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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Life of Robert Burns, by Thomas Carlyle
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Life of Robert Burns
+
+
+Author: Thomas Carlyle
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 9, 2011  [eBook #36074]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+More: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/lifeofrobertburn00carl
+
+
+
+
+
+LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS.
+
+Mostly by
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York:
+Delisser & Procter, 508 Broadway.
+1859.
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S PREFACE.
+
+
+The readers of the "Household Library" will certainly welcome a Life of
+Burns. That his soul was of the real heroic stamp, no one who is familiar
+with his imperishable lyric poetry, will deny.
+
+This Life of the great Scottish bard is composed of two parts. The first
+part, which is brief, and gives merely his external life, is taken from
+the "Encyclopedia Britannica." The principle object of it, in this place,
+is to prepare the reader for what follows. The second part is a grand
+spiritual portrait of Burns, the like of which the ages have scarcely
+produced; the equal of which, in our opinion, does not exist. In fact,
+since men began to write and publish their thoughts in this world, no one
+has appeared who equals Carlyle as a spiritual-portrait painter; and,
+taken all in all, this of his gifted countryman Burns is his master-piece.
+I should not dare to say how many times I have perused it, and always with
+new wonder and delight. I once read it in the Manfrini Palace, at Venice,
+sitting before Titian's portrait of Ariosto. Great is the contrast between
+the Songs of Burns and the _Rime_ of the Italian poet, between the fine
+spiritual perception of Carlyle's mind and the delicate touch of Titian's
+hand, between picturesque expression and an expressive picture; yet this
+very antithesis seemed to prepare my mind for the full enjoyment of both
+these famous portraits; the sombre majesty of northern genius seemed to
+heighten and be heightened by the sunset glow of the genius of the south.
+
+Besides giving the article from the "Encyclopedia Britannica," as a kind
+of frame for the portrait of Burns, we will here add, from the "English
+Cyclopedia," a sketch of Carlyle's life. A severe taste may find it a
+little out of place, yet we must be allowed to consult the wishes of those
+for whom these little volumes are designed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Carlyle, (Thomas,) a thinker and writer, confessedly among the most
+original and influential that Britain has produced, was born in the parish
+of Middlebie, near the village of Ecclefechan, in Dumfries-shire,
+Scotland, on the 4th of December, 1795. His father, a man of remarkable
+force of character, was a small farmer in comfortable circumstances; his
+mother was also no ordinary person. The eldest son of a considerable
+family, he received an education the best in its kind that Scotland could
+then afford--the education of a pious and industrious home, supplemented
+by that of school and college. (Another son of the family, Dr. John A.
+Carlyle, a younger brother of Thomas, was educated in a similar manner,
+and, after practising for many years as a physician in Germany and Rome,
+has recently become known in British literature as the author of the best
+prose translation of Dante.) After a few years spent at the ordinary
+parish school, Thomas was sent, in his thirteenth or fourteenth year, to
+the grammar school of the neighboring town of Annan; and here it was that
+he first became acquainted with a man destined, like himself, to a career
+of great celebrity. "The first time I saw Edward Irving," writes Mr.
+Carlyle in 1835, "was six-and-twenty years ago, in his native town, Annan.
+He was fresh from Edinburgh, with college prizes, high character, and
+promise: he had come to see our school-master, who had also been his. We
+heard of famed professors--of high matters, classical, mathematical--a
+whole Wonderland of knowledge; nothing but joy, health, hopefulness
+without end, looked out from the blooming young man." Irving was then
+sixteen years of age, Carlyle fourteen; and from that time till Irving's
+sad and premature death, the two were intimate and constant friends. It
+was not long before Carlyle followed Irving to that "Wonderland of
+Knowledge," the University of Edinburgh, of which, and its "famed
+professors," he had received such tidings. If the description of the
+nameless German university, however, in "Sartor Resartus," is to be
+supposed as allusive also to Mr. Carlyle's own reminiscences of his
+training at Edinburgh, he seems afterwards to have held the more formal or
+academic part of that training in no very high respect. "What vain jargon
+of controversial metaphysic, etymology, and mechanical manipulation,
+falsely named science, was current there," says Teufelsdröckh; "I indeed
+learned better perhaps than most." At Edinburgh, the professor of
+"controversial metaphysic" in Carlyle's day, was Dr. Thomas Brown, Dugald
+Stewart having then just retired; physical science and mathematics, were
+represented by Playfair and Sir John Leslie, and classical studies by men
+less known to fame. While at college, Carlyle's special bent, so far as
+the work of the classes was concerned, seems to have been to mathematics
+and natural philosophy. But it is rather by his voluntary studies and
+readings, apart from the work of the classes, that Mr. Carlyle, in his
+youth, laid the foundation of his vast and varied knowledge. The college
+session in Edinburgh extends over about half the year, from November to
+April; and during these months, the college library, and other such
+libraries as were accessible, were laid under contribution by him to an
+extent till then hardly paralleled by any Scottish student. Works on
+science and mathematics, works on philosophy, histories of all ages, and
+the great classics of British literature, were read by him miscellaneously
+or in orderly succession; and it was at this period, also, if we are not
+mistaken, he commenced his studies--not very usual then in Scotland--in
+the foreign languages of modern Europe. With the same diligence, and in
+very much the same way, were the summer vacations employed, during which
+he generally returned to his father's house in Dumfries-shire, or rambled
+among the hills and moors of that neighborhood.
+
+Mr. Carlyle had begun his studies with a view to entering the Scottish
+Church. About the time, however, when these studies were nearly ended, and
+when, according to the ordinary routine, he might have become a preacher,
+a change of views induced him to abandon the intended profession. This
+appears to have been about the year 1819 or 1820, when he was twenty-four
+years of age. For some time, he seems to have been uncertain as to his
+future course. Along with Irving, he employed himself for a year or two,
+as a teacher in Fifeshire; but gradually it became clear to him, that his
+true vocation was that of literature. Accordingly, parting from Irving,
+about the year 1822, the younger Scot of Annandale, deliberately embraced
+the alternative open to him, and became a general man of letters. Probably
+few have ever embraced that profession with qualifications so wide, or
+with aims so high and severe. Apart altogether from his diligence in
+learning, and from the extraordinary amount of acquired knowledge of all
+kinds, which was the fruit of it, there had been remarked in him, from the
+first, a strong originality of character, a noble earnestness and fervor
+in all that he said or did, and a vein of inherent constitutional contempt
+for the mean and the frivolous, inclining him, in some degree, to a life
+of isolation and solitude. Add to this, that his acquaintance with German
+literature, in particular, had familiarized him with ideas, modes of
+thinking, and types of literary character, not then generally known in
+this country, and yet, in his opinion, more deserving of being known than
+much of a corresponding kind that was occupying and ruling British
+thought.
+
+The first period of Mr. Carlyle's literary life may be said to extend from
+1822 to 1827, or from his twenty-sixth to his thirty-second year. It was
+during this period that he produced (besides a translation of Legendre's
+"Geometry," to which he prefixed an "Essay on Proportion,") his numerous
+well-known translations from German writers, and also his "Life of
+Schiller." The latter and a considerable proportion of the former, were
+written by him during the leisure afforded him by an engagement he had
+formed in 1823, as tutor to Charles Buller, whose subsequent brilliant
+though brief career in the politics of Britain, gives interest to this
+connection. The first part of the "Life of Schiller" appeared originally
+in the "London Magazine," of which John Scott was editor, and Hazlitt,
+Charles Lamb, Allan Cunningham, De Quincey, and Hood, were the best known
+supporters; and the second and third parts, were published in the same
+magazine in 1824. In this year appeared also the translation of Göthe's
+"Wilhelm Meister," which was published by Messrs. Oliver and Boyd, of
+Edinburgh, without the translator's name. This translation, the first real
+introduction of Göthe to the reading world of Great Britain, attracted
+much notice. "The translator," said a critic in "Blackwood," "is, we
+understand, a young gentleman in this city, who now for the first time
+appears before the public. We congratulate him on his very promising
+debut; and would fain hope to receive a series of really good translations
+from his hand. He has evidently a perfect knowledge of German; he already
+writes English better than is at all common, even at this time; and we
+know of no exercise more likely to produce effects of permanent advantage
+upon a young mind of intellectual ambition." The advice here given to Mr.
+Carlyle by his critic, was followed by him in so far that, in 1827, he
+published in Edinburgh, his "Specimens of German Romance," in four
+volumes; one of these containing "Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjahre," as a
+fresh specimen of Göthe; the others containing tales from Jean Paul,
+Tieck, Musæus, and Hoffman. Meanwhile, in 1825, Mr. Carlyle had revised
+and enlarged his "Life of Schiller," and given it to the world in a
+separate form, through the press of Messrs. Taylor and Hessay, the
+proprietors of the "London Magazine." In the same year, quitting his
+tutorship of Charles Buller, he had married a lady fitted in a pre-eminent
+degree to be the wife of such a man. (It is interesting to know that Mrs.
+Carlyle, originally Miss Welch, is a lineal descendent of the Scottish
+Reformer, Knox.) For some time after the marriage, Mr. Carlyle continued
+to reside in Edinburgh; but before 1827 he removed to Craigenputtoch, a
+small property in the most solitary part of Dumfries-shire.
+
+The second period of Mr. Carlyle's literary life, extending from 1827 to
+1834, or from his thirty-second to his thirty-ninth year, was the period
+of the first decided manifestations of his extraordinary originality as a
+thinker. Probably the very seclusion in which he lived helped to develope,
+in stronger proportions, his native and peculiar tendencies. The following
+account of his place and mode of life at this time was sent by him, in
+1828, to Göthe, with whom he was then in correspondence, and was
+published by the great German in the preface to a German translation of
+the "Life of Schiller," executed under his immediate care:--"Dumfries is a
+pleasant town, containing about fifteen thousand inhabitants, and to be
+considered the centre of the trade and judicial system of a district which
+possesses some importance in the sphere of Scottish activity. Our
+residence is not in the town itself, but fifteen miles to the northwest of
+it, among the granite hills and the black morasses which stretch westward
+through Galloway almost to the Irish Sea. In this wilderness of heath and
+rock, our estate stands forth a green oasis, a tract of ploughed, partly
+inclosed and planted ground, where corn ripens and trees afford a shade,
+although surrounded by sea-mews and rough-woolled sheep. Here, with no
+small effort, have we built and furnished a neat, substantial dwelling;
+here, in the absence of a professional or other office, we live to
+cultivate literature according to our strength, and in our own peculiar
+way. We wish a joyful growth to the roses and flowers of our garden; we
+hope for health and peaceful thoughts to further our aims. The roses,
+indeed, are still in part to be planted, but they blossom already in
+anticipation. Two ponies which carry us every where, and the mountain air,
+are the best medicine for weak nerves. This daily exercise, to which I am
+much devoted, is my only recreation; for this nook of ours is the
+loneliest in Britain--six miles removed from any one likely to visit me.
+Here Rousseau would have been as happy as on his island of Saint-Pierre.
+My town friends, indeed, ascribe my sojourn here to a similar disposition,
+and forbode me no good result; but I came hither solely with the design to
+simplify my way of life, and to secure the independence through which I
+could be enabled to remain true to myself. This bit of earth is our own;
+here we can live, write, and think, as best pleases ourselves, even though
+Zoilus himself were to be crowned the monarch of literature. Nor is the
+solitude of such great importance, for a stage-coach takes us speedily to
+Edinburgh, which we look upon as our British Weimar; and have I not, too,
+at this moment, piled upon the table of my little library, a whole
+cart-load of French, German, American, and English journals and
+periodicals--whatever may be their worth? Of antiquarian studies, too,
+there is no lack."
+
+Before this letter was written, Mr. Carlyle had already begun the
+well-known series of his contributions to the "Edinburgh Review." The
+first of these was his essay on "Jean Paul," which appeared in 1827; and
+was followed by his striking article on "German Literature," and by his
+singularly beautiful essay on "Burns" (1828). Other essays in the same
+periodical followed, as well as articles in the "Foreign Quarterly
+Review," which was established in 1828, and shorter articles of less
+importance in Brewster's "Edinburgh Encyclopedia," then in course of
+publication. Externally, in short, at this time, Mr. Carlyle was a writer
+for reviews and magazines, choosing to live, for the convenience of his
+work and the satisfaction of his own tastes, in a retired nook of
+Scotland, whence he could correspond with his friends, occasionally visit
+the nearest of them, and occasionally also receive visits from them in
+turn. Among the friends whom he saw in his occasional visits to Edinburgh,
+were Jeffrey, Wilson, and other literary celebrities of that capital (Sir
+Walter Scott, we believe, he never met otherwise than casually in the
+streets); among the more distant friends who visited him, none was more
+welcome than the American Emerson, who, having already been attracted to
+him by his writings, made a journey to Dumfries-shire, during his first
+visit to England, expressly to see him; and of his foreign correspondents,
+the most valued by far was Göthe, whose death in 1832, and that of Scott
+in the same year, impressed him deeply, and were finely commemorated by
+him.
