not now to be hoped that the genius of Burns would ever reach -maturity, or accomplish aught worthy of itself. His spirit was -jarred in its melody; not the soft breath of natural feeling, but the -rude hand of Fate, was now sweeping over the strings. And yet what -harmony was in him, what music even in his discords! How the wild -tones had a charm for the simplest and the wisest; and all men felt -and knew that here also was one of the Gifted! "If he {70} entered -an inn at midnight, after all the inmates were in bed, the news of -his arrival circulated from the cellar to the garret; and ere ten -minutes had elapsed, the landlord and all his guests were assembled!" -Some brief pure moments of poetic life were yet appointed him, in the -composition of his Songs. We can understand how he grasped at this -employment; and how, too, he spurned all other reward for it but what -the labor itself brought him. For the soul of Burns, though scathed -and marred, was yet living in its full moral strength, though sharply -conscious of its errors and abasement; and here, in his destitution -and degradation, was one act of seeming nobleness and -self-devotedness left even for him to perform. He felt, too, that -with all the "thoughtless follies" that had "laid him low,"[103] the -world was unjust and cruel to him; and he silently appealed to -another and calmer time. Not as a hired soldier, but as a patriot, -would he strive for the glory of his country: so he cast from him the -poor sixpence a-day, and served zealously as a volunteer. Let us not -grudge him this last luxury of his existence; let him not have -appealed to us in vain! The money was not necessary to him; he -struggled through without it: long since, these guineas would have -been gone, and now the high-mindedness of refusing them will plead -for him in all hearts forever. - -We are here arrived at the crisis of Burns's life; for matters had -now taken such a shape with him as could not long continue. If -improvement was not to be looked for, Nature could only for a limited -time maintain this dark and maddening warfare against the world and -itself. We are not medically informed {71} whether any continuance -of years was, at this period, probable for Burns; whether his death -is to be looked on as in some sense an accidental event, or only as -the natural consequence of the long series of events that had -preceded. The latter seems to be the likelier opinion; and yet it is -by no means a certain one. At all events, as we have said, _some_ -change could not be very distant. Three gates of deliverance, it -seems to us, were open for Burns: clear poetical activity; madness; -or death. The first, with longer life, was still possible, though -not probable; for physical causes were beginning to be concerned in -it: and yet Burns had an iron resolution; could he but have seen and -felt, that not only his highest glory, but his first duty, and the -true medicine for all his woes, lay here. The second was still less -probable; for his mind was ever among the clearest and firmest. So -the milder third gate was opened for him: and he passed, not softly -yet speedily, into that still country, where the hail-storms and -fire-showers do not reach, and the heaviest-laden wayfarer at length -lays down his load! - - -Contemplating this sad end of Burns, and how he sank unaided by any -real help, uncheered by any wise sympathy, generous minds have -sometimes figured to themselves, with a reproachful sorrow, that much -might have been done for him; that by counsel, true affection and -friendly ministrations, he might have been saved to himself and the -world. We question whether there is not more tenderness of heart -than soundness of judgment in these suggestions. It seems dubious to -us whether the richest, wisest, most benevolent individual could have -lent Burns any effectual help. Counsel, which seldom profits any -one, {72} he did not need; in his understanding, he knew the right -from the wrong, as well perhaps as any man ever did; but the -persuasion, which would have availed him, lies not so much in the -head as in the heart, where no argument or expostulation could have -assisted much to implant it. As to money again, we do not believe -that this was his essential want; or well see how any private man -could, even presupposing Burns's consent, have bestowed on him an -independent fortune, with much prospect of decisive advantage. It is -a mortifying truth, that two men, in any rank of society, could -hardly be found virtuous enough to give money, and to take it as a -necessary gift, without injury to the moral entireness of one or -both. But so stands the fact: Friendship, in the old heroic sense of -that term, no longer exists: except in the cases of kindred or other -legal affinity, it is in reality no longer expected, or recognized as -a virtue among men. A close observer of manners has pronounced -"Patronage," that is, pecuniary or other economic furtherance, to be -"twice cursed;" cursing him that gives, and him that takes![104] And -thus, in regard to outward matters also, it has become the rule, as -in regard to inward it always was and must be the rule, that no one -shall look for effectual help to another; but that each shall rest -contented with what help he can afford himself. Such, we say, is the -principle of modern Honor; naturally enough growing out of that -sentiment of Pride, which we inculcate and encourage as the basis of -our whole social morality. Many a poet has been poorer than Burns; -but no one was ever prouder: we may question whether, without great -precautions, even a pension {73} from Royalty would not have galled -and encumbered, more than actually assisted him. - -Still less, therefore, are we disposed to join with another class of -Burns's admirers, who accuse the higher ranks among us of having -ruined Burns by their selfish neglect of him. We have already stated -our doubts whether direct pecuniary help, had it been offered, would -have been accepted, or could have proved very effectual. We shall -readily admit, however, that much was to be done for Burns; that many -a poisoned arrow might have been warded from his bosom; many an -entanglement in his path cut asunder by the hand of the powerful; and -light and heat, shed on him from high places, would have made his -humble atmosphere more genial; and the softest heart then breathing -might have lived and died with some fewer pangs. Nay, we shall grant -farther, and for Burns it is granting much, that, with all his pride, -he would have thanked, even with exaggerated gratitude, any one who -had cordially befriended him: patronage, unless once cursed, needed -not to have been twice so. At all events, the poor promotion he -desired in his calling might have been granted: it was his own -scheme, therefore likelier than any other to be of service. All this -it might have been a luxury, nay it was a duty, for our nobility to -have done. No part of all this, however, did any of them do; or -apparently attempt, or wish to do: so much is granted against them. -But what then is the amount of their blame? Simply that they were -men of the world, and walked by the principles of such men; that they -treated Burns, as other nobles and other commoners had done other -poets; as the English did Shakespeare; as King Charles and his -Cavaliers did {74} Butler,[105] as King Philip and his Grandees did -Cervantes. Do men gather grapes of thorns;[106] or shall we cut down -our thorns for yielding only a _fence_ and haws? How, indeed, could -the "nobility and gentry of his native land" hold out any help to -this "Scottish Bard, proud of his name and country"?[107] Were the -nobility and gentry so much as able rightly to help themselves? Had -they not their game to preserve; their borough interests to -strengthen; dinners, therefore, of various kinds to eat and give? -Were their means more than adequate to all this business, or less -than adequate? Less than adequate, in general; few of them in -reality were richer than Burns; many of them were poorer; for -sometimes they had to wring their supplies, as with thumbscrews, from -the hard hand; and, in their need of guineas, to forget their duty of -mercy; which Burns was never reduced to do. Let us pity and forgive -them. The game they preserved and shot, the dinners they ate and -gave, the borough interests they strengthened, the _little_ Babylons -they severally builded by the glory of their might,[108] are all -melted or melting back into the primeval Chaos, as man's merely -selfish endeavors are fated to do: and here was an action, extending, -in virtue of its worldly influence, we may say, through all time; in -virtue of its moral nature, beyond all time, being immortal as the -Spirit of Goodness itself; this action was offered them to do, and -light was not given {75} them to do it. Let us pity and forgive -them. But better than pity, let us go and _do otherwise_. Human -suffering did not end with the life of Burns; neither was the solemn -mandate, "Love one another, bear one another's burdens,"[109] given -to the rich only, but to all men. True, we shall find no Burns to -relieve, to assuage by our aid or our pity; but celestial natures, -groaning under the fardels of a weary life, we shall still find; and -that wretchedness which Fate has rendered _voiceless_ and _tuneless_ -is not the least wretched, but the most.[110] - -Still we do not think that the blame of Burns's failure lies chiefly -with the world. The world, it seems to us, treated him with more -rather than with less kindness than it usually shows to such men. It -has ever, we fear, shown but small favor to its Teachers: hunger and -nakedness, perils and revilings, the prison, the cross, the -poison-chalice have, in most times and countries, been the -market-price it has offered for Wisdom, the welcome with which it has -greeted those who have come to enlighten and purify it. Homer and -Socrates, and the Christian Apostles, belong to old days; but the -world's Martyrology was not completed with these. Roger Bacon and -Galileo languish in priestly dungeons; Tasso pines in the cell of a -madhouse; Camoens dies begging on the streets of Lisbon.[111] So -neglected, so "persecuted they the {76} Prophets,"[112] not in Judea -only, but in all places where men have been. We reckon that every -poet of Burns's order is, or should be, a prophet and teacher to his -age; that he has no right to expect great kindness from it, but -rather is bound to do it great kindness; that Burns, in particular, -experienced fully the usual proportion of the world's goodness; and -that the blame of his failure, as we have said, lies not chiefly with -the world. - -Where, then, does it lie? We are forced to answer: With himself; it -is his inward, not his outward, misfortunes that bring him to the -dust. Seldom, indeed, is it otherwise; seldom is a life morally -wrecked but the grand cause lies in some internal mal-arrangement, -some want less of good fortune than of good guidance. Nature -fashions no creature without implanting in it the strength needful -for its action and duration; least of all does she so neglect her -masterpiece and darling, the poetic soul. Neither can we believe -that it is in the power of _any_ external circumstances utterly to -ruin the mind of a man; nay, if proper wisdom be given him, even so -much as to affect its essential health and beauty. The sternest -sum-total of all worldly misfortunes is Death; nothing more _can_ lie -in the cup of human woe: yet many men, in all ages, have triumphed -over Death, and led it captive;[113] converting its physical victory -into a moral victory for themselves, into a seal and immortal -consecration for all that their past life had achieved. What has -been done, may be done again: nay it is but the degree and not the -kind of such heroism that differs in different seasons; for without -{77} some portion of this spirit, not of boisterous daring, but of -silent fearlessness, of Self-denial in all its forms, no good man, in -any scene or time, has ever attained to be good.[114] - -We have already stated the error of Burns; and mourned over it, -rather than blamed it. It was the want of unity in his purposes, of -consistency in his aims; the hapless attempt to mingle in friendly -union the common spirit of the world with the spirit of poetry, which -is of a far different and altogether irreconcilable nature. Burns -was nothing wholly, and Burns could be nothing, no man formed as he -was can be anything, by halves. The heart, not of a mere -hot-blooded, popular Verse-monger, or poetical _Restaurateur_,[115] -but of a true Poet and Singer, worthy of the old religious heroic -times, had been given him: and he fell in an age, not of heroism and -religion, but of scepticism, selfishness, and triviality, when true -Nobleness was little understood, and its place supplied by a hollow, -dissocial, altogether barren and unfruitful principle of Pride. The -influences of that age, his open, kind, susceptible nature, to say -nothing of his highly untoward situation, made it more than usually -difficult for him to cast aside, or rightly subordinate; the better -spirit that was within him ever sternly demanded its rights, its -supremacy: he spent his life in endeavoring to reconcile these two; -and lost it, as he must lose it, without reconciling them. - -{78} - -Burns was born poor; and born also to continue poor, for he would not -endeavor to be otherwise: this it had been well could he have once -for all admitted, and considered as finally settled. He was poor, -truly; but hundreds even of his own class and order of minds have -been poorer, yet have suffered nothing deadly from it: nay his own -Father had a far sorer battle with ungrateful destiny than his was; -and he did not yield to it, but died courageously warring, and to all -moral intents prevailing, against it. True, Burns had little means, -had even little time for poetry, his only real pursuit and vocation; -but so much the more precious was what little he had. In all these -external respects his case was hard; but very far from the hardest. -Poverty, incessant drudgery and much worse evils, it has often been -the lot of Poets and wise men to strive with, and their glory to -conquer. Locke was banished as a traitor; and wrote his "Essay on -the Human Understanding" sheltering himself in a Dutch garret. Was -Milton rich or at his ease when he composed "Paradise Lost"? Not -only low, but fallen from a height; not only poor, but impoverished; -in darkness and with dangers compassed round, he sang his immortal -song, and found fit audience, though few.[116] Did not Cervantes -finish his work, a maimed soldier and in prison? Nay, was not the -"Araucana,"[117] which Spain acknowledges as its Epic, written -without even the aid of paper; on {79} scraps of leather, as the -stout fighter and voyager snatched any moment from that wild warfare? - -And what, then, had these men, which Burns wanted? Two things; both -which, it seems to us, are indispensable for such men. They had a -true, religious principle of morals; and a single, not a double aim -in their activity. They were not self-seekers and self-worshippers; -but seekers and worshippers of something far better than Self. Not -personal enjoyment was their object; but a high, heroic idea of -Religion, of Patriotism, of heavenly Wisdom, in one or the other -form, ever hovered before them; in which cause they neither shrank -from suffering, nor called on the earth to witness it as something -wonderful; but patiently endured, counting it blessedness enough so -to spend and be spent. Thus the "golden-calf of Self-love," however -curiously carved, was not their Deity; but the Invisible Goodness, -which alone is man's reasonable service. This feeling was as a -celestial fountain, whose streams refreshed into gladness and beauty -all the provinces of their otherwise too desolate existence. In a -word, they willed one thing, to which all other things were -subordinated and made subservient; and therefore they accomplished -it. The wedge will rend rocks; but its edge must be sharp and -single: if it be double, the wedge is bruised in pieces and will rend -nothing. - -Part of this superiority these men owed to their age; in which -heroism and devotedness were still practised, or at least not yet -disbelieved in; but much of it likewise they owed to themselves. -With {80} Burns, again, it was different. His morality, in most of -its practical points, is that of a mere worldly man; enjoyment, in a -finer or coarser shape, is the only thing he longs and strives for. -A noble instinct sometimes raises him above this; but an instinct -only, and acting only for moments. He has no Religion; in the -shallow age, where his days were cast, Religion was not discriminated -from the New and Old Light _forms_ of Religion; and was, with these, -becoming obsolete in the minds of men. His heart, indeed, is alive -with a trembling adoration, but there is no temple in his -understanding. He lives in darkness and in the shadow of doubt. His -religion, at best, is an anxious wish; like that of Rabelais, "a -great Perhaps." - -He loved Poetry warmly, and in his heart; could he but have loved it -purely, and with his whole undivided heart, it had been well. For -Poetry, as Burns could have followed it, is but another form of -Wisdom, of Religion: is itself Wisdom and Religion. But this also -was denied him. His poetry is a stray vagrant gleam, which will not -be extinguished within him, yet rises not to be the true light of his -path, but is often a wildfire that misleads him. It was not -necessary for Burns to be rich, to be, or to seem, "independent;" but -it _was_ necessary for him to be at one with his own heart; to place -what was highest in his nature highest also in his life; "to seek -within himself for that consistency and sequence, which external -events would forever refuse him." He was born a poet; poetry was the -celestial element of his being, and should have been the soul of his -whole endeavors. Lifted into that serene ether, whither he had wings -given him to mount, he would have needed {81} no other elevation: -poverty, neglect, and all evil, save the desecration of himself and -his Art, were a small matter to him; the pride and the passions of -the world lay far beneath his feet; and he looked down alike on noble -and slave, on prince and beggar, and all that wore the stamp of man, -with clear recognition, with brotherly affection, with sympathy, with -pity. Nay, we question whether for his culture as a Poet poverty and -much suffering for a season were not absolutely advantageous. Great -men, in looking back over their lives, have testified to that effect. -"I would not for much," says Jean Paul, "that I had been born -richer." And yet Paul's birth was poor enough; for, in another -place, he adds: "The prisoner's allowance is bread and water; and I -had often only the latter."[118] But the gold that is refined in the -hottest furnace comes out the purest; or, as he has himself expressed -it, "the canary-bird sings sweeter the longer it has been trained in -a darkened cage." - -A man like Burns might have divided his hours between poetry and -virtuous industry; industry which all true feeling sanctions, nay -prescribes, and which has a beauty, for that cause, beyond the pomp -of thrones: but to divide his hours between poetry and rich men's -banquets was an ill-starred and inauspicious attempt. How could he -be at ease at such banquets? What had he to do there, mingling his -music {82} with the coarse roar of altogether earthly voices; -brightening the thick smoke of intoxication with fire lent him from -heaven? Was it his aim to enjoy life! To-morrow he must go drudge -as an Exciseman! We wonder not that Burns became moody, indignant, -and at times an offender against certain rules of society; but rather -that he did not grow utterly frantic, and run _amuck_ against them -all. How could a man, so falsely placed, by his own or others' -fault, ever know contentment or peaceable diligence for an hour? -What he did, under such perverse guidance, and what he forbore to do, -alike fill us with astonishment at the natural strength and worth of -his character. - -Doubtless there was a remedy for this perverseness; but not in -others; only in himself; least of all in simple increase of wealth -and worldly "respectability." We hope we have now heard enough about -the efficacy of wealth for poetry, and to make poets happy. Nay, -have we not seen another instance of it in these very days? Byron, a -man of an endowment considerably less ethereal than that of Burns, is -born in the rank not of a Scottish ploughman, but of an English peer: -the highest worldly honors, the fairest worldly career, are his by -inheritance; the richest harvest of fame he soon reaps, in another -province, by his own hand. And what does all this avail him? Is he -happy, is he good, is he true? Alas, he has a poet's soul, and -strives towards the Infinite and the Eternal; and soon feels that all -this is but mounting to the housetop to reach the stars! Like Burns, -he is only a proud man; might, like him, have "purchased a -pocket-copy of Milton to study the character of Satan;" for Satan is -also Byron's grand exemplar, the hero of his poetry, and {83} the -model apparently of his conduct.[119] As in Burns's case too, the -celestial element will not mingle with the clay of earth; both poet -and man of the world he must not be; vulgar Ambition will not live -kindly with poetic Adoration; he _cannot_ serve God and Mammon. -Byron, like Burns, is not happy; nay he is the most wretched of all -men. His life is falsely arranged: the fire that is in him is not a -strong, still, central fire, warming into beauty the products of a -world; but it is the mad fire of a volcano; and now--we look sadly -into the ashes of a crater, which ere long will fill itself with snow! - -Byron and Burns were sent forth as missionaries to their generation, -to teach it a higher Doctrine, a purer Truth; they had a message to -deliver, which left them no rest till it was accomplished; in dim -throes of pain, this divine behest lay smouldering within them; for -they knew not what it meant, and felt it only in mysterious -anticipation, and they had to die without articulately uttering it. -They are in the camp of the Unconverted; yet not as high messengers -of rigorous though benignant truth, but as soft flattering singers, -and in pleasant fellowship will they live there: they are first -adulated, then persecuted; they accomplish little for others; they -find no peace for themselves, but only death and the peace of the -grave. We confess, it is not without a certain mournful awe that we -view the fate of these noble {84} souls, so richly gifted, yet ruined -to so little purpose with all their gifts. It seems to us there is a -stern moral taught in this piece of history,--_twice_ told us in our -own time! Surely to men of like genius, if there be any such, it -carries with it a lesson of deep impressive significance. Surely it -would become such a man, furnished for the highest of all -enterprises, that of being the Poet of his Age, to consider well what -it is that he attempts, and in what spirit he attempts it. For the -words of Milton are true in all times, and were never truer than in -this: "He who would write heroic poems must make his whole life a -heroic poem."[120] If he cannot first so make his life, then let him -hasten from this arena; for neither its lofty glories, nor its -fearful perils, are fit for him. Let him dwindle into a modish -balladmonger; let him worship and besing the idols of the time, and -the time will not fail to reward him. If, indeed, he can endure to -live in that capacity! Byron and Burns could not live as -idol-priests, but the fire of their own hearts consumed them; and -better it was for them that they could not. For it is not in the -favor of the great or of the small, but in a life of truth, and in -the inexpugnable citadel of his own soul, that a Byron's or a Burns's -strength must lie. Let the great stand aloof from him, or know how -to reverence him. Beautiful is the union of wealth with favor {85} -and furtherance for literature; like the costliest flower-jar -enclosing the loveliest amaranth. Yet let not the relation be -mistaken. A true poet is not one whom they can hire by money or -flattery to be a minister of their pleasures; their writer of -occasional verses, their purveyor of table-wit; he cannot be their -menial, he cannot even be their partisan. At the peril of both -parties, let no such union be attempted! Will a Courser of the Sun -work softly in the harness of a Dray-horse? His hoofs are of fire, -and his path is through the heavens, bringing light to all lands; -will he lumber on mud highways, dragging ale for earthly appetites -from door to door? - -But we must stop short in these considerations, which would lead us -to boundless lengths. We had something to say on the public moral -character of Burns; but this also we must forbear. We are far from -regarding him as guilty before the world, as guiltier than the -average; nay from doubting that he is less guilty than one of ten -thousand. Tried at a tribunal far more rigid than that where the -_Plebiscita_ of common civic reputations are pronounced, he has -seemed to us even there less worthy of blame than of pity and wonder. -But the world is habitually unjust in its judgments of such men; -unjust on many grounds, of which this one may be stated as the -substance: It decides, like a court of law, by dead statutes; and not -positively but negatively, less on what is done right, than on what -is or is not done wrong. Not the few inches of deflection from the -mathematical orbit, which are so easily measured, but the _ratio_ of -these to the whole diameter, constitutes the real aberration. This -orbit may be a planet's, its diameter the breadth of the solar -system; or it may be a {86} city hippodrome; nay the circle of a -ginhorse, its diameter a score of feet or paces. But the inches of -deflection only are measured: and it is assumed that the diameter of -the ginhorse, and that of the planet, will yield the same ratio when -compared with them! Here lies the root of many a blind, cruel -condemnation of Burnses, Swifts, Rousseaus, which one never listens -to with approval. Granted, the ship comes into harbor with shrouds -and tackle damaged; the pilot is blameworthy; he has not been -all-wise and all-powerful: but to know _how_ blameworthy, tell us -first whether his voyage has been round the Globe, or only to -Ramsgate and the Isle of Dogs.[121] - -With our readers in general, with men of right feeling anywhere, we -are not required to plead for Burns. In pitying admiration he lies -enshrined in all our hearts, in a far nobler mausoleum than that one -of marble; neither will his Works, even as they are, pass away from -the memory of men. While the Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like -mighty rivers through the country of Thought, bearing fleets of -traffickers and assiduous pearl-fishers on their waves; this little -Valclusa[122] Fountain will also arrest our eye: for this also is of -Nature's own and most cunning workmanship, bursts from the depths of -the earth, with a full gushing current, into the light of day; and -often will the traveller turn aside to drink of its clear waters, and -muse among its rocks and pines. - - - - -[1] The text followed is that of Carlyle's latest authorized form. -Important variations from the form as printed in the _Edinburgh -Review_ are pointed out. - -[2] Samuel Butler (1612-1680). _Hudibras_ was one of Carlyle's -favorite books. - -[3] "In 1813 a public meeting was held in Dumfries; a subscription -was opened, and, contributions flowing in rapidly from all quarters, -a costly mausoleum was at length erected on the most elevated site -which the churchyard presented. Thither the remains of the poet were -solemnly transferred on the 5th of June, 1815."--Lockhart, chap. ix. - -Carlyle used _brave_ ironically in the sense of _beautiful_, -_splendid_. Lockhart says mildly: "The structure is perhaps more -gaudy than might have been wished." - -[4] The name of the _Mill Vennel_ in Dumfries, where Burns lived from -May, 1793, until his death, was changed to _Burns Street_. - -[5] The five _Lives_ of Burns referred to by Carlyle are probably -those mentioned by Lockhart, by Walker, Currie, Heron, Irving, and -Peterkin. In reality the number was still larger. - -[6] To understand these references, read any good sketch of -Shakespeare's life. - -[7] "_The Caledonian Hunt_, an association of the principal of the -nobility and gentry of Scotland, extended their patronage to our -bard. He repaid the notice by a dedication of the enlarged and -improved [_the first Edinburgh_] edition of his poems."--Currie's -_Life of Burns_. - -[8] In Scotland _writer_ is used loosely of law agents, solicitors, -attorneys, and the like, and sometimes even of their principal -clerks. Burns alludes to the _Ayr writers_ in _The Brigs of Ayr_. - -[9] _The Edinburgh Review_ owed much of its success to Archibald -Constable, its first printer. Constable rose to be one of the chief -publishers of his time, and is especially famous for his connection -with Scott, but became bankrupt in 1826. _Constable's Miscellany of -Original and Selected Publications in Literature, Science, and the -Arts_ has a pathetic interest as being the poor fulfilment of a -scheme that he had formed, before his failure, of a series of cheap -volumes that should sell, he told Scott, "not by thousands or tens of -thousands, but by hundreds of thousands--aye, by millions." - -[10] Author of _Notes on a Journey in America, from the Coast of -Virginia to the Territory of Illinois_. (London, 1818.) - -[11] Carlyle's judgment on Lockhart's work seems to have improved -with reflection. In a letter to his brother, June 10, 1828, he -writes: "Lockhart had written a kind of _Life of Burns_, and men in -general were making another uproar about Burns; it is this Book (a -trivial enough one) which I am to _pretend_ reviewing." - -[12] The apologetic expressions in the early part of this essay may, -as Mr. H. W. Boynton well suggests in his excellent edition, be -relics of Jeffrey's editing. - -[13] Carlyle is always extreme in his judgments, and here is unjustly -contemptuous of men whom, as the quotation from Scott below (p. 60) -will show, Burns always regarded as his models, and whom he often -directly and openly imitated. Ramsay has been admired by men as -different as Pope and Leigh Hunt; and Stevenson, whose estimate of -these men in his essay on _Some Aspects of Robert Burns_ it would be -well to read, places the "poor lad Fergusson" even higher than Ramsay. - -[14] Here Carlyle touches on the source of his own power,--the maxim -that the pleasure of criticism deprives us of that of vivid -appreciation does not apply to him. - -[15] The _Tragic Fragment_ printed in Burns's works was written when -he was only nineteen. And in 1790 Burns told friends that he was -preparing to write a play on a subject drawn from Scottish history. - -[16] Though Carlyle never changed his opinion of a true poet, his -later writings show a very different estimate of the value of -conquerors to the world. After his removal to London, he writes but -little on literature, and is usually full of scorn for the profession -of letters. He tends to idealize mere strength of will and brute -force of character, if accompanied by sincerity. He praises the -power of silent action; and his favorite heroes are men of deeds, -like Cromwell and Frederick. - -[17] See _To a Mountain Daisy_ and _To a Mouse_. Cranreuch=hoar -frost. - -[18] This passage is suggested by a prose entry in Burns's -_Common-Place Book_ (April, 1784), which serves as introduction to -the poem _Winter_. The words in italics are from Psalm 104. - -[19] The figure is a favorite one with Burns; see, for example, the -passage quoted below, page 30. The present quotation may be from -Richter (compare p. 81), in whom, according to Mr. Boynton, the -figure is also frequent. - -[20] "Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent - Humani voltus; si vis me flere, dolendum est - Primum ipsi tibi." - --_Ars Poetica_, 101-103. - -"As men's faces laugh with those that laugh, so they weep with those -that weep; if thou wouldst have me weep, thou must first feel grief -thyself." - -[21] Sincerity is the test by which Carlyle judges all men; praise of -it is one of the keynotes of his writings. Unfortunately he often -confounds it with mere brute force of character and fixity of purpose. - -[22] "How perpetually he [Burns] was alive to the dread of being -looked down on as a man, even by those who most zealously applauded -the works of his genius, might perhaps be traced through the whole -sequence of his letters. When writing to men of high station, at -least, he preserves, in every instance, the attitude of -self-defence."--Lockhart, chap. v. - -[23] Scott, Byron, Moore, Southey, and Cooper are the most obvious -objects of this attack; but they had a host of imitators. Carlyle, -because of his intense moral earnestness, had no sympathy with -literature written only to give amusement, regardless of truth to -life. As usual, his view, though stimulating, is one-sided. Many of -the most justly famous books, notably the _Arabian Nights_, are great -by the pure charm of incident and invention. - -[24] "A printing-house in London, which was noted in the eighteenth -century for the publication of trashy sentimental novels."