Propriety's cold cautious rules The ungentle, harsh rebuke.' It would appear that the bard had lent the songs without duly considering his own pressing need for them, as, two days later, he desired Connel the carrier to call at St Margaret's Hill with the following characteristic note: MONSR. MONSR. ARCHIBALD LAWRIE. COLLINE DE ST MARGARETE. MAUCHLINE, 15th November 1786. DEAR SIR-If convenient, please return me by Connel, the bearer, the two volumes of songs I left last time I was at St Margaret's Hill. My best compliments to all the good family. ROBT. BURNS. By this time Burns must have been aware of a circumstance most remarkable in such a career as his-the first mention of his name in a respectable organ of criticism. At that time the venerable Scots Magazine had a youthful rival in the Edinburgh Magazine of James Sibbald, a bookseller of literary taste, who scems to have been supported by many of the wits most interested in national antiquities and national poetry. The number of this work for October, published, as was then the custom, at the beginning of the month following that for which it was designated, contains a critique on Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, by Robert Burns, Kilmarnock. The article is not ill written, nor does it plead for approbation to the poet on low grounds. It speaks of him as a striking example of native genius bursting through the obscurity of poverty and the obstructions of a laborious life.' "To those,' the critic goes on to say, 'who admire the creations of untutored fancy, and are blind to many faults for the sake of numberless beauties, his poems will yield singular gratification. His observations on human character are acute and sagacious, The letter to Mr A. Lawrie and this, as well as a former scrap of verse respecting St Margaret's Hill, were first published in the Land of Burns, where a portrait of the Rev. George Lawrie is presented. 2 In the Edinburgh Advertiser of November 3, the Edinburgh Magazine for October is advertised as 'published this day,' with the following addition to the usual description of the contents: In this number are given ample extracts from the Poems of R. BURNS, & ploughman in Ayrshire.' and his descriptions are lively and just. Of rustic pleasantry he has a rich fund, and some of his softer scenes are touched with inimitable delicacy. . . . . The character Horace gives to Osellus is particularly applicable to him— "Rusticus abnormis sapiens, crassaque Minerva."' Copious extracts are added in justification of the critic's opinion. A copy of this panegyric from what Burns would deem a 'high quarter,' could scarcely fail to reach him ere November was far elapsed. The precise time of his abandoning the resolution to go to the West Indies, and determining to remain to try his fortune in Edinburgh, cannot be ascertained. It does not appear to have been before the date of his Epistle to Major Logan-30th October. It was, however, before the 18th of November, when he told Mr Robert Muir of Kilmarnock, in a brief note, that he had now resolved to proceed to Edinburgh on Monday or Tuesday sevennight (the 27th or 28th). Mr Ballantyne of Ayr appears to have been concerned in the forming of this resolution. According to the report of Gilbert Burns, when it came to Mr Ballantyne's knowledge that the poet was prevented from printing a second edition by want of money to pay for the paper, he 'generously offered to accommodate Robert with what money he might need for that purpose [£27], but advised him to go to Edinburgh, as the fittest place for publishing.' It was very natural for the poet, in a brief account of his early carcer, to huddle up all the considerations and debatings on this subject, extending over a couple of months, in the abrupt reference to the effect of Dr Blacklock's letter; but it is the duty of the biographer to do his best to develop the matter at proper length, and with a just regard, in particular, to the kindness shewn to Burns by the gentlemen of his own district, before the capital had put any stamp upon him. The true extent of that kindness has, perhaps, never yet been fully appreciated. It was at this crisis, and with a view to the proposed sccond cdition, that Burns addressed a respectful letter to Miss Alexander of Ballochmyle, enclosing his song in her honour, and asking her permission to print it : TO MISS ALEXANDER. MOSSGIEL, 18th Nov. 1786. MADAM-Poets are such outré beings, so much the children of wayward fancy and capricious whim, that I believe the world generally allows them a larger latitude in the laws of propriety than the sober sons of judgment and prudence. I mention this as an apology for the liberties that a nameless stranger has taken with you in the enclosed poem, which he begs leave to present you with. Whether it has poetical merit anyway worthy of the theme, I am not the proper judge: but it is the best my abilities can produce; and what to a good heart will perhaps be a superior grace, it is equally sincere as fervent. The scenery was nearly taken from real life, though I daresay, madam, you do not recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed the poetic reveur as he wandered by you. I had roved out as chance directed, in the favourite haunts of my Muse, on the banks of the Ayr, to view nature in all the gaiety of the vernal year. The evening sun was flaming over the distant western hills; not a breath stirred the crimson opening blossom, or the verdant spreading leaf. It was a golden moment for a poetic heart. I listened to the feathered warblers, pouring their harmony on every hand, with a congenial kindred regard, and frequently turned out of my path lest I should disturb their little songs, or frighten them to another station. Surely, said I to myself, he must be a wretch indeed who, regardless of your harmonious endeavour to please him, can eye your elusive flights to discover your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the property nature gives you-your dearest comforts, your helpless nestlings. Even the hoary hawthorn-twig that shot across the way, what heart at such a time but must have been interested in its welfare, and wished it preserved from the rudely-browsing cattle, or