+
+Meanwhile, though thus ostensibly but an occasional contributor to
+periodicals, Mr. Carlyle was silently throwing his whole strength into a
+work which was to reveal him in a far other character than that of a mere
+literary critic, however able and profound. This was his "Sartor
+Resartus;" or, an imaginary History of the Life and Opinions of Herr
+Teufelsdröckh, an eccentric German professor and philosopher. Under this
+quaint guise (the name "Sartor Resartus" being, it would appear, a
+translation into Latin of "The Tailor done over," which is the title of an
+old Scottish song), Mr. Carlyle propounded, in a style half-serious and
+half-grotesque, and in a manner far more bold and trenchant than the rules
+of review-writing permitted, his own philosophy of life and society in
+almost all their bearings. The work was truly an anomaly in British
+literature, exhibiting a combination of deep, speculative power, poetical
+genius, and lofty moral purpose, with wild and riotous humor and shrewd
+observation and satire, such as had rarely been seen; and coming into the
+midst of the more conventional British literature of the day, it was like
+a fresh but barbaric blast from the hills and moorlands amid which it had
+been conceived. But the very strangeness and originality of the work
+prevented it from finding a publisher; and after the manuscript had been
+returned by several London firms to whom it was offered, the author was
+glad to cut it into parts and publish it piecemeal in "Frazer's Magazine."
+Here it appeared in the course of 1833-34, scandalising most readers by
+its Gothic mode of thought and its extraordinary torture, as it was
+called, of the English language; but eagerly read by some sympathetic
+minds, who discerned in the writer a new power in literature, and wondered
+who and what he was.
+
+With the publication of the "Sartor Resartus" papers, the third period of
+Mr. Carlyle's literary life may be said to begin. It was during the
+negotiations for the publication that he was led to contemplate removing
+to London--a step which he finally took, we believe, in 1834. Since that
+year--the thirty-ninth of his life--Mr. Carlyle has permanently resided
+in London, in a house situated in one of the quiet streets running at
+right angles to the River Thames, at Chelsea. The change into the bustle
+of London, from the solitude of Craigenputtoch was, externally, a great
+one. In reality, however, it was less than it seemed. A man in the prime
+of life, when he came to reside in the metropolis, he brought into its
+roar and confusion, not the restless spirit of a young adventurer, but the
+settled energy of one who had ascertained his strength, and fixed his
+methods and his aims.
+
+Among the Maginns and others who contributed to "Frazer," he at once took
+his place as a man rather to influence than be influenced; and gradually,
+as the circle of his acquaintances widened so as to include such notable
+men as John Mill, Sterling, Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and
+others of established or rising fame in all walks of speculation and
+literature, the recognition of his rare personal powers of influence
+became more general and deep. In particular, in that London circle, in
+which John Sterling moved, was his personal influence great, even while as
+yet he was but the anonymous author of the "Sartor Resartus" papers, and
+of numerous other contributions, also anonymous, to "Frazer's Magazine,"
+and the "Edinburgh," "Foreign Quarterly," "British and Foreign," and
+"Westminster," Reviews. It was not till 1837, or his forty-second year,
+that his name, already so well known to an inner circle of admirers, was
+openly associated with a work fully proportional to his powers. This was
+his "French Revolution: a History," in three volumes, the extraordinary
+merits of which as at once a history and a gorgeous prose-epic, are known
+to all. In 1838, the "Sartor Resartus" papers, already re-published in the
+United States, were put forth, collectively, with his name; and, in the
+same year, his various scattered articles in periodicals, after having
+similarly received the honor of re-publication in America, were given to
+the world in four volumes, in their chronological series from 1827 to
+1837, under the title of "Miscellanies." Mr. Carlyle's next publication
+was his little tract on "Chartism," published in 1839, in which, to use
+the words of one of his critics, "he first broke ground on the Condition
+of England question."
+
+During the time when these successive publications were carrying his name
+through the land, Mr. Carlyle appeared in a new capacity, and delivered
+four courses of lectures in London to select but crowded audiences,
+including many of the aristocracy both of rank and of literature: the
+first, a course on "German Literature," delivered at Willis's Rooms in
+1837; the second, a course on "The History of Literature, or the
+Successive Periods of European Culture," delivered in Edward-street,
+Portman-square, in 1838; the third, a course on "the Revolutions of Modern
+Europe," delivered in 1839; and the fourth, a course on "Heroes,
+Hero-worship, and the Heroic in History," delivered in 1840. This last
+course alone was published; and it became more immediately popular than
+any of the works which had preceded it. It was followed, in 1843, by "Past
+and Present," a work contrasting, in a historico-philosophical spirit,
+English society of the middle ages with English society in our own day;
+and this again, in 1845, by "Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches, with
+elucidations and a connecting narrative;" such being the unpretending form
+which a work, originally intended to be a history of Cromwell and his
+times, ultimately assumed. By the year 1849, this work had reached a third
+edition. In 1850, appeared the "Latter-Day Pamphlets," in which, more than
+in any previous publication, the author spoke out in the character of a
+social and political censor of his own age. From their very nature, as
+stern denunciations of what the author considered contemporary fallacies,
+wrongs, and hypocrisies, these pamphlets produced a storm of critical
+indignation against Mr. Carlyle, which was still raging, when, in 1851,
+he gave to the world his "Life of John Sterling." While we write (April,
+1856) this, with the exception of some papers in periodicals, is the last
+publication that has proceeded from his pen; but at the present the
+British public are anxiously expecting a "History of the Life and Times of
+Frederick the Great," in which he is known to have been long engaged. A
+collection of some of the most striking opinions, sentiments, and
+descriptions, contained in all his works hitherto written, has been
+published in a single volume, entitled, "Passages selected from the
+Writings of Thomas Carlyle," (1855,) from the memoir prefixed to which, by
+the editor, Mr. Thomas Ballantyne, we have derived most of the facts for
+this notice.
+
+An appreciation of Mr. Carlyle's genius and of his influence on British
+thought and literature, is not to be looked for here, and indeed is hardly
+possible in the still raging conflict of opinions--one might even say,
+passions and parties--respecting him. The following remarks, however, by
+one of his critics, seems to us to express what all must admit to be the
+literal truth:--"It is nearly half a generation since Mr. Carlyle became
+an intellectual power in this country; and certainly rarely, if ever, in
+the history of literature, has such a phenomenon been witnessed as that of
+his influence. Throughout the whole atmosphere of this island his spirit
+has diffused itself, so that there is, probably, not an educated man under
+forty years of age, from Caithness to Cornwall, that can honestly say that
+he has not been more or less affected by it. Not to speak of his express
+imitators, one can hardly take up a book or a periodical, without finding
+some expression or some mode of thinking that bears the mint-mark of his
+genius." The same critic notices it as a peculiarity in Mr. Carlyle's
+literary career, that, whereas most men begin with the vehement and the
+controversial, and gradually become calm and acquiescent in things as they
+are, he began as an artist in pure literature, a critic of poetry, song,
+and the drama, and has ended as a vehement moralist and preacher of social
+reforms, disdaining the etiquette and even the name of pure literature,
+and more anxious to rouse than to please. With this development of his
+views of his own functions as a writer, is connected the development of
+his literary style, from the quiet and pleasing, though still solid and
+deep beauty of his earlier writings, to that later and more peculiar, and
+to many, disagreeable form, which has been nicknamed 'the Carlylese.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As all the world knows, two volumes of Carlyle's Frederick the Great have
+recently appeared. We might add, from personal acquaintance, many
+anecdotes, but we have learned, during a long residence abroad, to respect
+the hospitality that we have enjoyed.
+
+O. W. WIGHT.
+
+_January, 1859._
+
+
+
+
+LIFE OF BURNS.
+
+_PART FIRST._
+
+
+Robert Burns, the national bard of Scotland, was born on the 25th of
+January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage about two miles south of the town
+of Ayr. He was the eldest son of William Burnes, or Burness, who, at the
+period of Robert's birth, was gardener and overseer to a gentleman of
+small estate; but resided on a few acres of land which he had on lease
+from another person. The father was a man of strict religious principles,
+and also distinguished for that penetration and knowledge of mankind
+which was afterwards so conspicuous in his son. The mother of the poet
+was likewise a very sagacious woman, and possessed an inexhaustible store
+of ballads and legendary tales, with which she nourished the infant
+imagination of him whose own productions were destined to excel them all.
+
+These worthy individuals labored diligently for the support of an
+increasing family; nor, in the midst of harassing struggles did they
+neglect the mental improvement of their offspring; a characteristic of
+Scottish parents, even under the most depressing circumstances. In his
+sixth year, Robert was put under the tuition of one Campbell, and
+subsequently under Mr. John Murdoch, a very faithful and pains-taking
+teacher. With this individual he remained for a few years, and was
+accurately instructed in the first principles of composition. The poet and
+his brother Gilbert were the aptest pupils in the school, and were
+generally at the head of the class. Mr. Murdoch, in afterwards recording
+the impressions which the two brothers made on him, says: "Gilbert always
+appeared to me to possess a more lively imagination, and to be more of the
+wit, than Robert. I attempted to teach them a little church music. Here
+they were left far behind by all the rest of the school. Robert's ear, in
+particular, was remarkably dull, and his voice untunable. It was long
+before I could get them to distinguish one tune from another. Robert's
+countenance was generally grave, and expressive of a serious,
+contemplative, and thoughtful mind. Gilbert's face said, _Mirth, with thee
+I mean to live_; and certainly, if any person who knew the two boys had
+been asked which of them was the most likely to court the muses, he would
+never have guessed that _Robert_ had a propensity of that kind."
+
+Besides the tuition of Mr. Murdoch, Burns received instructions from his
+father in writing and arithmetic. Under their joint care, he made rapid
+progress, and was remarkable for the ease with which he committed
+devotional poetry to memory. The following extract from his letter to Dr.
+Moore, in 1787, is interesting, from the light which it throws upon his
+progress as a scholar, and on the formation of his character as a
+poet:--"At those years," says he, "I was by no means a favorite with
+anybody. I was a good deal noted for a retentive memory, a stubborn,
+sturdy something in my disposition, and an enthusiastic idiot piety. I say
+idiot piety, because I was then but a child. Though it cost the
+schoolmaster some thrashings, I made an excellent scholar; and by the time
+I was ten or eleven years of age, I was a critic in substantives, verbs,
+and particles. In my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old
+woman who resided in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity,
+and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the
+country, of tales and songs, concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies,
+witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths,
+apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other
+trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry; but had so strong an
+effect upon my imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I
+sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places; and though nobody
+can be more skeptical than I am in such matters, yet it often takes an
+effort of philosophy to shake off these idle terrors. The earliest
+composition that I recollect taking pleasure in, was, _The Vision of
+Mirza_, and a hymn of Addison's, beginning, "_How are thy servants blest,
+O Lord!_" I particularly remember one-half stanza, which was music to my
+boyish ear:
+
+  "For though on dreadful whirls we hung
+  High on the broken wave."
+
+I met with these pieces in _Mason's English Collection_, one of my
+school-books. The first two books I ever read in private, and which gave
+me more pleasure than any two books I ever read since, were, _The Life of
+Hannibal_, and _The History of Sir William Wallace_. Hannibal gave my
+young ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up and down
+after the recruiting drum and bagpipe, and wish myself tall enough to be a
+soldier; while the story of Wallace poured a tide of Scottish prejudice
+into my veins, which will boil along there till the flood-gates of life
+shut in eternal rest."
+
+Mr. Murdoch's removal from Mount Oliphant deprived Burns of his
+instructions; but they were still continued by the father of the bard.
+About the age of fourteen, he was sent to school every alternate week for
+the improvement of his writing. In the mean while, he was busily employed
+upon the operations of the farm; and, at the age of fifteen, was
+considered as the principal laborer upon it. About a year after this he
+gained three weeks of respite, which he spent with his old tutor, Murdoch,
+at Ayr, in revising the English grammar, and in studying the French
+language, in which he made uncommon progress. Ere his sixteenth year
+elapsed, he had considerably extended his reading. The vicinity of Mount
+Oliphant to Ayr afforded him facilities for gratifying what had now become
+a passion. Among the books which he had perused were some plays of
+Shakspeare, Pope, the works of Allan Ramsay, and a collection of songs,
+which constituted his _vade mecum_. "I pored over them," says he,
+"driving my cart or walking to labor, song by song, verse by verse,
+carefully noticing the true, tender or sublime, from affectation and
+fustian." So early did he evince his attachment to the lyric muse, in
+which he was destined to surpass all who have gone before or succeeded
+him.
+
+At this period the family removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton.