--_Century -Dictionary of Names_. - -[25] A famous gaming club-house in London. - -[26] The reference is to Macaulay, essay on Milton. - -[27] The two poems, _Halloween_ and _The Holy Fair_, must be read to -understand the references. Any encyclopædia will explain the Council -of Trent and the Roman Jubilee. - -[28] Carlyle had little interest in the fine arts for their own sake; -perhaps he was attracted to Retzsch by his illustrations of Schiller -and Goethe. - -[29] The passage beginning here, and extending through the quotation -on page 27, is not found in the _Edinburgh Review_. - -[30] _Bock'd_, vomited. - -[31] _Fabulosus_ Hydaspes! [Note by Carlyle] see _Horace_: Odes, I. -22. - -[32] Thaws that melt the snow in spots. - -[33] Rolls. - -[34] Spate, torrent. - -[35] Muddy splashes. - -[36] From _The Brigs of Ayr_. It is the fall of the new brig that is -prophesied: a strange slip on Carlyle's part. - -[37] See _Iliad_, xviii. and xxii. Pope's translation may be bought -for a few cents; and is still in many ways the best. - -[38] A name for a blacksmith, shortened to _Burnewin_, in _Scotch -Drink_. - -[39] These lines are incorrectly quoted from an Irish song altered by -Burns, _Open the Door to Me, oh!_ They should read: - - "The wan Moon is setting behind the white wave, - And Time is setting with me, oh: - False friends, false love, farewell! for mair - I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, oh." - -[40] _To William Simpson_. _Wat_, wet. - -[41] Dugald Stewart, professor of moral philosophy in the University -of Edinburgh, in a letter published in the _Life of Burns_, by Dr. -James Currie. - -[42] In this sentence, as printed in the _Edinburgh Review_, we have -certainly a trace of Jeffrey's editing (cf. above, p. 7). There, by -the change of _weak-eyed maudlin_ into _extreme_, and of _random_ -into _pervading_, the sneer is converted into a compliment. -Elsewhere Carlyle says of Keats: "The kind of man he was gets ever -more horrible to me. Force of hunger for pleasure of every kind, and -want of all other force.... Such a structure of soul, it would once -have been very evident, was a chosen 'Vessel of Hell.'" (Nichol: -_Life of Carlyle_, chap. v.) Such is the absurd result to which -Carlyle is led by his view of the necessity of a moral aim in all -literature. - -[43] Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, January 1, 1789. The passage is also -quoted in Lockhart, chap. viii. - -[44] Struggle. - -[45] _A Winter Night_. - -[46] _Ibid_. - -[47] _Address to the Deil_. - -[48] The quotation is from _Tristram Shandy_, vol. iii. chap. xi. In -the _Edinburgh Review_ it is preceded by the sentence: "He did not -know, probably, that Sterne had been beforehand with him." As a -matter of fact, Burns was well acquainted with Sterne; and it is -perhaps for that reason that Carlyle omitted the line when this essay -was reprinted, even though he thereby made a very abrupt transition. - -[49] The two following paragraphs, including the quotation from -Burns, were not in the essay as printed in the _Edinburgh Preview_. - -[50] "Facit indignatio versum."--_Juvenal_, I. 79. - -[51] Dr. Johnson said of his friend Dr. Bathurst: "Dear Bathurst was -a man to my very heart's content; he hated a fool, and he hated a -rogue, and he hated a Whig. He was a very good hater."--Piozzi's -_Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson_. Carlyle himself, in his scornful -epigrams at men and institutions that seemed to him false and -insincere, is a near approach to a "good hater." - -[52] Cf. _Paradise Lost_, I. 63. - -[53] _Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. Oswald_. - -[54] The authority for this account is a letter from Mr. Syme, -printed in Currie's _Life_. Burns himself sent _Scots wha hae wi' -Wallace bled_ to Thomson September 1, 1793, in company with a letter, -in which he says that the song was composed on an evening walk the -day before. - -[55] See Virgil, _Æneid_, viii. 185-279. - -[56] The reference is to Milton's _Il Penseroso_. The struggle of -fate and man's free will is the central idea of the typical Greek -tragedies. - -[57] _Tristram Shandy_ was one of Carlyle's favorite books: Sterne -probably appealed to him by his humor and kindliness. Cf. p. 33, -above. - -[58] Both Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853) and Johann Karl August Musäus -(1735-1787) worked with materials drawn from popular legend. But -Musäus, in his most famous work, _Volksmärchen der Deutschen_ -(_German Folk-Tales_), could not keep from introducing his own -satirical tone. Thus the book lacks the simplicity of genuine -folk-lore. Remember that Carlyle had already published translations -from both these men. - -[59] Fearless crone. - -[60] The scene of _The Jolly Beggars_ was an actual tavern in -Mauchline, kept by a Mrs. Gibson, called "Poosie-Nansie." - -[61] David Teniers, the Younger (1610-1690). - -[62] By John Gay (1685-1732). - -[63] By John Fletcher (1579-1625). - -[64] In particular, Lockhart, chap. ix. - -[65] Jeronymo Osorio (1506-1580), called "the Cicero of Portugal:" -"Men began to hunt more after words than matter; more after the -choiceness of the phrase, and the round and clean composition of the -sentence, and the sweet falling of the clauses, and the varying and -illustration of their works with tropes and figures, than after the -weight of matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of -invention, or depth of judgment. Then grew the flowing and watery -vein of Osorius the Portugal bishop, to be in price."--Bacon: _Of the -Advancement of Learning_, I. iv. 2. - -[66] Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun (1655-1716), in his _Account of a -Conversation concerning a Right Regulation of Governments for the -Common Good of Mankind_, says: "I knew a very wise man" who "believed -if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who -should make the laws of a nation." - -[67] Richard Glover (1712-1785) was once famous for his epic -_Leonidas_. There is an account of him, with specimens of his work, -in Ward's _English Poets_. Nothing can better illustrate Carlyle's -lack of a judicial habit of mind than his coupling Glover's name with -Gray's. Read once more the _Elegy written in a Country Churchyard_, -and form your own idea of the correctness of Carlyle's opinion. - -[68] Apparently Carlyle's memory was treacherous, like that of -ordinary mortals: man and work are both given incorrectly here. -_Human Nature in its Fourfold State_, by Thomas Boston (1677-1732), -is still a classic of the Calvinistic theology. - -[69] The names are all readily found in any cyclopædia; except -possibly that of Charles Batteux (1713-1780), who, as might be -inferred from the text, was a French literary critic of the same -school as Boileau. - -[70] At one time Hume's residence in France, where he composed his -_Treatise on Human Nature_. - -[71] Chapter xi. of Book I. of Adam Smith's _Wealth of Nations_ has -the title _Of the Rent of Land_. _The Natural History of Religion_ -is by Hume. - -[72] In spite of the example of Burns, the publisher of _Waverley_ -hesitated for some time to accept the manuscript, on account of the -Scotch dialect interwoven in it. Now, on the contrary, a local -dialect seems a commendation to a work of fiction. - -[73] Burns, in his autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore (August 2, -1787), says, in reference to _The History of Sir William Wallace_, -one of his first books: "The story of Wallace poured a Scotch -prejudice in my veins, which will boil along there till the -flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest." The reader will by this -time have noticed Carlyle's carelessness about small points. - -[74] This may refer to Burns's poetical epistles to David Sillar and -John Lapraik, obscure poets of his own time; or, more probably, to -his erecting a memorial, at his own expense, over the neglected grave -of Fergusson. - -[75] _Answer to Verses addressed to the Poet by the Guidwife of -Wauchope House_. - -[76] Burns himself says of his early days, in his autobiographical -letter to Dr. Moore: "The great misfortune of my life was never to -have an aim." - -[77] Perhaps Carlyle is misled in his estimate of Burns by his own -high conception of the vocation of the man of letters. The -profession of literature is hardly older than our own century; Dr. -Johnson is really the first example of it. For a man, unsupported by -a patron, to make poetry his means of subsistence, was almost unknown -in the eighteenth century. Burns was too proud to depend on a -patron, and his refusal to accept money for his contributions to -Johnson's _Museum_ and Thomson's _Scottish Airs_ was only in accord -with the ideas of his time; besides, he feared that such a proceeding -would injure his spontaneity. To receive pay for a volume of poems, -originally written without reference to publication, was quite a -different matter. - -Carlyle, in his lecture on _The Hero as Man of Letters_, in _Heroes -and Hero-Worship_, develops his own point of view more fully. - -[78] Burns himself says of his father: "I have met with few who -understood Men, their manners and their ways, equal to him." - -[79] These words seem like a prophecy of Carlyle's own career, which -was just beginning when this essay was written. - -[80] See _The Cotter's Saturday Night_. - -[81] Wordsworth: _Resolution and Independence_ (1807 edition). Our -editions read: "Following his plough, along the mountain side." The -reference in the poem is to Burns. - -[82] Apparently the "best evidence" is conflicting. Burns, in his -autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore, says of himself as a boy: "I -was, perhaps, the most ungainly, awkward being in the parish." And -Murdock, Burns's schoolmaster, in a letter printed in Currie's _Life_ -and reproduced in Lockhart's, says: "Robert's ear was remarkably -dull, and his voice untamable.... Robert's countenance was generally -grave and expressive of a serious, contemplative, and thoughtful -mind." - -[83a] The phrases are drawn from Burns's letter to Dr. Moore. - -[83b] The phrases are drawn from Burns's letter to Dr. Moore. - -[84] _Farewell Song to the Banks of Ayr_. The last line should -read:-- - - Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr. - -[85] Shakespeare, Richard II. iv. 1. Carlyle was a man of enormous -reading, and no one can hope to recognize _all_ his allusions. But -the two books to which he, like most of the great writers of modern -England, refers most frequently, are within the reach of every one: -they are the Bible and Shakespeare. - -[86] Lockhart, chap. v. - -[87] Ovid, _Tristia_, IV. x. 51. - -[88] Adam Ferguson (1723-1816), professor of philosophy at Edinburgh -University. He was succeeded by Dugald Stewart. - -[89] Henry William Bunbury (1750-1811) was an amateur artist and -caricaturist of some note. - -[90] The poem may be found in Chalmers's _British Poets_, vol. xvi., -under the title _The Country Justice_. There the second line reads: -"Perhaps that parent mourn'd her soldier slain." John Langhorne -(1735-1779) and his brother William made the translation of -Plutarch's _Lives_ which, in spite of its dreary style, is still the -one in general use. - -[91] Alexander Nasmyth (1758-1840) painted in 1787 a bust portrait of -Burns, which is the likeness most commonly reproduced. - -[92] Quoted in Lockhart, chap. v. - -[93] Lockhart gives in a foot-note (at end of chap. iv.) the -following quotation from a letter of Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, -August 17, 1773:-- - -"This morning I saw at breakfast Dr. Blacklock, the blind poet, who -does not remember to have seen light, and is read to by a poor -scholar in Latin, Greek, and French. He was originally a poor -scholar himself. I looked on him with reverence." - -[94] Cf. John v. 1-9. - -[95] Words of Burns quoted in Lockhart, chap. vii. - -[96] "If Burns had much of a farmer's skill, he had little of a -farmer's prudence and economy. I once inquired of James Corrie, a -sagacious old farmer, whose ground marched with Elliesland, the cause -of the poet's failure. 'Faith,' said he, 'how could he miss but -fail, when his servants ate the bread as fast as it was baked? I -don't mean figuratively, I mean literally. Consider a little. At -that time close economy was necessary to have enabled a man to clear -twenty pounds a year by Elliesland. Now Burns's own handywork was -out of the question; he neither ploughed, nor sowed, nor reaped, at -least like a hard-working farmer; and then he had a bevy of servants -from Ayrshire. The lasses did nothing but bake bread, and the lads -sat by the fireside, and ate it warm, with ale. Waste of time and -consumption of food would soon reach to twenty pounds a -year.'"--(Letter to Lockhart from Allan Cunningham, quoted in -Lockhart's _Life_, chap, vii.) - -[97] In reality Burns occasionally borrowed money; but at his death -he left only a few small debts. - -[98] There is one little sketch by certain "English gentlemen" of -this class, which, though adopted in Currie's narrative, and since -then repeated in most others, we have all along felt an invincible -disposition to regard as imaginary: "On a rock that projected into -the stream, they saw a man employed in angling, of a singular -appearance. He had a cap made of fox-skin on his head, a loose -greatcoat fixed round him by a belt, from which depended an enormous -Highland broad-sword. It was Burns." Now, we rather think, it was -_not_ Burns. For, to say nothing of the foxskin cap, the loose and -quite Hibernian watchcoat with the belt, what are we to make of this -"enormous Highland broad-sword" depending from him? More especially, -as there is no word of parish constables on the outlook to see -whether, as Dennis phrases it, he had an eye to his own midriff or -that of the public! Burns, of all men, had the least need, and the -least tendency, to seek for distinction, either in his own eyes or -those of others, by such poor mummeries.--[Carlyle's note.] - -Carlyle thinks this petty vanity inconsistent with Burns's wise -self-control at Edinburgh. But we cannot reason thus in the case of -a man with so variable a temperament, and the anecdote is fairly well -authenticated. - -[99] Mæcenas was the great literary patron of the Augustan age of -Rome. Virgil addressed to him his _Georgics_, and Horace honors his -name repeatedly. - -[100] Lockhart (chap. viii.) devotes much time to confuting them. - -[101] Lockhart, chap. viii. - -[102] _Ubi sœva indignatio cor ulterius lacerare nequit_. -Swift's Epitaph. [Carlyle's note.] - -[103] _A Bard's Epitaph_. - -[104] The parody is from _The Merchant of Venice_, iv. 1. - -[105] Cf. page 1, above. - -[106] Cf. Matthew vii. 16. - -[107] An echo from Burns's dedication to the first Edinburgh edition -of his poems. Cf. page 3, above. - -[108] Cf. Daniel iv. 30. - -[109] The first half of this precept occurs eight times in the New -Testament; the second only in Galatians vi. 2. - -[110] This cry of indignation at the absorption of men in the cares -of this world, and their indifference to higher things, occurs -repeatedly in Carlyle. - -[111] Every reader should have a clear idea, not necessarily of the -details in the lives of these men, but of the general significance of -each in the history of the world. - -[112] Matthew v. 12; and compare Luke vi. 23. - -[113] There is an allusion to Ephesians iv. 8. - -[114] This moral is worked out with wonderful power in _Sartor -Resartus_. - -[115] The word means simply _restorer_; but Carlyle uses it to denote -a man who uses his literary talent merely to give amusement, not to -inculcate truth. Here again is a veiled sneer at Byron and Scott. - -[116] See _Paradise Lost_, vii. 24-31. - -[117] The _Araucana_ is the best of a score of epics written in the -reign of Philip II. of Spain in imitation of the Italian poets -Ariosto and Tasso. Its author, Alonso de Ercilla y Zuniga -(1533-1595), writes of the Spanish campaigns against the Indians of -Arauco, in which he himself took part. The early part of the poem -was written in the field, in the manner that Carlyle describes. The -_Araucana_ is now little read; and its author is no way comparable to -the great epic poets of Italy and England. - -[118] Jean Paul Friedrich Richter (1763-1825) is one of Carlyle's -favorite authors, and one of those who influenced him most. He is -the subject of Carlyle's first essay in the _Edinburgh Review_ -(1827), and is treated again in another and a greater essay in the -_Foreign Review_ (1830). These two papers by Carlyle remain among -the best accounts of Richter accessible in English. - -[119] "I have bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually about -me, in order to study the sentiments, the dauntless magnanimity, the -intrepid unyielding independence, the desperate daring, and noble -defiance of hardship in that great personage--Satan."--Letter of -Burns, quoted in Lockhart, chap. vi. - -Bitter epigrams like this on Byron become a characteristic of -Carlyle's style in his later writings. - -[120] Milton's real words are: "I was confirmed in this opinion, that -he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in -laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem; that is, a -composition and pattern of the best and honourablest things; not -presuming to sing high praises of heroic men, or famous cities, -unless he has in himself the experience and the practice of all that -which is praiseworthy."--_Apology for Smectymnuus_. - -[121] Shipping ports in southern England. Carlyle is writing from -the point of view of a Scotchman. - -[122] _Vaucluse_ (_Valclusa_ in Italian) is a town in southeast -France where the great Italian poet Petrarch (1304-1374) lived for -some time, and where he did much of his best work. Its fountain is -celebrated in his poems. - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAY ON BURNS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Essay on Burns</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Thomas Carlyle</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Contributor: George R. Noyes</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 1, 2022 [eBook #69284]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAY ON BURNS ***</div> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - The Riverside Literature Series<br> -</p> - -<h1> -<br><br> - ESSAY ON BURNS<br> -</h1> - -<p><br></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BY<br> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - THOMAS CARLYLE<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p class="t3"> - EDITED<br> - <i>WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES</i><br> - BY GEORGE R. NOYES<br> -</p> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p class="t3"> - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br> - Boston: 4 Park Street; New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street<br> - Chicago: 158 Adams Street<br> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br> -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p class="t4"> - Copyright, 1896,<br> - By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.<br> -<br> - <i>All rights reserved.</i><br> -</p> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p class="t4"> - <i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i><br> - Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company.<br> -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p><a id="chap00b"></a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">{<a id="Piii"></a>iii}</span></p> - -<h3> -INTRODUCTION. -</h3> - -<p> -Carlyle's <i>Essay on Burns</i> was first printed in the -<i>Edinburgh Review</i> for December, 1828. Though in form -a review of the <i>Life of Robert Burns</i>, by John Gibson -Lockhart, it is really, like many of the articles in the -<i>Edinburgh Review</i>, an entirely independent work. The -present art of book reviewing is a creation of our own -times. The English magazines of the eighteenth century -were mere publishers' organs, and are inferior to even -second-rate periodicals of our own day. The book notices -in them are comparable to those that we see in our poorer -daily newspapers. The reviewers were usually mere -literary hacks, and were content to give a summary of the -contents of a book, and then pass judgment on it as a whole, -meting out praise or blame in set, formal terms. The -foundation of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, in 1802, by Jeffrey, -Sydney Smith, Brougham, and others, marks the beginning -of a new era in English periodical literature. The new -magazine had for contributors men of marked learning -and originality, leaders in the thought of their time, who -were not satisfied, in reviewing a book, with recording the -impression that any sane man would gather from a casual -reading, but took the title of the book as the text for a -thoroughly original treatment of its subject. Succeeding -periodicals, as the <i>Quarterly</i> and <i>Blackwood's</i>, however -much they differed from the <i>Edinburgh</i> in politics and -general tendencies, were all affected by its methods. So -it happens that many book reviews in the English magazines, -by men like Carlyle, Macaulay, and Matthew Arnold, -have become permanent additions to literature, sometimes -surpassing in interest the works that occasioned them. -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Piv"></a>iv}</span> -</p> - -<p> -In the present case, however, the book reviewed continues -to be a standard authority. Its author, John Gibson -Lockhart, was born in 1794, at Cambusnethan, about twelve -miles southeast of Glasgow. When <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> -was founded, in 1817, Lockhart became one of its chief -contributors. In 1820 he married the eldest daughter of -Sir Walter Scott. In the years following his marriage he -published several novels, an edition of <i>Don Quixote</i>, and -his translations of <i>Ancient Spanish Ballads</i>. This last -work has never been superseded, and is often reprinted. -In 1826 he became editor of the <i>Quarterly Review</i>, and -retained the position until the year before his death, in -1854. His <i>Life of Robert Burns</i> appeared in 1828, and a -<i>Life of Napoleon Bonaparte</i> in the next year. His greatest -work, the <i>Life of Scott</i>, appeared in 1836-38, and by -general consent has taken in English biographical literature -a place second only to that of Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Carlyle was introduced to Lockhart when on a visit to -London, in 1832. In his Note Book at that time he calls -Lockhart "a precise, brief, active person of considerable -faculty," and confesses that he "rather liked the man."[<a id="chap00bfn1text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn1">1</a>] A -month later, in a letter to his brother, he calls him "not -without force, but barren and unfruitful."[<a id="chap00bfn2text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn2">2</a>] Seven years -after this, when Carlyle was settled in London, he formed -the project of writing an article on the working-classes for -the <i>Quarterly</i>; with this in mind he called upon Lockhart, -and, he says, "found him a person of sense, good breeding, -even kindness."[<a id="chap00bfn3text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn3">3</a>] Ever after this, though the two men were -never intimate friends, they had warm affection and esteem -for each other. Lockhart feared to accept Carlyle's article -because of its radical opinions, and it was published -separately, under the title of <i>Chartism</i>. One more link between -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pv"></a>v}</span> -the men is Carlyle's review—one of his least satisfactory -essays—of the <i>Life of Scott</i>, published in 1838, in -the <i>London and Westminster Review</i>. And Carlyle's own -judgment of Lockhart widens our knowledge of the -character of both men. -</p> - -<p> -"A hard, proud, but thoroughly honest, singularly intelligent, -and also affectionate man, whom in the distance I -esteemed more than perhaps he ever knew. Seldom did I -speak to him; but hardly ever without learning and gaining -something."[<a id="chap00bfn4text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn4">4</a>] -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Thomas Carlyle was born December 4, 1795, at Annandale, -in Dumfriesshire, in southeast Scotland. His life -offers many resemblances, though perhaps more contrasts, -to that of Burns. Like Burns, he came from the strong, -rough stock of the Scotch peasantry. Of his father, James -Carlyle, a man like Burns's father in his strength of -character and deeply religious temperament, but unlike him -in his complete ignorance of all books except the Bible, -Carlyle has himself left us a grand portrait in the -<i>Reminiscences</i>. When ten years old, Carlyle was sent to the -Annan grammar school. Of his life there we may judge -from the veiled account in <i>Sartor Resartus</i>:— -</p> - -<p> -"My Teachers were hide-bound Pedants, without knowledge -of man's nature, or of boy's; or of aught save their -lexicons and quarterly account-books. Innumerable dead -Vocables (no dead Language, for they themselves knew -no Language) they crammed into us, and called it -fostering the growth of mind.... The Professors knew syntax -enough; and of the human soul thus much: that it had a -faculty called Memory, and could be acted-on through the -muscular integument by the appliance of birch-rods."[<a id="chap00bfn5text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn5">5</a>] -</p> - -<p> -James Carlyle recognized his son's ability, and resolved -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pvi"></a>vi}</span> -that he should be an educated man. Yet Carlyle can -hardly be said to have been "sent" to the University, for -he <i>walked</i> the distance of seventy miles over rough -country to Edinburgh. There he worked industriously in the -library, and laid the foundations for his wonderful -knowledge of books. He tells us later:— -</p> - -<p> -"What I have found the University did for me, was that -it taught me to read in various languages and various sciences, -so that I could go into the books that treated of these -things, and try anything I wanted to make myself master -of gradually, as I found it suit me."[<a id="chap00bfn6text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn6">6</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Carlyle had been intended for the ministry, but money -was lacking, and he took up school teaching as a temporary -occupation. In 1818, having saved ninety pounds, he -returned to Edinburgh for study. Meanwhile, the ministry -had become closed to him, for reading and thought had -undermined his belief in the creed of the Scotch Kirk. -But Carlyle's reaction from his ancestral beliefs was -occasioned by different circumstances from that of Burns. -Carlyle, by deep study and meditation, was stirred from -the dogmas of the Scotch Kirk, but adhered strictly to its -stern, severe code of morals. Burns, who had a lighter, -more facile nature, became disgusted with the hypocrisy of -those high in church authority, and was attracted by the -more winning characters of the leaders of the progressive -party. His passions had already weakened his morals; -and though he still professed the highest respect for religion -in the abstract, he was led on from distrust of orthodox -Calvinism to what often seems general skepticism and -indifference on religious matters. -</p> - -<p> -After an experiment in legal study, Carlyle finally settled -on his trade as a "writer of books." From 1818 to 1822 -he lived in Edinburgh, and did hack literary work, largely -articles for the <i>Edinburgh Encyclopedia</i>. In 1822 he -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pvii"></a>vii}</span> -became tutor in a private family, with whom he travelled, -not returning to Edinburgh until 1825. During these years -of indecision as to what should be his life pursuit he had -been occupied with German literature, and had published -his translation of <i>Wilhelm Meister</i> and his <i>Life of Schiller</i>. -For these works he received grateful acknowledgment -from Goethe, and by them established a reputation as -a writer. In 1827 he met Jeffrey, and made a contract -with him to write for the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, in 1826, Carlyle had married Jane Baillie -Welsh. Two years later, through the failure of some literary -plans, he decided to remove, for the sake of economy, to -his wife's farm of Craigenputtock, in southwest Dumfriesshire, -in the wild moorland country, fifteen miles from any -town. There he resolved, in spite of poverty, to publish no -work that did not satisfy his ideal. Carlyle's impressions -of his hermit life vary with his changing moods,—now he -praises his home as a rural paradise; again he writes in his -diary, "Finished a paper on Burns September 16, 1828, at -this Devil's Den, Craigenputtock."[<a id="chap00bfn7text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn7">7</a>] -</p> - -<p> -This last phrase shows us that the <i>Essay on Burns</i> was -one of the first products of Carlyle's self-imposed exile. -Of all his essays, this is on the topic nearest to the author's -life. Carlyle was drawn to his subject by every bond of -race, language, and association. His birthplace, Annandale, -is only ten miles from Dumfries, Burns's last home. He -had talked with many who had known Burns in life, among -them Gilbert Burns, the poet's brother. Though an -estimate of the merits of the essay will be more appropriate -later, some circumstances connected with its publication -must here be noted, for the light which they throw on -Carlyle's character. The account of them is quoted, with some -small changes, from Froude. -</p> - -<p> -Jeffrey "found the article long and diffuse, though he -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pviii"></a>viii}</span> -did not deny that 'it contained much beauty and felicity of -diction.' He insisted that it must be cut down," and received -permission from Carlyle to make some alterations.[<a id="chap00bfn8text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn8">8</a>] "When -the proof-sheets came, Carlyle found 'the first part cut all -into shreds,—the body of a quadruped with the head of a -bird, a man shortened by cutting out the thighs and fixing -the knee-caps on the hips.'[<a id="chap00bfn9text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn9">9</a>] He refused to let it appear -'in such a horrid shape.' He replaced the most important -passages, and returned the sheets with an intimation that -the paper might be cancelled, but should not be mutilated. -Few editors would have been so forbearing as Jeffrey when -so audaciously defied. He complained, but he acquiesced. -He admitted that the article would do the Review credit, -though it would be called tedious and sprawling by people -of weight whose mouths he could have stopped. He had -wished to be of use to Carlyle by keeping out of sight in -the Review his mannerism and affectation; but if Carlyle -persisted he might have his way. -</p> - -<p> -"Carlyle was touched; such kindness was more than he -had looked for. The proud self-assertion was followed by -humility and almost penitence, and the gentle tone in which -he wrote conquered Jeffrey in turn. Jeffrey said that he -admired and approved of Carlyle's letter to him in all -respects. 'The candour and sweet blood' which was shown -in it deserved the highest praise. 'Your virtues are your -own,' said Jeffrey, 'and you shall have anything you like.'"