URNS the Man and Burns the Poet are inseparable. In his poetry are reflected the man's defects and his virtues, and to the characteristics found therein let us now for a few minutes direct our attention. And, first of all, let it be observed that our bard always sees clearly the thing about which he writes, and that the power to do this is united with a corresponding power of expression, and a desire and an aptitude to place the reader in the best possible position to see in turn the thing which forms the subject of his muse. To effect this he will state the time, the place very often, and the circumstances under which the particular thought was or is to be spoken, or the deed was or is to be done as a reference to the opening lines of "The Twa Dogs," "The Cottar's Saturday Night," "Tam o' Shanter," and many others, will fully show. Sometimes these openings are mere matter-of-fact statements, truly-still they answer the poet's purpose; while others are in themselves word-pictures of much value. Such are the opening lines of "The Vision" and "The ΤΟ PREFATORY NOTICE. Winter's Night" among his poems, in particular; and My Nannie, O!" "The Corn Rigs," and "The Country Lassie" among his songs. Had Burns penned nothing else than such opening verses he had stood high as a descriptive poet, and yet they are penned only as aids to a proper appreciation of what follows in the poem. He seldom attempted description of inanimate nature on its own account, but as a setting to some sentiment or action; and beautiful as his descriptions of this kind are, they yet seldom possess the interest with which he is almost always able to invest the latter. In the beauty or sublimity of the seasons, with their variety of landscape, he undoubtedly felt a delight; but the centre of his interest as a poet lies in his humanity, and in his inimitable description of the manners and customs of his people, of passion and sentiment, and of human action. Many of these have the verisimilitude of photographs; but then they are vivified and illumined by a fire and a light which no mere photograph ever possessed, or ever can. They have the reality of nature, and are arrayed in all the various colours of human life; yet are not mere transcripts thereof, but creations, and such as could only proceed from a genuine poet, whose "seething brains" alone can impart a beauty and a magic to the lowest as well as to the highest things in the universe. And this characteristic, be it noted, finds its correspondence in-springs from and reflects-the unbounded sympathy, as we have seen, of their author. He does not express in song a love for the beautiful and the good, or a pity for the weak and the helpless, from any mere artistic consideration, or because such expressions are demanded by the conditions of his song, but because he in reality loves the former, and entertains the most powerful sympathy for the latter; and from similar 66 PREFATORY NOTICE. II reasons he produces things of an opposite nature as well-things in which the "hate of hate" and the 'scorn of scorn find vent just where and as they ought to do. The sky overhead is not always blue, and the rose has its thorns; and if we are to have life-like poetry, we must be prepared to find it characterised by colours corresponding to those of life itself-by shadow as well as sunshine, and sometimes in subject by that which is unpleasant as well as by that which is the contrary also. This ought ever to be remembered in our perusal of Burns and the other one or two very great poets of human nature, and of whom the Bard of Avon is chief; and it would not be difficult to show that the deepest human sympathy, the "love of love," lay at the root of this bard's genius as well as that of Burns, and is the prime element in the key to the mystery of his unparalleled success as a dramatic poet. In the one case, as in the other, it formed an essential part of the gift which enabled them "to lift the veil from the hidden beauty of things"-to penetrate into the crannies of the human soul-to divine the feelings and sentiments of others-and to lay bare the mysterious mainsprings of human action. The various actors in our great life-drama may seek to hide themselves behind such masks as fortune alone can put into their hands, but they try in vain to do so from the clairvoyant ken of such poets, and the masks are seen through if not always torn from their faces, and to them their souls are exposed in their utter nakedness; and in this state, and at their intrinsic worth, and no other, must they be estimated; for what is the external universe itself in comparison to the worth of one genuine human soul? As for mere riches, they are baubles; and as for position, it is often a delusion; and as for the authority 12 66 PREFATORY NOTICE. which comes from mere position, what is that? The poet will tell us—“Thou hast seen a dog bark at a beggar?” Aye, sir." And the creature ran from the cur?" "Thus hast thou seen the image of authority—a dog's obeyed in office." So spake the mighty dramatist; and can there be the least doubt that the man's heart was in the words he thus spake? And what says Burns? "A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that, But an honest man's aboon his might." Nay, more "The honest man, though e'er sae poor, And why not? Is it not clear to his keen ken-as clear as two and two equal four-that "the rank is but the guinea stamp," and that "the man's the gold," the metal, after all, which can give the "stamp" any real value in the esteem of those who can detect the ring fairly required in what is presumed to be worthy of being passed as among the most precious coin of the realm ? There is no foolish desire here, let me say, to compare Burns with Shakespeare, but in his obvious love for what is noble and sweet in human nature, in his mercy on human frailty, in his sympathy with the oppressed, in his pity for the poor, the helpless, the needy, with a corresponding power of expression, he might be so compared; and when this is said, it is meant for the highest compliment that could possibly be paid to any poet, for I am not, as already intimated, one of those who appear to regard the great dramatist as a sort of mere intellectual machine, from which, when once set agoing, anything or everything might have been expected, but as a man whose |