+Some time before, however, he had made his first attempt in poetry. It was
+a song addressed to a rural beauty, about his own age, and though
+possessing no great merit as a whole, it contains some lines and ideas
+which would have done honor to him at any age. After the removal to
+Lochlea, his literary zeal slackened, for he was thus cut off from those
+acquaintances whose conversation stimulated his powers, and whose kindness
+supplied him with books. For about three years after this period, he was
+busily employed upon the farm, but at intervals he paid his addresses to
+the poetic muse, and with no common success. The summer of his nineteenth
+year was spent in the study of mensuration, surveying, etc., at a small
+sea-port town, a good distance from home. He returned to his father's
+considerably improved. "My reading," says he, "was enlarged with the very
+important addition of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. I had seen human
+nature in a new phasis; and I engaged several of my school-fellows to keep
+up a literary correspondence with me. This improved me in composition. I
+had met with a collection of letters by the wits of Queen Anne's reign,
+and I pored over them most devoutly; I kept copies of any of my own
+letters that pleased me, and a comparison between them and the composition
+of most of my correspondents flattered my vanity. I carried this whim so
+far, that though I had not three farthings' worth of business in the
+world, yet almost every post brought me as many letters as if I had been a
+broad, plodding son of day-book and ledger."
+
+His mind, peculiarly susceptible of tender impressions, was continually
+the slave of some rustic charmer. In the "heat and whirlwind of his love,"
+he generally found relief in poetry, by which, as by a safety-valve, his
+turbulent passions were allowed to have vent. He formed the resolution of
+entering the matrimonial state; but his circumscribed means of subsistence
+as a farmer preventing his taking that step, he resolved on becoming a
+flax-dresser, for which purpose he removed to the town of Irvine, in 1781.
+The speculation turned out unsuccessful; for the shop, catching fire, was
+burnt, and the poet returned to his father without a sixpence. During his
+stay at Irvine he had met with Ferguson's poems. This circumstance was of
+some importance to Burns, for it roused his poetic powers from the torpor
+into which they had fallen, and in a great measure finally determined the
+_Scottish_ character of his poetry. He here also contracted some
+friendships, which he himself says did him mischief; and, by his brother
+Gilbert's account, from this date there was a serious change in his
+conduct. The venerable and excellent parent of the poet died soon after
+his son's return. The support of the family now devolving upon Burns, in
+conjunction with his brother he took a sub-lease of the farm of Mossgiel,
+in the parish of Mauchline. The four years which he resided upon this farm
+were the most important of his life. It was here he felt that nature had
+designed him for a poet; and here, accordingly, his genius began to
+develop its energies in those strains which will make his name familiar
+to all future times, the admiration of every civilized country, and the
+glory and boast of his own.
+
+The vigor of Burns's understanding, and the keenness of his wit, as
+displayed more particularly at masonic meetings and debating clubs, of
+which he formed one at Mauchline, began to spread his fame as a man of
+uncommon endowments. He now could number as his acquaintance several
+clergymen, and also some gentlemen of substance; amongst whom was Mr.
+Gavin Hamilton, writer in Mauchline, one of his earliest patrons. One
+circumstance more than any other contributed to increase his notoriety.
+"Polemical divinity," says he to Dr. Moore in 1787, "about this time was
+putting the country half mad; and I, ambitious of shining in
+conversation-parties on Sundays, at funerals, etc., used to puzzle
+Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion, that I raised a hue-and-cry
+of heresy against me, which has not ceased to this hour." The farm which
+he possessed belonged to the Earl of Loudon, but the brothers held it in
+sub-lease from Mr. Hamilton. This gentleman was at open feud with one of
+the ministers of Mauchline, who was a rigid Calvinist. Mr. Hamilton
+maintained opposite tenets; and it is not matter of surprise that the
+young farmer should have espoused his cause, and brought all the resources
+of his genius to bear upon it. The result was _The Holy Fair_, _The
+Ordination_, _Holy Willie's Prayer_, and other satires, as much
+distinguished for their coarse severity and bitterness, as for their
+genius.
+
+The applause which greeted these pieces emboldened the poet, and
+encouraged him to proceed. In his life, by his brother Gilbert, a very
+interesting account is given of the occasions which gave rise to the
+poems, and the chronological order in which they were produced. The
+exquisite pathos and humor, the strong manly sense, the masterly command
+of felicitous language, the graphic power of delineating scenery, manners,
+and incidents, which appear so conspicuously in his various poems, could
+not fail to call forth the admiration of those who were favored with a
+perusal of them. But the clouds of misfortune were gathering darkly above
+the head of him who was thus giving delight to a large and widening circle
+of friends. The farm of Mossgiel proved a losing concern; and an amour
+with Miss Jane Armour, afterwards Mrs. Burns, had assumed so serious an
+aspect, that he at first resolved to fly from the scene of his disgrace
+and misery. One trait of his character, however, must be mentioned. Before
+taking any steps for his departure, he met Miss Armour by appointment,
+and gave into her hands a written acknowledgment of marriage, which, when
+produced by a person in her situation, is, according to the Scots' law, to
+be accepted as legal evidence of an _irregular_ marriage having really
+taken place. This the lady burned, at the persuasion of her father, who
+was adverse to a marriage; and Burns, thus wounded in the two most
+powerful feelings of his mind, his love and pride, was driven almost to
+insanity. Jamaica was his destination; but as he did not possess the money
+necessary to defray the expense of his passage out, he resolved to publish
+some of his best poems, in order to raise the requisite sum. These views
+were warmly promoted by some of his more opulent friends; and a
+sufficiency of subscribers having been procured, one of the finest volumes
+of poetry that ever appeared in the world issued from the provincial
+press of Kilmarnock.
+
+It is hardly possible to imagine with what eager admiration and delight
+they were every where received. They possessed in an eminent degree all
+those qualities which invariably contribute to render any literary work
+quickly and permanently popular. They were written in a phraseology of
+which all the powers were universally felt, and which being at once
+antique, familiar, and now rarely written, was therefore fitted to serve
+all the dignified and picturesque uses of poetry, without making it
+unintelligible. The imagery and the sentiments were at once natural,
+impressive, and interesting. Those topics of satire and scandal in which
+the rustic delights; that humorous imitation of character, and that witty
+association of ideas, familiar and striking, yet not naturally allied to
+one another, which has force to shake his sides with laughter; those
+fancies of superstition, at which one still wonders and trembles; those
+affecting sentiments and images of true religion, which are at once dear
+and awful to the heart; were all represented by Burns with the magical
+power of true poetry. Old and young, high and low, grave and gay, learned
+and ignorant, all were alike surprised and transported.
+
+In the mean time, a few copies of these fascinating poems found their way
+to Edinburgh, and having been read to Dr. Blacklock, obtained his warmest
+approbation; and he advised the author to repair to Edinburgh. Burns lost
+no time in complying with this request; and accordingly, towards the end
+of the year 1786, he set out for the capitol, where he was received by Dr.
+Blacklock with the most flattering kindness, and introduced to every
+person of taste among that excellent man's friends. Multitudes now vied
+with each other in patronizing the rustic poet. Those who possessed at
+once true taste and ardent philanthropy were soon united in his praise;
+those who were disposed to favor any good thing belonging to Scotland,
+purely because it was Scottish, gladly joined the cry; while those who had
+hearts and understandings to be charmed without knowing why, when they saw
+their native customs, manners, and language, made the subjects and the
+materials of poesy, could not suppress that impulse of feeling which
+struggled to declare itself in favor of Burns.
+
+Thus did Burns, ere he had been many weeks in Edinburgh, find himself the
+object of universal curiosity, favor, admiration, and fondness. He was
+sought after, courted with attentions the most respectful and assiduous,
+feasted, flattered, caressed, and treated by all ranks as the great boast
+of his country, whom it was scarcely possible to honor and reward in a
+degree equal to his merits.
+
+A new edition of his poems was called for; and the public mind was
+directed to the subject by Henry Mackenzie, who dedicated a paper in the
+_Lounger_ to a commendatory notice of the poet. This circumstance will
+ever be remembered to the honor of that polished writer, not only for the
+warmth of the eulogy he bestowed, but because it was the first printed
+acknowledgment which had been made to the genius of Burns. The copyright
+was sold to Creech for £100; but the friends of the poet advised him to
+forward a subscription. The patronage of the Caledonian Hunt, a very
+influential body, was obtained. The list of subscribers rapidly rose to
+1500, many gentlemen paying a great deal more than the price of the
+volume; and it was supposed that the poet derived from the subscription
+and the sale of his copyright a clear profit of at least £700.
+
+The conversation of Burns, according to the testimony of all the eminent
+men who heard him, was even more wonderful than his poetry. He affected no
+soft air nor graceful motions of politeness, which might have ill accorded
+with the rustic plainness of his native manners. Conscious superiority of
+mind taught him to associate with the great, the learned, and the gay,
+without being overawed into any such bashfulness as might have rendered
+him confused in thought, or hesitating in elocution. He possessed withal
+an extraordinary share of plain common sense, or mother-wit, which
+prevented him from obtruding upon persons, of whatever rank, with whom he
+was admitted to converse, any of those effusions of vanity, envy, or
+self-conceit, in which authors who have lived remote from the general
+practice of life, and whose minds have been almost exclusively confined to
+contemplate their own studies and their own works, are but too prone to
+indulge. In conversation, he displayed a sort of intuitive quickness and
+rectitude of judgment, upon every subject that arose. The sensibility of
+his heart, and the vivacity of his fancy, gave a rich coloring to whatever
+opinions he was disposed to advance; and his language was thus not less
+happy in conversation than in his writings. Hence those who had met and
+conversed with him once, were pleased to meet and to converse with him
+again and again.
+
+For some time he associated only with the virtuous, the learned, and the
+wise, and the purity of his morals remained uncontaminated. But
+unfortunately he fell, as others have fallen in similar circumstances. He
+suffered himself to be surrounded by persons who were proud to tell that
+they had been in company with Burns, and had seen Burns as loose and as
+foolish as themselves. He now also began to contract something of
+arrogance in conversation. Accustomed to be among his associates what is
+vulgarly but expressively called "the cock of the company," he could
+scarcely refrain from indulging in a similar freedom and dictatorial
+decision of talk, even in the presence of persons who could less patiently
+endure presumption.
+
+After remaining some months in the Scottish metropolis, basking in the
+noontide sun of a popularity which, as Dugald Stewart well remarks, would
+have turned any head but his own, he formed a resolution of returning to
+the shades whence he had emerged, but not before he had perambulated the
+southern border. On the 6th of May, 1787, he set out on his journey, and,
+visiting all that appeared interesting on the north of the Tweed,
+proceeded to Newcastle and other places on the English side. He returned
+in about two months to his family at Mauchline; but in a short period he
+again set out on an excursion to the north, where he was most flatteringly
+received by all the great families. On his return to Mossgiel he completed
+his marriage with Miss Armour. He then concluded a bargain with Mr. Miller
+of Dalswinton, for a lease of the farm of Elliesland, on advantageous
+terms.
+
+Burns entered on possession of this farm at Whit-Sunday, 1788. He had
+formerly applied with success for an excise commission, and during six
+weeks of this year, he had to attend to the business of that profession at
+Ayr. His life for some time was thus wandering and unsettled; and Dr.
+Currie mentions this as one of his chief misfortunes. Mrs. Burns came
+home to him towards the end of the year, and the poet was accustomed to
+say that the happiest period of his life was the first winter spent in
+Elliesland. The neighboring farmers and gentlemen, pleased to obtain for a
+neighbor the poet by whose works they had been delighted, kindly sought
+his company, and invited him to their houses. Burns, however, found an
+inexpressible charm in sitting down beside his wife, at his own fireside;
+in wandering over his own grounds; in once more putting his hand to the
+spade and the plough; in farming his enclosures, and managing his cattle.
+For some months he felt almost all that felicity which fancy had taught
+him to expect in his new situation. He had been for a time idle; but his
+muscles were not yet unbraced for rural toil. He now seemed to find a joy
+in being the husband of the mistress of his affections, and in seeing
+himself the father of children such as promised to attach him for ever to
+that modest, humble, and domestic life, in which alone he could hope to be
+permanently happy. Even his engagements in the service of excise did not,
+at first, threaten either to contaminate the poet or to ruin the farmer.
+
+From various causes, the farming speculation did not succeed. Indeed, from
+the time he obtained a situation under government, he gradually began to
+sink the farmer in the exciseman. Occasionally he assisted in the rustic
+occupations of Elliesland, but for the most part he was engaged in very
+different pursuits. In his professional perambulations over the moors of
+Dumfries-shire he had to encounter temptations which a mind and
+temperament like his found it difficult to resist. His immortal works had
+made him universally known and enthusiastically admired; and accordingly
+he was a welcome guest at every house, from the most princely mansion to
+the lowest country inn. In the latter he was too frequently to be found as
+the presiding genius, and master of the orgies. However, he still
+continued at intervals to cultivate the muse; and, besides a variety of
+other pieces, he produced at this period the inimitable poem of Tam
+O'Shanter. Johnson's Miscellany was also indebted to him for the finest of
+its lyrics. One pleasing trait of his character must not be overlooked. He
+superintended the formation of a subscription library in the parish, and
+took the whole management of it upon himself. These institutions, though
+common now, were not so short at the period of which we write; and it
+should never be forgotten that Burns was amongst the first, if not the
+very first, of their founders in the rural districts of southern Scotland.
+
+Towards the close of 1791 he finally abandoned his farm; and obtaining an
+appointment to the Dumfries division of excise, he repaired to that town
+on a salary of £70 per annum. All his principal biographers concur in
+stating that after settling in Dumfries his moral career was downwards.