[<a id="chap00bfn10text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn10">10</a>] -</p> - -<p> -During Carlyle's residence at Craigenputtock, which -lasted, with slight interruption, for six years, were produced -most of the miscellaneous essays, and his first great original -work, <i>Sartor Resartus</i>. This is the formative period of his -literary life, from which he came forth, to quote -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pix"></a>ix}</span> -Mr. Stephen, "a master of his craft." In 1834 he moved to -London, where he resided until his death, in 1881. To -this later period belong his greatest works, on which his -fame depends: <i>Heroes and Hero-Worship</i>, <i>The French -Revolution</i>, <i>Cromwell's Letters and Speeches</i>, and <i>The -History of Frederick the Great</i>. But the earlier works -have the same tonic quality as the later, and are free from -many of their defects. As a teacher, especially if we take -an American point of view, Carlyle grows less trustworthy -with advancing years. His cynicism becomes more bitter, -his hero-worship leads him to sympathize with autocracy, -while his contempt for the stupidity of the masses leads him -to distrust all popular government. In Lowell's words, -quoting Carlyle's contemptuous phrase, "he saw 'only the -burning of a dirty chimney' in the war which a great people -was waging under his very eyes for the idea of nationality -and orderly magistrature." -</p> - -<p> -In the <i>Essay on Burns</i>, then, we have a work of -Carlyle's early prime. We might infer this from the style -alone, which shows a transition from his early clearness and -simplicity to the "piebald, entangled, hyper-metaphorical -style of writing" characteristic of his later works, and -always associated with his name. -</p> - -<p> -In the <i>Essay on Burns</i> it is not the author's intention to -give a connected sketch of Burns's life,[<a id="chap00bfn11text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn11">11</a>] or to pass a cool, -critical judgment on his poetry as a whole. Carlyle has -himself, on page 6 of this essay, given us his idea of the -true purpose of biography. The following words from his -second essay on Richter make his meaning still clearer:— -</p> - -<p> -"If the acted life of a <i>pius Vates</i> is so high a matter, -the written life, which, if properly written, would be a -translation and interpretation thereof, must also have great -value. It has been said that no Poet is equal to his Poem, -which saying is partially true; but in a deeper sense, it -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Px"></a>x}</span> -may also be asserted, and with still greater truth, that no -Poem is equal to its Poet. Now, it is Biography which -first gives us both Poet and Poem; by the significance of -the one, elucidating and completing that of the other. That -ideal outline of himself, which a man unconsciously shadows -forth in his writings, and which, rightly deciphered, will be -truer than any other representation of him, it is the task of -the Biographer to fill up into an actual coherent figure, and -bring home to our experience, or at least clear, undoubting -admiration, thereby to instruct and edify us in many ways. -Conducted on such principles, the Biography of great men, -especially of great poets, that is, of men in the highest -degree noble minded and wise, might become one of the -most dignified and valuable species of composition. As -matters stand, indeed, there are few Biographies that -accomplish anything of this kind; the most are mere Indexes -of a Biography, which each reader is to write out for -himself, as he peruses them; not the living body, but the dry -bones of a body, which should have been alive. To expect -any such Promethean virtue in a common Life-writer were -unreasonable enough. How shall that unhappy Biographic -brotherhood, instead of writing like Index-makers and -Government-clerks, suddenly become enkindled with some sparks -of intellect, or even of genial fire; and not only collecting -dates and facts, but making use of them, look beyond the -surface and economical form of a man's life, into its -substance and spirit?" -</p> - -<p> -In pursuit of this great aim, Carlyle has to adapt his -method to his subject. In writing of Richter, a man -unknown to the British public of his time, he has to give us -himself the "dry bones" of fact, before he can give the -"living body." But in the case of Burns, as he can assume -that his readers are familiar with Burns's chief poems, and -know the main events of his life, he brushes aside all -detail, and treats at once the inner meaning and value of the -poet's life and work. To appreciate Carlyle's essay, we must -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxi"></a>xi}</span> -fulfil his expectation of us, and know Burns at first hand -before we start to read about him. -</p> - -<p> -We must now ask how far Carlyle corresponds to his own -ideal biographer. No one can read this essay without -admitting that we have in it a powerful and sympathetic -conception of Burns. To decide whether this conception is -just and impartial we must take into account the writer's -general temperament and leading ideas. -</p> - -<p> -Carlyle is a hero-worshipper in all his work, as a -quotation from <i>Sartor Resartus</i> will best explain:— -</p> - -<p> -"Meanwhile, observe with joy, so cunningly has Nature -ordered it, that whatsoever man ought to obey, he cannot but -obey. Before no faintest revelation of the Godlike did he -ever stand irreverent; least of all, when the Godlike showed -itself revealed in his fellow-man. Thus there is a true -religious Loyalty forever rooted in his heart; nay in all -ages, even in ours, it manifests itself as a more or less -orthodox <i>Hero-worship</i>. In which fact, that Hero-worship -exists, has existed, and will forever exist, universally among -Mankind, mayest thou discern the corner-stone of living-rock, -whereon all Politics for the remotest time may stand -secure. -</p> - -<p> -"Hast thou forgotten Paris and Voltaire? How the -aged, withered man, though but a skeptic, mocker, and -millinery Court-poet, yet because even he seemed the Wisest, -Best, could drag mankind at his chariot-wheels, so that -princes coveted a smile from him, and the loveliest of -France would have laid their hair beneath his feet. All -Paris was one vast Temple of Hero-worship; though their -Divinity, moreover, was of feature too apish."[<a id="chap00bfn12text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn12">12</a>] -</p> - -<p> -As Carlyle is fallible, like other men, the practical effect -of his doctrine is that he exalts those whom he likes, and -throws contempt on those whom he dislikes. Since he is -attracted by Burns's noble qualities, above all by his -sincerity, he forms a grand ideal conception of him. Indeed, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxii"></a>xii}</span> -in his <i>Heroes and Hero-Worship</i>, written twelve years later, -he boldly pronounces Burns "the most gifted British soul -we had in all that century of his." The lecture upon "the -hero as man of letters" should be studied carefully by all -who wish to understand Carlyle's attitude towards the great -writers of the world, and towards Burns as one of them. -It would, however, be of small use to read, as a sort of -postscript to this essay, the half-dozen pages which Carlyle -there devotes especially to Burns. He there repeats many -of the thoughts of this essay,—when a writer has once -clearly and fully spoken his mind of a man he cannot well -treat of him again without repetition. The value of the -lecture on "the hero as man of letters" is, that it gives us -in brief form general ideas, of which the <i>Essay on Burns</i> -is a particular application. -</p> - -<p> -In consequence of his conception of Burns as a hero, -Carlyle casts aside, as of slight importance in the general -estimate, evidence that opposes his own view, or even -entirely refuses to believe it. Thus he dwells on Burns's -finest poems, and pays little heed to his affected English -verse and stilted prose. Yet they, too, are of Burns's -writing, and demand full consideration, if we are to understand -the whole man. Again, he will not credit an anecdote -for which there is fairly good evidence, because it shows in -Burns a foolish vanity that seems to him impossible. So, -at the best, our essay gives only a partial view of Burns. -Those who wish to learn more of the seamy side of the -poet's character will do well to read an essay by as loyal a -son of Scotland, and as kindly and sympathetic a writer, as -Carlyle himself,—Robert Louis Stevenson.[<a id="chap00bfn13text"></a><a href="#chap00bfn13">13</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Much more might be said in dispraise of Carlyle's work, -and yet its essential greatness would remain unaffected. -After the lapse of nearly seventy years, this essay is still -by far our best portrait of Burns. All succeeding critics -have had to take Carlyle into account. They may differ -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxiii"></a>xiii}</span> -widely from his conclusions, but they cannot fail to recognize -his transcendent merits. Though the judgments of Carlyle -on Burns have, in the main, stood well the test of time, yet -in this, as in all his writings, his excellence lies less in his -own opinions than in his power to make others think for -themselves. Carlyle has little of the finish, proportion, -discrimination, that we find in Matthew Arnold or -Sainte-Beuve. But for the ordinary reader he is far more useful -than many a writer who comes nearer the absolute truth. -He touches our hearts and arouses our sympathies. Most -readers of a critic ask, not: "After reading this essay can -I distinguish more accurately between the good and bad -art in my author, and judge better of their comparative -importance?" but: "Does this critic make me more able -to understand the best that is in my poet, so that I share -more deeply in his highest life and thought?" Let us -then, with due reverence, approach the thoughts of one of -the greatest thinkers of Scotland upon the greatest of her -poets. -</p> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn1text">1</a>] Froude: <i>Thomas Carlyle, a History of the First Forty Years of -his Life</i>, ii. 188. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn2"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn2text">2</a>] <i>Ibid.</i>, ii. 212. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn3"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn3text">3</a>] Quoted in Froude: <i>Thomas Carlyle, a History of his Life in -London</i>, i. 140, from a letter of Carlyle's to his brother. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn4"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn4text">4</a>] See note by Carlyle in <i>Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh -Carlyle</i>, ed. Froude, i. 107. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn5"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn5text">5</a>] <i>Sartor Resartus</i>, II. iii. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn6"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn6text">6</a>] <i>Address delivered to the Students of Edinburgh -University</i>—April 2, 1866. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn7"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn7text">7</a>] Froude: <i>Thomas Carlyle, a History of the First Forty Years -of his Life</i>, ii. 26. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn8"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn8text">8</a>] <i>Letters of Thomas Carlyle</i>, 1826-1836, p. 123. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn9"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn9text">9</a>] Quoted from a letter from Carlyle to his brother, -October 10, 1828. -There is here a reminiscence of the opening lines -of Horace's <i>Ars Poetica</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn10"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn10text">10</a>] Froude: <i>Thomas Carlyle, a History of the First -Forty Years of his Life</i>, ii. 31-35. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn11"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn11text">11</a>] For this reason, a brief sketch of the poet's life -is given the reader -after this Introduction. See pp. xiv.-xvii. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn12"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn12text">12</a>] <i>Sartor Resartus</i>, III. vii. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap00bfn13"></a> -[<a href="#chap00bfn13text">13</a>] In <i>Familiar Studies of Men and Books</i>. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p><a id="chap00c"></a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxiv"></a>xiv}</span></p> - -<h3> -A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS. -</h3> - -<p> -Robert Burns was born on January 25, 1759, in a clay-built -cottage, at Alloway in Ayrshire, in southwest Scotland. -Except for the personal character of his father, his lot was -that of any poor peasant lad. But the elder Burns had a -natural love of learning, attended carefully to his sons' -education himself, and, further, gave them as good schooling -as it lay in his power to do. The teacher of Robert Burns -and his younger brother Gilbert was John Murdoch, a -young man of uncommon merit, who interested himself in -the boys, and lent them various books. Robert grew thoroughly -familiar with his small library, learned French fairly -well, and began Latin. He was particularly fascinated by -a book of English songs, and carried it with him into the -fields. He early became noted as the best converser and -the best letter writer in the parish. When Burns was still -a child his father had removed to another farm, at Mount -Oliphant; later, when Burns was eighteen, to Lochlea, in -the parish of Tarbolton. The family affairs were never -long prosperous; and the distress endured at Mount -Oliphant from a tyrannical <i>factor</i>, or landlord's agent, is -commemorated in <i>The Twa Dogs</i>, just as the happy home life -is reproduced in <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i>. Through -all his youth Burns was a laborer for his father; and his -first song, <i>Handsome Nell</i>, written when he was only fifteen, -is in honor of a chance partner in the harvest field. -</p> - -<p> -In 1782, when he was twenty-three years old, Burns engaged -in business at the town of Irvine, but was reduced to -poverty by the burning of his shop, and returned to Lochlea. -The short residence at the thriving seaport affected for the -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxv"></a>xv}</span> -worse his habits of life and thought. Until then Burns -had led an ordinarily correct life; but at Irvine he learned -to drink, and to think lightly of infidelity to women. <i>The -Poet's Welcome to his Illegitimate Child</i> bears sad witness -to this alteration in his character. -</p> - -<p> -In 1784, soon after Burns's return home, his father died, -leaving his affairs in utter ruin. Three months before his -death Robert and Gilbert had taken the farm of Mossgiel, -in the neighboring parish of Mauchline, and thither the -whole family now removed. The years 1785 and 1786 are -Burns's great period of poetical production; within them -fall most of the pieces, exclusive of <i>Tam O'Shanter</i> and of -his songs, by which he is now best known. At this time -the theological controversy between the two parties in the -Scotch Kirk occupied the attention of every one. Burns -was attracted by the personal character of the leaders of -the <i>New Light</i>, or progressive, party; and aided them in -their warfare upon the <i>Old Light</i> divines by many stinging -satires, notably <i>The Holy Fair</i>, <i>The Twa Herds</i>, and <i>Holy -Willie's Prayer</i>. Readers to-day have come to have a new -interest in the <i>Old Lights</i>, or <i>Auld Lichts</i>, as the Scotch -term is, through J. M. Barrie's tales and sketches. -</p> - -<p> -In 1785 Burns met and fell in love with Jean Armour, -and the next year twin children were born to them. Burns, -in order to save the girl from disgrace, had given her a -written acknowledgment of marriage; but her father, who -had a poor opinion of the poet's general character, had -forced her to destroy this. Burns, finding himself without -money or position in society, resolved to emigrate to -Jamaica, and published a thin volume of his poems in order -to raise money for the passage. The success of the book was -great and immediate, and altered the whole course of Burns's -life. Dugald Stewart, the philosopher, entertained him at -his house; Henry MacKenzie, the novelist, gave him a -flattering review; and, finally, an enthusiastic letter from -Dr. Blacklock, one of the most celebrated Edinburgh critics, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxvi"></a>xvi}</span> -made him decide to give up his plan of flight from his native -country, and to try his fortune at the Scotch capital. The -volume of poems was also the means of his acquaintance -with the excellent Mrs. Dunlop, with whom he corresponded -until the end of his life. -</p> - -<p> -In November, 1786, Burns went to Edinburgh, and was -the "lion" of the following winter. A new edition of his -poems received three thousand subscribers, and brought him -in about £500. Of this he lent £180 to his brother Gilbert, -to help in the management of Mossgiel,—the loan was -finally repaid some thirty years later to the poet's family. -During the following year he made two trips through -Scotland, partly to collect songs, and began to contribute to -Johnson's <i>Scot's Musical Museum</i> and Thomson's <i>Collection -of Scottish Airs</i>. The poet applied for, and obtained, -a commission in the Excise, the only worldly advantage, -except the profits of his poems, that he derived from his -triumphal Edinburgh season. Reserving his commission -as a last resort, Burns rented a farm at Ellisland, near -Dumfries, where he settled, in the summer of 1788. He -had renewed his intimacy with Jean Armour, and, when -she became once more exposed to the anger of her father, -made her all the reparation in his power, by marriage. The -farm was not a success, and Burns tried to carry on the -Excise business along with it. When this division of labor -also proved unsatisfactory, he abandoned Ellisland, and, in -November, 1792, moved to Dumfries. -</p> - -<p> -At Dumfries Burns was advanced to all Excise division, -with a salary of seventy pounds, and retained the position -until his death. His hopes of further promotion were cut -off by his ill-timed expressions of sympathy with the -American Revolution, and with the republican party in France. -He attended well to the duties of his office, but occasional -drunkenness and other misconduct brought on him the ill -favor of the "Dumfries aristocracy." The boon companions -with whom he mingled, and the curious tourists attracted by -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxvii"></a>xvii}</span> -his fame, were in no small measure the cause of his poor -success. On January 2, 1793, he writes to Mrs. Dunlop:— -</p> - -<p> -"Occasionally hard drinking is the devil to me. Against -this I have again and again bent my resolution, and have -greatly succeeded. Taverns I have totally abandoned: it -is the private parties in the family way, among the -hard-drinking gentlemen of this country, that do me the -mischief." -</p> - -<p> -The poet's excesses did not keep him from being an -affectionate father, and attending carefully to his children's -education. He died on July 21, 1796. -</p> - -<p> -Burns's life since leaving Edinburgh had, on the whole, -been one of decline. With the exception of his songs, -which he never ceased to contribute to Thomson's <i>Collection -of Scottish Airs</i>, and of <i>Tam O'Shanter</i>, written at -Ellisland, he had produced no important poem since that time. -But this sketch of Burns's life must not attempt an estimate -of his character as poet or man. Its only object is to -furnish for ready reference a few of the facts necessary for -understanding Carlyle's work. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p><a id="chap00d"></a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">{<a id="Pxviii"></a>xviii}</span></p> - -<h3> -BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. -</h3> - -<p> -Every author should be studied, as far as possible, from his -own writings. Carlyle's voluminous correspondence furnishes -rich materials for the history of his life and thought. The best -editions of his letters are those edited by Professor Charles Eliot -Norton: <i>Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle</i> (1814-1826), <i>Letters -of Thomas Carlyle</i> (1826-1836), <i>Correspondence of Thomas -Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson</i>. These may be supplemented -by Froude's edition of the <i>Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh -Carlyle</i>. Next to these first-hand documents, Froude's <i>Thomas -Carlyle</i>, in spite of its inaccuracy and its prejudiced point of -view, will remain the great storehouse of information for -students of the subject. There are good short lives of Carlyle by -John Nichol (<i>English Men of Letters</i> Series) and Richard Garnett -(<i>Great Writers</i> Series). The former deals more fully in criticism -on his literary work. There are excellent critical appreciations -of Carlyle by James Russell Lowell, Augustine Birrell (in <i>Obiter -Dicta</i>), and Matthew Arnold (in <i>Essay on Emerson</i>). -</p> - -<p> -The best way to study Burns is to learn the outline of the -external events of his life from any short sketch, and then to -read his poems and letters in chronological order. Besides the -life by Lockhart, there are good accounts of him by Principal -Shairp (<i>English Men of Letters</i> Series) and John Stuart Blackie -(<i>Great Writers</i> Series). Carlyle mentions by name Currie and -Walker among the biographers of Burns previous to Lockhart. -Dr. James Currie (1756-1805), a famous Scotch physician, -published in 1800 an edition of Burns's works, with an account of -his life, in aid of the poet's family. The <i>Life of Burns</i>, written -by Josiah Walker, later Professor of Humanity in Glasgow -University, to accompany an edition of Burns's works published in -1811, has no permanent value. -</p> - -<p> -Unlike the other two men, Lockhart does not appeal to us as -much by his personal character as by his writings. The <i>Life -and Letters of John Gibson Lockhart</i>, by Andrew Lang, is the best -book with regard to him. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">{<a id="P1"></a>1}</span></p> - -<h3> -ESSAY ON BURNS.[<a id="chap01fn1text"></a><a href="#chap01fn1">1</a>] -</h3> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -In the modern arrangements of society, it is no -uncommon thing that a man of genius must, like -Butler,[<a id="chap01fn2text"></a><a href="#chap01fn2">2</a>] "ask for bread and receive a stone;" for, in -spite of our grand maxim of supply and demand, it is -by no means the highest excellence that men are most -forward to recognize. The inventor of a spinning-jenny -is pretty sure of his reward in his own day; but -the writer of a true poem, like the apostle of a true -religion, is nearly as sure of the contrary. We do -not know whether it is not an aggravation of the -injustice, that there is generally a posthumous -retribution. Robert Burns, in the course of Nature, might -yet have been living; but his short life was spent in -toil and penury; and he died, in the prime of his -manhood, miserable and neglected: and yet already -a brave mausoleum shines over his dust,[<a id="chap01fn3text"></a><a href="#chap01fn3">3</a>] and more -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P2"></a>2}</span> -than one splendid monument has been reared in other -places to his fame; the street where he languished in -poverty is called by his name;[<a id="chap01fn4text"></a><a href="#chap01fn4">4</a>] the highest personages -in our literature have been proud to appear as -his commentators and admirers; and here is the <i>sixth</i> -narrative of his life that has been given to the world![<a id="chap01fn5text"></a><a href="#chap01fn5">5</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Lockhart thinks it necessary to apologize for -this new attempt on such a subject: but his readers, -we believe, will readily acquit him; or, at worst, will -censure only the performance of his task, not the -choice of it. The character of Burns, indeed, is a -theme that cannot easily become either trite or -exhausted; and will probably gain rather than lose in -its dimensions by the distance to which it is removed -by Time. No man, it has been said, is a hero to his -valet; and this is probably true; but the fault is at -least as likely to be the valet's as the hero's. For it -is certain, that to the vulgar eye few things are -wonderful that are not distant. It is difficult for men to -believe that the man, the mere man whom they see, -nay perhaps painfully feel toiling at their side through -the poor jostlings of existence, can be made of finer -clay than themselves. Suppose that some dining -acquaintance of Sir Thomas Lucy's, and neighbor of -John a Combe's,[<a id="chap01fn6text"></a><a href="#chap01fn6">6</a>] had snatched an hour or two from -the preservation of his game, and written us a Life -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P3"></a>3}</span> -of Shakespeare! What dissertations should we not -have had,—not on "Hamlet" and "The Tempest," -but on the wool-trade, and deer-stealing, and the libel -and vagrant laws; and how the Poacher became a -Player; and how Sir Thomas and Mr. John had -Christian bowels, and did not push him to extremities! -In like manner, we believe, with respect to -Burns, that till the companions of his pilgrimage, -the Honorable Excise Commissioners, and the -Gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt,[<a id="chap01fn7text"></a><a href="#chap01fn7">7</a>] and the Dumfries -Aristocracy, and all the Squires and Earls, equally -with the Ayr Writers,[<a id="chap01fn8text"></a><a href="#chap01fn8">8</a>] and the New and Old Light -Clergy, whom he had to do with, shall have become -invisible in the darkness of the Past, or visible only -by light borrowed from <i>his</i> juxtaposition, it will be -difficult to measure him by any true standard, or to -estimate what he really was and did, in the eighteenth -century, for his country and the world. It will be -difficult, we say; but still a fair problem for literary -historians; and repeated attempts will give us -repeated approximations. -</p> - -<p> -His former Biographers have done something, no -doubt, but by no means a great deal, to assist us. -Dr. Currie and Mr. Walker, the principal of these -writers, have both, we think, mistaken one essentially -important thing: Their own and the world's true -relation to their author, and the style in which it -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P4"></a>4}</span> -became such men to think and to speak of such a man. -Dr. Currie loved the poet truly; more perhaps than -he avowed to his readers, or even to himself; yet he -everywhere introduces him with a certain patronizing, -apologetic air: as if the polite public might think -it strange and half unwarrantable that he, a man -of science, a scholar and gentleman, should do such -honor to a rustic. In all this, however, we readily -admit that his fault was not want of love, but weakness -of faith; and regret that the first and kindest -of all our poet's biographers should not have seen -farther, or believed more boldly what he saw. -Mr. Walker offends more deeply in the same kind: and -both err alike in presenting us with a detached -catalogue of his several supposed attributes, virtues and -vices, instead of a delineation of the resulting -character as a living unity. This, however, is not -painting a portrait; but gauging the length and breadth -of the several features, and jotting down their -dimensions in arithmetical ciphers. Nay, it is not so -much as that: for we are yet to learn by what arts -or instruments the mind <i>could</i> be so measured and -gauged. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Lockhart, we are happy to say, has avoided -both these errors. He uniformly treats Burns as -the high and remarkable man the public voice has -now pronounced him to be: and in delineating him, -he has avoided the method of separate generalities, -and rather sought for characteristic incidents, habits, -actions, sayings; in a word, for aspects which exhibit -the whole man, as he looked and lived among his -fellows. The book accordingly, with all its deficiencies, -gives more insight, we think, into the true character -of Burns than any prior biography: though, being -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P5"></a>5}</span> -written on the very popular and condensed scheme of -an article for "Constable's Miscellany,"[<a id="chap01fn9text"></a><a href="#chap01fn9">9</a>] it has less -depth than we could have wished and expected from -a writer of such power; and contains rather more, -and more multifarious quotations than belong of right -to an original production. Indeed, Mr. Lockhart's -own writing is generally so good, so clear, direct and -nervous, that we seldom wish to see it making place -for another man's. However, the spirit of the work -is throughout candid, tolerant and anxiously -conciliating; compliments and praises are liberally -distributed, on all hands, to great and small; and, as -Mr. Morris Birkbeck[<a id="chap01fn10text"></a><a href="#chap01fn10">10</a>] observes of the society in the -backwoods of America, "the courtesies of polite life -are never lost sight of for a moment." But there are -better things than these in the volume; and we can -safely testify, not only that it is easily and pleasantly -read a first time, but may even be without difficulty -read again.[<a id="chap01fn11text"></a><a href="#chap01fn11">11</a>] -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P6"></a>6}</span> -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless, we are far from thinking that the -problem of Burns's Biography has yet been adequately -solved. We do not allude so much to deficiency of -facts or documents,—though of these we are still -every day receiving some fresh accession,—as to the -limited and imperfect application of them to the great -end of Biography. Our notions upon this subject -may perhaps appear extravagant; but if an individual -is really of consequence enough to have his life -and character recorded for public remembrance, we -have always been of opinion that the public ought to -be made acquainted with all the inward springs and -relations of his character. How did the world and -man's life, from his particular position, represent -themselves to his mind? How did co-existing -circumstances modify him from without; how did he -modify these from within? With what endeavors -and what efficacy rule over them; with what -resistance and what suffering sink under them? In one -word, what and how produced was the effect of -society on him; what and how produced was his effect -on society? He who should answer these questions, -in regard to any individual, would, as we believe, -furnish a model of perfection in Biography. Few -individuals, indeed, can deserve such a study; and -many <i>lives</i> will be written, and, for the gratification -of innocent curiosity, ought to be written, and read -and forgotten, which are not in this sense <i>biographies</i>. -But Burns, if we mistake not, is one of these few -individuals; and such a study, at least with such a -result, he has not yet obtained. Our own contributions -to it, we are aware, can be but scanty and -feeble; but we offer them with good-will, and trust -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P7"></a>7}</span> -they may meet with acceptance from those they are -intended for.[<a id="chap01fn12text"></a><a href="#chap01fn12">12</a>] -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Burns first came upon the world as a prodigy; and -was, in that character, entertained by it, in the usual -fashion, with loud, vague, tumultuous wonder, speedily -subsiding into censure and neglect; till his early -and most mournful death again awakened an enthusiasm -for him, which, especially as there was now -nothing to be done, and much to be spoken, has -prolonged itself even to our own time. It is true, the -"nine days" have long since elapsed; and the very -continuance of this clamor proves that Burns was no -vulgar wonder. Accordingly, even in sober judgments, -where, as years passed by, he has come to rest -more and more exclusively on his own intrinsic merits, -and may now be well-nigh shorn of that casual radiance, -he appears not only as a true British poet, but -as one of the most considerable British men of the -eighteenth century. Let it not be objected that he -did little. He did much, if we consider where and -how. If the work performed was small, we must -remember that he had his very materials to discover; -for the metal he worked in lay hid under the desert -moor, where no eye but his had guessed its existence; -and we may almost say, that with his own hand he -had to construct the tools for fashioning it. For -he found himself in deepest obscurity, without help, -without instruction, without model; or with models -only of the meanest sort. An educated man stands, -as it were, in the midst of a boundless arsenal and -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P8"></a>8}</span> -magazine, filled with all the weapons and engines -which man's skill has been able to devise from the -earliest time; and he works, accordingly, with a -strength borrowed from all past ages. How different -is his state who stands on the outside of that -storehouse, and feels that its gates must be stormed, or -remain forever shut against him! His means are the -commonest and rudest; the mere work done is no -measure of his strength. A dwarf behind his -steam-engine may remove mountains; but no dwarf will -hew them down with a pickaxe; and he must be a -Titan that hurls them abroad with his arms. -</p> - -<p> -It is in this last shape that Burns presents himself. -Born in an age the most prosaic Britain had yet seen, -and in a condition the most disadvantageous, where -his mind, if it accomplished aught, must accomplish -it under the pressure of continual bodily toil, nay -of penury and desponding apprehension of the worst -evils, and with no furtherance but such knowledge -as dwells in a poor man's hut, and the rhymes of a -Ferguson or Ramsay[<a id="chap01fn13text"></a><a href="#chap01fn13">13</a>] for his standard of beauty, he -sinks not under all these impediments: through the -fogs and darkness of that obscure region, his lynx -eye discerns the true relations of the world and human -life; he grows into intellectual strength, and trains -himself into intellectual expertness. Impelled by the -expansive movement of his own irrepressible soul, he -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P9"></a>9}</span> -struggles forward into the general view; and with -haughty modesty lays down before us, as the fruit -of his labor, a gift which Time has now pronounced -imperishable. Add to all this, that his darksome -drudging childhood and youth was by far the kindliest -era of his whole life; and that he died in his -thirty-seventh year: and then ask, If it be strange -that his poems are imperfect, and of small extent, or -that his genius attained no mastery in its art? Alas, -his Sun shone as through a tropical tornado; and the -pale Shadow of Death eclipsed it at noon! Shrouded -in such baleful vapors, the genius of Burns was never -seen in clear azure splendor, enlightening the world: -but some beams from it did, by fits, pierce through; -and it tinted those clouds with rainbow and orient -colors, into a glory and stern grandeur, which men -silently gazed on with wonder and tears! -</p> - -<p> -We are anxious not to exaggerate; for it is exposition -rather than admiration that our readers require -of us here; and yet to avoid some tendency to that -side is no easy matter. We love Burns, and we pity -him; and love and pity are prone to magnify. Criticism, -it is sometimes thought, should be a cold business; -we are not so sure of this;[<a id="chap01fn14text"></a><a href="#chap01fn14">14</a>] but, at all events, -our concern with Burns is not exclusively that of -critics. True and genial as his poetry must appear, -it is not chiefly as a poet, but as a man, that he -interests and affects us. He was often advised to write -a tragedy;[<a id="chap01fn15text"></a><a href="#chap01fn15">15</a>] time and means were not lent him for -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P10"></a>10}</span> -this; but through life he enacted a tragedy, and one -of the deepest. We question whether the world has -since witnessed so utterly sad a scene; whether -Napoleon himself, left to brawl with Sir Hudson Lowe, -and perish on his rock, "amid the melancholy main," -presented to the reflecting mind such a "spectacle of -pity and fear" as did this intrinsically nobler, -gentler and perhaps greater soul, wasting itself away in -a hopeless struggle with base entanglements, which -coiled closer and closer round him till only death -opened him an outlet. Conquerors are a class of men -with whom, for most part, the world could well -dispense; nor can the hard intellect, the unsympathizing -loftiness and high but selfish enthusiasm of such -persons inspire us in general with any affection; at best -it may excite amazement; and their fall, like that of -a pyramid, will be beheld with a certain sadness and -awe. But a true Poet, a man in whose heart resides -some effluence of Wisdom, some tone of the "Eternal -Melodies," is the most precious gift that can be -bestowed on a generation: we see in him a freer, purer -development of whatever is noblest in ourselves; his -life is a rich lesson to us; and we mourn his death as -that of a benefactor who loved and taught us.