the withering eastern blast? Such was the scene, and such the hour, when, in a corner of my prospect, I spied one of the fairest pieces of nature's workmanship that ever crowned a poetic landscape or met a poet's eye, those visionary bards excepted who hold commerce with aërial beings! Had Calumny and Villainy taken my walk, they had at that moment sworn eternal peace with such an object. What an hour of inspiration for a poet! It would have raised plain dull historic prose into metaphor and measure! The enclosed song was the work of my return home; and perhaps it but poorly answers what might have been expected from such a scene. *** I have the honour to be, madam, your most obedient and very humble servant, R. B. Two days afterwards, having occasion to transmit a copy of a ballad fit for private perusal only to two friends in Ayr, he enclosed it in a sheet penned in the style of a public writ, commencing: 'In the name of the Nine, Amen! We, Robert Burns, by virtue of a warrant from Nature, bearing date the twenty-fifth day of January, Anno Domini one thousand seven hundred and fifty-nine, Poet-Laureate and Bard-in-Chief in and over the districts and countries of Kyle, Cunningham, and Carrick, of old extent, to our trusty and well-beloved William Chalmers and John M'Adam, students and practitioners in the ancient and mysterious science of confounding right and wrong;' commanding them to select 'the most execrable individual of that execrable species, the Deil's Yell Nowte [sheriff's officers],' and kindling a fire at the cross of Ayr, there at noon, to cause the said individual to burn the said ballad, 'in abhorrence of, and terrorem to, all such compositions and composers: this in no wise leave ye undone, but have it executed in every point, as our mandate bears, before the twenty-fourth current, when in person we hope to applaud your faithfulness and zeal.' With such whimsicalities did Burns mix up the anxious, gloomy, and remorseful hours of this crisis of his life. We obtain some insight into the prospects of Burns during November from a second letter of Dr Blacklock to Mr Lawrie, written on the 27th of the month. Some time ago,' says the blind bard, 'I took the freedom of troubling you with a letter, acknowledging the favour of Mr Burns's Poems; but at that time my mind was so full of their merit, that it entirely escaped my memory to inquire how much I was indebted for it; nor was this all, for instead of sending the letter by any of the channels to which I was directed, it was conveyed by the post, as I did not know where to find them' [the aforesaid channels].' [Before Saturday last] a report had reached me that a second edition of the Poems was projected, consisting, according to some, of twelve, or, according to others, of five thousand copies, at the expense of the gentlemen of Ayrshire, for the author's benefit.' Dr Blacklock feels disposed to remonstrate with the Ayrshire gentlemen for proposing so large an edition, as it might too long postpone another with additions; but he would fain offer them at the same time his 'warmest acknowledgments for the generous concern which they discovered in favour of poetical merit, and for that exquisite taste by which it has been so warmly and justly distinguished. It has also been suggested to me,' he adds, 'that my former [letter] to you was intended for publication [prefixed to the new edition]. I have not the least recollection of what was said in that letter. It was an unpremeditated effusion of pleasure and gratitude. So far, however, as I remember, there occurs to me no reason for retracting 1 This is a curious trait of past times. The postage of the celebrated letter of 4th September was fourpence; and the writer deems it necessary to apologise for not sending it by some private hand or a carrier. anything which it contained; yet you must grant me that it is one thing to talk to a friend, and quite another to address the public. I must therefore, if the letter is really designed to be printed, earnestly solicit you to review it, and to erase or correct anything which may appear to be careless, bombastic, or hyperbolical.' It had been thought of great consequence by Mr Lawrie, that the Poems should be shewn by Blacklock to Dr Blair, who might be considered as the highest tribunal of criticism then in Scotland. The blind doctor now tells his country friend: A priori, I will venture to assure you that most, if not all of the Scots poems will fail of gaining his approbation. His taste is too highly polished, and his genius too regular in its emotions, to make allowances for the sallies of a more impetuous ardour. Nor can he enter into the sentiment of Mr Pope "Authors, 'tis true, may gloriously offend, And faults commit true critics dare not mend. So, the rumour of the new country edition had come to town, magnified from one to many thousands! The fact is important, as shewing the degree of wonder which had been raised in the capital itself regarding this singular ploughman and his effusions. It is a curious memento of the eagerness with which the Kilmarnock volume was received, that no copy could be spared for the poet's own family at Mossgiel. Burns had always been free in communicating his best compositions to his mother and sisters; and the sisters would often gratify their mother by reading Halloween, The Cotter's Saturday Night, and other favourite pieces, by the fireside. They all valued the author highly, both as an amiable son and brother, and for the brilliant talents he possessed. The mother had no drawback to her admiration of his genius, but the fear that the éclat attending it might make him reflect less on the Giver of all good gifts than was his duty. They now heard reports of his spreading fame, not with much surprise, for they had never deemed him a common part of creation, but with deepcherished pride and pleasure. Yet so it was, that they never possessed his effusions in a printed form till the issue of the abundant second edition from Edinburgh in the ensuing year. 'Imagination fondly stoops to trace' the sensations of this worthy humble family, when it appeared that he, whom, in spite of all blottings and errors, they had ever truly loved, began to |