+Heron, who had some acquaintance with the matter, says, "His dissipation
+became still more deeply habitual; he was here more exposed than in the
+country to be solicited to share the revels of the dissolute and the idle;
+foolish young men flocked eagerly about him, and from time to time pressed
+him to drink with them, that they might enjoy his wit. The Caledonia Club,
+too, and the Dumfries-shire and Galloway Hunt, had occasional meetings in
+Dumfries after Burns went to reside there: and the poet was of course
+invited to share their conviviality, and hesitated not to accept the
+invitation. In the intervals between his different fits of intemperance,
+he suffered the keenest anguish of remorse, and horribly afflictive
+foresight. His Jane behaved with a degree of conjugal and maternal
+tenderness and prudence, which made him feel more bitterly the evil of his
+misconduct, although they could not reclaim him."
+
+This is a dark picture--perhaps too dark. The Rev. Mr. Gray, who, as the
+teacher of his son, was intimately acquainted with Burns, and had frequent
+opportunities of judging of his general character and deportment, gives a
+more amiable portrait of the bard. Being an eye-witness, the testimony of
+this gentleman must be allowed to have some weight. "The truth is," says
+he, "Burns was seldom _intoxicated_. The drunkard soon becomes besotted,
+and is shunned even by the convivial. Had he been so, he could not have
+long continued the idol of every party." This is strong reasoning; and he
+goes on to mention other circumstances which seem to confirm the truth of
+his position. In balancing these two statements, a juster estimate of the
+moral deportment of Burns may be formed.
+
+In the year 1792 party politics ran to a great height in Scotland, and the
+liberal and independent spirit of Burns did certainly betray him into some
+indiscretions. A general opinion prevails, that he so far lost the good
+graces of his superiors by his conduct, as to consider all prospects of
+future promotion as hopeless. But this appears not to have been the case;
+and the fact that he acted as supervisor before his death is a strong
+proof to the contrary. Of his political verses, few have as yet been
+published. But in these he warmly espoused the cause of the Whigs, which
+kept up the spleen of the other party, already sufficiently provoked; and
+this may in some measure account for the bitterness with which his own
+character was attacked.
+
+Whatever opinion may be formed of the extent of his dissipation in
+Dumfries, one fact is unquestionable, that his powers remained unimpaired
+to the last; it was there he produced his finest lyrics, and they are the
+finest, as well as the purest, that ever delighted mankind. Besides
+Johnson's _Museum_, in which he took an interest to the last, and to which
+he contributed most extensively, he formed a connection with Mr. George
+Thomson, of Edinburgh. This gentleman had conceived the laudable design of
+collecting the national melodies of Scotland, with accompaniments by the
+most eminent composers, and poetry by the best writers, in addition to
+those words which were originally attached to them. From the multitude of
+songs which Burns wrote, from the year 1792 till the commencement of his
+illness, it is evident that few days could have passed without his
+producing some stanzas for the work. The following passage from his
+correspondence, which was also most extensive, proves that his songs were
+not hurriedly got up, but composed with the utmost care and attention.
+"Until I am complete master of a tune in my own singing, such as it is,"
+says he, "I can never compose for it. My way is this: I consider the
+poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression--then
+choose my theme--compose one stanza. When that is composed, which is
+generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out--sit down
+now and then--look out for objects in nature round me that are in unison
+or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my
+bosom--humming every now and then the air, with the verses I have framed.
+When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside
+of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper; swinging at intervals
+on the hind legs of my elbow-chair, by way of calling forth my own
+critical strictures, as my pen goes. Seriously, this, at home, is almost
+invariably my way." This is not only interesting for the light which it
+throws upon his method of composition, but it proves that conviviality had
+not as yet greater charms for him than the muse.
+
+From his youth Burns had exhibited ominous symptoms of a radical disorder
+in his constitution. A palpitation of the heart, and a derangement of the
+digestive organs, were conspicuous. These were, doubtless, increased by
+his indulgences, which became more frequent as he drew towards the close
+of his career. In the autumn of 1795 he lost an only daughter, which was
+a severe blow to him. Soon afterwards he was seized with a rheumatic
+fever; and "long the die spun doubtful," says he, in a letter to his
+faithful friend Mrs. Dunlap, "until, after many weeks of a sick bed, it
+seems to have turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room."
+The cloud behind which his sun was destined to be eclipsed at noon had
+begun to darken above him. Before he had completely recovered, he had the
+imprudence to join a festive circle; and, on his return from it, he caught
+a cold, which brought back his trouble upon him with redoubled severity.
+Sea-bathing was had recourse to, but with no ultimate success. He lingered
+until the 21st of July, 1796, when he expired. The interest which the
+death of Burns excited was intense. All differences were forgotten; his
+genius only was thought of. On the 26th of the same month he was conveyed
+to the grave, followed by about ten thousand individuals of all ranks,
+many of whom had come from distant parts of the country to witness the
+solemnity. He was interred with military honors by the Dumfries
+volunteers, to which body he had belonged.
+
+Thus, at the age of thirty-seven, an age when the mental powers of man
+have scarcely reached their climax, died Robert Burns, one of the greatest
+poets whom his country has produced. It is unnecessary to enter into any
+lengthened analysis of his poetry or character. His works are universally
+known and admired, and criticism has been drawn to the dregs upon the
+subject; and that, too, by the greatest masters who have appeared since
+his death,--no mean test of the great merits of his writings. He excels
+equally in touching the heart by the exquisiteness of his pathos, and
+exciting the risible faculties by the breadth of his humor. His lyre had
+many strings, and he had equal command over them all; striking each, and
+frequently in chords, with the skill and power of a master. That his
+satire sometimes degenerates into coarse invective, can not be denied; but
+where personality is not permitted to interfere, his poems of this
+description may take their place beside any thing of the kind which has
+ever been produced, without being disgraced by the comparison. It is
+unnecessary to re-echo the praises of his best pieces, as there is no
+epithet of admiration which has not been bestowed upon them. Those who had
+best opportunities of judging, are of opinion that his works, stamped as
+they are with the impress of sovereign genius, fall short of the powers he
+possessed. It is therefore to be lamented that he undertook no great work
+of fiction or invention. Had circumstances permitted, he would probably
+have done so; but his excise duties, and without doubt his own follies,
+prevented him. His passions were strong, and his capacity of enjoyment
+corresponded with them. These continually precipitated him into the
+variety of pleasure, where alone they could be gratified; and the reaction
+consequent upon such indulgences (for he possessed the finest
+discrimination between right and wrong) threw him into low spirits, to
+which he was also constitutionally liable. His mind, being thus never for
+any length of time in an equable tone, could scarcely pursue with steady
+regularity a work of any length. His moral aberrations, as detailed by
+some of his biographers, have been exaggerated, as already noticed. This
+has been proved by the testimony of many witnesses, from whose authority
+there can be no appeal; for they had the best opportunities of judging.
+In fine, it may be doubted whether he has not, by his writings, exercised
+a greater power over the minds of men, and the general system of life,
+than has been exercised by any other modern poet. A complete edition of
+his works, in four vols. 8vo., with a life, was published by Dr. Currie of
+Liverpool, for the benefit of his family, to whom it realized a handsome
+sum. Editions have been since multiplied beyond number; and several
+excellent biographies of the poet have been published, particularly that
+by Mr. Lockhart.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE OF BURNS.[1]
+
+_PART SECOND._
+
+
+In the modern arrangements of society, it is no uncommon thing that a man
+of genius must, like Butler, "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, and more 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; 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!
+
+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 neighbour of John a Combe's, had snatched an hour or two from the
+preservation of his game, and written us a Life of Shakspeare! 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 honourable Excise Commissioners, and the Gentlemen of the
+Caledonian Hunt, and the Dumfries Aristocracy, and all the Squires and
+Earls, equally with the Ayr Writers, 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 fare 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 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 honour 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 this: 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
+written on the very popular and condensed scheme of an article for
+_Constable's Miscellany_, 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
+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.
+
+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 coexisting 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
+goodwill, and trust they may meet with acceptance from those for whom they
+are intended.
+
+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, 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
+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 for ever 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 the pick-axe; 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 for his standard of beauty, he sinks not under all
+these impediments. Through the fogs and darkness of that obscure region,
+his eagle 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 irrepressible movement of his inward spirit,
+he 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; 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: time and means were not lent him for 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 race with whom 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.
+
+Such a gift had Nature in her bounty bestowed on us in Robert Burns; but
+with queen-like indifference she cast it from her hand, like a thing of no
+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 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." 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_." 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 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 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." 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 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 wiredrawn 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 he has lived and labored 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,
+too, 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_, 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.
+
+This may appear a very simple principle, and one 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, and 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? Surely, all these stormful agonies, this
+volcanic heroism, superhuman contempt, and moody desperation, with so much
+scowling, and teeth-gnashing, and other sulphurous humors, 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 and affected, in every
+one of these otherwise 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.
+
+It is necessary, however, to mention, that 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 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 Shakspeare 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 Scottish 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. 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 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
+foregoing. It 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 for ever
+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 world, that poetry resides for him; 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 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 out of his
+native Greece, and two centuries before he was born; or because he wrote
+of 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 object; is it not so?--they
+have nothing to hope, but an ephemeral favor, even from the highest.
+
+The poet, we cannot but think, 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 to live. Is there not the
+fifth act of a Tragedy, in every death-bed, 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 can not
+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 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 other things, he must see the world. As to
+seeing the world, we apprehend this will cause him little difficulty, if
+he have but an eye to see it with. Without eyes, indeed, the task might be
+hard. 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, 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, soon after that date, vanished from the earth,
+and became no longer attainable by men! Such cobweb speculations have, now
+and then, overhung the field of literature; but they obstruct not the
+growth of any plant there: the Shakspeare 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 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 battle-fields 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. 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, and 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 in him 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 prompt
+and eager 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 can not 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 is not more expressive or exact.
+
+This clearness of sight we may call 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 powers. 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 an humble but the readiest proof. Who
+ever 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. Our Scottish forefathers in
+the battle-field struggled forward, he says, "_red-wat shod_;" giving, 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, as in his feelings and volitions. Professor Stewart says of
+him, with some surprise: "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 extreme sensibility, and a certain vague pervading 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. The feelings, the gifts, 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 all men, with power, but by being still more a man than they?
+Shakspeare, 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 judgment: for
+it dwelt among the humblest objects, never saw philosophy, and never rose,
+except for short intervals, into the region of great ideas. Nevertheless,
+sufficient indication remains for us in his works: we discern the brawny
+movement 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 relation 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 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 subtiler 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 hare-bell, the fox-glove, 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, and a world of weal
+or wo beyond death and the grave."
+
+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 probably require this;
+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 curlew,"
+are all 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,
+                Beneath a scaur.
+
+  Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing,
+  That in the merry month o' spring
+  Delighted me to hear thee sing,
+                What comes o' thee?
+  Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing,
+                And close thy ee?"
+
+The tenant of the mean hut, with its "ragged roof and chinky wall," 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!"
+
+He did not know, probably, that Sterne had been beforehand with him. "'He
+is the father of curses and lies,' said Dr. Slop; 'and is cursed and
+damned already.'--'I am sorry for it,' quoth my uncle Toby!"--"A poet
+without Love, were a physical and metaphysical impossibility."
+
+Why should we speak of _Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled_; since all know
+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, forebore 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 of the whirlwind.
+So long as there is warm blood in the heart of a 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 co-operates. For was not this grim Celt, this
+shaggy Northland Cacus, 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, was
+material Fate matched against man's Free-will; matched in bitterest though
+obscure duel; and the ethereal soul sunk 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 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 and thinner 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; 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 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,
+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. 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 public-house 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,
+painted on ale-vapors, and the farce 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 "Shakspearian"
+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,
+and soft of movement; yet sharp and precise in its details; every face is
+a portrait: that _raucle carlin_, that _wee Apollo_, that _Son of Mars_,
+are Scottish, yet ideal; the scene is at once a dream, and the very
+Rag-castle of "Poosie-Nansie." 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, and flaming light, these rough tatterdemalions are seen in their
+boisterous revel; for the strong pulse of 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 ring from Fate another hour of wassail and good cheer. 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_, in
+the _Beggar's Bush_, as other critics 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 the least
+obstruction; in its highest beauty, and pure sunny clearness. The reason
+may be, that Song is a brief and simple species of composition: and
+requires nothing so much for its perfection as genuine poetic feeling,
+genuine music of heart. 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 Ossorius the Portugal Bishop, 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 outward, 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
+outside 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 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 Shakspeare
+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 slyest mirth; and yet he is sweet and soft,
+"sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, and soft as their parting
+tear!" If we farther 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 for _Mary in Heaven_; from
+the glad kind greeting of _Auld Langsyne_, 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 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 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 the ends of the earth
+speak a British language. In hut and hall, as the heart unfolds itself in
+the joy and wo of existence, the name, the voice of that joy and that wo,
+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 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 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 Thomas Boston was
+writing, with the noblest intent, but alike in defiance of grammar and
+philosophy, his _Fourfold State of Man_. Then came the schisms in our
+National Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body Politic: Theologic
+ink, and Jacobite blood, with gaul 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, and a tolerably
+clumsy one, 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. Hume was too rich a man to borrow; and
+perhaps he reached on the French more than he was acted on by them: but
+neither had he aught to do with Scotland; Edinburgh, equally with La
+Flèche, 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 Rent," to the "Natural History of Religion," are thrashed and
+sifted with the same mechanical impartiality!