[<a id="chap01fn16text"></a><a href="#chap01fn16">16</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Such a gift had Nature, in her bounty, bestowed -on us in Robert Burns; but with queenlike indifference -she cast it from her hand, like a thing of no -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P11"></a>11}</span> -moment; and it was defaced and torn asunder, as an -idle bauble, before we recognized it. To the -ill-starred Burns was given the power of making man's -life more venerable, but that of wisely guiding his -own life was not given. Destiny,—for so in our -ignorance we must speak,—his faults, the faults of -others, proved too hard for him; and that spirit, -which might have soared could it but have walked, -soon sank to the dust, its glorious faculties trodden -under foot in the blossom; and died, we may almost -say, without ever having lived. And so kind and -warm a soul; so full of inborn riches, of love to all -living and lifeless things! How his heart flows out -in sympathy over universal Nature; and in her bleakest -provinces discerns a beauty and a meaning! The -"Daisy" falls not unheeded under his ploughshare; -nor the ruined nest of that "wee, cowering, timorous -beastie," cast forth, after all its provident pains, to -"thole the sleety dribble and cranreuch cauld."[<a id="chap01fn17text"></a><a href="#chap01fn17">17</a>] The -"hoar visage" of Winter delights him; he dwells -with a sad and oft-returning fondness in these scenes -of solemn desolation; but the voice of the tempest -becomes an anthem to his ears; he loves to walk in -the sounding woods, for "it raises his thoughts to -<i>Him that walketh on the wings of the wind</i>."[<a id="chap01fn18text"></a><a href="#chap01fn18">18</a>] A -true Poet-soul, for it needs but to be struck, and the -sound it yields will be music! But observe him -chiefly as he mingles with his brother men. What -warm, all-comprehending fellow-feeling; what -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P12"></a>12}</span> -trustful, boundless love; what generous exaggeration of -the object loved! His rustic friend, his nut-brown -maiden, are no longer mean and homely, but a hero -and a queen, whom he prizes as the paragons of -Earth. The rough scenes of Scottish life, not seen -by him in any Arcadian illusion, but in the rude -contradiction, in the smoke and soil of a too harsh -reality, are still lovely to him: Poverty is indeed his -companion, but Love also, and Courage; the simple -feelings, the worth, the nobleness, that dwell under -the straw roof, are dear and venerable to his heart: -and thus over the lowest provinces of man's existence -he pours the glory of his own soul; and they rise, in -shadow and sunshine, softened and brightened into a -beauty which other eyes discern not in the highest. -He has a just self-consciousness, which too often -degenerates into pride; yet it is a noble pride, for -defence, not for offence; no cold suspicious feeling, -but a frank and social one. The Peasant Poet bears -himself, we might say, like a King in exile: he is -cast among the low, and feels himself equal to the -highest; yet he claims no rank, that none may be -disputed to him. The forward he can repel, the -supercilious he can subdue; pretensions of wealth or -ancestry are of no avail with him; there is a fire in that -dark eye, under which the "insolence of condescension" -cannot thrive. In his abasement, in his extreme -need, he forgets not for a moment the majesty -of Poetry and Manhood. And yet, far as he feels -himself above common men, he wanders not apart -from them, but mixes warmly in their interests; nay -throws himself into their arms, and, as it were, -entreats them to love him. It is moving to see how, in -his darkest despondency, this proud being still seeks -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P13"></a>13}</span> -relief from friendship; unbosoms himself, often to -the unworthy; and, amid tears, strains to his glowing -heart a heart that knows only the name of friendship. -And yet he was "quick to learn;" a man of keen -vision, before whom common disguises afforded no -concealment. His understanding saw through the -hollowness even of accomplished deceivers; but there -was a generous credulity in his heart. And so did -our Peasant show himself among us; "a soul like an -Æolian harp, in whose strings the vulgar wind, as -it passed through them, changed itself into articulate -melody."[<a id="chap01fn19text"></a><a href="#chap01fn19">19</a>] And this was he for whom the world -found no fitter business than quarrelling with -smugglers and vintners, computing excise-dues upon -tallow, and gauging ale-barrels! In such toils was that -mighty Spirit sorrowfully wasted: and a hundred -years may pass on before another such is given us to -waste. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -All that remains of Burns, the Writings he has -left, seem to us, as we hinted above, no more than a -poor mutilated fraction of what was in him; brief, -broken glimpses of a genius that could never show -itself complete; that wanted all things for completeness: -culture, leisure, true effort, nay even length of -life. His poems are, with scarcely any exception, -mere occasional effusions; poured forth with little -premeditation; expressing, by such means as offered, -the passion, opinion, or humor of the hour. Never -in one instance was it permitted him to grapple with -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P14"></a>14}</span> -any subject with the full collection of his strength, to -fuse and mould it in the concentrated fire of his -genius. To try by the strict rules of Art such imperfect -fragments, would be at once unprofitable and unfair. -Nevertheless, there is something in these poems, -marred and defective as they are, which forbids the -most fastidious student of poetry to pass them by. -Some sort of enduring quality they must have: for -after fifty years of the wildest vicissitudes in poetic -taste, they still continue to be read; nay are read -more and more eagerly, more and more extensively; -and this not only by literary virtuosos, and that class -upon whom transitory causes operate most strongly, -but by all classes, down to the most hard, unlettered -and truly natural class, who read little, and especially -no poetry, except because they find pleasure in it. -The grounds of so singular and wide a popularity, -which extends, in a literal sense, from the palace -to the hut, and over all regions where the English -tongue is spoken, are well worth inquiring into. -After every just deduction, it seems to imply some rare -excellence in these works. What is that excellence? -</p> - -<p> -To answer this question will not lead us far. The -excellence of Burns is, indeed, among the rarest, -whether in poetry or prose; but, at the same time, it -is plain and easily recognized: his <i>Sincerity</i>, his -indisputable air of Truth. Here are no fabulous woes -or joys; no hollow fantastic sentimentalities; no -wire-drawn refinings, either in thought or feeling: the -passion that is traced before us has glowed in a living -heart; the opinion he utters has risen in his own -understanding, and been a light to his own steps. He -does not write from hearsay, but from sight and -experience; it is the scenes that he has lived and labored -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P15"></a>15}</span> -amidst, that he describes: those scenes, rude and -humble as they are, have kindled beautiful emotions -in his soul, noble thoughts, and definite resolves; -and he speaks forth what is in him, not from any -outward call of vanity or interest, but because his -heart is too full to be silent. He speaks it with such -melody and modulation as he can; "in homely rustic -jingle;" but it is his own, and genuine. This is the -grand secret for finding readers and retaining them: -let him who would move and convince others, be first -moved and convinced himself. Horace's rule, <i>Si vis -me flere</i>,[<a id="chap01fn20text"></a><a href="#chap01fn20">20</a>] is applicable in a wider sense than the literal -one. To every poet, to every writer, we might say: -Be true, if you would be believed. Let a man but -speak forth with genuine earnestness the thought, the -emotion, the actual condition of his own heart; and -other men, so strangely are we all knit together by -the tie of sympathy, must and will give heed to him. -In culture, in extent of view, we may stand above -the speaker, or below him; but in either case, his -words, if they are earnest and sincere, will find some -response within us; for in spite of all casual varieties -in outward rank or inward, as face answers to face, -so does the heart of man to man.[<a id="chap01fn21text"></a><a href="#chap01fn21">21</a>] -</p> - -<p> -This may appear a very simple principle, and one -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P16"></a>16}</span> -which Burns had little merit in discovering. True, -the discovery is easy enough: but the practical appliance -is not easy; is indeed the fundamental difficulty -which all poets have to strive with, and which scarcely -one in the hundred ever fairly surmounts. A head -too dull to discriminate the true from the false; a -heart too dull to love the one at all risks, and to hate -the other in spite of all temptations, are alike fatal -to a writer. With either, or as more commonly happens, -with both of these deficiencies combine a love -of distinction, a wish to be original, which is seldom -wanting, and we have Affectation, the bane of literature, -as Cant, its elder brother, is of morals. How -often does the one and the other front us, in poetry, -as in life! Great poets themselves are not always -free of this vice; nay it is precisely on a certain sort -and degree of greatness that it is most commonly -ingrafted. A strong effort after excellence will -sometimes solace itself with a mere shadow of success; -he who has much to unfold, will sometimes unfold -it imperfectly. Byron, for instance, was no common -man: yet if we examine his poetry with this view, -we shall find it far enough from faultless. Generally -speaking, we should say that it is not true. He -refreshes us, not with the divine fountain, but too -often with vulgar strong waters, stimulating indeed to -the taste, but soon ending in dislike, or even nausea. -Are his Harolds and Giaours, we would ask, real -men; we mean, poetically consistent and conceivable -men? Do not these characters, does not the character -of their author, which more or less shines through -them all, rather appear a thing put on for the -occasion; no natural or possible mode of being, but -something intended to look much grander than nature? -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P17"></a>17}</span> -Surely, all these stormful agonies, this volcanic -heroism, superhuman contempt and moody desperation, -with so much scowling, and teeth-gnashing, and other -sulphurous humor, is more like the brawling of a -player in some paltry tragedy, which is to last three -hours, than the bearing of a man in the business of -life, which is to last threescore and ten years. To -our minds there is a taint of this sort, something -which we should call theatrical, false, affected, in -every one of these otherwise so powerful pieces. -Perhaps "Don Juan," especially the latter parts of it, is -the only thing approaching to a <i>sincere</i> work, he -ever wrote; the only work where he showed himself, -in any measure, as he was; and seemed so intent on -his subject as, for moments, to forget himself. Yet -Byron hated this vice; we believe, heartily detested -it: nay he had declared formal war against it in -words. So difficult is it even for the strongest to -make this primary attainment, which might seem the -simplest of all: <i>to read its own consciousness without -mistakes</i>, without errors involuntary or wilful! We -recollect no poet of Burns's susceptibility who comes -before us from the first, and abides with us to the -last, with such a total want of affectation. He is an -honest man, and an honest writer. In his successes -and his failures, in his greatness and his littleness, he -is ever clear, simple, true, and glitters with no lustre -but his own. We reckon this to be a great virtue; -to be, in fact, the root of most other virtues, literary -as well as moral. -</p> - -<p> -Here, however, let us say, it is to the poetry of -Burns that we now allude; to those writings which he -had time to meditate, and where no special reason -existed to warp his critical feeling, or obstruct his -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P18"></a>18}</span> -endeavor to fulfil it. Certain of his Letters, and -other fractions of prose composition, by no means -deserve this praise. Here, doubtless, there is not -the same natural truth of style; but on the contrary, -something not only stiff, but strained and twisted; a -certain high-flown inflated tone; the stilting emphasis -of which contrasts ill with the firmness and rugged -simplicity of even his poorest verses. Thus no man, -it would appear, is altogether unaffected. Does not -Shakespeare himself sometimes premeditate the sheerest -bombast! But even with regard to these Letters -of Burns, it is but fair to state that he had two -excuses. The first was his comparative deficiency in -language. Burns, though for most part he writes -with singular force and even gracefulness, is not -master of English prose, as he is of Scotch verse; -not master of it, we mean, in proportion to the depth -and vehemence of his matter. These Letters strike -us as the effort of a man to express something which -he has no organ fit for expressing. But a second and -weightier excuse is to be found in the peculiarity of -Burns's social rank. His correspondents are often -men whose relation to him he has never accurately -ascertained; whom therefore he is either forearming -himself against, or else unconsciously flattering, by -adopting the style he thinks will please them.[<a id="chap01fn22text"></a><a href="#chap01fn22">22</a>] At -all events, we should remember that these faults, -even in his Letters, are not the rule, but the -exception. Whenever he writes, as one would ever wish -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P19"></a>19}</span> -to do, to trusted friends and on real interests, his -style becomes simple, vigorous, expressive, sometimes -even beautiful. His letters to Mrs. Dunlop are -uniformly excellent. -</p> - -<p> -But we return to his Poetry. In addition to its -Sincerity, it has another peculiar merit, which -indeed is but a mode, or perhaps a means, of the -fore-going: this displays itself in his choice of subjects; -or rather in his indifference as to subjects, and the -power he has of making all subjects interesting. The -ordinary poet, like the ordinary man, is forever -seeking in external circumstances the help which can -be found only in himself. In what is familiar and -near at hand, he discerns no form or comeliness: -home is not poetical but prosaic; it is in some past, -distant, conventional heroic world, that poetry -resides; were he there and not here, were he thus and -not so, it would be well with him. Hence our -innumerable host of rose-colored Novels and iron-mailed -Epics, with their locality not on the Earth, but -somewhere nearer to the Moon. Hence our Virgins of -the Sun, and our Knights of the Cross, malicious -Saracens in turbans, and copper-colored Chiefs in -wampum, and so many other truculent figures from -the heroic times or the heroic climates, who on all -hands swarm in our poetry. Peace be with them! -But yet, as a great moralist proposed preaching to -the men of this century, so would we fain preach to -the poets, "a sermon on the duty of staying at home." Let -them be sure that heroic ages and heroic climates -can do little for them. That form of life has attraction -for us, less because it is better or nobler than -our own, than simply because it is different; and -even this attraction must be of the most transient -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P20"></a>20}</span> -sort. For will not our own age, one day, be an -ancient one; and have as quaint a costume as the rest; -not contrasted with the rest, therefore, but ranked -along with them, in respect of quaintness? Does -Homer interest us now, because he wrote of what -passed beyond his native Greece, and two centuries -before he was born; or because he wrote what passed -in God's world, and in the heart of man, which is -the same after thirty centuries? Let our poets look -to this: is their feeling really finer, truer, and their -vision deeper than that of other men,—they have -nothing to fear, even from the humblest subject; is it -not so,—they have nothing to hope, but an ephemeral -favor, even from the highest.[<a id="chap01fn23text"></a><a href="#chap01fn23">23</a>] -</p> - -<p> -The poet, we imagine, can never have far to seek -for a subject: the elements of his art are in him, and -around him on every hand; for him the Ideal world -is not remote from the Actual, but under it and -within it: nay he is a poet, precisely because he can -discern it there. Wherever there is a sky above him, -and a world around him, the poet is in his place; for -here too is man's existence, with its infinite longings -and small acquirings; its ever-thwarted, ever-renewed -endeavors; its unspeakable aspirations, its fears and -hopes that wander through Eternity; and all the -mystery of brightness and of gloom that it was ever -made of, in any age or climate, since man first began -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P21"></a>21}</span> -to live. Is there not the fifth act of a Tragedy in -every deathbed, though it were a peasant's, and a bed -of heath? And are wooings and weddings obsolete, -that there can be Comedy no longer? Or are men -suddenly grown wise, that Laughter must no longer -shake his sides, but be cheated of his Farce? Man's -life and nature is, as it was, and as it will ever be. -But the poet must have an eye to read these things, -and a heart to understand them; or they come and -pass away before him in vain. He is a <i>vates</i>, a seer; -a gift of vision has been given him. Has life no -meanings for him, which another cannot equally -decipher? then he is no poet, and Delphi itself will not -make him one. -</p> - -<p> -In this respect, Burns, though not perhaps absolutely -a great poet, better manifests his capability, -better proves the truth of his genius, than if he had -by his own strength kept the whole Minerva Press[<a id="chap01fn24text"></a><a href="#chap01fn24">24</a>] -going, to the end of his literary course. He shows -himself at least a poet of Nature's own making; and -Nature, after all, is still the grand agent in making -poets. We often hear of this and the other external -condition being requisite for the existence of a poet. -Sometimes it is a certain sort of training; he must -have studied certain things, studied, for instance, -"the elder dramatists," and so learned a poetic -language; as if poetry lay in the tongue, not in the -heart. At other times we are told he must be bred -in a certain rank, and must be on a confidential footing -with the higher classes; because, above all things, -he must see the world. As to seeing the world, we -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P22"></a>22}</span> -apprehend this will cause him little difficulty, if he -have but eyesight to see it with. Without eyesight, -indeed, the task might be hard. The blind or the -purblind man "travels from Dan to Beersheba, and -finds it all barren." But happily every poet is born -in the world; and sees it, with or against his will, -every day and every hour he lives. The mysterious -workmanship of man's heart, the true light and the -inscrutable darkness of man's destiny, reveal themselves -not only in capital cities and crowded saloons, -but in every hut and hamlet where men have their -abode. Nay, do not the elements of all human -virtues and all human vices; the passions at once of a -Borgia and of a Luther, lie written, in stronger or -fainter lines, in the consciousness of every individual -bosom, that has practised honest self-examination? -Truly, this same world may be seen in Mossgiel and -Tarbolton, if we look well, as clearly as it ever came -to light in Crockford's,[<a id="chap01fn25text"></a><a href="#chap01fn25">25</a>] or the Tuileries itself. -</p> - -<p> -But sometimes still harder requisitions are laid on -the poor aspirant to poetry; for it is hinted that he -should have <i>been born</i> two centuries ago; inasmuch -as poetry, about that date, vanished from the earth, -and became no longer attainable by men![<a id="chap01fn26text"></a><a href="#chap01fn26">26</a>] Such -cobweb speculations have, now and then, overhung -the field of literature; but they obstruct not the -growth of any plant there: the Shakespeare or the -Burns, unconsciously and merely as he walks onward, -silently brushes them away. Is not every genius an -impossibility till he appear? Why do we call him -new and original, if we saw where his marble was -lying, and what fabric he could rear from it? It is -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P23"></a>23}</span> -not the material but the workman that is wanting. -It is not the dark place that hinders, but the dim eye. -A Scottish peasant's life was the meanest and rudest -of all lives, till Burns became a poet in it, and a -poet of it; found it a man's life, and therefore -significant to men. A thousand battlefields remain unsung; -but the "Wounded Hare" has not perished without -its memorial; a balm of mercy yet breathes on us -from its dumb agonies, because a poet was there. -Our "Halloween" had passed and repassed, in rude -awe and laughter, since the era of the Druids; but -no Theocritus, till Burns, discerned in it the materials -of a Scottish Idyl: neither was the "Holy Fair" -any Council of Trent or Roman Jubilee; but -nevertheless, Superstition and Hypocrisy and Fun having -been propitious to him, in this man's hand it became -a poem, instinct with satire and genuine comic life.[<a id="chap01fn27text"></a><a href="#chap01fn27">27</a>] Let -but the true poet be given us, we repeat it, place -him where and how you will, and true poetry will not -be wanting. -</p> - -<p> -Independently of the essential gift of poetic -feeling, as we have now attempted to describe it, a -certain rugged sterling worth pervades whatever Burns -has written; a virtue, as of green fields and mountain -breezes, dwells in his poetry; it is redolent of -natural life and hardy natural men. There is a decisive -strength in him, and yet a sweet native gracefulness: -he is tender, he is vehement, yet without constraint -or too visible effort; he melts the heart, or -inflames it, with a power which seems habitual and -familiar to him. We see that in this man there was -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P24"></a>24}</span> -the gentleness, the trembling pity of a woman, with -the deep earnestness, the force and passionate ardor -of a hero. Tears lie in him, and consuming fire; as -lightning lurks in the drops of the summer cloud. -He has a resonance in his bosom for every note of -human feeling; the high and the low, the sad, the -ludicrous, the joyful, are welcome in their turns to -his "lightly-moved and all-conceiving spirit." And -observe with what a fierce prompt force he grasps his -subject, be it what it may! How he fixes, as it were, -the full image of the matter in his eye; full and clear -in every lineament; and catches the real type and -essence of it, amid a thousand accidents and superficial -circumstances, no one of which misleads him! -Is it of reason; some truth to be discovered? No -sophistry, no vain surface-logic detains him; quick, -resolute, unerring, he pierces through into the -marrow of the question; and speaks his verdict with an -emphasis that cannot be forgotten. Is it of description -some visual object to be represented? No poet -of any age or nation is more graphic than Burns: -the characteristic features disclose themselves to him -at a glance; three lines from his hand and we have -a likeness. And, in that rough dialect, in that rude, -often awkward metre, so clear and definite a likeness! -It seems a draughtsman working with a burnt stick; -and yet the burin of a Retzsch[<a id="chap01fn28text"></a><a href="#chap01fn28">28</a>] is not more -expressive or exact. -</p> - -<p> -Of[<a id="chap01fn29text"></a><a href="#chap01fn29">29</a>] this last excellence, the plainest and most -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P25"></a>25}</span> -comprehensive of all, being indeed the root and foundation -of <i>every</i> sort of talent, poetical or intellectual, we -could produce innumerable instances from the writings -of Burns. Take these glimpses of a snowstorm -from his "Winter Night" (the italics are ours):— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - When biting Boreas, fell and doure,<br> - <i>Sharp shivers</i> thro' the leafless bow'r,<br> - And Phœbus <i>gies a short-liv'd glowr<br> - Far south the lift,<br> - Dim-darkening thro' the flaky shower<br> - Or whirling drift:</i><br> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Ae night the storm the steeples rock'd,<br> - Poor labour sweet in sleep was lock'd,<br> - While burns <i>wi' snawy wreeths upchok'd<br> - Wild-eddying swirl,</i><br> - Or thro' the mining outlet bock'd[<a id="chap01fn30text"></a><a href="#chap01fn30">30</a>]<br> - Down headlong hurl.<br> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Are there not "descriptive touches" there? The -describer <i>saw</i> this thing; the essential feature and true -likeness of every circumstance in it; saw, and not -with the eye only. "Poor labour locked in sweet -sleep;" the dead stillness of man, unconscious, -vanquished, yet not unprotected, while such strife of the -material elements rages, and seems to reign supreme -in loneliness: this is of the heart as well as of the -eye!—Look also at his image of a thaw, and prophesied -fall of the "Auld Brig:"— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains<br> - Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains;<br> - When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil,<br> - Or stately Lugar's <i>mossy</i> fountains <i>boil</i>,<br> - Or where the Greenock winds his <i>moorland</i> course,<br> - Or haunted Garpal[<a id="chap01fn31text"></a><a href="#chap01fn31">31</a>] draws his feeble source,<br> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P26"></a>26}</span> - Arous'd by blust'ring winds and <i>spotting</i> thowes,[<a id="chap01fn32text"></a><a href="#chap01fn32">32</a>]<br> - <i>In mony a torrent down his snaw-broo rowes;[<a id="chap01fn33text"></a><a href="#chap01fn33">33</a>]<br> - While crashing ice, borne on the roaring speat,[<a id="chap01fn34text"></a><a href="#chap01fn34">34</a>]<br> - Sweeps dams and mills and brigs a' to the gate;</i><br> - And from Glenbuck down to the Rottonkey,<br> - Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd <i>tumbling</i> sea;<br> - Then down ye'll hurl, Deil nor ye never rise!<br> - And <i>dash the gumlie jaups[<a id="chap01fn35text"></a><a href="#chap01fn35">35</a>] up to the pouring skies</i>.[<a id="chap01fn36text"></a><a href="#chap01fn36">36</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p> -The last line is in itself a Poussin-picture of that -Deluge! The welkin has, as it were, bent down with -its weight; the "gumlie jaups" and the "pouring -skies" are mingled together; it is a world of rain -and ruin.—In respect of mere clearness and minute -fidelity, the <i>Farmer's</i> commendation of his <i>Auld -Mare</i> in plough or in cart, may vie with Homer's -Smithy of the Cyclops, or yoking of Priam's -Chariot.[<a id="chap01fn37text"></a><a href="#chap01fn37">37</a>] Nor have we forgotten stout Burn-the-wind[<a id="chap01fn38text"></a><a href="#chap01fn38">38</a>] -and his brawny customers, inspired by Scotch Drink: -but it is needless to multiply examples. One other -trait of a much finer sort we select from multitudes -of such among his "Songs." It gives, in a single -line, to the saddest feeling the saddest environment -and local habitation:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - <i>The pale Moon is setting beyond the white wave,<br> - And time is setting wi' me, O;</i><br> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P27"></a>27}</span> - Farewell, false friends! false lover, farewell!<br> - I'll nae mair trouble them nor thee, O.[<a id="chap01fn39text"></a><a href="#chap01fn39">39</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -This clearness of sight we have called the foundation -of all talent; for in fact, unless we see our object, -how shall we know how to place or prize it, in -our understanding, our imagination, our affections? -Yet it is not in itself, perhaps, a very high excellence; -but capable of being united indifferently with the -strongest, or with ordinary power. Homer surpasses -all men in this quality: but strangely enough, at no -great distance below him are Richardson and Defoe. -It belongs, in truth, to what is called a lively mind; -and gives no sure indication of the higher endowments -that may exist along with it. In all the three cases -we have mentioned, it is combined with great garrulity; -their descriptions are detailed, ample and lovingly -exact: Homer's fire bursts through, from time -to time, as if by accident; but Defoe and Richardson -have no fire. Burns, again, is not more distinguished -by the clearness than by the impetuous force of his -conceptions. Of the strength, the piercing emphasis -with which he thought, his emphasis of expression -may give a humble but the readiest proof. Whoever -uttered sharper sayings than his; words more -memorable, now by their burning vehemence, now by -their cool vigor and laconic pith? A single phrase -depicts a whole subject, a whole scene. We hear of -"a gentleman that derived his patent of nobility direct -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P28"></a>28}</span> -from Almighty God." Our Scottish forefathers in -the battlefield struggled forward "<i>red-wat-shod</i>:"[<a id="chap01fn40text"></a><a href="#chap01fn40">40</a>] -in this one word a full vision of horror and carnage, -perhaps too frightfully accurate for Art! -</p> - -<p> -In fact, one of the leading features in the mind of -Burns is this vigor of his strictly intellectual -perceptions. A resolute force is ever visible in his -judgments, and in his feelings and volitions. Professor -Stewart says of him, with some surprise:[<a id="chap01fn41text"></a><a href="#chap01fn41">41</a>] "All the -faculties of Burns's mind were, as far as I could -judge, equally vigorous; and his predilection for -poetry was rather the result of his own enthusiastic -and impassioned temper, than of a genius exclusively -adapted to that species of composition. From his -conversation I should have pronounced him to be -fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition he had -chosen to exert his abilities." But this, if we -mistake not, is at all times the very essence of a truly -poetical endowment. Poetry, except in such cases as -that of Keats, where the whole consists in a weak-eyed -maudlin sensibility, and a certain vague random -tunefulness of nature, is no separate faculty, no organ -which can be superadded to the rest, or disjoined -from them; but rather the result of their general -harmony and completion.[<a id="chap01fn42text"></a><a href="#chap01fn42">42</a>] The feelings, the gifts -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P29"></a>29}</span> -that exist in the Poet are those that exist, with more -or less development, in every human soul: the -imagination, which shudders at the Hell of Dante, is the -same faculty, weaker in degree, which called that -picture into being. How does the Poet speak to -men, with power, but by being still more a man than -they? Shakespeare, it has been well observed, in -the planning and completing of his tragedies, has -shown an understanding, were it nothing more, which -might have governed states, or indited a "Novum -Organum." What Burns's force of understanding -may have been, we have less means of judging: it -had to dwell among the humblest objects; never saw -Philosophy; never rose, except by natural effort and -for short intervals, into the region of great ideas. -Nevertheless, sufficient indication, if no proof -sufficient, remains for us in his works: we discern the -brawny movements of a gigantic though untutored -strength; and can understand how, in conversation, -his quick sure insight into men and things may, as -much as aught else about him, have amazed the best -thinkers of his time and country. -</p> - -<p> -But, unless we mistake, the intellectual gift of -Burns is fine as well as strong. The more delicate -relations of things could not well have escaped his -eye, for they were intimately present to his heart. -The logic of the senate and the forum is indispensable, -but not all-sufficient; nay perhaps the highest Truth -is that which will the most certainly elude it. For -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P30"></a>30}</span> -this logic works by words, and "the highest," it has -been said, "cannot be expressed in words." We are -not without tokens of an openness for this higher -truth also, of a keen though uncultivated sense for -it, having existed in Burns. Mr. Stewart, it will be -remembered, "wonders," in the passage above quoted, -that Burns had formed some distinct conception of -the "doctrine of association." We rather think that -far subtler things than the doctrine of association -had from of old been familiar to him. Here for -instance:— -</p> - -<p> -"We know nothing," thus writes he, "or next to -nothing, of the structure of our souls, so we cannot -account for those seeming caprices in them, that one -should be particularly pleased with this thing, or -struck with that, which, on minds of a different cast, -makes no extraordinary impression. I have some -favorite flowers in spring, among which are the -mountain-daisy, the harebell, the foxglove, the wild-brier -rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that -I view and hang over with particular delight. I -never hear the loud solitary whistle of the curlew -in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a -troop of gray plover in an autumnal morning, without -feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm -of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to -what can this be owing? Are we a piece of machinery, -which, like the Æolian harp, passive, takes the -impression of the passing accident; or do these -workings argue something within us above the trodden -clod? I own myself partial to such proofs of those -awful and important realities: a God that made -all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P31"></a>31}</span> -and a world of weal or woe beyond death and the -grave."[<a id="chap01fn43text"></a><a href="#chap01fn43">43</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Force and fineness of understanding are often -spoken of as something different from general force -and fineness of nature, as something partly independent -of them. The necessities of language so require -it; but in truth these qualities are not distinct and -independent: except in special cases, and from special -causes, they ever go together. A man of strong -understanding is generally a man of strong character; -neither is delicacy in the one kind often divided from -delicacy in the other. No one, at all events, is -ignorant that in the Poetry of Burns keenness of insight -keeps pace with keenness of feeling; that his <i>light</i> -is not more pervading than his <i>warmth</i>. He is a -man of the most impassioned temper; with passions -not strong only, but noble, and of the sort in which -great virtues and great poems take their rise. It is -reverence, it is love towards all Nature that inspires -him, that opens his eyes to its beauty, and makes -heart and voice eloquent in its praise. There is a -true old saying, that "Love furthers knowledge:" -but above all, it is the living essence of that -knowledge which makes poets; the first principle of its -existence, increase, activity. Of Burns's fervid -affection, his generous all-embracing Love, we have spoken -already, as of the grand distinction of his nature, -seen equally in word and deed, in his Life and in his -Writings. It were easy to multiply examples. Not -man only, but all that environs man in the material -and moral universe, is lovely in his sight: "the hoary -hawthorn," the "troop of gray plover," the "solitary -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P32"></a>32}</span> -curlew," all are dear to him; all live in this Earth -along with him, and to all he is knit as in mysterious -brotherhood. How touching is it, for instance, that, -amidst the gloom of personal misery, brooding over -the wintry desolation without him and within him, -he thinks of the "ourie cattle" and "silly sheep," and -their sufferings in the pitiless storm! -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - I thought me on the ourie cattle,<br> - Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle<br> - O' wintry war,<br> - Or thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle,[<a id="chap01fn44text"></a><a href="#chap01fn44">44</a>]<br> - Beneath a scaur.<br> - Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing,<br> - That in the merry months o' spring<br> - Delighted me to hear thee sing,<br> - What comes o' thee?<br> - Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing?<br> - And close thy ee?[<a id="chap01fn45text"></a><a href="#chap01fn45">45</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -The tenant of the mean hut, with its "ragged roof -and chinky wall,"[<a id="chap01fn46text"></a><a href="#chap01fn46">46</a>] has a heart to pity even these! -This is worth several homilies on Mercy; for it is -the voice of Mercy herself. Burns, indeed, lives in -sympathy; his soul rushes forth into all realms of -being; nothing that has existence can be indifferent -to him. The very Devil he cannot hate with right -orthodoxy:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben;<br> - O, wad ye tak a thought and men'!<br> - Ye aiblins might—I dinna ken,—<br> - Still hae a stake;<br> - I'm wae to think upo' yon den,<br> - Even for your sake![<a id="chap01fn47text"></a><a href="#chap01fn47">47</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -"He is the father of curses and lies," said Dr. Slop; -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P33"></a>33}</span> -"and is cursed and damned already."—"I am sorry -for it," quoth my uncle Toby![<a id="chap01fn48text"></a><a href="#chap01fn48">48</a>]—a Poet without -Love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility. -</p> - -<p> -But[<a id="chap01fn49text"></a><a href="#chap01fn49">49</a>] has it not been said, in contradiction to this -principle, that "Indignation makes verses"?[<a id="chap01fn50text"></a><a href="#chap01fn50">50</a>] It has -been so said, and is true enough: but the contradiction -is apparent, not real. The Indignation which -makes verses is, properly speaking, an inverted Love; -the love of some right, some worth, some goodness, -belonging to ourselves or others, which has been -injured, and which this tempestuous feeling issues forth -to defend and avenge. No selfish fury of heart, -existing there as a primary feeling, and without its -opposite, ever produced much Poetry: otherwise, we -suppose, the Tiger were the most musical of all our -choristers. Johnson said, he loved a good hater; by -which he must have meant, not so much one that -hated violently, as one that hated wisely; hated -baseness from love of nobleness. However, in spite of -Johnson's paradox, tolerable enough for once in -speech, but which need not have been so often adopted -in print since then, we rather believe that good men -deal sparingly in hatred, either wise or unwise: nay -that a "good" hater is still a desideratum in this -world. The Devil, at least, who passes for the chief -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P34"></a>34}</span> -and best of that class, is said to be nowise an amiable -character.[<a id="chap01fn51text"></a><a href="#chap01fn51">51</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Of the verses which Indignation makes, Burns has -also given us specimens: and among the best that -were ever given. Who will forget his "Dweller in -yon Dungeon dark;" a piece that might have been -chanted by the Furies of Æschylus? The secrets of -the infernal Pit are laid bare; a boundless baleful -"darkness visible;"[<a id="chap01fn52text"></a><a href="#chap01fn52">52</a>] and streaks of hell-fire quivering -madly in its black haggard bosom! -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Dweller in yon Dungeon dark,<br> - Hangman of Creation, mark!<br> - Who in widow's weeds appears,<br> - Laden with unhonoured years,<br> - Noosing with care a bursting purse,<br> - Baited with many a deadly curse![<a id="chap01fn53text"></a><a href="#chap01fn53">53</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Why should we speak of "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace -bled;" since all know of it, from the king to -the meanest of his subjects? This dithyrambic was -composed on horseback; in riding in the middle of -tempests, over the wildest Galloway moor, in -company with a Mr. Syme, who, observing the poet's -looks, forbore to speak,—judiciously enough, for a -man composing "Bruce's Address" might be unsafe -to trifle with. Doubtless this stern hymn was singing -itself, as he formed it, through the soul of Burns; but -to the external ear, it should be sung with the throat -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P35"></a>35}</span> -of the whirlwind.[<a id="chap01fn54text"></a><a href="#chap01fn54">54</a>] So long as there is warm blood in -the heart of Scotchman or man, it will move in fierce -thrills under this war-ode; the best, we believe, that -was ever written by any pen. -</p> - -<p> -Another wild stormful Song, that dwells in our ear -and mind with a strange tenacity, is "Macpherson's -Farewell." Perhaps there is something in the tradition -itself that cooperates. For was not this grim -Celt, this shaggy Northland Cacus,[<a id="chap01fn55text"></a><a href="#chap01fn55">55</a>] that "lived a -life of sturt and strife, and died by treacherie,"—was -not he too one of the Nimrods and Napoleons of -the earth, in the arena of his own remote misty glens, -for want of a clearer and wider one? Nay, was there -not a touch of grace given him? A fibre of love and -softness, of poetry itself, must have lived in his -savage heart: for he composed that air the night before -his execution; on the wings of that poor melody his -better soul would soar away above oblivion, pain and -all the ignominy and despair, which, like an -avalanche, was hurling him to the abyss! Here also, as -at Thebes, and in Pelops' line,[<a id="chap01fn56text"></a><a href="#chap01fn56">56</a>] was material Fate -matched against man's Free-will; matched in bitterest -though obscure duel; and the ethereal soul sank -not, even in its blindness, without a cry which has -survived it. But who, except Burns, could have -given words to such a soul; words that we never -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P36"></a>36}</span> -listen to without a strange half-barbarous, half-poetic -fellow-feeling? -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,<br> - Sae dauntingly gaed he;<br> - He play'd a spring, and danced it round,<br> - Below the gallows-tree.<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Under a lighter disguise, the same principle of -Love, which we have recognized as the great characteristic -of Burns, and of all true poets, occasionally -manifests itself in the shape of Humor. Everywhere, -indeed, in his sunny moods, a full buoyant flood of -mirth rolls through the mind of Burns; he rises to -the high, and stoops to the low, and is brother and -playmate to all Nature. We speak not of his bold -and often irresistible faculty of caricature; for this -is Drollery rather than Humor: but a much tenderer -sportfulness dwells in him; and comes forth here and -there, in evanescent and beautiful touches; as in his -"Address to the Mouse," or the "Farmer's Mare," -or in his "Elegy on poor Mailie," which last may be -reckoned his happiest effort of this kind. In these -pieces there are traits of a Humor as fine as that of -Sterne;[<a id="chap01fn57text"></a><a href="#chap01fn57">57</a>] yet altogether different, original, -peculiar,—the Humor of Burns. -</p> - -<p> -Of the tenderness, the playful pathos, and many -other kindred qualities of Burns's Poetry, much more -might be said; but now, with these poor outlines of -a sketch, we must prepare to quit this part of our -subject. To speak of his individual Writings, -adequately and with any detail, would lead us far -beyond our limits. As already hinted, we can look on -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P37"></a>37}</span> -but few of these pieces as, in strict critical language, -deserving the name of Poems: they are rhymed -eloquence, rhymed pathos, rhymed sense; yet seldom -essentially melodious, aerial, poetical. "Tam o' -Shanter" itself, which enjoys so high a favor, does -not appear to us at all decisively to come under this -last category. It is not so much a poem, as a piece -of sparkling rhetoric; the heart and body of the story -still lies hard and dead. He has not gone back, much -less carried us back, into that dark, earnest, -wondering age, when the tradition was believed, and when -it took its rise; he does not attempt, by any -new-modelling of his supernatural ware, to strike anew -that deep mysterious chord of human nature, which -once responded to such things; and which lives in us -too, and will forever live, though silent now, or -vibrating with far other notes, and to far different issues. -Our German readers will understand us, when we -say, that he is not the Tieck but the Musäus of this -tale.[<a id="chap01fn58text"></a><a href="#chap01fn58">58</a>] Externally it is all green and living; yet look -closer, it is no firm growth, but only ivy on a rock. -The piece does not properly cohere: the strange chasm -which yawns in our incredulous imaginations between -the Ayr publichouse and the gate of Tophet, is -nowhere bridged over, nay the idea of such a bridge is -laughed at; and thus the Tragedy of the adventure -becomes a mere drunken phantasmagoria, or many-colored -spectrum painted on ale-vapors, and the Farce -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P38"></a>38}</span> -alone has any reality. We do not say that Burns -should have made much more of this tradition; we -rather think that, for strictly poetical purposes, not -much was to be made of it. Neither are we blind -to the deep, varied, genial power displayed in what -he has actually accomplished; but we find far more -"Shakespearean" qualities, as these of "Tam o' -Shanter" have been fondly named, in many of his -other pieces; nay we incline to believe that this latter -might have been written, all but quite as well, by a -man who, in place of genius, had only possessed talent. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps we may venture to say, that the most -strictly poetical of all his "poems" is one which does -not appear in Currie's Edition; but has been often -printed before and since, under the humble title of -"The Jolly Beggars." The subject truly is among -the lowest in Nature; but it only the more shows our -Poet's gift in raising it into the domain of Art. To -our minds, this piece seems thoroughly compacted; -melted together, refined; and poured forth in one -flood of true <i>liquid</i> harmony. It is light, airy, soft -of movement; yet sharp and precise in its details; -every face is a portrait: that <i>raucle carlin</i>,[<a id="chap01fn59text"></a><a href="#chap01fn59">59</a>] that <i>wee -Apollo</i>, that <i>Son of Mars</i>, are Scottish, yet ideal; -the scene is at once a dream, and the very Ragcastle -of "Poosie-Nansie."[<a id="chap01fn60text"></a><a href="#chap01fn60">60</a>] Farther, it seems in a -considerable degree complete, a real self-supporting Whole, -which is the highest merit in a poem. The blanket -of the Night is drawn asunder for a moment; in full, -ruddy, flaming light, these rough tatterdemalions are -seen in their boisterous revel; for the strong pulse of -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P39"></a>39}</span> -Life vindicates its right to gladness even here; and -when the curtain closes, we prolong the action, -without effort; the next day as the last, our <i>Caird</i> and -our <i>Balladmonger</i> are singing and soldiering; their -"brats and callets" are hawking, begging, cheating; -and some other night, in new combinations, they will -wring from Fate another hour of wassail and good -cheer. Apart from the universal sympathy with man -which this again bespeaks in Burns, a genuine inspiration -and no inconsiderable technical talent are manifested -here. There is the fidelity, humor, warm life -and accurate painting and grouping of some Teniers,[<a id="chap01fn61text"></a><a href="#chap01fn61">61</a>] -for whom hostlers and carousing peasants are not -without significance. It would be strange, doubtless, -to call this the best of Burns's writings: we mean -to say only, that it seems to us the most perfect of -its kind, as a piece of poetical composition, strictly -so called. In "The Beggar's Opera,"[<a id="chap01fn62text"></a><a href="#chap01fn62">62</a>] in the "Beggar's -Bush,"[<a id="chap01fn63text"></a><a href="#chap01fn63">63</a>] as other critics[<a id="chap01fn64text"></a><a href="#chap01fn64">64</a>] have already remarked, -there is nothing which, in real poetic vigor, equals -this <i>Cantata</i>; nothing, as we think, which comes -within many degrees of it. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -But by far the most finished, complete and truly -inspired pieces of Burns are, without dispute, to be -found among his "Songs." It is here that, although -through a small aperture, his light shines with least -obstruction; in its highest beauty and pure sunny -clearness. The reason may be, that Song is a brief -simple species of composition; and requires nothing -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P40"></a>40}</span> -so much for its perfection as genuine poetic feeling, -genuine music of heart. Yet the Song has its rules -equally with the Tragedy; rules which in most cases -are poorly fulfilled, in many cases are not so much as -felt. We might write a long essay on the Songs of -Burns; which we reckon by far the best that Britain -has yet produced: for indeed, since the era of Queen -Elizabeth, we know not that, by any other hand, -aught truly worth attention has been accomplished in -this department. True, we have songs enough "by -persons of quality;" we have tawdry, hollow, wine-bred -madrigals; many a rhymed speech "in the flowing -and watery vein of Osorius the Portugal Bishop,"[<a id="chap01fn65text"></a><a href="#chap01fn65">65</a>] -rich in sonorous words, and, for moral, dashed -perhaps with some tint of a sentimental sensuality; all -which many persons cease not from endeavoring to -sing; though for most part, we fear, the music is but -from the throat outwards, or at best from some region -far enough short of the <i>Soul</i>; not in which, but in -a certain inane Limbo of the Fancy, or even in some -vaporous debatable-land on the outskirts of the -Nervous System, most of such madrigals and rhymed -speeches seem to have originated. -</p> - -<p> -With the Songs of Burns we must not name these -things. Independently of the clear, manly, heartfelt -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P41"></a>41}</span> -sentiment that ever pervades <i>his</i> poetry, his Songs -are honest in another point of view: in form, as well -as in spirit. They do not <i>affect</i> to be set to music, -but they actually and in themselves are music; they -have received their life, and fashioned themselves -together, in the medium of Harmony, as Venus rose -from the bosom of the sea. The story, the feeling, is -not detailed, but suggested; not <i>said</i>, or spouted, in -rhetorical completeness and coherence; but <i>sung</i>, in -fitful gushes, in glowing hints, in fantastic breaks, -in <i>warblings</i> not of the voice only, but of the whole -mind. We consider this to be the essence of a song; -and that no songs since the little careless catches, and -as it were drops of song, which Shakespeare has here -and there sprinkled over his Plays, fulfil this -condition in nearly the same degree as most of Burns's do. -Such grace and truth of external movement, too, -presupposes in general a corresponding force and truth -of sentiment and inward meaning. The Songs of -Burns are not more perfect in the former quality than -in the latter. With what tenderness he sings, yet -with what vehemence and entireness! There is a -piercing wail in his sorrow, the purest rapture in his -joy; he burns with the sternest ire, or laughs with -the loudest or sliest mirth; and yet he is sweet and -soft, "sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, and -soft as their parting tear." If we further take into -account the immense variety of his subjects; how, -from the loud flowing revel in "Willie brew'd a Peck -o' Maut," to the still, rapt enthusiasm of sadness of -"Mary in Heaven;" from the glad kind greeting of -"Auld Lang Syne," or the comic archness of "Duncan Gray," -to the fire-eyed fury of "Scots wha hae -wi' Wallace bled," he has found a tone and words for -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P42"></a>42}</span> -every mood of man's heart,—it will seem a small -praise if we rank him as the first of all our -Song-writers; for we know not where to find one worthy of -being second to him. -</p> - -<p> -It is on his Songs, as we believe, that Burns's -chief influence as an author will ultimately be found -to depend: nor, if our Fletcher's[<a id="chap01fn66text"></a><a href="#chap01fn66">66</a>] aphorism is true, -shall we account this a small influence. "Let me -make the songs of a people," said he, "and you -shall make its laws." Surely, if ever any Poet might -have equalled himself with Legislators on this ground, -it was Burns. His Songs are already part of the -mother-tongue, not of Scotland only, but of Britain, -and of the millions that in all ends of the earth speak -a British language. In hut and hall, as the heart -unfolds itself in many-colored joy and woe of existence, -the <i>name</i>, the <i>voice</i> of that joy and that woe, -is the name and voice which Burns has given them. -Strictly speaking, perhaps no British man has so -deeply affected the thoughts and feelings of so many -men, as this solitary and altogether private -individual, with means apparently the humblest. -</p> - -<p> -In another point of view, moreover, we incline to -think that Burns's influence may have been considerable: -we mean, as exerted specially on the Literature -of his country, at least on the Literature of Scotland. -Among the great changes which British, particularly -Scottish literature, has undergone since that period, -one of the greatest will be found to consist in its -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P43"></a>43}</span> -remarkable increase of nationality. Even the English -writers most popular in Burns's time were little -distinguished for their literary patriotism, in this its -best sense. A certain attenuated cosmopolitanism -had, in good measure, taken place of the old insular -home-feeling; literature was, as it were, without any -local environment; was not nourished by the affections -which spring from a native soil. Our Grays -and Glovers[<a id="chap01fn67text"></a><a href="#chap01fn67">67</a>] seemed to write almost as if <i>in vacuo</i>; -the thing written bears no mark of place; it is not -written so much for Englishmen, as for men; or -rather, which is the inevitable result of this, for -certain Generalizations which philosophy termed men. -Goldsmith is an exception: not so Johnson; the scene -of his "Rambler" is little more English than that of -his "Rasselas." -</p> - -<p> -But if such was, in some degree, the case with -England, it was, in the highest degree, the case with -Scotland. In fact our Scottish literature had, at that -period, a very singular aspect; unexampled, so far as -we know, except perhaps at Geneva, where the same -state of matters appears still to continue. For a long -period after Scotland became British, we had no -literature; at the date when Addison and Steele were -writing their "Spectators," our good John Boston -was writing, with the noblest intent, but alike in -defiance of grammar and philosophy, his "Fourfold State -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P44"></a>44}</span> -of Man."[<a id="chap01fn68text"></a><a href="#chap01fn68">68</a>] Then came the schisms in our National -Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body Politic: -Theologic ink, and Jacobite blood, with gall enough -in both cases, seemed to have blotted out the intellect -of the country: however, it was only obscured, not -obliterated. Lord Kames made nearly the first -attempt at writing English; and ere long, Hume, -Robertson, Smith, and a whole host of followers, attracted -hither the eyes of all Europe. And yet in this -brilliant resuscitation of our "fervid genius," there was -nothing truly Scottish, nothing indigenous; except, -perhaps, the natural impetuosity of intellect, which -we sometimes claim, and are sometimes upbraided -with, as a characteristic of our nation. It is curious -to remark that Scotland, so full of writers, had no -Scottish culture, nor indeed any English; our -culture was almost exclusively French. It was by -studying Racine and Voltaire, Batteux and Boileau, that -Kames had trained himself to be a critic and -philosopher; it was the light of Montesquieu and Mably -that guided Robertson in his political speculations; -Quesnay's lamp that kindled the lamp of Adam -Smith.[<a id="chap01fn69text"></a><a href="#chap01fn69">69</a>] Hume was too rich a man to borrow; and -perhaps he reacted on the French more than he was -acted on by them; but neither had he aught to do -with Scotland; Edinburgh, equally with La Fleche,[<a id="chap01fn70text"></a><a href="#chap01fn70">70</a>] -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P45"></a>45}</span> -was but the lodging and laboratory, in which he not -so much morally <i>lived</i>, as metaphysically <i>investigated</i>. -Never, perhaps, was there a class of writers so clear -and well-ordered, yet so totally destitute, to all -appearance, of any patriotic affection, nay of any human -affection whatever. The French wits of the period -were as unpatriotic: but their general deficiency in -moral principle, not to say their avowed sensuality -and unbelief in all virtue, strictly so called, render -this accountable enough. We hope there is a -patriotism founded on something better than prejudice; -that our country may be dear to us, without injury -to our philosophy; that in loving and justly prizing -all other lands, we may prize justly, and yet love -before all others, our own stern Motherland, and the -venerable Structure of social and moral Life, which -Mind has through long ages been building up for us -there. Surely there is nourishment for the better -part of man's heart in all this: surely the roots, that -have fixed themselves in the very core of man's being, -may be so cultivated as to grow up not into briers, -but into roses, in the field of his life! Our Scottish -sages have no such propensities: the field of their -life shows neither briers nor roses; but only a flat, -continuous thrashing-floor for Logic, whereon all -questions, from the "Doctrine of Kent" to the -"Natural History of Religion," are thrashed and sifted -with the same mechanical impartiality![<a id="chap01fn71text"></a><a href="#chap01fn71">71</a>] -</p> - -<p> -With Sir Walter Scott at the head of our literature, -it cannot be denied that much of this evil is -past, or rapidly passing away: our chief literary men, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P46"></a>46}</span> -whatever other faults they may have, no longer live -among us like a French Colony, or some knot of -Propaganda Missionaries; but like natural-born -subjects of the soil, partaking and sympathizing in all -our attachments, humors, and habits. Our literature -no longer grows in water but in mould, and with the -true racy virtues of the soil and climate. How much -of this change may be due to Burns, or to any other -individual, it might be difficult to estimate.[<a id="chap01fn72text"></a><a href="#chap01fn72">72</a>] Direct -literary imitation of Burns was not to be looked for. -But his example, in the fearless adoption of domestic -subjects, could not but operate from afar; and -certainly in no heart did the love of country ever burn -with a warmer glow than in that of Burns: "a tide -of Scottish prejudice,"[<a id="chap01fn73text"></a><a href="#chap01fn73">73</a>] as he modestly calls this deep -and generous feeling, "had been poured along his -veins; and he felt that it would boil there till the -flood-gates shut in eternal rest." It seemed to him, -as if <i>he</i> could do so little for his country, and yet -would so gladly have done all. One small province -stood open for him,—that of Scottish Song; and -how eagerly he entered on it, how devotedly he -labored there! In his toilsome journeyings, this object -never quits him; it is the little happy-valley of his -careworn heart. In the gloom of his own affliction, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P47"></a>47}</span> -he eagerly searches after some lonely brother of the -muse, and rejoices to snatch one other name from the -oblivion that was covering it![<a id="chap01fn74text"></a><a href="#chap01fn74">74</a>] These were early -feelings, and they abode with him to the end:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - ... A wish (I mind its power),<br> - A wish, that to my latest hour<br> - Will strongly heave my breast,—<br> - That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake,<br> - Some useful plan or book could make,<br> - Or sing a sang at least.<br> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - The rough bur Thistle spreading wide<br> - Amang the bearded bear,<br> - I turn'd my weeding-clips aside,<br> - And spared the symbol dear.[<a id="chap01fn75text"></a><a href="#chap01fn75">75</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -But to leave the mere literary character of Burns, -which has already detained us too long. Far more -interesting than any of his written works, as it -appears to us, are his acted ones: the Life he willed -and was fated to lead among his fellow-men. These -Poems are but like little rhymed fragments scattered -here and there in the grand unrhymed Romance of -his earthly existence; and it is only when intercalated -in this at their proper places, that they attain their -full measure of significance. And this too, alas! was -but a fragment! The plan of a mighty edifice -had been sketched; some columns, porticos, firm -masses of building, stand completed; the rest more -or less clearly indicated; with many a far-stretching -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P48"></a>48}</span> -tendency, which only studious and friendly eyes can -now trace towards the purposed termination. For -the work is broken off in the middle, almost in the -beginning; and rises among us, beautiful and sad, at -once unfinished and a ruin! If charitable judgment -was necessary in estimating his Poems, and justice -required that the aim and the manifest power to fulfil -it must often be accepted for the fulfilment; much -more is this the case in regard to his Life, the sum -and result of all his endeavors, where his difficulties -came upon him not in detail only, but in mass; and -so much has been left unaccomplished, nay was -mistaken, and altogether marred. -</p> - -<p> -Properly speaking, there is but one era in the life -of Burns, and that the earliest. We have not youth -and manhood, but only youth: for, to the end, we -discern no decisive change in the complexion of his -character; in his thirty-seventh year, he is still, as it -were, in youth. With all that resoluteness of judgment, -that penetrating insight, and singular maturity -of intellectual power, exhibited in his writings, he -never attains to any clearness regarding himself: to -the last, he never ascertains his peculiar aim, even -with such distinctness as is common among ordinary -men; and therefore never can pursue it with that -singleness of will which insures success and some -contentment to such men.[<a id="chap01fn76text"></a><a href="#chap01fn76">76</a>] To the last, he wavers -between two purposes: glorying in his talent, like a -true poet, he yet cannot consent to make this his chief -and sole glory, and to follow it as the one thing -needful, through poverty or riches, through good or evil -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P49"></a>49}</span> -report.