+
+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, 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. 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," 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 most toilsome journeyings, this object never quits him; it
+is the little happy-valley of his careworn heart. In the gloom of his own
+affliction, he eagerly searches after some lonely brother of the muse, and
+rejoices to snatch one other name from the oblivion that was covering it!
+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.
+
+But to leave the mere literary character of Burns, which has already
+detained us too long, we cannot but think that the Life he willed, and was
+fated to lead among his fellow-men, is both more interesting and
+instructive than any of his written works. 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, porticoes, firm masses of building, stand
+completed; the rest more or less clearly indicated; with many a
+far-stretching 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. 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 report.
+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
+comparitively insignificant ground of his being more 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
+steady himself for any fixed or systematic pursuit, but swerves to and
+fro, between passionate hope, and remorseful disappointment: rushing
+onwards 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 develope 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, therefore, 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 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, open-minded 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. Unfortunately, he was very poor; had he been even a little richer,
+almost ever 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! 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 plough-boy, and British literature took its own course.
+Nevertheless, even in this rugged scene, there is much to nourish him. If
+he drudges, it is 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;" 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!"
+
+We know, from the best evidence, that up to this date, Burns was happy;
+nay, that he was the gayest, brightest, most fantastic, fascinating being
+to be found in the world; more so even than he ever afterwards appeared.
+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 service, but only our determining to desert from it, that
+fits 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! 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, at all events, 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 free-minded 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 conjurors 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 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" from within, he had little need
+of skeptical 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
+worldings 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 the 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," 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:
+  The bursting tears my heart declare;
+  Adieu, my native banks of Ayr!"
+
+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 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," 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 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."
+
+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 _Vergilium vidi
+tantum_. I was a lad of fifteen in 1786-7, 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,
+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, representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog
+sitting in misery on one side,--on the other, his widow, 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 baptized 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." 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 picture: but to me it conveys
+the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his
+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.
+
+"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 any thing I
+can add to these recollections of forty years since."
+
+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 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 enough 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, 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 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 mere 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 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: and it was a question which 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; and that we should be at a loss, even now, to suggest one decidedly
+better. Some of his admirers, indeed, are scandalized at his ever
+resolving to _gauge_; and would have had him apparently lie still at the
+pool, till the spirit of Patronage should stir the waters, and then heal
+with one plunge all his worldly sorrows! We fear such counsellors knew but
+little of Burns; and did not consider that happiness might in all cases be
+cheaply had by waiting for the fulfilment of golden dreams, were it not
+that in the interim the dreamer 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." We think, then, 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. Nay, after all, it was no
+failure of external means, but of internal, that overtook Burns. His was
+no bankruptcy of the purse, but of the soul; to his last day, he owed no
+man any thing.
+
+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 his 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 birth-right, 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,[2]
+all manner of fashionable danglers after literature, and, far worse, all
+manner of convivial Mecænases, 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 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 guide, 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
+him! For is he not a well-wisher of 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. Nay, his convivial Mecænases 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
+intrusion 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 country, 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 country 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:
+
+  'His bonnet stood ance fu' fair on his brow,
+  His auld ane looked 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 galloping 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."
+
+Alas! when we think that Burns now sleeps "where bitter indignation can no
+longer lacerate his heart,"[3] and that most of these 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 ought 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 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 at 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," 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 for ever.
+
+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 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, 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
+really 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! 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: and we may question, whether, without great precautions,
+even a pension 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 further, 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
+Shakspeare; as King Charles and his cavaliers did Butler, as King Philip
+and his Grandees did Cervantes. Do men gather grapes of thorns? 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?" 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, 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 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," 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.
+
+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 reviling, the prison, the cross, the poison-chalice, have, in most
+times and countries, been the market-place 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. So
+neglected, so "persecuted they the Prophets," 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
+therefore 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 wo: yet many men, in all ages, have triumphed over
+Death, and led it captive; 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 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.
+
+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 any thing, by halves.
+The heart, not of a mere hot-blooded, popular verse-monger, or poetical
+_Restaurateur_, 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 skepticism, 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 repel or resist; 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 have lost it, without
+reconciling them here.
+
+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. Did not Cervantes finish his work, a
+maimed soldier, and in prison? Nay, was not the _Araucana_, which Spain
+acknowledges as its Epic, written without even the aid of paper; 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 shrunk 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 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 a 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 for ever 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 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." 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 with the coarse roar
+of altogether earthly voices, and 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
+_a-muck_ 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 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 house-top 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 also is
+Byron's grand exemplar, the hero of his poetry, and the model apparently
+of his conduct. 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 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." 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 for him. Let him dwindle into a modish balladmonger;
+let him worship and be-sing 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 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 Drayhorse? 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 reflection 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 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; and the pilot is therefore blameworthy; for 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.
+
+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
+man. While the Shakspeares 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 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!
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] A review of the Life of Robert Burns. By J. G. Lockhart, LL. B.
+Edinburgh, 1828.
+
+[2] There is one little sketch 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 great-coat 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 fox-skin cap,
+loose and quite Hibernian watch-coat 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 tendency to seek for distinction,
+either in his own eyes, or those of others, by such poor mummeries.
+
+[3] _Ubi sæva indignatio cor ulterius lacerare nequit._--Swift's Epitaph.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
+
+The following misprints have been corrected:
+  "aquaintances" corrected to "acquaintances" (page 34)
+  "acqaintance" corrected to "acquaintance" (page 66)
+  "Aristrocracy" corrected to "Aristocracy" (page 67)
+
+Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in spelling and
+hyphenation have been retained from the original.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS***
+
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Life of Robert Burns, by Thomas Carlyle</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Life of Robert Burns</p>
+<p>Author: Thomas Carlyle</p>
+<p>Release Date: May 9, 2011  [eBook #36074]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10">
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+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
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+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/lifeofrobertburn00carl">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/lifeofrobertburn00carl</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td>
+      <h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4>
+      <p>Text marked by a gray underscore is the site of a correction.
+      Hover the cursor over the text, and the nature of the correction
+      should appear.</p>
+      <p>Otherwise, inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have
+      been retained from the original.</p>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="large">Life of</span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="giant">Robert Burns.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><small>MOSTLY BY</small></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">Thomas Carlyle.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">New York:<br />
+<span class="smcap">Delisser &amp; Procter</span>, 508 Broadway.<br />1859.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+<h2>EDITOR&#8217;S PREFACE.</h2>
+
+<p>The readers of the &#8220;Household Library&#8221; will certainly welcome a Life of
+Burns. That his soul was of the real heroic stamp, no one who is familiar
+with his imperishable lyric poetry, will deny.</p>
+
+<p>This Life of the great Scottish bard is composed of two parts. The first
+part, which is brief, and gives merely his external life, is taken from
+the &#8220;Encyclopedia Britannica.&#8221; The principle object of it, in this place,
+is to prepare the reader for what follows. The second part is a grand
+spiritual portrait of Burns, the like of which the ages have scarcely
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>produced; the equal of which, in our opinion, does not exist. In fact,
+since men began to write and publish their thoughts in this world, no one
+has appeared who equals Carlyle as a spiritual-portrait painter; and,
+taken all in all, this of his gifted countryman Burns is his master-piece.
+I should not dare to say how many times I have perused it, and always with
+new wonder and delight. I once read it in the Manfrini Palace, at Venice,
+sitting before Titian&#8217;s portrait of Ariosto. Great is the contrast between
+the Songs of Burns and the <i>Rime</i> of the Italian poet, between the fine
+spiritual perception of Carlyle&#8217;s mind and the delicate touch of Titian&#8217;s
+hand, between picturesque expression and an expressive picture; yet this
+very antithesis seemed to prepare my mind for the full enjoyment of both
+these famous portraits; the sombre majesty of northern genius seemed to
+heighten and be heightened by the sunset glow of the genius of the south.</p>
+
+<p>Besides giving the article from the &#8220;Encyclopedia Britannica,&#8221; as a kind
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>of frame for the portrait of Burns, we will here add, from the &#8220;English
+Cyclopedia,&#8221; a sketch of Carlyle&#8217;s life. A severe taste may find it a
+little out of place, yet we must be allowed to consult the wishes of those
+for whom these little volumes are designed.</p>
+
+
+<p><br />Carlyle, (Thomas,) a thinker and writer, confessedly among the most
+original and influential that Britain has produced, was born in the parish
+of Middlebie, near the village of Ecclefechan, in Dumfries-shire,
+Scotland, on the 4th of December, 1795. His father, a man of remarkable
+force of character, was a small farmer in comfortable circumstances; his
+mother was also no ordinary person. The eldest son of a considerable
+family, he received an education the best in its kind that Scotland could
+then afford&mdash;the education of a pious and industrious home, supplemented
+by that of school and college. (Another son of the family, Dr. John A.
+Carlyle, a younger brother of Thomas, was educated in a similar manner,
+and, after practising for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> many years as a physician in Germany and Rome,
+has recently become known in British literature as the author of the best
+prose translation of Dante.) After a few years spent at the ordinary
+parish school, Thomas was sent, in his thirteenth or fourteenth year, to
+the grammar school of the neighboring town of Annan; and here it was that
+he first became acquainted with a man destined, like himself, to a career
+of great celebrity. &#8220;The first time I saw Edward Irving,&#8221; writes Mr.
+Carlyle in 1835, &#8220;was six-and-twenty years ago, in his native town, Annan.
+He was fresh from Edinburgh, with college prizes, high character, and
+promise: he had come to see our school-master, who had also been his. We
+heard of famed professors&mdash;of high matters, classical, mathematical&mdash;a
+whole Wonderland of knowledge; nothing but joy, health, hopefulness
+without end, looked out from the blooming young man.&#8221; Irving was then
+sixteen years of age, Carlyle fourteen; and from that time till Irving&#8217;s
+sad and premature death, the two were intimate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> and constant friends. It
+was not long before Carlyle followed Irving to that &#8220;Wonderland of
+Knowledge,&#8221; the University of Edinburgh, of which, and its &#8220;famed
+professors,&#8221; he had received such tidings. If the description of the
+nameless German university, however, in &#8220;Sartor Resartus,&#8221; is to be
+supposed as allusive also to Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s own reminiscences of his
+training at Edinburgh, he seems afterwards to have held the more formal or
+academic part of that training in no very high respect. &#8220;What vain jargon
+of controversial metaphysic, etymology, and mechanical manipulation,
+falsely named science, was current there,&#8221; says Teufelsdr&ouml;ckh; &#8220;I indeed
+learned better perhaps than most.&#8221; At Edinburgh, the professor of
+&#8220;controversial metaphysic&#8221; in Carlyle&#8217;s day, was Dr. Thomas Brown, Dugald
+Stewart having then just retired; physical science and mathematics, were
+represented by Playfair and Sir John Leslie, and classical studies by men
+less known to fame. While at college, Carlyle&#8217;s special bent, so far as
+the work of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> classes was concerned, seems to have been to mathematics
+and natural philosophy. But it is rather by his voluntary studies and
+readings, apart from the work of the classes, that Mr. Carlyle, in his
+youth, laid the foundation of his vast and varied knowledge. The college
+session in Edinburgh extends over about half the year, from November to
+April; and during these months, the college library, and other such
+libraries as were accessible, were laid under contribution by him to an
+extent till then hardly paralleled by any Scottish student. Works on
+science and mathematics, works on philosophy, histories of all ages, and
+the great classics of British literature, were read by him miscellaneously
+or in orderly succession; and it was at this period, also, if we are not
+mistaken, he commenced his studies&mdash;not very usual then in Scotland&mdash;in
+the foreign languages of modern Europe. With the same diligence, and in
+very much the same way, were the summer vacations employed, during which
+he generally returned to his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>father&#8217;s house in Dumfries-shire, or rambled
+among the hills and moors of that neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carlyle had begun his studies with a view to entering the Scottish
+Church. About the time, however, when these studies were nearly ended, and
+when, according to the ordinary routine, he might have become a preacher,
+a change of views induced him to abandon the intended profession. This
+appears to have been about the year 1819 or 1820, when he was twenty-four
+years of age. For some time, he seems to have been uncertain as to his
+future course. Along with Irving, he employed himself for a year or two,
+as a teacher in Fifeshire; but gradually it became clear to him, that his
+true vocation was that of literature. Accordingly, parting from Irving,
+about the year 1822, the younger Scot of Annandale, deliberately embraced
+the alternative open to him, and became a general man of letters. Probably
+few have ever embraced that profession with qualifications so wide, or
+with aims so high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> and severe. Apart altogether from his diligence in
+learning, and from the extraordinary amount of acquired knowledge of all
+kinds, which was the fruit of it, there had been remarked in him, from the
+first, a strong originality of character, a noble earnestness and fervor
+in all that he said or did, and a vein of inherent constitutional contempt
+for the mean and the frivolous, inclining him, in some degree, to a life
+of isolation and solitude. Add to this, that his acquaintance with German
+literature, in particular, had familiarized him with ideas, modes of
+thinking, and types of literary character, not then generally known in
+this country, and yet, in his opinion, more deserving of being known than
+much of a corresponding kind that was occupying and ruling British
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>The first period of Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s literary life may be said to extend from
+1822 to 1827, or from his twenty-sixth to his thirty-second year. It was
+during this period that he produced (besides a translation of Legendre&#8217;s
+&#8220;Geometry,&#8221; to which he prefixed an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> &#8220;Essay on Proportion,&#8221;) his numerous
+well-known translations from German writers, and also his &#8220;Life of
+Schiller.&#8221; The latter and a considerable proportion of the former, were
+written by him during the leisure afforded him by an engagement he had
+formed in 1823, as tutor to Charles Buller, whose subsequent brilliant
+though brief career in the politics of Britain, gives interest to this
+connection. The first part of the &#8220;Life of Schiller&#8221; appeared originally
+in the &#8220;London Magazine,&#8221; of which John Scott was editor, and Hazlitt,
+Charles Lamb, Allan Cunningham, De Quincey, and Hood, were the best known
+supporters; and the second and third parts, were published in the same
+magazine in 1824. In this year appeared also the translation of G&ouml;the&#8217;s
+&#8220;Wilhelm Meister,&#8221; which was published by Messrs. Oliver and Boyd, of
+Edinburgh, without the translator&#8217;s name. This translation, the first real
+introduction of G&ouml;the to the reading world of Great Britain, attracted
+much notice. &#8220;The translator,&#8221; said a critic in &#8220;Blackwood,&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> &#8220;is, we
+understand, a young gentleman in this city, who now for the first time
+appears before the public. We congratulate him on his very promising
+debut; and would fain hope to receive a series of really good translations
+from his hand. He has evidently a perfect knowledge of German; he already
+writes English better than is at all common, even at this time; and we
+know of no exercise more likely to produce effects of permanent advantage
+upon a young mind of intellectual ambition.&#8221; The advice here given to Mr.
+Carlyle by his critic, was followed by him in so far that, in 1827, he
+published in Edinburgh, his &#8220;Specimens of German Romance,&#8221; in four
+volumes; one of these containing &#8220;Wilhelm Meister&#8217;s Wanderjahre,&#8221; as a
+fresh specimen of G&ouml;the; the others containing tales from Jean Paul,
+Tieck, Mus&aelig;us, and Hoffman. Meanwhile, in 1825, Mr. Carlyle had revised
+and enlarged his &#8220;Life of Schiller,&#8221; and given it to the world in a
+separate form, through the press of Messrs. Taylor and Hessay, the
+proprietors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> of the &#8220;London Magazine.&#8221; In the same year, quitting his
+tutorship of Charles Buller, he had married a lady fitted in a pre-eminent
+degree to be the wife of such a man. (It is interesting to know that Mrs.
+Carlyle, originally Miss Welch, is a lineal descendent of the Scottish
+Reformer, Knox.) For some time after the marriage, Mr. Carlyle continued
+to reside in Edinburgh; but before 1827 he removed to Craigenputtoch, a
+small property in the most solitary part of Dumfries-shire.</p>
+
+<p>The second period of Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s literary life, extending from 1827 to
+1834, or from his thirty-second to his thirty-ninth year, was the period
+of the first decided manifestations of his extraordinary originality as a
+thinker. Probably the very seclusion in which he lived helped to develope,
+in stronger proportions, his native and peculiar tendencies. The following
+account of his place and mode of life at this time was sent by him, in
+1828, to G&ouml;the, with whom he was then in correspondence, and was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>published by the great German in the preface to a German translation of
+the &#8220;Life of Schiller,&#8221; executed under his immediate care:&mdash;&#8220;Dumfries is a
+pleasant town, containing about fifteen thousand inhabitants, and to be
+considered the centre of the trade and judicial system of a district which
+possesses some importance in the sphere of Scottish activity. Our
+residence is not in the town itself, but fifteen miles to the northwest of
+it, among the granite hills and the black morasses which stretch westward
+through Galloway almost to the Irish Sea. In this wilderness of heath and
+rock, our estate stands forth a green oasis, a tract of ploughed, partly
+inclosed and planted ground, where corn ripens and trees afford a shade,
+although surrounded by sea-mews and rough-woolled sheep. Here, with no
+small effort, have we built and furnished a neat, substantial dwelling;
+here, in the absence of a professional or other office, we live to
+cultivate literature according to our strength, and in our own peculiar
+way. We wish a joyful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> growth to the roses and flowers of our garden; we
+hope for health and peaceful thoughts to further our aims. The roses,
+indeed, are still in part to be planted, but they blossom already in
+anticipation. Two ponies which carry us every where, and the mountain air,
+are the best medicine for weak nerves. This daily exercise, to which I am
+much devoted, is my only recreation; for this nook of ours is the
+loneliest in Britain&mdash;six miles removed from any one likely to visit me.
+Here Rousseau would have been as happy as on his island of Saint-Pierre.
+My town friends, indeed, ascribe my sojourn here to a similar disposition,
+and forbode me no good result; but I came hither solely with the design to
+simplify my way of life, and to secure the independence through which I
+could be enabled to remain true to myself. This bit of earth is our own;
+here we can live, write, and think, as best pleases ourselves, even though
+Zoilus himself were to be crowned the monarch of literature. Nor is the
+solitude of such great importance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> for a stage-coach takes us speedily to
+Edinburgh, which we look upon as our British Weimar; and have I not, too,
+at this moment, piled upon the table of my little library, a whole
+cart-load of French, German, American, and English journals and
+periodicals&mdash;whatever may be their worth? Of antiquarian studies, too,
+there is no lack.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Before this letter was written, Mr. Carlyle had already begun the
+well-known series of his contributions to the &#8220;Edinburgh Review.&#8221; The
+first of these was his essay on &#8220;Jean Paul,&#8221; which appeared in 1827; and
+was followed by his striking article on &#8220;German Literature,&#8221; and by his
+singularly beautiful essay on &#8220;Burns&#8221; (1828). Other essays in the same
+periodical followed, as well as articles in the &#8220;Foreign Quarterly
+Review,&#8221; which was established in 1828, and shorter articles of less
+importance in Brewster&#8217;s &#8220;Edinburgh Encyclopedia,&#8221; then in course of
+publication. Externally, in short, at this time, Mr. Carlyle was a writer
+for reviews and magazines, choosing to live,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> for the convenience of his
+work and the satisfaction of his own tastes, in a retired nook of
+Scotland, whence he could correspond with his friends, occasionally visit
+the nearest of them, and occasionally also receive visits from them in
+turn. Among the friends whom he saw in his occasional visits to Edinburgh,
+were Jeffrey, Wilson, and other literary celebrities of that capital (Sir
+Walter Scott, we believe, he never met otherwise than casually in the
+streets); among the more distant friends who visited him, none was more
+welcome than the American Emerson, who, having already been attracted to
+him by his writings, made a journey to Dumfries-shire, during his first
+visit to England, expressly to see him; and of his foreign correspondents,
+the most valued by far was G&ouml;the, whose death in 1832, and that of Scott
+in the same year, impressed him deeply, and were finely commemorated by
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, though thus ostensibly but an occasional contributor to
+periodicals, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> Carlyle was silently throwing his whole strength into a
+work which was to reveal him in a far other character than that of a mere
+literary critic, however able and profound. This was his &#8220;Sartor
+Resartus;&#8221; or, an imaginary History of the Life and Opinions of Herr
+Teufelsdr&ouml;ckh, an eccentric German professor and philosopher. Under this
+quaint guise (the name &#8220;Sartor Resartus&#8221; being, it would appear, a
+translation into Latin of &#8220;The Tailor done over,&#8221; which is the title of an
+old Scottish song), Mr. Carlyle propounded, in a style half-serious and
+half-grotesque, and in a manner far more bold and trenchant than the rules
+of review-writing permitted, his own philosophy of life and society in
+almost all their bearings. The work was truly an anomaly in British
+literature, exhibiting a combination of deep, speculative power, poetical
+genius, and lofty moral purpose, with wild and riotous humor and shrewd
+observation and satire, such as had rarely been seen; and coming into the
+midst of the more conventional British <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>literature of the day, it was like
+a fresh but barbaric blast from the hills and moorlands amid which it had
+been conceived. But the very strangeness and originality of the work
+prevented it from finding a publisher; and after the manuscript had been
+returned by several London firms to whom it was offered, the author was
+glad to cut it into parts and publish it piecemeal in &#8220;Frazer&#8217;s Magazine.&#8221;
+Here it appeared in the course of 1833-34, scandalising most readers by
+its Gothic mode of thought and its extraordinary torture, as it was
+called, of the English language; but eagerly read by some sympathetic
+minds, who discerned in the writer a new power in literature, and wondered
+who and what he was.</p>
+
+<p>With the publication of the &#8220;Sartor Resartus&#8221; papers, the third period of
+Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s literary life may be said to begin. It was during the
+negotiations for the publication that he was led to contemplate removing
+to London&mdash;a step which he finally took, we believe, in 1834. Since that
+year&mdash;the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> thirty-ninth of his life&mdash;Mr. Carlyle has permanently resided
+in London, in a house situated in one of the quiet streets running at
+right angles to the River Thames, at Chelsea. The change into the bustle
+of London, from the solitude of Craigenputtoch was, externally, a great
+one. In reality, however, it was less than it seemed. A man in the prime
+of life, when he came to reside in the metropolis, he brought into its
+roar and confusion, not the restless spirit of a young adventurer, but the
+settled energy of one who had ascertained his strength, and fixed his
+methods and his aims.</p>
+
+<p>Among the Maginns and others who contributed to &#8220;Frazer,&#8221; he at once took
+his place as a man rather to influence than be influenced; and gradually,
+as the circle of his acquaintances widened so as to include such notable
+men as John Mill, Sterling, Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and
+others of established or rising fame in all walks of speculation and
+literature, the recognition of his rare personal powers of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> influence
+became more general and deep. In particular, in that London circle, in
+which John Sterling moved, was his personal influence great, even while as
+yet he was but the anonymous author of the &#8220;Sartor Resartus&#8221; papers, and
+of numerous other contributions, also anonymous, to &#8220;Frazer&#8217;s Magazine,&#8221;
+and the &#8220;Edinburgh,&#8221; &#8220;Foreign Quarterly,&#8221; &#8220;British and Foreign,&#8221; and
+&#8220;Westminster,&#8221; Reviews. It was not till 1837, or his forty-second year,
+that his name, already so well known to an inner circle of admirers, was
+openly associated with a work fully proportional to his powers. This was
+his &#8220;French Revolution: a History,&#8221; in three volumes, the extraordinary
+merits of which as at once a history and a gorgeous prose-epic, are known
+to all. In 1838, the &#8220;Sartor Resartus&#8221; papers, already re-published in the
+United States, were put forth, collectively, with his name; and, in the
+same year, his various scattered articles in periodicals, after having
+similarly received the honor of re-publication in America,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> were given to
+the world in four volumes, in their chronological series from 1827 to
+1837, under the title of &#8220;Miscellanies.&#8221; Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s next publication
+was his little tract on &#8220;Chartism,&#8221; published in 1839, in which, to use
+the words of one of his critics, &#8220;he first broke ground on the Condition
+of England question.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>During the time when these successive publications were carrying his name
+through the land, Mr. Carlyle appeared in a new capacity, and delivered
+four courses of lectures in London to select but crowded audiences,
+including many of the aristocracy both of rank and of literature: the
+first, a course on &#8220;German Literature,&#8221; delivered at Willis&#8217;s Rooms in
+1837; the second, a course on &#8220;The History of Literature, or the
+Successive Periods of European Culture,&#8221; delivered in Edward-street,
+Portman-square, in 1838; the third, a course on &#8220;the Revolutions of Modern
+Europe,&#8221; delivered in 1839; and the fourth, a course on &#8220;Heroes,
+Hero-worship, and the Heroic in History,&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> delivered in 1840. This last
+course alone was published; and it became more immediately popular than
+any of the works which had preceded it. It was followed, in 1843, by &#8220;Past
+and Present,&#8221; a work contrasting, in a historico-philosophical spirit,
+English society of the middle ages with English society in our own day;
+and this again, in 1845, by &#8220;Oliver Cromwell&#8217;s Letters and Speeches, with
+elucidations and a connecting narrative;&#8221; such being the unpretending form
+which a work, originally intended to be a history of Cromwell and his
+times, ultimately assumed. By the year 1849, this work had reached a third
+edition. In 1850, appeared the &#8220;Latter-Day Pamphlets,&#8221; in which, more than
+in any previous publication, the author spoke out in the character of a
+social and political censor of his own age. From their very nature, as
+stern denunciations of what the author considered contemporary fallacies,
+wrongs, and hypocrisies, these pamphlets produced a storm of critical
+indignation against Mr. Carlyle, which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> still raging, when, in 1851,
+he gave to the world his &#8220;Life of John Sterling.&#8221; While we write (April,
+1856) this, with the exception of some papers in periodicals, is the last
+publication that has proceeded from his pen; but at the present the
+British public are anxiously expecting a &#8220;History of the Life and Times of
+Frederick the Great,&#8221; in which he is known to have been long engaged. A
+collection of some of the most striking opinions, sentiments, and
+descriptions, contained in all his works hitherto written, has been
+published in a single volume, entitled, &#8220;Passages selected from the
+Writings of Thomas Carlyle,&#8221; (1855,) from the memoir prefixed to which, by