[<a id="chap01fn77text"></a><a href="#chap01fn77">77</a>] Another far meaner ambition still cleaves to -him; he must dream and struggle about a certain -"Rock of Independence;" which, natural and even -admirable as it might be, was still but a warring with -the world, on the comparatively insignificant ground -of his being more completely or less completely -supplied with money than others; of his standing at a -higher or at a lower altitude in general estimation -than others. For the world still appears to him, as -to the young, in borrowed colors; he expects from it -what it cannot give to any man; seeks for contentment, -not within himself, in action and wise effort, -but from without, in the kindness of circumstances, -in love, friendship, honor, pecuniary ease. He would -be happy, not actively and in himself, but passively -and from some ideal cornucopia of Enjoyments, not -earned by his own labor, but showered on him by the -beneficence of Destiny. Thus, like a young man, he -cannot gird himself up for any worthy well-calculated -goal, but swerves to and fro, between passionate hope -and remorseful disappointment: rushing onwards -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P50"></a>50}</span> -with a deep tempestuous force, he surmounts or -breaks asunder many a barrier; travels, nay advances -far, but advancing only under uncertain guidance, is -ever and anon turned from his path; and to the last -cannot reach the only true happiness of a man, that -of clear decided Activity in the sphere for which, by -nature and circumstances, he has been fitted and -appointed. -</p> - -<p> -We do not say these things in dispraise of Burns; -nay, perhaps, they but interest us the more in his -favor. This blessing is not given soonest to the best; -but rather, it is often the greatest minds that are -latest in obtaining it; for where most is to be -developed, most time may be required to develop it. A -complex condition had been assigned him from -without; as complex a condition from within: no -"pre-established harmony" existed between the clay soil -of Mossgiel and the empyrean soul of Robert Burns; -it was not wonderful that the adjustment between -them should have been long postponed, and his arm -long cumbered, and his sight confused, in so vast and -discordant an economy as he had been appointed -steward over. Byron was, at his death, but a year -younger than Burns; and through life, as it might -have appeared, far more simply situated: yet in him -too we can trace no such adjustment, no such moral -manhood; but at best, and only a little before his -end, the beginning of what seemed such. -</p> - -<p> -By much the most striking incident in Burns's -Life is his journey to Edinburgh; but perhaps a still -more important one is his residence at Irvine so early -as in his twenty-third year. Hitherto his life had been -poor and toilworn; but otherwise not ungenial, and, -with all its distresses, by no means unhappy. In his -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P51"></a>51}</span> -parentage, deducting outward circumstances, he had -every reason to reckon himself fortunate. His father -was a man of thoughtful, intense, earnest character, -as the best of our peasants are; valuing knowledge, -possessing some, and, what is far better and rarer, -openminded for more: a man with a keen insight -and devout heart; reverent towards God, friendly -therefore, at once, and fearless towards all that God -has made: in one word, though but a hard-handed -peasant, a complete and fully unfolded <i>Man</i>. Such a -father is seldom found in any rank in society; and -was worth descending far in society to seek.[<a id="chap01fn78text"></a><a href="#chap01fn78">78</a>] Unfortunately -he was very poor; had he been even a little -richer, almost never so little, the whole might have -issued far otherwise. Mighty events turn on a straw; -the crossing of a brook decides the conquest of the -world. Had this William Burns's small seven acres -of nursery-ground anywise prospered, the boy Robert -had been sent to school; had struggled forward, as -so many weaker men do, to some university; come -forth not as a rustic wonder, but as a regular -well-trained intellectual workman, and changed the whole -course of British Literature,—for it lay in him to -have done this![<a id="chap01fn79text"></a><a href="#chap01fn79">79</a>] But the nursery did not prosper; -poverty sank his whole family below the help of even -our cheap school-system: Burns remained a hard-worked -ploughboy, and British literature took its -own course. Nevertheless, even in this rugged scene -there is much to nourish him. If he drudges, it is -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P52"></a>52}</span> -with his brother, and for his father and mother, whom -he loves, and would fain shield from want. Wisdom -is not banished from their poor hearth, nor the -balm of natural feeling: the solemn words, "Let us -worship God," are heard there from a "priest-like -father;"[<a id="chap01fn80text"></a><a href="#chap01fn80">80</a>] if threatenings of unjust men throw mother -and children into tears, these are tears not of grief -only, but of holiest affection; every heart in that -humble group feels itself the closer knit to every -other; in their hard warfare they are there together, -a "little band of brethren." Neither are such tears, -and the deep beauty that dwells in them, their only -portion. Light visits the hearts as it does the eyes -of all living: there is a force, too, in this youth, that -enables him to trample on misfortune; nay to bind it -under his feet to make him sport. For a bold, warm, -buoyant humor of character has been given him; and -so the thick-coming shapes of evil are welcomed with -a gay, friendly irony, and in their closest pressure he -bates no jot of heart or hope. Vague yearnings of -ambition fail not, as he grows up; dreamy fancies -hang like cloud-cities around him; the curtain of -Existence is slowly rising, in many-colored splendor -and gloom: and the auroral light of first love is -gilding his horizon, and the music of song is on his path; -and so he walks -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - ... "in glory and in joy,<br> - Behind his plough, upon the mountain side."[<a id="chap01fn81text"></a><a href="#chap01fn81">81</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -We ourselves know, from the best evidence, that -up to this date Burns was happy; nay that he was -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P53"></a>53}</span> -the gayest, brightest, most fantastic, fascinating being -to be found in the world; more so even than he ever -afterwards appeared.[<a id="chap01fn82text"></a><a href="#chap01fn82">82</a>] But now, at this early age, he -quits the paternal roof; goes forth into looser, louder, -more exciting society; and becomes initiated in those -dissipations, those vices, which a certain class of -philosophers have asserted to be a natural preparative -for entering on active life: a kind of mud-bath, in -which the youth is, as it were, necessitated to steep, -and, we suppose, cleanse himself, before the real toga -of Manhood can be laid on him. We shall not -dispute much with this class of philosophers; we hope -they are mistaken: for Sin and Remorse so easily -beset us at all stages of life, and are always such -indifferent company, that it seems hard we should, at -any stage, be forced and fated not only to meet but -to yield to them, and even serve for a term in their -leprous armada. We hope it is not so. Clear we -are, at all events, it cannot be the training one -receives in this Devil's service, but only our -determining to desert from it, that fits us for true manly -Action. We become men, not after we have been -dissipated, and disappointed in the chase of false -pleasure; but after we have ascertained, in any way, -what impassable barriers hem us in through this life; -how mad it is to hope for contentment to our infinite -soul from the <i>gifts</i> of this extremely finite world; -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P54"></a>54}</span> -that a man must be sufficient for himself; and that -for suffering and enduring there is no remedy but -striving and doing. Manhood begins when we have -in any way made truce with necessity; begins even -when we have surrendered to necessity, as the most -part only do; but begins joyfully and hopefully only -when we have reconciled ourselves to Necessity; and -thus, in reality, triumphed over it, and felt that in -Necessity we are free. Surely such lessons as this -last, which, in one shape or other, is the grand lesson -for every mortal man, are better learned from the -lips of a devout mother, in the looks and actions of -a devout father, while the heart is yet soft and pliant, -than in collision with the sharp adamant of Fate, -attracting us to shipwreck us, when the heart is -grown hard, and may be broken before it will become -contrite. Had Burns continued to learn this, as he -was already learning it, in his father's cottage, he -would have learned it fully, which he never did; and -been saved many a lasting aberration, many a bitter -hour and year of remorseful sorrow. -</p> - -<p> -It seems to us another circumstance of fatal import -in Burns's history, that at this time too he became -involved in the religious quarrels of his district; that -he was enlisted and feasted, as the fighting man of -the New-Light Priesthood, in their highly unprofitable -warfare. At the tables of these freeminded -clergy he learned much more than was needful for -him. Such liberal ridicule of fanaticism awakened in -his mind scruples about Religion itself; and a whole -world of Doubts, which it required quite another set -of conjurers than these men to exorcise. We do not -say that such an intellect as his could have escaped -similar doubts at some period of his history; or even -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P55"></a>55}</span> -that he could, at a later period, have come through -them altogether victorious and unharmed: but it -seems peculiarly unfortunate that this time, above all -others, should have been fixed for the encounter. -For now, with principles assailed by evil example -from without, by "passions raging like demons"[<a id="chap01fn83atext"></a><a href="#chap01fn83a">83a</a>] from -within, he had little need of sceptical misgivings to -whisper treason in the heat of the battle, or to cut -off his retreat if he were already defeated. He loses -his feeling of innocence; his mind is at variance with -itself; the old divinity no longer presides there; but -wild Desires and wild Repentance alternately oppress -him. Ere long, too, he has committed himself before -the world; his character for sobriety, dear to a Scottish -peasant as few corrupted worldlings can even conceive, -is destroyed in the eyes of men; and his only -refuge consists in trying to disbelieve his guiltiness, -and is but a refuge of lies. The blackest desperation -now gathers over him, broken only by red lightnings -of remorse. The whole fabric of his life is blasted -asunder; for now not only his character, but his personal -liberty is to be lost; men and Fortune are leagued -for his hurt; "hungry Ruin has him in the wind." He -sees no escape but the saddest of all: exile from -his loved country, to a country in every sense -inhospitable and abhorrent to him. While the "gloomy -night is gathering fast,"[<a id="chap01fn83btext"></a><a href="#chap01fn83b">83b</a>] in mental storm and solitude, -as well as in physical, he sings his wild farewell -to Scotland:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Farewell, my friends; farewell, my foes!<br> - My peace with these, my love with those:<br> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P56"></a>56}</span> - The bursting tears my heart declare;<br> - Adieu, my native banks of Ayr![<a id="chap01fn84text"></a><a href="#chap01fn84">84</a>]<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Light breaks suddenly in on him in floods; but -still a false transitory light, and no real sunshine. -He is invited to Edinburgh; hastens thither with -anticipating heart; is welcomed as in a triumph, and with -universal blandishment and acclamation; whatever is -wisest, whatever is greatest or loveliest there, gathers -round him, to gaze on his face, to show him honor, -sympathy, affection. Burns's appearance among the -sages and nobles of Edinburgh must be regarded as -one of the most singular phenomena in modern -Literature; almost like the appearance of some -Napoleon among the crowned sovereigns of modern -Politics. For it is nowise as "a mockery king,"[<a id="chap01fn85text"></a><a href="#chap01fn85">85</a>] set -there by favor, transiently and for a purpose, that -he will let himself be treated, still less is he a mad -Rienzi, whose sudden elevation turns his too weak -head: but he stands there on his own basis; cool, -unastonished, holding his equal rank from Nature -herself; putting forth no claim which there is not -strength in him, as well as about him to vindicate. -Mr. Lockhart has some forcible observations on this -point:— -</p> - -<p> -"It needs no effort of imagination," says he, "to -conceive what the sensations of an isolated set of -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P57"></a>57}</span> -scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) -must have been in the presence of this big-boned, -black-browed, brawny stranger, with his great -flashing eyes, who, having forced his way among them -from the plough-tail at a single stride, manifested in -the whole strain of his bearing and conversation a -most thorough conviction, that in the society of the -most eminent men of his nation he was exactly where -he was entitled to be; hardly deigned to flatter them -by exhibiting even an occasional symptom of being -flattered by their notice; by turns calmly measured -himself against the most cultivated understandings -of his time in discussion; overpowered the <i>bon-mots</i> -of the most celebrated convivialists by broad floods of -merriment, impregnated with all the burning life of -genius; astounded bosoms habitually enveloped in the -thrice-piled folds of social reserve, by compelling -them to tremble,—nay to tremble visibly,—beneath -the fearless touch of natural pathos; and all this -without indicating the smallest willingness to be ranked -among those professional ministers of excitement, -who are content to be paid in money and smiles for -doing what the spectators and auditors would be -ashamed of doing in their own persons, even if they -had the power of doing it; and last, and probably -worst of all, who was known to be in the habit of -enlivening societies which they would have scorned -to approach, still more frequently than their own, -with eloquence no less magnificent; with wit, in all -likelihood still more daring; often enough, as the -superiors whom he fronted without alarm might have -guessed from the beginning, and had ere long no -occasion to guess, with wit pointed at themselves."[<a id="chap01fn86text"></a><a href="#chap01fn86">86</a>] -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P58"></a>58}</span> -</p> - -<p> -The farther we remove from this scene, the more -singular will it seem to us: details of the exterior -aspect of it are already full of interest. Most readers -recollect Mr. Walker's personal interviews with Burns -as among the best passages of his Narrative: a time -will come when this reminiscence of Sir Walter Scott's, -slight though it is, will also be precious:— -</p> - -<p> -"As for Burns," writes Sir Walter, "I may truly -say, <i>Virgilium vidi tantum</i>.[<a id="chap01fn87text"></a><a href="#chap01fn87">87</a>] I was a lad of fifteen in -1786-87, when he came first to Edinburgh, but had -sense and feeling enough to be much interested in his -poetry, and would have given the world to know -him: but I had very little acquaintance with any -literary people, and still less with the gentry of the west -country, the two sets that he most frequented. -Mr. Thomas Grierson was at that time a clerk of my -father's. He knew Burns, and promised to ask him -to his lodgings to dinner; but had no opportunity to -keep his word; otherwise I might have seen more of -this distinguished man. As it was, I saw him one -day at the late venerable Professor Ferguson's,[<a id="chap01fn88text"></a><a href="#chap01fn88">88</a>] where -there were several gentlemen of literary reputation, -among whom I remember the celebrated Mr. Dugald -Stewart. Of course, we youngsters sat silent, looked -and listened. The only thing I remember which was -remarkable in Burns's manner, was the effect -produced upon him by a print of Bunbury's,[<a id="chap01fn89text"></a><a href="#chap01fn89">89</a>] representing -a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting -in misery on one side,—on the other, his widow, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P59"></a>59}</span> -with a child in her arms. These lines were written -beneath:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain,<br> - Perhaps that mother wept her soldier slain;<br> - Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew,<br> - The big drops mingling with the milk he drew,<br> - Gave the sad presage of his future years,<br> - The child of misery baptised in tears.'<br> -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Burns seemed much affected by the print, or -rather by the ideas which it suggested to his mind. -He actually shed tears. He asked whose the lines -were; and it chanced that nobody but myself remembered -that they occur in a half-forgotten poem of -Langhorne's called by the unpromising title of 'The -Justice of Peace.'[<a id="chap01fn90text"></a><a href="#chap01fn90">90</a>] I whispered my information to -a friend present; he mentioned it to Burns, who -rewarded me with a look and a word, which, though of -mere civility, I then received and still recollect with -very great pleasure. -</p> - -<p> -"His person was strong and robust; his manners -rustic, not clownish; a sort of dignified plainness and -simplicity, which received part of its effect perhaps -from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents. -His features are represented in Mr. Nasmyth's[<a id="chap01fn91text"></a><a href="#chap01fn91">91</a>] -picture: but to me it conveys the idea that they are -diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P60"></a>60}</span> -countenance was more massive than it looks in any of -the portraits. I should have taken the poet, had I -not known what he was, for a very sagacious country -farmer of the old Scotch school, <i>i.e.</i>, none of your -modern agriculturists who keep laborers for their -drudgery, but the <i>douce gudeman</i> who held his own -plough. There was a strong expression of sense and -shrewdness in all his lineaments; the eye alone, I -think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. -It was large, and of a dark cast, which glowed -(I say literally <i>glowed</i>) when he spoke with feeling -or interest. I never saw such another eye in a -human head, though I have seen the most distinguished -men of my time. His conversation expressed perfect -self-confidence, without the slightest presumption. -Among the men who were the most learned of their -time and country, he expressed himself with perfect -firmness, but without the least intrusive forwardness: -and when he differed in opinion, he did not hesitate -to express it firmly, yet at the same time with -modesty. I do not remember any part of his conversation -distinctly enough to be quoted; nor did I ever -see him again, except in the street, where he did -not recognize me, as I could not expect he should. -He was much caressed in Edinburgh: but (considering -what literary emoluments have been since his -day) the efforts made for his relief were extremely -trifling. -</p> - -<p> -"I remember, on this occasion I mention, I thought -Burns's acquaintance with English poetry was rather -limited; and also that, having twenty times the -abilities of Allan Ramsay and of Ferguson, he talked of -them with too much humility as his models: there -was doubtless national predilection in his estimate, -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P61"></a>61}</span> -</p> - -<p> -"This is all I can tell you about Burns. I have -only to add, that his dress corresponded with his -manner. He was like a farmer dressed in his best -to dine with the laird. I do not speak <i>in malam -partem</i>, when I say, I never saw a man in company -with his superiors in station or information more -perfectly free from either the reality or the affectation -of embarrassment. I was told, but did not observe -it, that his address to females was extremely deferential, -and always with a turn either to the pathetic or -humorous, which engaged their attention particularly. -I have heard the late Duchess of Gordon remark -this.—I do not know anything I can add to these -recollections of forty years since."[<a id="chap01fn92text"></a><a href="#chap01fn92">92</a>] -</p> - -<p> -The conduct of Burns under this dazzling blaze of -favor; the calm, unaffected, manly manner in which -he not only bore it, but estimated its value, has justly -been regarded as the best proof that could be given -of his real vigor and integrity of mind. A little -natural vanity, some touches of hypocritical modesty, -some glimmerings of affectation, at least some fear -of being thought affected, we could have pardoned -in almost any man; but no such indication is to be -traced here. In his unexampled situation the young -peasant is not a moment perplexed; so many strange -lights do not confuse him, do not lead him astray. -Nevertheless, we cannot but perceive that this -winter did him great and lasting injury. A somewhat -clearer knowledge of men's affairs, scarcely of their -characters, it did afford him; but a sharper feeling -of Fortune's unequal arrangements in their social -destiny it also left with him. He had seen the gay -and gorgeous arena, in which the powerful are born -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P62"></a>62}</span> -to play their parts; nay had himself stood in the -midst of it; and he felt more bitterly than ever, that -here he was but a looker-on, and had no part or lot -in that splendid game. From this time a jealous -indignant fear of social degradation takes possession of -him; and perverts, so far as aught could pervert, his -private contentment, and his feelings towards his -richer fellows. It was clear to Burns that he had -talent enough to make a fortune, or a hundred -fortunes, could he but have rightly willed this; it was -clear also that he willed something far different, and -therefore could not make one. Unhappy it was that -he had not power to choose the one, and reject the -other; but must halt forever between two opinions, -two objects; making hampered advancement towards -either. But so is it with many men: we "long for -the merchandise, yet would fain keep the price;" and -so stand chaffering with Fate in vexatious altercation, -till the night come, and our fair is over! -</p> - -<p> -The Edinburgh Learned of that period were in -general more noted for clearness of head than for -warmth of heart: with the exception of the good old -Blacklock,[<a id="chap01fn93text"></a><a href="#chap01fn93">93</a>] whose help was too ineffectual, scarcely -one among them seems to have looked at Burns with -any true sympathy, or indeed much otherwise than as -at a highly curious <i>thing</i>. By the great also he is -treated in the customary fashion; entertained at their -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P63"></a>63}</span> -tables and dismissed: certain modica of pudding and -praise are, from time to time, gladly exchanged for -the fascination of his presence; which exchange once -effected, the bargain is finished, and each party goes -his several way. At the end of this strange season, -Burns gloomily sums up his gains and losses, and -meditates on the chaotic future. In money he is -somewhat richer; in fame and the show of happiness, -infinitely richer; but in the substance of it, as poor -as ever. Nay poorer; for his heart is now maddened -still more with the fever of worldly Ambition; and -through long years the disease will rack him with -unprofitable sufferings, and weaken his strength for all -true and nobler aims. -</p> - -<p> -What Burns was next to do or to avoid; how a -man so circumstanced was now to guide himself -towards his true advantage, might at this point of -time have been a question for the wisest. It was a -question too, which apparently he was left altogether -to answer for himself: of his learned or rich patrons -it had not struck any individual to turn a thought on -this so trivial matter. Without claiming for Burns -the praise of perfect sagacity, we must say, that his -Excise and Farm scheme does not seem to us a very -unreasonable one; that we should be at a loss, even -now, to suggest one decidedly better. Certain of his -admirers have felt scandalized at his ever resolving -to <i>gauge</i>; and would have had him lie at the pool, -till the spirit of Patronage stirred the waters, that -so, with one friendly plunge, all his sorrows might -be healed.[<a id="chap01fn94text"></a><a href="#chap01fn94">94</a>] Unwise counsellors! They know not -the manner of this spirit; and how, in the lap of -most golden dreams, a man might have happiness, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P64"></a>64}</span> -were it not that in the interim he must die of hunger! -It reflects credit on the manliness and sound sense of -Burns, that he felt so early on what ground he was -standing; and preferred self-help, on the humblest -scale, to dependence and inaction, though with hope -of far more splendid possibilities. But even these -possibilities were not rejected in his scheme: he might -expect, if it chanced that he <i>had</i> any friend, to rise, -in no long period, into something even like opulence -and leisure; while again, if it chanced that he had -no friend, he could still live in security; and for the -rest, he "did not intend to borrow honor from any -profession."[<a id="chap01fn95text"></a><a href="#chap01fn95">95</a>] We reckon that his plan was honest -and well-calculated: all turned on the execution of it. -Doubtless it failed; yet not, we believe, from any -vice inherent in itself.[<a id="chap01fn96text"></a><a href="#chap01fn96">96</a>] Nay, after all, it was no -failure of external means, but of internal, that -overtook Burns. His was no bankruptcy of the purse, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P65"></a>65}</span> -but of the soul; to his last day, he owed no man any -thing.[<a id="chap01fn97text"></a><a href="#chap01fn97">97</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile he begins well: with two good and wise -actions. His donation to his mother, munificent from -a man whose income had lately been seven pounds -a-year, was worthy of him, and not more than worthy. -Generous also, and worthy of him, was the treatment -of the woman whose life's welfare now depended on -his pleasure. A friendly observer might have hoped -serene days for him: his mind is on the true road -to peace with itself: what clearness he still wants -will be given as he proceeds; for the best teacher of -duties, that still lie dim to us, is the Practice of those -we see and have at hand. Had the "patrons of genius," -who could give him nothing, but taken nothing -from him, at least nothing more! The wounds of his -heart would have healed, vulgar ambition would have -died away. Toil and frugality would have been -welcome, since Virtue dwelt with them; and Poetry -would have shone through them as of old: and in her -clear ethereal light, which was his own by birthright, -he might have looked down on his earthly destiny, -and all its obstructions, not with patience only, but -with love. -</p> - -<p> -But the patrons of genius would not have it so. -Picturesque tourists,[<a id="chap01fn98text"></a><a href="#chap01fn98">98</a>] all manner of fashionable -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P66"></a>66}</span> -danglers after literature, and, far worse, all manner of -convivial Mæcenases,[<a id="chap01fn99text"></a><a href="#chap01fn99">99</a>] hovered round him in his -retreat; and his good as well as his weak qualities -secured them influence over him. He was flattered by -their notice; and his warm social nature made it -impossible for him to shake them off, and hold on his -way apart from them. These men, as we believe, -were proximately the means of his ruin. Not that -they meant him any ill; they only meant themselves -a little good; if he suffered harm, let <i>him</i> look to it! -But they wasted his precious time and his precious -talent; they disturbed his composure, broke down -his returning habits of temperance and assiduous -contented exertion. Their pampering was baneful to -him; their cruelty, which soon followed, was equally -baneful. The old grudge against Fortune's inequality -awoke with new bitterness in their neighborhood; -and Burns had no retreat but to "the Rock of -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P67"></a>67}</span> -Independence," which is but an air-castle after all, that -looks well at a distance, but will screen no one from -real wind and wet. Flushed with irregular excitement, -exasperated alternately by contempt of others, -and contempt of himself, Burns was no longer -regaining his peace of mind, but fast losing it forever. -There was a hollowness at the heart of his life, for -his conscience did not now approve what he was -doing. -</p> - -<p> -Amid the vapors of unwise enjoyment, of bootless -remorse, and angry discontent with Fate, his true -loadstar, a life of Poetry, with Poverty, nay with -Famine if it must be so, was too often altogether -hidden from his eyes. And yet he sailed a sea, -where without some such loadstar there was no right -steering. Meteors of French Politics rise before him, -but these were not <i>his</i> stars. An accident this, which -hastened, but did not originate, his worst distresses. -In the mad contentions of that time, he comes in -collision with certain official Superiors; is wounded by -them; cruelly lacerated, we should say, could a dead -mechanical implement, in any case, be called cruel: -and shrinks, in indignant pain, into deeper self-seclusion, -into gloomier moodiness than ever. His life -has now lost its unity: it is a life of fragments; led -with little aim, beyond the melancholy one of securing -its own continuance,—in fits of wild false joy when -such offered, and of black despondency when they -passed away. His character before the world begins -to suffer: calumny is busy with him; for a miserable -man makes more enemies than friends. Some faults -he has fallen into, and a thousand misfortunes; but -deep criminality is what he stands accused of, and -they that are <i>not</i> without sin cast the first stone at -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P68"></a>68}</span> -him! For is he not a well-wisher to the French -Revolution, a Jacobin, and therefore in that one act -guilty of all? These accusations, political and moral, -it has since appeared, were false enough: but the -world hesitated little to credit them.[<a id="chap01fn100text"></a><a href="#chap01fn100">100</a>] Nay his -convivial Mæcenases themselves were not the last to do it. -There is reason to believe that, in his later years, -the Dumfries Aristocracy had partly withdrawn themselves -from Burns, as from a tainted person, no longer -worthy of their acquaintance. That painful class, -stationed, in all provincial cities, behind the outmost -breastwork of Gentility, there to stand siege and do -battle against the intrusions of Grocerdom and -Grazierdom, had actually seen dishonor in the society of -Burns, and branded him with their veto; had, as we -vulgarly say, <i>cut</i> him! We find one passage in this -Work of Mr. Lockhart's, which will not out of our -thoughts:— -</p> - -<p> -"A gentleman of that county, whose name I have -already more than once had occasion to refer to, has -often told me that he was seldom more grieved, than -when riding into Dumfries one fine summer evening -about this time to attend a county ball, he saw Burns -walking alone, on the shady side of the principal -street of the town, while the opposite side was gay -with successive groups of gentlemen and ladies, all -drawn together for the festivities of the night, not -one of whom appeared willing to recognize him. The -horseman dismounted, and joined Burns, who on his -proposing to cross the street said: 'Nay, nay, my -young friend, that's all over now;' and quoted, after -a pause, some verses of Lady Grizzel Baillie's pathetic -ballad:— -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P69"></a>69}</span> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'His bonnet stood ance fu' fair on his brow,<br> - His auld ane look'd better than mony ane's new;<br> - But now he lets 't wear ony way it will hing,<br> - And casts himsell dowie upon the corn-bing.<br> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'O, were we young as we ance hae been,<br> - We sud hae been gallopping down on yon green,<br> - And linking it ower the lily-white lea!<br> - <i>And werena my heart light, I wad die</i>.'<br> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -It was little in Burns's character to let his feelings -on certain subjects escape in this fashion. He, -immediately after reciting these verses, assumed the -sprightliness of his most pleasing manner; and taking -his young friend home with him, entertained him -very agreeably till the hour of the ball arrived."