+the editor, Mr. Thomas Ballantyne, we have derived most of the facts for
+this notice.</p>
+
+<p>An appreciation of Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s genius and of his influence on British
+thought and literature, is not to be looked for here, and indeed is hardly
+possible in the still raging conflict of opinions&mdash;one might even say,
+passions and parties&mdash;respecting him. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> following remarks, however, by
+one of his critics, seems to us to express what all must admit to be the
+literal truth:&mdash;&#8220;It is nearly half a generation since Mr. Carlyle became
+an intellectual power in this country; and certainly rarely, if ever, in
+the history of literature, has such a phenomenon been witnessed as that of
+his influence. Throughout the whole atmosphere of this island his spirit
+has diffused itself, so that there is, probably, not an educated man under
+forty years of age, from Caithness to Cornwall, that can honestly say that
+he has not been more or less affected by it. Not to speak of his express
+imitators, one can hardly take up a book or a periodical, without finding
+some expression or some mode of thinking that bears the mint-mark of his
+genius.&#8221; The same critic notices it as a peculiarity in Mr. Carlyle&#8217;s
+literary career, that, whereas most men begin with the vehement and the
+controversial, and gradually become calm and acquiescent in things as they
+are, he began as an artist in pure literature, a critic of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> poetry, song,
+and the drama, and has ended as a vehement moralist and preacher of social
+reforms, disdaining the etiquette and even the name of pure literature,
+and more anxious to rouse than to please. With this development of his
+views of his own functions as a writer, is connected the development of
+his literary style, from the quiet and pleasing, though still solid and
+deep beauty of his earlier writings, to that later and more peculiar, and
+to many, disagreeable form, which has been nicknamed &#8216;the Carlylese.&#8217;</p>
+
+
+<p><br />As all the world knows, two volumes of Carlyle&#8217;s Frederick the Great have
+recently appeared. We might add, from personal acquaintance, many
+anecdotes, but we have learned, during a long residence abroad, to respect
+the hospitality that we have enjoyed.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">O. W. Wight.</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>January, 1859.</i></span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LIFE OF BURNS.</h2>
+<p class="center"><span class="large"><i>PART FIRST.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><br />Robert Burns, the national bard of Scotland, was born on the 25th of
+January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage about two miles south of the town
+of Ayr. He was the eldest son of William Burnes, or Burness, who, at the
+period of Robert&#8217;s birth, was gardener and overseer to a gentleman of
+small estate; but resided on a few acres of land which he had on lease
+from another person. The father was a man of strict religious principles,
+and also distinguished for that penetration and knowledge of mankind
+which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> was afterwards so conspicuous in his son. The mother of the poet
+was likewise a very sagacious woman, and possessed an inexhaustible store
+of ballads and legendary tales, with which she nourished the infant
+imagination of him whose own productions were destined to excel them all.</p>
+
+<p>These worthy individuals labored diligently for the support of an
+increasing family; nor, in the midst of harassing struggles did they
+neglect the mental improvement of their offspring; a characteristic of
+Scottish parents, even under the most depressing circumstances. In his
+sixth year, Robert was put under the tuition of one Campbell, and
+subsequently under Mr. John Murdoch, a very faithful and pains-taking
+teacher. With this individual he remained for a few years, and was
+accurately instructed in the first principles of composition. The poet and
+his brother Gilbert were the aptest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> pupils in the school, and were
+generally at the head of the class. Mr. Murdoch, in afterwards recording
+the impressions which the two brothers made on him, says: &#8220;Gilbert always
+appeared to me to possess a more lively imagination, and to be more of the
+wit, than Robert. I attempted to teach them a little church music. Here
+they were left far behind by all the rest of the school. Robert&#8217;s ear, in
+particular, was remarkably dull, and his voice untunable. It was long
+before I could get them to distinguish one tune from another. Robert&#8217;s
+countenance was generally grave, and expressive of a serious,
+contemplative, and thoughtful mind. Gilbert&#8217;s face said, <i>Mirth, with thee
+I mean to live</i>; and certainly, if any person who knew the two boys had
+been asked which of them was the most likely to court the muses, he would
+never have guessed that <i>Robert</i> had a propensity of that kind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>Besides the tuition of Mr. Murdoch, Burns received instructions from his
+father in writing and arithmetic. Under their joint care, he made rapid
+progress, and was remarkable for the ease with which he committed
+devotional poetry to memory. The following extract from his letter to Dr.
+Moore, in 1787, is interesting, from the light which it throws upon his
+progress as a scholar, and on the formation of his character as a
+poet:&mdash;&#8220;At those years,&#8221; says he, &#8220;I was by no means a favorite with
+anybody. I was a good deal noted for a retentive memory, a stubborn,
+sturdy something in my disposition, and an enthusiastic idiot piety. I say
+idiot piety, because I was then but a child. Though it cost the
+schoolmaster some thrashings, I made an excellent scholar; and by the time
+I was ten or eleven years of age, I was a critic in substantives, verbs,
+and particles. In my infant and boyish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> days, too, I owed much to an old
+woman who resided in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity,
+and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the
+country, of tales and songs, concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies,
+witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths,
+apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other
+trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry; but had so strong an
+effect upon my imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I
+sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places; and though nobody
+can be more skeptical than I am in such matters, yet it often takes an
+effort of philosophy to shake off these idle terrors. The earliest
+composition that I recollect taking pleasure in, was, <i>The Vision of
+Mirza</i>, and a hymn of Addison&#8217;s, beginning, &#8220;<i>How are thy servants blest,
+O Lord!</i>&#8221; I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> particularly remember one-half stanza, which was music to my
+boyish ear:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;For though on dreadful whirls we hung<br />
+High on the broken wave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I met with these pieces in <i>Mason&#8217;s English Collection</i>, one of my
+school-books. The first two books I ever read in private, and which gave
+me more pleasure than any two books I ever read since, were, <i>The Life of
+Hannibal</i>, and <i>The History of Sir William Wallace</i>. Hannibal gave my
+young ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up and down
+after the recruiting drum and bagpipe, and wish myself tall enough to be a
+soldier; while the story of Wallace poured a tide of Scottish prejudice
+into my veins, which will boil along there till the flood-gates of life
+shut in eternal rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Murdoch&#8217;s removal from Mount Oliphant deprived Burns of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>instructions; but they were still continued by the father of the bard.
+About the age of fourteen, he was sent to school every alternate week for
+the improvement of his writing. In the mean while, he was busily employed
+upon the operations of the farm; and, at the age of fifteen, was
+considered as the principal laborer upon it. About a year after this he
+gained three weeks of respite, which he spent with his old tutor, Murdoch,
+at Ayr, in revising the English grammar, and in studying the French
+language, in which he made uncommon progress. Ere his sixteenth year
+elapsed, he had considerably extended his reading. The vicinity of Mount
+Oliphant to Ayr afforded him facilities for gratifying what had now become
+a passion. Among the books which he had perused were some plays of
+Shakspeare, Pope, the works of Allan Ramsay, and a collection of songs,
+which constituted his <i>vade mecum</i>. &#8220;I pored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> over them,&#8221; says he,
+&#8220;driving my cart or walking to labor, song by song, verse by verse,
+carefully noticing the true, tender or sublime, from affectation and
+fustian.&#8221; So early did he evince his attachment to the lyric muse, in
+which he was destined to surpass all who have gone before or succeeded
+him.</p>
+
+<p>At this period the family removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton.
+Some time before, however, he had made his first attempt in poetry. It was
+a song addressed to a rural beauty, about his own age, and though
+possessing no great merit as a whole, it contains some lines and ideas
+which would have done honor to him at any age. After the removal to
+Lochlea, his literary zeal slackened, for he was thus cut off from those
+<ins class="correction" title="original: aquaintances">acquaintances</ins> whose conversation stimulated his powers, and whose kindness
+supplied him with books. For about three years after this period,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> he was
+busily employed upon the farm, but at intervals he paid his addresses to
+the poetic muse, and with no common success. The summer of his nineteenth
+year was spent in the study of mensuration, surveying, etc., at a small
+sea-port town, a good distance from home. He returned to his father&#8217;s
+considerably improved. &#8220;My reading,&#8221; says he, &#8220;was enlarged with the very
+important addition of Thomson&#8217;s and Shenstone&#8217;s works. I had seen human
+nature in a new phasis; and I engaged several of my school-fellows to keep
+up a literary correspondence with me. This improved me in composition. I
+had met with a collection of letters by the wits of Queen Anne&#8217;s reign,
+and I pored over them most devoutly; I kept copies of any of my own
+letters that pleased me, and a comparison between them and the composition
+of most of my correspondents flattered my vanity. I carried this whim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> so
+far, that though I had not three farthings&#8217; worth of business in the
+world, yet almost every post brought me as many letters as if I had been a
+broad, plodding son of day-book and ledger.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His mind, peculiarly susceptible of tender impressions, was continually
+the slave of some rustic charmer. In the &#8220;heat and whirlwind of his love,&#8221;
+he generally found relief in poetry, by which, as by a safety-valve, his
+turbulent passions were allowed to have vent. He formed the resolution of
+entering the matrimonial state; but his circumscribed means of subsistence
+as a farmer preventing his taking that step, he resolved on becoming a
+flax-dresser, for which purpose he removed to the town of Irvine, in 1781.
+The speculation turned out unsuccessful; for the shop, catching fire, was
+burnt, and the poet returned to his father without a sixpence. During his
+stay at Irvine he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> had met with Ferguson&#8217;s poems. This circumstance was of
+some importance to Burns, for it roused his poetic powers from the torpor
+into which they had fallen, and in a great measure finally determined the
+<i>Scottish</i> character of his poetry. He here also contracted some
+friendships, which he himself says did him mischief; and, by his brother
+Gilbert&#8217;s account, from this date there was a serious change in his
+conduct. The venerable and excellent parent of the poet died soon after
+his son&#8217;s return. The support of the family now devolving upon Burns, in
+conjunction with his brother he took a sub-lease of the farm of Mossgiel,
+in the parish of Mauchline. The four years which he resided upon this farm
+were the most important of his life. It was here he felt that nature had
+designed him for a poet; and here, accordingly, his genius began to
+develop its energies in those strains which will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> make his name familiar
+to all future times, the admiration of every civilized country, and the
+glory and boast of his own.</p>
+
+<p>The vigor of Burns&#8217;s understanding, and the keenness of his wit, as
+displayed more particularly at masonic meetings and debating clubs, of
+which he formed one at Mauchline, began to spread his fame as a man of
+uncommon endowments. He now could number as his acquaintance several
+clergymen, and also some gentlemen of substance; amongst whom was Mr.
+Gavin Hamilton, writer in Mauchline, one of his earliest patrons. One
+circumstance more than any other contributed to increase his notoriety.