[<a id="chap01fn101text"></a><a href="#chap01fn101">101</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Alas! when we think that Burns now sleeps "where -bitter indignation can no longer lacerate his heart,"[<a id="chap01fn102text"></a><a href="#chap01fn102">102</a>] -and that most of those fair dames and frizzled gentlemen -already lie at his side, where the breastwork of -gentility is quite thrown down,—who would not sigh -over the thin delusions and foolish toys that divide -heart from heart, and make man unmerciful to his -brother! -</p> - -<p> -It was not now to be hoped that the genius of -Burns would ever reach maturity, or accomplish aught -worthy of itself. His spirit was jarred in its melody; -not the soft breath of natural feeling, but the rude -hand of Fate, was now sweeping over the strings. -And yet what harmony was in him, what music even -in his discords! How the wild tones had a charm for -the simplest and the wisest; and all men felt and -knew that here also was one of the Gifted! "If he -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P70"></a>70}</span> -entered an inn at midnight, after all the inmates were -in bed, the news of his arrival circulated from the -cellar to the garret; and ere ten minutes had elapsed, -the landlord and all his guests were assembled!" Some -brief pure moments of poetic life were yet -appointed him, in the composition of his Songs. We -can understand how he grasped at this employment; -and how, too, he spurned all other reward for it but -what the labor itself brought him. For the soul of -Burns, though scathed and marred, was yet living in -its full moral strength, though sharply conscious of -its errors and abasement; and here, in his destitution -and degradation, was one act of seeming nobleness -and self-devotedness left even for him to perform. -He felt, too, that with all the "thoughtless follies" -that had "laid him low,"[<a id="chap01fn103text"></a><a href="#chap01fn103">103</a>] the world was unjust and -cruel to him; and he silently appealed to another and -calmer time. Not as a hired soldier, but as a patriot, -would he strive for the glory of his country: so he -cast from him the poor sixpence a-day, and served -zealously as a volunteer. Let us not grudge him this -last luxury of his existence; let him not have appealed -to us in vain! The money was not necessary to him; -he struggled through without it: long since, these -guineas would have been gone, and now the high-mindedness -of refusing them will plead for him in all -hearts forever. -</p> - -<p> -We are here arrived at the crisis of Burns's life; -for matters had now taken such a shape with him as -could not long continue. If improvement was not to -be looked for, Nature could only for a limited time -maintain this dark and maddening warfare against -the world and itself. We are not medically informed -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P71"></a>71}</span> -whether any continuance of years was, at this period, -probable for Burns; whether his death is to be looked -on as in some sense an accidental event, or only as -the natural consequence of the long series of events -that had preceded. The latter seems to be the likelier -opinion; and yet it is by no means a certain one. -At all events, as we have said, <i>some</i> change could not -be very distant. Three gates of deliverance, it seems -to us, were open for Burns: clear poetical activity; -madness; or death. The first, with longer life, was -still possible, though not probable; for physical causes -were beginning to be concerned in it: and yet Burns -had an iron resolution; could he but have seen and -felt, that not only his highest glory, but his first -duty, and the true medicine for all his woes, lay here. -The second was still less probable; for his mind was -ever among the clearest and firmest. So the milder -third gate was opened for him: and he passed, not -softly yet speedily, into that still country, where the -hail-storms and fire-showers do not reach, and the -heaviest-laden wayfarer at length lays down his load! -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Contemplating this sad end of Burns, and how he -sank unaided by any real help, uncheered by any -wise sympathy, generous minds have sometimes figured -to themselves, with a reproachful sorrow, that -much might have been done for him; that by counsel, -true affection and friendly ministrations, he might -have been saved to himself and the world. We -question whether there is not more tenderness of heart -than soundness of judgment in these suggestions. It -seems dubious to us whether the richest, wisest, most -benevolent individual could have lent Burns any -effectual help. Counsel, which seldom profits any one, -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P72"></a>72}</span> -he did not need; in his understanding, he knew the -right from the wrong, as well perhaps as any man -ever did; but the persuasion, which would have -availed him, lies not so much in the head as in the -heart, where no argument or expostulation could have -assisted much to implant it. As to money again, we -do not believe that this was his essential want; or -well see how any private man could, even presupposing -Burns's consent, have bestowed on him an independent -fortune, with much prospect of decisive -advantage. It is a mortifying truth, that two men, in -any rank of society, could hardly be found virtuous -enough to give money, and to take it as a necessary -gift, without injury to the moral entireness of one or -both. But so stands the fact: Friendship, in the old -heroic sense of that term, no longer exists: except in -the cases of kindred or other legal affinity, it is in -reality no longer expected, or recognized as a virtue -among men. A close observer of manners has -pronounced "Patronage," that is, pecuniary or other -economic furtherance, to be "twice cursed;" cursing -him that gives, and him that takes![<a id="chap01fn104text"></a><a href="#chap01fn104">104</a>] And thus, -in regard to outward matters also, it has become the -rule, as in regard to inward it always was and must -be the rule, that no one shall look for effectual help -to another; but that each shall rest contented with -what help he can afford himself. Such, we say, is -the principle of modern Honor; naturally enough -growing out of that sentiment of Pride, which we -inculcate and encourage as the basis of our whole social -morality. Many a poet has been poorer than Burns; -but no one was ever prouder: we may question -whether, without great precautions, even a pension -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P73"></a>73}</span> -from Royalty would not have galled and encumbered, -more than actually assisted him. -</p> - -<p> -Still less, therefore, are we disposed to join with -another class of Burns's admirers, who accuse the -higher ranks among us of having ruined Burns by -their selfish neglect of him. We have already stated -our doubts whether direct pecuniary help, had it been -offered, would have been accepted, or could have -proved very effectual. We shall readily admit, -however, that much was to be done for Burns; that many -a poisoned arrow might have been warded from his -bosom; many an entanglement in his path cut asunder -by the hand of the powerful; and light and heat, -shed on him from high places, would have made his -humble atmosphere more genial; and the softest heart -then breathing might have lived and died with some -fewer pangs. Nay, we shall grant farther, and for -Burns it is granting much, that, with all his pride, -he would have thanked, even with exaggerated -gratitude, any one who had cordially befriended him: -patronage, unless once cursed, needed not to have -been twice so. At all events, the poor promotion he -desired in his calling might have been granted: it -was his own scheme, therefore likelier than any other -to be of service. All this it might have been a -luxury, nay it was a duty, for our nobility to have done. -No part of all this, however, did any of them do; or -apparently attempt, or wish to do: so much is granted -against them. But what then is the amount of their -blame? Simply that they were men of the world, -and walked by the principles of such men; that they -treated Burns, as other nobles and other commoners -had done other poets; as the English did Shakespeare; -as King Charles and his Cavaliers did -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P74"></a>74}</span> -Butler,[<a id="chap01fn105text"></a><a href="#chap01fn105">105</a>] as King Philip and his Grandees did Cervantes. -Do men gather grapes of thorns;[<a id="chap01fn106text"></a><a href="#chap01fn106">106</a>] or shall we cut -down our thorns for yielding only a <i>fence</i> and haws? -How, indeed, could the "nobility and gentry of his -native land" hold out any help to this "Scottish -Bard, proud of his name and country"?[<a id="chap01fn107text"></a><a href="#chap01fn107">107</a>] Were the -nobility and gentry so much as able rightly to help -themselves? Had they not their game to preserve; -their borough interests to strengthen; dinners, -therefore, of various kinds to eat and give? Were their -means more than adequate to all this business, or less -than adequate? Less than adequate, in general; few -of them in reality were richer than Burns; many of -them were poorer; for sometimes they had to wring -their supplies, as with thumbscrews, from the hard -hand; and, in their need of guineas, to forget their -duty of mercy; which Burns was never reduced to -do. Let us pity and forgive them. The game they -preserved and shot, the dinners they ate and gave, -the borough interests they strengthened, the <i>little</i> -Babylons they severally builded by the glory of their -might,[<a id="chap01fn108text"></a><a href="#chap01fn108">108</a>] are all melted or melting back into the -primeval Chaos, as man's merely selfish endeavors are -fated to do: and here was an action, extending, in -virtue of its worldly influence, we may say, through all -time; in virtue of its moral nature, beyond all time, -being immortal as the Spirit of Goodness itself; this -action was offered them to do, and light was not given -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P75"></a>75}</span> -them to do it. Let us pity and forgive them. But -better than pity, let us go and <i>do otherwise</i>. Human -suffering did not end with the life of Burns; neither -was the solemn mandate, "Love one another, bear -one another's burdens,"[<a id="chap01fn109text"></a><a href="#chap01fn109">109</a>] given to the rich only, but -to all men. True, we shall find no Burns to relieve, -to assuage by our aid or our pity; but celestial -natures, groaning under the fardels of a weary life, we -shall still find; and that wretchedness which Fate -has rendered <i>voiceless</i> and <i>tuneless</i> is not the least -wretched, but the most.[<a id="chap01fn110text"></a><a href="#chap01fn110">110</a>] -</p> - -<p> -Still we do not think that the blame of Burns's -failure lies chiefly with the world. The world, it -seems to us, treated him with more rather than with -less kindness than it usually shows to such men. It -has ever, we fear, shown but small favor to its -Teachers: hunger and nakedness, perils and revilings, the -prison, the cross, the poison-chalice have, in most -times and countries, been the market-price it has -offered for Wisdom, the welcome with which it has -greeted those who have come to enlighten and purify -it. Homer and Socrates, and the Christian Apostles, -belong to old days; but the world's Martyrology was -not completed with these. Roger Bacon and Galileo -languish in priestly dungeons; Tasso pines in the cell -of a madhouse; Camoens dies begging on the streets -of Lisbon.[<a id="chap01fn111text"></a><a href="#chap01fn111">111</a>] So neglected, so "persecuted they the -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P76"></a>76}</span> -Prophets,"[<a id="chap01fn112text"></a><a href="#chap01fn112">112</a>] not in Judea only, but in all places -where men have been. We reckon that every poet -of Burns's order is, or should be, a prophet and -teacher to his age; that he has no right to expect -great kindness from it, but rather is bound to do it -great kindness; that Burns, in particular, experienced -fully the usual proportion of the world's goodness; -and that the blame of his failure, as we have said, -lies not chiefly with the world. -</p> - -<p> -Where, then, does it lie? We are forced to -answer: With himself; it is his inward, not his -outward, misfortunes that bring him to the dust. -Seldom, indeed, is it otherwise; seldom is a life morally -wrecked but the grand cause lies in some internal -mal-arrangement, some want less of good fortune -than of good guidance. Nature fashions no creature -without implanting in it the strength needful for its -action and duration; least of all does she so neglect -her masterpiece and darling, the poetic soul. Neither -can we believe that it is in the power of <i>any</i> -external circumstances utterly to ruin the mind of a man; -nay, if proper wisdom be given him, even so much as -to affect its essential health and beauty. The -sternest sum-total of all worldly misfortunes is Death; -nothing more <i>can</i> lie in the cup of human woe: yet -many men, in all ages, have triumphed over Death, -and led it captive;[<a id="chap01fn113text"></a><a href="#chap01fn113">113</a>] converting its physical victory -into a moral victory for themselves, into a seal and -immortal consecration for all that their past life had -achieved. What has been done, may be done again: -nay it is but the degree and not the kind of such -heroism that differs in different seasons; for without -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P77"></a>77}</span> -some portion of this spirit, not of boisterous daring, -but of silent fearlessness, of Self-denial in all its -forms, no good man, in any scene or time, has ever -attained to be good.[<a id="chap01fn114text"></a><a href="#chap01fn114">114</a>] -</p> - -<p> -We have already stated the error of Burns; and -mourned over it, rather than blamed it. It was the -want of unity in his purposes, of consistency in his -aims; the hapless attempt to mingle in friendly union -the common spirit of the world with the spirit of -poetry, which is of a far different and altogether -irreconcilable nature. Burns was nothing wholly, and -Burns could be nothing, no man formed as he was can -be anything, by halves. The heart, not of a mere -hot-blooded, popular Verse-monger, or poetical -<i>Restaurateur</i>,[<a id="chap01fn115text"></a><a href="#chap01fn115">115</a>] but of a true Poet and Singer, worthy of the -old religious heroic times, had been given him: and he -fell in an age, not of heroism and religion, but of -scepticism, selfishness, and triviality, when true Nobleness -was little understood, and its place supplied by a -hollow, dissocial, altogether barren and unfruitful -principle of Pride. The influences of that age, his open, -kind, susceptible nature, to say nothing of his highly -untoward situation, made it more than usually difficult -for him to cast aside, or rightly subordinate; the -better spirit that was within him ever sternly -demanded its rights, its supremacy: he spent his life in -endeavoring to reconcile these two; and lost it, as he -must lose it, without reconciling them. -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P78"></a>78}</span> -</p> - -<p> -Burns was born poor; and born also to continue -poor, for he would not endeavor to be otherwise: this -it had been well could he have once for all admitted, -and considered as finally settled. He was poor, truly; -but hundreds even of his own class and order of minds -have been poorer, yet have suffered nothing deadly -from it: nay his own Father had a far sorer battle -with ungrateful destiny than his was; and he did not -yield to it, but died courageously warring, and to -all moral intents prevailing, against it. True, Burns -had little means, had even little time for poetry, his -only real pursuit and vocation; but so much the more -precious was what little he had. In all these -external respects his case was hard; but very far from -the hardest. Poverty, incessant drudgery and much -worse evils, it has often been the lot of Poets and -wise men to strive with, and their glory to conquer. -Locke was banished as a traitor; and wrote his -"Essay on the Human Understanding" sheltering himself -in a Dutch garret. Was Milton rich or at his ease -when he composed "Paradise Lost"? Not only -low, but fallen from a height; not only poor, but -impoverished; in darkness and with dangers compassed -round, he sang his immortal song, and found fit -audience, though few.[<a id="chap01fn116text"></a><a href="#chap01fn116">116</a>] Did not Cervantes finish his -work, a maimed soldier and in prison? Nay, was -not the "Araucana,"[<a id="chap01fn117text"></a><a href="#chap01fn117">117</a>] which Spain acknowledges as -its Epic, written without even the aid of paper; on -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P79"></a>79}</span> -scraps of leather, as the stout fighter and voyager -snatched any moment from that wild warfare? -</p> - -<p> -And what, then, had these men, which Burns -wanted? Two things; both which, it seems to us, -are indispensable for such men. They had a true, -religious principle of morals; and a single, not a -double aim in their activity. They were not -self-seekers and self-worshippers; but seekers and -worshippers of something far better than Self. Not -personal enjoyment was their object; but a high, -heroic idea of Religion, of Patriotism, of heavenly -Wisdom, in one or the other form, ever hovered -before them; in which cause they neither shrank from -suffering, nor called on the earth to witness it as -something wonderful; but patiently endured, counting -it blessedness enough so to spend and be spent. -Thus the "golden-calf of Self-love," however curiously -carved, was not their Deity; but the Invisible -Goodness, which alone is man's reasonable service. This -feeling was as a celestial fountain, whose streams -refreshed into gladness and beauty all the provinces -of their otherwise too desolate existence. In a word, -they willed one thing, to which all other things were -subordinated and made subservient; and therefore -they accomplished it. The wedge will rend rocks; -but its edge must be sharp and single: if it be double, -the wedge is bruised in pieces and will rend nothing. -</p> - -<p> -Part of this superiority these men owed to their -age; in which heroism and devotedness were still -practised, or at least not yet disbelieved in; but -much of it likewise they owed to themselves. With -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P80"></a>80}</span> -Burns, again, it was different. His morality, in -most of its practical points, is that of a mere worldly -man; enjoyment, in a finer or coarser shape, is the -only thing he longs and strives for. A noble instinct -sometimes raises him above this; but an instinct -only, and acting only for moments. He has no -Religion; in the shallow age, where his days were cast, -Religion was not discriminated from the New and -Old Light <i>forms</i> of Religion; and was, with these, -becoming obsolete in the minds of men. His heart, -indeed, is alive with a trembling adoration, but there -is no temple in his understanding. He lives in -darkness and in the shadow of doubt. His religion, at -best, is an anxious wish; like that of Rabelais, "a -great Perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -He loved Poetry warmly, and in his heart; could -he but have loved it purely, and with his whole -undivided heart, it had been well. For Poetry, as Burns -could have followed it, is but another form of -Wisdom, of Religion: is itself Wisdom and Religion. -But this also was denied him. His poetry is a stray -vagrant gleam, which will not be extinguished within -him, yet rises not to be the true light of his path, -but is often a wildfire that misleads him. It was not -necessary for Burns to be rich, to be, or to seem, -"independent;" but it <i>was</i> necessary for him to be -at one with his own heart; to place what was highest -in his nature highest also in his life; "to seek within -himself for that consistency and sequence, which -external events would forever refuse him." He was -born a poet; poetry was the celestial element of his -being, and should have been the soul of his whole -endeavors. Lifted into that serene ether, whither he -had wings given him to mount, he would have needed -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P81"></a>81}</span> -no other elevation: poverty, neglect, and all evil, -save the desecration of himself and his Art, were a -small matter to him; the pride and the passions of -the world lay far beneath his feet; and he looked -down alike on noble and slave, on prince and beggar, -and all that wore the stamp of man, with clear -recognition, with brotherly affection, with sympathy, with -pity. Nay, we question whether for his culture as -a Poet poverty and much suffering for a season were -not absolutely advantageous. Great men, in looking -back over their lives, have testified to that effect. -"I would not for much," says Jean Paul, "that I -had been born richer." And yet Paul's birth was -poor enough; for, in another place, he adds: "The -prisoner's allowance is bread and water; and I had -often only the latter."[<a id="chap01fn118text"></a><a href="#chap01fn118">118</a>] But the gold that is refined -in the hottest furnace comes out the purest; or, as -he has himself expressed it, "the canary-bird sings -sweeter the longer it has been trained in a darkened -cage." -</p> - -<p> -A man like Burns might have divided his hours -between poetry and virtuous industry; industry which -all true feeling sanctions, nay prescribes, and which -has a beauty, for that cause, beyond the pomp of -thrones: but to divide his hours between poetry and -rich men's banquets was an ill-starred and inauspicious -attempt. How could he be at ease at such banquets? -What had he to do there, mingling his music -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P82"></a>82}</span> -with the coarse roar of altogether earthly voices; -brightening the thick smoke of intoxication with fire -lent him from heaven? Was it his aim to enjoy life! -To-morrow he must go drudge as an Exciseman! -We wonder not that Burns became moody, indignant, -and at times an offender against certain rules of -society; but rather that he did not grow utterly frantic, -and run <i>amuck</i> against them all. How could a man, -so falsely placed, by his own or others' fault, ever -know contentment or peaceable diligence for an hour? -What he did, under such perverse guidance, and -what he forbore to do, alike fill us with astonishment -at the natural strength and worth of his character. -</p> - -<p> -Doubtless there was a remedy for this perverseness; -but not in others; only in himself; least of all in -simple increase of wealth and worldly -"respectability." We hope we have now heard enough about -the efficacy of wealth for poetry, and to make poets -happy. Nay, have we not seen another instance of -it in these very days? Byron, a man of an endowment -considerably less ethereal than that of Burns, -is born in the rank not of a Scottish ploughman, but -of an English peer: the highest worldly honors, the -fairest worldly career, are his by inheritance; the -richest harvest of fame he soon reaps, in another -province, by his own hand. And what does all this -avail him? Is he happy, is he good, is he true? -Alas, he has a poet's soul, and strives towards the -Infinite and the Eternal; and soon feels that all this -is but mounting to the housetop to reach the stars! -Like Burns, he is only a proud man; might, like -him, have "purchased a pocket-copy of Milton to -study the character of Satan;" for Satan is also -Byron's grand exemplar, the hero of his poetry, and -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P83"></a>83}</span> -the model apparently of his conduct.[<a id="chap01fn119text"></a><a href="#chap01fn119">119</a>] As in Burns's -case too, the celestial element will not mingle with -the clay of earth; both poet and man of the world he -must not be; vulgar Ambition will not live kindly -with poetic Adoration; he <i>cannot</i> serve God and -Mammon. Byron, like Burns, is not happy; nay he is -the most wretched of all men. His life is falsely -arranged: the fire that is in him is not a strong, -still, central fire, warming into beauty the products -of a world; but it is the mad fire of a volcano; and -now—we look sadly into the ashes of a crater, which -ere long will fill itself with snow! -</p> - -<p> -Byron and Burns were sent forth as missionaries -to their generation, to teach it a higher Doctrine, a -purer Truth; they had a message to deliver, which -left them no rest till it was accomplished; in dim -throes of pain, this divine behest lay smouldering -within them; for they knew not what it meant, and -felt it only in mysterious anticipation, and they had -to die without articulately uttering it. They are in -the camp of the Unconverted; yet not as high -messengers of rigorous though benignant truth, but as -soft flattering singers, and in pleasant fellowship will -they live there: they are first adulated, then persecuted; -they accomplish little for others; they find no -peace for themselves, but only death and the peace of -the grave. We confess, it is not without a certain -mournful awe that we view the fate of these noble -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P84"></a>84}</span> -souls, so richly gifted, yet ruined to so little purpose -with all their gifts. It seems to us there is a stern -moral taught in this piece of history,—<i>twice</i> told us -in our own time! Surely to men of like genius, if -there be any such, it carries with it a lesson of deep -impressive significance. Surely it would become such -a man, furnished for the highest of all enterprises, -that of being the Poet of his Age, to consider well -what it is that he attempts, and in what spirit he -attempts it. For the words of Milton are true in all -times, and were never truer than in this: "He who -would write heroic poems must make his whole life -a heroic poem."[<a id="chap01fn120text"></a><a href="#chap01fn120">120</a>] If he cannot first so make his life, -then let him hasten from this arena; for neither its -lofty glories, nor its fearful perils, are fit for him. -Let him dwindle into a modish balladmonger; let -him worship and besing the idols of the time, and the -time will not fail to reward him. If, indeed, he can -endure to live in that capacity! Byron and Burns -could not live as idol-priests, but the fire of their own -hearts consumed them; and better it was for them -that they could not. For it is not in the favor of -the great or of the small, but in a life of truth, and -in the inexpugnable citadel of his own soul, that a -Byron's or a Burns's strength must lie. Let the -great stand aloof from him, or know how to reverence -him. Beautiful is the union of wealth with favor -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P85"></a>85}</span> -and furtherance for literature; like the costliest -flower-jar enclosing the loveliest amaranth. Yet let -not the relation be mistaken. A true poet is not one -whom they can hire by money or flattery to be a -minister of their pleasures; their writer of occasional -verses, their purveyor of table-wit; he cannot be their -menial, he cannot even be their partisan. At the -peril of both parties, let no such union be attempted! -Will a Courser of the Sun work softly in the harness -of a Dray-horse? His hoofs are of fire, and his path -is through the heavens, bringing light to all lands; -will he lumber on mud highways, dragging ale for -earthly appetites from door to door? -</p> - -<p> -But we must stop short in these considerations, -which would lead us to boundless lengths. We had -something to say on the public moral character of -Burns; but this also we must forbear. We are far -from regarding him as guilty before the world, as -guiltier than the average; nay from doubting that he -is less guilty than one of ten thousand. Tried at a -tribunal far more rigid than that where the <i>Plebiscita</i> -of common civic reputations are pronounced, he -has seemed to us even there less worthy of blame than -of pity and wonder. But the world is habitually -unjust in its judgments of such men; unjust on many -grounds, of which this one may be stated as the -substance: It decides, like a court of law, by dead -statutes; and not positively but negatively, less on what -is done right, than on what is or is not done wrong. -Not the few inches of deflection from the mathematical -orbit, which are so easily measured, but the <i>ratio</i> -of these to the whole diameter, constitutes the real -aberration. This orbit may be a planet's, its diameter -the breadth of the solar system; or it may be a -<span class="pagenum">{<a id="P86"></a>86}</span> -city hippodrome; nay the circle of a ginhorse, its -diameter a score of feet or paces. But the inches of -deflection only are measured: and it is assumed that -the diameter of the ginhorse, and that of the planet, -will yield the same ratio when compared with them! -Here lies the root of many a blind, cruel condemnation -of Burnses, Swifts, Rousseaus, which one never -listens to with approval. Granted, the ship comes -into harbor with shrouds and tackle damaged; the -pilot is blameworthy; he has not been all-wise and -all-powerful: but to know <i>how</i> blameworthy, tell us first -whether his voyage has been round the Globe, or only -to Ramsgate and the Isle of Dogs.[<a id="chap01fn121text"></a><a href="#chap01fn121">121</a>] -</p> - -<p> -With our readers in general, with men of right -feeling anywhere, we are not required to plead for -Burns. In pitying admiration he lies enshrined in -all our hearts, in a far nobler mausoleum than that -one of marble; neither will his Works, even as they -are, pass away from the memory of men. While the -Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers -through the country of Thought, bearing fleets of -traffickers and assiduous pearl-fishers on their waves; -this little Valclusa[<a id="chap01fn122text"></a><a href="#chap01fn122">122</a>] Fountain will also arrest our eye: -for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning -workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, -with a full gushing current, into the light of day; -and often will the traveller turn aside to drink of its -clear waters, and muse among its rocks and pines. -</p> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn1text">1</a>] The text followed is that of Carlyle's latest authorized -form. Important variations from the form as printed in the -<i>Edinburgh Review</i> are pointed out. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn2"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn2text">2</a>] Samuel Butler (1612-1680). <i>Hudibras</i> was one of Carlyle's -favorite books. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn3"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn3text">3</a>] "In 1813 a public meeting was held in Dumfries; a subscription -was opened, and, contributions flowing in rapidly from -all quarters, a costly mausoleum was at length erected on the -most elevated site which the churchyard presented. Thither -the remains of the poet were solemnly transferred on the 5th of -June, 1815."—Lockhart, chap. ix. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -Carlyle used <i>brave</i> ironically in the sense of -<i>beautiful</i>, <i>splendid</i>. -Lockhart says mildly: "The structure is perhaps more gaudy -than might have been wished." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn4"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn4text">4</a>] The name of the <i>Mill Vennel</i> in Dumfries, where Burns lived -from May, 1793, until his death, was changed to <i>Burns Street</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn5"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn5text">5</a>] The five <i>Lives</i> of Burns referred to by Carlyle are probably -those mentioned by Lockhart, by Walker, Currie, Heron, Irving, -and Peterkin. In reality the number was still larger. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn6"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn6text">6</a>] To understand these references, read any good sketch of -Shakespeare's life. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn7"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn7text">7</a>] "<i>The Caledonian Hunt</i>, an association of the principal of the -nobility and gentry of Scotland, extended their patronage to our -bard. He repaid the notice by a dedication of the enlarged and -improved [<i>the first Edinburgh</i>] edition of his poems."—Currie's -<i>Life of Burns</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn8"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn8text">8</a>] In Scotland <i>writer</i> is used loosely of law agents, solicitors, -attorneys, and the like, and sometimes even of their principal -clerks. Burns alludes to the <i>Ayr writers</i> in <i>The Brigs of Ayr</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn9"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn9text">9</a>] <i>The Edinburgh Review</i> owed much of its success to Archibald -Constable, its first printer. Constable rose to be one of the -chief publishers of his time, and is especially famous for his -connection with Scott, but became bankrupt in 1826. <i>Constable's -Miscellany of Original and Selected Publications in Literature, -Science, and the Arts</i> has a pathetic interest as being the poor -fulfilment of a scheme that he had formed, before his failure, of -a series of cheap volumes that should sell, he told Scott, "not by -thousands or tens of thousands, but by hundreds of thousands—aye, -by millions." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn10"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn10text">10</a>] Author of <i>Notes on a Journey in America, from the Coast of -Virginia to the Territory of Illinois</i>. (London, 1818.) -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn11"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn11text">11</a>] Carlyle's judgment on Lockhart's work seems to have improved -with reflection. In a letter to his brother, June 10, 1828, -he writes: "Lockhart had written a kind of <i>Life of Burns</i>, and -men in general were making another uproar about Burns; it is -this Book (a trivial enough one) which I am to <i>pretend</i> reviewing." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn12"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn12text">12</a>] The apologetic expressions in the early part of this essay -may, as Mr. H. W. Boynton well suggests in his excellent -edition, be relics of Jeffrey's editing. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn13"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn13text">13</a>] Carlyle is always extreme in his judgments, and here is -unjustly contemptuous of men whom, as the quotation from Scott -below (p. 60) will show, Burns always regarded as his models, -and whom he often directly and openly imitated. Ramsay has -been admired by men as different as Pope and Leigh Hunt; and -Stevenson, whose estimate of these men in his essay on <i>Some -Aspects of Robert Burns</i> it would be well to read, places the -"poor lad Fergusson" even higher than Ramsay. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn14"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn14text">14</a>] Here Carlyle touches on the source of his own power,—the -maxim that the pleasure of criticism deprives us of that of vivid -appreciation does not apply to him. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn15"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn15text">15</a>] The <i>Tragic Fragment</i> printed in Burns's works was written -when he was only nineteen. And in 1790 Burns told friends -that he was preparing to write a play on a subject drawn from -Scottish history. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn16"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn16text">16</a>] Though Carlyle never changed his opinion of a true poet, -his later writings show a very different estimate of the value of -conquerors to the world. After his removal to London, he -writes but little on literature, -and is usually full of scorn for the -profession of letters. He tends to idealize mere strength of will -and brute force of character, if accompanied by sincerity. He -praises the power of silent action; and his favorite heroes are -men of deeds, like Cromwell and Frederick. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn17"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn17text">17</a>] See <i>To a Mountain Daisy</i> and <i>To a Mouse</i>. -Cranreuch=hoar frost. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn18"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn18text">18</a>] This passage is suggested by a prose entry in Burns's -<i>Common-Place Book</i> (April, 1784), which serves as introduction to -the poem <i>Winter</i>. The words in italics are from Psalm 104. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn19"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn19text">19</a>] The figure is a favorite one with Burns; see, for example, -the passage quoted below, page 30. The present quotation may -be from Richter (compare p. 81), in whom, according to -Mr. Boynton, the figure is also frequent. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn20"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn20text">20</a>] "Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent<br> - Humani voltus; si vis me flere, dolendum est<br> - Primum ipsi tibi."<br> - —<i>Ars Poetica</i>, 101-103.<br> -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -"As men's faces laugh with those that laugh, so they weep -with those that weep; if thou wouldst have me weep, thou must -first feel grief thyself." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn21"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn21text">21</a>] Sincerity is the test by which Carlyle judges all men; praise -of it is one of the keynotes of his writings. Unfortunately he -often confounds it with mere brute force of character and fixity -of purpose. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn22"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn22text">22</a>] "How perpetually he [Burns] was alive to the dread of -being looked down on as a man, even by those who most -zealously applauded the works of his genius, might perhaps be -traced through the whole sequence of his letters. When writing -to men of high station, at least, he preserves, in every instance, -the attitude of self-defence."—Lockhart, chap. v. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn23"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn23text">23</a>] Scott, Byron, Moore, Southey, and Cooper are the most -obvious objects of this attack; but they had a host of imitators. -Carlyle, because of his intense moral earnestness, had no -sympathy with literature written only to give amusement, -regardless of truth to life. As usual, -his view, though stimulating, -is one-sided. Many of the most justly famous books, notably -the <i>Arabian Nights</i>, are great by the pure charm of incident and -invention. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn24"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn24text">24</a>] "A printing-house in London, which was noted in the -eighteenth century for the publication -of trashy sentimental novels."—<i>Century Dictionary of Names</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn25"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn25text">25</a>] A famous gaming club-house in London. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn26"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn26text">26</a>] The reference is to Macaulay, essay on Milton. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn27"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn27text">27</a>] The two poems, <i>Halloween</i> and -<i>The Holy Fair</i>, must be read -to understand the references. Any encyclopædia will explain -the Council of Trent and the Roman Jubilee. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn28"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn28text">28</a>] Carlyle had little interest in the fine arts for their own -sake; perhaps he was attracted to Retzsch by his illustrations -of Schiller and Goethe. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn29"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn29text">29</a>] The passage beginning here, and extending through the -quotation on page 27, is not found in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn30"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn30text">30</a>] <i>Bock'd</i>, vomited. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn31"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn31text">31</a>] <i>Fabulosus</i> Hydaspes! [Note by Carlyle] see <i>Horace</i>: Odes, -I. 22. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn32"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn32text">32</a>] Thaws that melt the snow in spots. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn33"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn33text">33</a>] Rolls. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn34"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn34text">34</a>] Spate, torrent. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn35"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn35text">35</a>] Muddy splashes. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn36"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn36text">36</a>] From <i>The Brigs of Ayr</i>. It is the fall of the new brig that -is prophesied: a strange slip on Carlyle's part. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn37"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn37text">37</a>] See <i>Iliad</i>, xviii. and xxii. Pope's translation may be bought -for a few cents; and is still in many ways the best. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn38"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn38text">38</a>] A name for a blacksmith, shortened to <i>Burnewin</i>, in <i>Scotch -Drink</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn39"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn39text">39</a>] These lines are incorrectly quoted from an Irish song -altered by Burns, <i>Open the Door to Me, oh!</i> They should read: -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> - "The wan Moon is setting behind the white wave,<br> - And Time is setting with me, oh:<br> - False friends, false love, farewell! for mair<br> - I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, oh."<br> -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn40"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn40text">40</a>] <i>To William Simpson</i>. <i>Wat</i>, wet. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn41"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn41text">41</a>] Dugald Stewart, professor of moral philosophy in the -University of Edinburgh, in a letter -published in the <i>Life of Burns</i>, -by Dr. James Currie. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn42"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn42text">42</a>] In this sentence, as printed in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, we -have certainly a trace of Jeffrey's editing (cf. above, p. 7). -There, by the change of <i>weak-eyed maudlin</i> into <i>extreme</i>, and of -<i>random</i> into <i>pervading</i>, the sneer is converted into a compliment. -Elsewhere Carlyle says of Keats: "The kind of man he was -gets ever more horrible to me. Force of hunger for pleasure of -every kind, and want of all other force.... Such a structure -of soul, it would once have been very evident, was a chosen -'Vessel of Hell.'" (Nichol: <i>Life of Carlyle</i>, chap. v.) Such -is the absurd result to which Carlyle is led by his view of the -necessity of a moral aim in all literature. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn43"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn43text">43</a>] Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, January 1, 1789. The passage is -also quoted in Lockhart, chap. viii. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn44"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn44text">44</a>] Struggle. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn45"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn45text">45</a>] <i>A Winter Night</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn46"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn46text">46</a>] <i>Ibid</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn47"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn47text">47</a>] <i>Address to the Deil</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn48"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn48text">48</a>] The quotation is from <i>Tristram Shandy</i>, vol. iii. chap. xi. -In the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> it is preceded by the sentence: "He -did not know, probably, that Sterne had been beforehand with -him." As a matter of fact, Burns was well acquainted with -Sterne; and it is perhaps for that reason that Carlyle omitted -the line when this essay was reprinted, even though he thereby -made a very abrupt transition. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn49"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn49text">49</a>] The two following paragraphs, including the quotation from -Burns, were not in the essay as printed in the <i>Edinburgh Preview</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn50"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn50text">50</a>] "Facit indignatio versum."—<i>Juvenal</i>, I. 79. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn51"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn51text">51</a>] Dr. Johnson said of his friend Dr. Bathurst: "Dear -Bathurst was a man to my very heart's content; he hated a fool, -and he hated a rogue, and he hated a Whig. He was a very -good hater."—Piozzi's <i>Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson</i>. Carlyle -himself, in his scornful epigrams -at men and institutions that seemed -to him false and insincere, is a near approach to a "good hater." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn52"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn52text">52</a>] Cf. <i>Paradise Lost</i>, I. 63. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn53"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn53text">53</a>] <i>Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. Oswald</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn54"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn54text">54</a>] The authority for this account is a letter from Mr. Syme, -printed in Currie's <i>Life</i>. Burns himself sent <i>Scots wha hae wi' -Wallace bled</i> to Thomson September 1, 1793, in company with a -letter, in which he says that the song was composed on an -evening walk the day before. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn55"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn55text">55</a>] See Virgil, <i>Æneid</i>, viii. 185-279. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn56"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn56text">56</a>] The reference is to Milton's <i>Il Penseroso</i>. The struggle of -fate and man's free will is the central idea of the typical Greek -tragedies. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn57"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn57text">57</a>] <i>Tristram Shandy</i> was one of Carlyle's favorite books: -Sterne probably appealed to him by his humor and kindliness. -Cf. p. 33, above. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn58"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn58text">58</a>] Both Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853) and Johann Karl August -Musäus (1735-1787) worked with materials drawn from -popular legend. But Musäus, -in his most famous work, <i>Volksmärchen -der Deutschen</i> (<i>German Folk-Tales</i>), could not keep from -introducing his own satirical tone. Thus the book lacks the -simplicity of genuine folk-lore. Remember that Carlyle had -already published translations from both these men. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn59"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn59text">59</a>] Fearless crone. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn60"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn60text">60</a>] The scene of <i>The Jolly Beggars</i> was an actual tavern in -Mauchline, kept by a Mrs. Gibson, called "Poosie-Nansie." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn61"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn61text">61</a>] David Teniers, the Younger (1610-1690). -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn62"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn62text">62</a>] By John Gay (1685-1732). -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn63"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn63text">63</a>] By John Fletcher (1579-1625). -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn64"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn64text">64</a>] In particular, Lockhart, chap. ix. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn65"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn65text">65</a>] Jeronymo Osorio (1506-1580), called "the Cicero of -Portugal:" "Men began to hunt more after words than matter; -more after the choiceness of the phrase, and the round and -clean composition of the sentence, and the sweet falling of the -clauses, and the varying and illustration of their works with -tropes and figures, than after the weight of matter, worth of -subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, or depth of -judgment. Then grew the flowing and watery vein of Osorius -the Portugal bishop, to be in price."—Bacon: <i>Of the -Advancement of Learning</i>, I. iv. 2. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn66"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn66text">66</a>] Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun (1655-1716), in his <i>Account of -a Conversation concerning a Right Regulation of Governments for -the Common Good of Mankind</i>, says: "I knew a very wise man" -who "believed if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, -he need not care who should make the laws of a nation." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn67"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn67text">67</a>] Richard Glover (1712-1785) was once famous for his epic -<i>Leonidas</i>. There is an account of him, with specimens of his -work, in Ward's <i>English Poets</i>. Nothing can better illustrate -Carlyle's lack of a judicial habit of mind than his coupling -Glover's name with Gray's. Read once more the <i>Elegy written in a -Country Churchyard</i>, and form your own idea of the correctness -of Carlyle's opinion. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn68"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn68text">68</a>] Apparently Carlyle's memory was treacherous, like that of -ordinary mortals: man and work are both given incorrectly -here. <i>Human Nature in its Fourfold State</i>, by Thomas Boston -(1677-1732), is still a classic of the Calvinistic theology. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn69"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn69text">69</a>] The names are all readily found in any cyclopædia; except -possibly that of Charles Batteux (1713-1780), who, as might be -inferred from the text, was a French literary critic of the same -school as Boileau. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn70"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn70text">70</a>] At one time Hume's residence in France, where he composed -his <i>Treatise on Human Nature</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn71"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn71text">71</a>] Chapter xi. of Book I. of Adam Smith's <i>Wealth of Nations</i> -has the title <i>Of the Rent of Land</i>. <i>The Natural History of -Religion</i> is by Hume. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn72"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn72text">72</a>] In spite of the example of Burns, the publisher of <i>Waverley</i> -hesitated for some time to accept the manuscript, on account -of the Scotch dialect interwoven in it. Now, on the contrary, a -local dialect seems a commendation to a work of fiction. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn73"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn73text">73</a>] Burns, in his autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore (August -2, 1787), says, in reference to <i>The History of Sir William -Wallace</i>, one of his first books: "The story of Wallace poured a -Scotch prejudice in my veins, which will boil along there till the -flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest." The reader will by this -time have noticed Carlyle's carelessness about small points. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn74"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn74text">74</a>] This may refer to Burns's poetical epistles to David Sillar -and John Lapraik, obscure poets of his own time; or, more -probably, to his erecting a memorial, at his own expense, over -the neglected grave of Fergusson. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn75"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn75text">75</a>] <i>Answer to Verses addressed to the Poet by the Guidwife of -Wauchope House</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn76"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn76text">76</a>] Burns himself says of his early days, in his autobiographical -letter to Dr. Moore: "The great misfortune of my life was -never to have an aim." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn77"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn77text">77</a>] Perhaps Carlyle is misled in his estimate of Burns by his -own high conception of the vocation of the man of letters. The -profession of literature is hardly older than our own century; -Dr. Johnson is really the first example of it. For a man, -unsupported by a patron, to make poetry his means of subsistence, -was almost unknown in the eighteenth century. Burns was too -proud to depend on a patron, and his refusal to accept money for -his contributions to Johnson's <i>Museum</i> and Thomson's <i>Scottish -Airs</i> was only in accord with the ideas of his time; besides, he -feared that such a proceeding would injure his spontaneity. To -receive pay for a volume of poems, originally written without -reference to publication, was quite a different matter. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -Carlyle, in his lecture on <i>The Hero as Man of Letters</i>, in -<i>Heroes and Hero-Worship</i>, develops his own point of view more -fully. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn78"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn78text">78</a>] Burns himself says of his father: "I have met with few -who understood Men, their manners and their ways, equal to -him." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn79"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn79text">79</a>] These words seem like a prophecy of Carlyle's own career, -which was just beginning when this essay was written. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn80"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn80text">80</a>] See <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn81"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn81text">81</a>] Wordsworth: <i>Resolution and Independence</i> (1807 edition). -Our editions read: "Following his plough, along the mountain -side." The reference in the poem is to Burns. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn82"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn82text">82</a>] Apparently the "best evidence" is conflicting. Burns, in -his autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore, says of himself as a -boy: "I was, perhaps, the most ungainly, awkward being in the -parish." And Murdock, Burns's schoolmaster, in a letter printed -in Currie's <i>Life</i> and reproduced in Lockhart's, says: "Robert's -ear was remarkably dull, and his voice untamable.... Robert's -countenance was generally grave and expressive of a serious, -contemplative, and thoughtful mind." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn83a"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn83atext">83a</a>] The phrases are drawn from Burns's letter to Dr. Moore. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn83b"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn83btext">83b</a>] The phrases are drawn from Burns's letter to Dr. Moore. -</p> - - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn84"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn84text">84</a>] <i>Farewell Song to the Banks of Ayr</i>. The last line should -read:— -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> - Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr.<br> -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn85"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn85text">85</a>] Shakespeare, Richard II. iv. 1. Carlyle was a man of -enormous reading, and no one can hope to recognize <i>all</i> his allusions. -But the two books to which he, like most of the great writers of -modern England, refers most frequently, are within the reach -of every one: they are the Bible and Shakespeare. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn86"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn86text">86</a>] Lockhart, chap. v. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn87"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn87text">87</a>] Ovid, <i>Tristia</i>, IV. x. 51. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn88"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn88text">88</a>] Adam Ferguson (1723-1816), professor of philosophy at -Edinburgh University. He was succeeded by Dugald Stewart. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn89"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn89text">89</a>] Henry William Bunbury (1750-1811) was an amateur -artist and caricaturist of some note. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn90"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn90text">90</a>] The poem may be found in Chalmers's <i>British Poets</i>, vol. xvi., -under the title <i>The Country Justice</i>. There the second line -reads: "Perhaps that parent mourn'd her soldier slain." John -Langhorne (1735-1779) and his brother William made the translation -of Plutarch's <i>Lives</i> which, in spite of its dreary style, is -still the one in general use. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn91"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn91text">91</a>] Alexander Nasmyth (1758-1840) painted in 1787 a bust -portrait of Burns, which is the likeness most commonly -reproduced. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn92"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn92text">92</a>] Quoted in Lockhart, chap. v. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn93"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn93text">93</a>] Lockhart gives in a foot-note (at end of chap. iv.) the -following quotation from a letter of Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, -August 17, 1773:— -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -"This morning I saw at breakfast Dr. Blacklock, the blind -poet, who does not remember to have seen light, and is read -to by a poor scholar in Latin, Greek, and French. He was -originally a poor scholar himself. I looked on him with -reverence." -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn94"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn94text">94</a>] Cf. John v. 1-9. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn95"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn95text">95</a>] Words of Burns quoted in Lockhart, chap. vii. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn96"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn96text">96</a>] "If Burns had much of a farmer's skill, he had little of -a farmer's prudence and economy. I once inquired of James -Corrie, a sagacious old farmer, whose ground marched with -Elliesland, the cause of the poet's failure. 'Faith,' said he, -'how could he miss but fail, when his servants ate the bread as -fast as it was baked? I don't mean figuratively, I mean -literally. Consider a little. At that time close economy was -necessary to have enabled a man to clear twenty pounds a year by -Elliesland. Now Burns's own handywork was out of the question; -he neither ploughed, nor sowed, nor reaped, at least like a -hard-working farmer; and then he had a bevy of servants from -Ayrshire. The lasses did nothing but bake bread, and the lads -sat by the fireside, and ate it warm, with ale. Waste of time -and consumption of food would soon reach to twenty pounds a -year.'"—(Letter to Lockhart from Allan Cunningham, quoted -in Lockhart's <i>Life</i>, chap, vii.) -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn97"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn97text">97</a>] In reality Burns occasionally borrowed money; but at his -death he left only a few small debts. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn98"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn98text">98</a>] There is one little sketch by certain "English gentlemen" -of this class, which, though adopted in Currie's narrative, and -since then repeated in most others, we have all along felt -an invincible disposition to regard as imaginary: "On a rock -that projected into the stream, they saw a man employed in -angling, of a singular appearance. He had a cap made of -fox-skin on his head, a loose greatcoat fixed round him by a belt, -from which depended an enormous Highland broad-sword. It -was Burns." Now, we rather think, it was <i>not</i> Burns. For, to -say nothing of the foxskin cap, the loose and quite Hibernian -watchcoat with the belt, what are we to make of this "enormous -Highland broad-sword" depending from him? More especially, -as there is no word of parish constables on the outlook to see -whether, as Dennis phrases it, he had an eye to his own midriff -or that of the public! Burns, of all men, had the least need, -and the least tendency, to seek for distinction, either in his own -eyes or those of others, by such poor mummeries.—[Carlyle's -note.] -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -Carlyle thinks this petty vanity inconsistent with Burns's -wise self-control at Edinburgh. But we cannot reason thus in -the case of a man with so variable a temperament, and the -anecdote is fairly well authenticated. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn99"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn99text">99</a>] Mæcenas was the great literary patron of the Augustan age -of Rome. Virgil addressed to him his <i>Georgics</i>, and Horace -honors his name repeatedly. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn100"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn100text">100</a>] Lockhart (chap. viii.) devotes much time to confuting them. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn101"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn101text">101</a>] Lockhart, chap. viii. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn102"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn102text">102</a>] <i>Ubi sœva indignatio cor ulterius lacerare nequit</i>. -Swift's Epitaph. [Carlyle's note.] -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn103"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn103text">103</a>] <i>A Bard's Epitaph</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn104"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn104text">104</a>] The parody is from <i>The Merchant of Venice</i>, iv. 1. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn105"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn105text">105</a>] Cf. page 1, above. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn106"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn106text">106</a>] Cf. Matthew vii. 16. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn107"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn107text">107</a>] An echo from Burns's dedication to the first Edinburgh -edition of his poems. Cf. page 3, above. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn108"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn108text">108</a>] Cf. Daniel iv. 30. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn109"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn109text">109</a>] The first half of this precept occurs eight times in the New -Testament; the second only in Galatians vi. 2. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn110"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn110text">110</a>] This cry of indignation at the absorption -of men in the cares -of this world, and their indifference to higher things, -occurs repeatedly in Carlyle. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn111"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn111text">111</a>] Every reader should have a clear idea, -not necessarily of -the details in the lives of these men, -but of the general significance -of each in the history of the world. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn112"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn112text">112</a>] Matthew v. 12; and compare Luke vi. 23. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn113"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn113text">113</a>] There is an allusion to Ephesians iv. 8. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn114"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn114text">114</a>] This moral is worked out with wonderful power in <i>Sartor -Resartus</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn115"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn115text">115</a>] The word means simply <i>restorer</i>; but Carlyle uses it to -denote a man who uses his literary talent merely to give -amusement, not to inculcate truth. -Here again is a veiled sneer at Byron and Scott. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn116"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn116text">116</a>] See <i>Paradise Lost</i>, vii. 24-31. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn117"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn117text">117</a>] The <i>Araucana</i> is the best of a score of epics written in the -reign of Philip II. of Spain in imitation of the Italian poets -Ariosto and Tasso. Its author, Alonso de Ercilla y Zuniga -(1533-1595), writes of the Spanish campaigns against the -Indians of Arauco, in which he himself took part. The early part -of the poem was written in the field, in the manner that Carlyle -describes. The <i>Araucana</i> is now little read; and its author is -no way comparable to the great epic poets of Italy and England. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn118"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn118text">118</a>] Jean Paul Friedrich Richter (1763-1825) is one of Carlyle's -favorite authors, and one of those who influenced him most. -He is the subject of Carlyle's first essay in the <i>Edinburgh -Review</i> (1827), and is treated again in another and a greater essay -in the <i>Foreign Review</i> (1830). These two papers by Carlyle -remain among the best accounts of Richter accessible in English. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn119"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn119text">119</a>] "I have bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually -about me, in order to study the sentiments, the dauntless -magnanimity, the intrepid unyielding independence, the desperate -daring, and noble defiance of hardship in that great -personage—Satan."—Letter of Burns, quoted in Lockhart, chap. vi. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -Bitter epigrams like this on Byron become a characteristic of -Carlyle's style in his later writings. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn120"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn120text">120</a>] Milton's real words are: "I was confirmed in this opinion, -that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well -hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem; -that is, a composition and pattern of the best and honourablest -things; not presuming to sing high praises of heroic men, or -famous cities, unless he has in himself the experience and the -practice of all that which is praiseworthy."—<i>Apology for -Smectymnuus</i>. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn121"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn121text">121</a>] Shipping ports in southern England. Carlyle is writing from -the point of view of a Scotchman. -</p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap01fn122"></a> -[<a href="#chap01fn122text">122</a>] <i>Vaucluse</i> (<i>Valclusa</i> in Italian) is a town in southeast France -where the great Italian poet Petrarch (1304-1374) lived for -some time, and where he did much of his best work. 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