+&#8220;Polemical divinity,&#8221; says he to Dr. Moore in 1787, &#8220;about this time was
+putting the country half mad; and I, ambitious of shining in
+conversation-parties on Sundays, at funerals, etc., used to puzzle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion, that I raised a hue-and-cry
+of heresy against me, which has not ceased to this hour.&#8221; The farm which
+he possessed belonged to the Earl of Loudon, but the brothers held it in
+sub-lease from Mr. Hamilton. This gentleman was at open feud with one of
+the ministers of Mauchline, who was a rigid Calvinist. Mr. Hamilton
+maintained opposite tenets; and it is not matter of surprise that the
+young farmer should have espoused his cause, and brought all the resources
+of his genius to bear upon it. The result was <i>The Holy Fair</i>, <i>The
+Ordination</i>, <i>Holy Willie&#8217;s Prayer</i>, and other satires, as much
+distinguished for their coarse severity and bitterness, as for their
+genius.</p>
+
+<p>The applause which greeted these pieces emboldened the poet, and
+encouraged him to proceed. In his life, by his brother Gilbert, a very
+interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> account is given of the occasions which gave rise to the
+poems, and the chronological order in which they were produced. The
+exquisite pathos and humor, the strong manly sense, the masterly command
+of felicitous language, the graphic power of delineating scenery, manners,
+and incidents, which appear so conspicuously in his various poems, could
+not fail to call forth the admiration of those who were favored with a
+perusal of them. But the clouds of misfortune were gathering darkly above
+the head of him who was thus giving delight to a large and widening circle
+of friends. The farm of Mossgiel proved a losing concern; and an amour
+with Miss Jane Armour, afterwards Mrs. Burns, had assumed so serious an
+aspect, that he at first resolved to fly from the scene of his disgrace
+and misery. One trait of his character, however, must be mentioned. Before
+taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> any steps for his departure, he met Miss Armour by appointment,
+and gave into her hands a written acknowledgment of marriage, which, when
+produced by a person in her situation, is, according to the Scots&#8217; law, to
+be accepted as legal evidence of an <i>irregular</i> marriage having really
+taken place. This the lady burned, at the persuasion of her father, who
+was adverse to a marriage; and Burns, thus wounded in the two most
+powerful feelings of his mind, his love and pride, was driven almost to
+insanity. Jamaica was his destination; but as he did not possess the money
+necessary to defray the expense of his passage out, he resolved to publish
+some of his best poems, in order to raise the requisite sum. These views
+were warmly promoted by some of his more opulent friends; and a
+sufficiency of subscribers having been procured, one of the finest volumes
+of poetry that ever appeared in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> the world issued from the provincial
+press of Kilmarnock.</p>
+
+<p>It is hardly possible to imagine with what eager admiration and delight
+they were every where received. They possessed in an eminent degree all
+those qualities which invariably contribute to render any literary work
+quickly and permanently popular. They were written in a phraseology of
+which all the powers were universally felt, and which being at once
+antique, familiar, and now rarely written, was therefore fitted to serve
+all the dignified and picturesque uses of poetry, without making it
+unintelligible. The imagery and the sentiments were at once natural,
+impressive, and interesting. Those topics of satire and scandal in which
+the rustic delights; that humorous imitation of character, and that witty
+association of ideas, familiar and striking, yet not naturally allied to
+one another, which has force to shake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> his sides with laughter; those
+fancies of superstition, at which one still wonders and trembles; those
+affecting sentiments and images of true religion, which are at once dear
+and awful to the heart; were all represented by Burns with the magical
+power of true poetry. Old and young, high and low, grave and gay, learned
+and ignorant, all were alike surprised and transported.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time, a few copies of these fascinating poems found their way
+to Edinburgh, and having been read to Dr. Blacklock, obtained his warmest
+approbation; and he advised the author to repair to Edinburgh. Burns lost
+no time in complying with this request; and accordingly, towards the end
+of the year 1786, he set out for the capitol, where he was received by Dr.
+Blacklock with the most flattering kindness, and introduced to every
+person of taste among that excellent man&#8217;s friends.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> Multitudes now vied
+with each other in patronizing the rustic poet. Those who possessed at
+once true taste and ardent philanthropy were soon united in his praise;
+those who were disposed to favor any good thing belonging to Scotland,
+purely because it was Scottish, gladly joined the cry; while those who had
+hearts and understandings to be charmed without knowing why, when they saw
+their native customs, manners, and language, made the subjects and the
+materials of poesy, could not suppress that impulse of feeling which
+struggled to declare itself in favor of Burns.</p>
+
+<p>Thus did Burns, ere he had been many weeks in Edinburgh, find himself the
+object of universal curiosity, favor, admiration, and fondness. He was
+sought after, courted with attentions the most respectful and assiduous,
+feasted, flattered, caressed, and treated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> by all ranks as the great boast
+of his country, whom it was scarcely possible to honor and reward in a
+degree equal to his merits.</p>
+
+<p>A new edition of his poems was called for; and the public mind was
+directed to the subject by Henry Mackenzie, who dedicated a paper in the
+<i>Lounger</i> to a commendatory notice of the poet. This circumstance will
+ever be remembered to the honor of that polished writer, not only for the
+warmth of the eulogy he bestowed, but because it was the first printed
+acknowledgment which had been made to the genius of Burns. The copyright
+was sold to Creech for &pound;100; but the friends of the poet advised him to
+forward a subscription. The patronage of the Caledonian Hunt, a very
+influential body, was obtained. The list of subscribers rapidly rose to
+1500, many gentlemen paying a great deal more than the price of the
+volume;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> and it was supposed that the poet derived from the subscription
+and the sale of his copyright a clear profit of at least &pound;700.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation of Burns, according to the testimony of all the eminent
+men who heard him, was even more wonderful than his poetry. He affected no
+soft air nor graceful motions of politeness, which might have ill accorded
+with the rustic plainness of his native manners. Conscious superiority of
+mind taught him to associate with the great, the learned, and the gay,
+without being overawed into any such bashfulness as might have rendered
+him confused in thought, or hesitating in elocution. He possessed withal
+an extraordinary share of plain common sense, or mother-wit, which
+prevented him from obtruding upon persons, of whatever rank, with whom he
+was admitted to converse, any of those effusions of vanity, envy, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+self-conceit, in which authors who have lived remote from the general
+practice of life, and whose minds have been almost exclusively confined to
+contemplate their own studies and their own works, are but too prone to
+indulge. In conversation, he displayed a sort of intuitive quickness and
+rectitude of judgment, upon every subject that arose. The sensibility of
+his heart, and the vivacity of his fancy, gave a rich coloring to whatever
+opinions he was disposed to advance; and his language was thus not less
+happy in conversation than in his writings. Hence those who had met and
+conversed with him once, were pleased to meet and to converse with him
+again and again.</p>
+
+<p>For some time he associated only with the virtuous, the learned, and the
+wise, and the purity of his morals remained uncontaminated. But
+unfortunately he fell, as others have fallen in similar <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>circumstances. He
+suffered himself to be surrounded by persons who were proud to tell that
+they had been in company with Burns, and had seen Burns as loose and as
+foolish as themselves. He now also began to contract something of
+arrogance in conversation. Accustomed to be among his associates what is
+vulgarly but expressively called &#8220;the cock of the company,&#8221; he could
+scarcely refrain from indulging in a similar freedom and dictatorial
+decision of talk, even in the presence of persons who could less patiently
+endure presumption.</p>
+
+<p>After remaining some months in the Scottish metropolis, basking in the
+noontide sun of a popularity which, as Dugald Stewart well remarks, would
+have turned any head but his own, he formed a resolution of returning to
+the shades whence he had emerged, but not before he had perambulated the
+southern border. On the 6th of May, 1787, he set out on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> journey, and,
+visiting all that appeared interesting on the north of the Tweed,
+proceeded to Newcastle and other places on the English side. He returned
+in about two months to his family at Mauchline; but in a short period he
+again set out on an excursion to the north, where he was most flatteringly
+received by all the great families. On his return to Mossgiel he completed
+his marriage with Miss Armour. He then concluded a bargain with Mr. Miller
+of Dalswinton, for a lease of the farm of Elliesland, on advantageous
+terms.</p>
+
+<p>Burns entered on possession of this farm at Whit-Sunday, 1788. He had
+formerly applied with success for an excise commission, and during six
+weeks of this year, he had to attend to the business of that profession at
+Ayr. His life for some time was thus wandering and unsettled; and Dr.
+Currie mentions this as one of his chief misfortunes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> Mrs. Burns came
+home to him towards the end of the year, and the poet was accustomed to
+say that the happiest period of his life was the first winter spent in
+Elliesland. The neighboring farmers and gentlemen, pleased to obtain for a
+neighbor the poet by whose works they had been delighted, kindly sought
+his company, and invited him to their houses. Burns, however, found an
+inexpressible charm in sitting down beside his wife, at his own fireside;
+in wandering over his own grounds; in once more putting his hand to the
+spade and the plough; in farming his enclosures, and managing his cattle.
+For some months he felt almost all that felicity which fancy had taught
+him to expect in his new situation. He had been for a time idle; but his
+muscles were not yet unbraced for rural toil. He now seemed to find a joy
+in being the husband of the mistress of his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>affections, and in seeing
+himself the father of children such as promised to attach him for ever to
+that modest, humble, and domestic life, in which alone he could hope to be
+permanently happy. Even his engagements in the service of excise did not,
+at first, threaten either to contaminate the poet or to ruin the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>From various causes, the farming speculation did not succeed. Indeed, from
+the time he obtained a situation under government, he gradually began to
+sink the farmer in the exciseman. Occasionally he assisted in the rustic
+occupations of Elliesland, but for the most part he was engaged in very
+different pursuits. In his professional perambulations over the moors of
+Dumfries-shire he had to encounter temptations which a mind and
+temperament like his found it difficult to resist. His immortal works had
+made him universally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> known and enthusiastically admired; and accordingly
+he was a welcome guest at every house, from the most princely mansion to
+the lowest country inn. In the latter he was too frequently to be found as
+the presiding genius, and master of the orgies. However, he still
+continued at intervals to cultivate the muse; and, besides a variety of
+other pieces, he produced at this period the inimitable poem of Tam
+O&#8217;Shanter. Johnson&#8217;s Miscellany was also indebted to him for the finest of
+its lyrics. One pleasing trait of his character must not be overlooked. He
+superintended the formation of a subscription library in the parish, and
+took the whole management of it upon himself. These institutions, though
+common now, were not so short at the period of which we write; and it
+should never be forgotten that Burns was amongst the first, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> not the
+very first, of their founders in the rural districts of southern Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>Towards the close of 1791 he finally abandoned his farm; and obtaining an
+appointment to the Dumfries division of excise, he repaired to that town
+on a salary of &pound;70 per annum. All his principal biographers concur in
+stating that after settling in Dumfries his moral career was downwards.
+Heron, who had some acquaintance with the matter, says, &#8220;His dissipation
+became still more deeply habitual; he was here more exposed than in the
+country to be solicited to share the revels of the dissolute and the idle;
+foolish young men flocked eagerly about him, and from time to time pressed
+him to drink with them, that they might enjoy his wit. The Caledonia Club,
+too, and the Dumfries-shire and Galloway Hunt, had occasional meetings in
+Dumfries after Burns went to reside there: and the poet was of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> course
+invited to share their conviviality, and hesitated not to accept the
+invitation. In the intervals between his different fits of intemperance,
+he suffered the keenest anguish of remorse, and horribly afflictive
+foresight. His Jane behaved with a degree of conjugal and maternal
+tenderness and prudence, which made him feel more bitterly the evil of his
+misconduct, although they could not reclaim him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This is a dark picture&mdash;perhaps too dark. The Rev. Mr. Gray, who, as the
+teacher of his son, was intimately acquainted with Burns, and had frequent
+opportunities of judging of his general character and deportment, gives a
+more amiable portrait of the bard. Being an eye-witness, the testimony of
+this gentleman must be allowed to have some weight. &#8220;The truth is,&#8221; says
+he, &#8220;Burns was seldom <i>intoxicated</i>. The drunkard soon becomes besotted,
+and is shunned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> even by the convivial. Had he been so, he could not have
+long continued the idol of every party.&#8221; This is strong reasoning; and he
+goes on to mention other circumstances which seem to confirm the truth of
+his position. In balancing these two statements, a juster estimate of the
+moral deportment of Burns may be formed.</p>
+
+<p>In the year 1792 party politics ran to a great height in Scotland, and the
+liberal and independent spirit of Burns did certainly betray him into some
+indiscretions. A general opinion prevails, that he so far lost the good
+graces of his superiors by his conduct, as to consider all prospects of
+future promotion as hopeless. But this appears not to have been the case;
+and the fact that he acted as supervisor before his death is a strong
+proof to the contrary. Of his political verses, few have as yet been
+published. But in these he warmly espoused the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> cause of the Whigs, which
+kept up the spleen of the other party, already sufficiently provoked; and
+this may in some measure account for the bitterness with which his own
+character was attacked.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever opinion may be formed of the extent of his dissipation in
+Dumfries, one fact is unquestionable, that his powers remained unimpaired
+to the last; it was there he produced his finest lyrics, and they are the
+finest, as well as the purest, that ever delighted mankind. Besides
+Johnson&#8217;s <i>Museum</i>, in which he took an interest to the last, and to which
+he contributed most extensively, he formed a connection with Mr. George
+Thomson, of Edinburgh. This gentleman had conceived the laudable design of
+collecting the national melodies of Scotland, with accompaniments by the
+most eminent composers, and poetry by the best writers, in addition to
+those words which were originally attached to them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> From the multitude of
+songs which Burns wrote, from the year 1792 till the commencement of his
+illness, it is evident that few days could have passed without his
+producing some stanzas for the work. The following passage from his
+correspondence, which was also most extensive, proves that his songs were
+not hurriedly got up, but composed with the utmost care and attention.
+&#8220;Until I am complete master of a tune in my own singing, such as it is,&#8221;
+says he, &#8220;I can never compose for it. My way is this: I consider the
+poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression&mdash;then
+choose my theme&mdash;compose one stanza. When that is composed, which is
+generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out&mdash;sit down
+now and then&mdash;look out for objects in nature round me that are in unison
+or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>bosom&mdash;humming every now and then the air, with the verses I have framed.
+When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside
+of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper; swinging at intervals
+on the hind legs of my elbow-chair, by way of calling forth my own
+critical strictures, as my pen goes. Seriously, this, at home, is almost
+invariably my way.&#8221; This is not only interesting for the light which it
+throws upon his method of composition, but it proves that conviviality had
+not as yet greater charms for him than the muse.</p>
+
+<p>From his youth Burns had exhibited ominous symptoms of a radical disorder
+in his constitution. A palpitation of the heart, and a derangement of the
+digestive organs, were conspicuous. These were, doubtless, increased by
+his indulgences, which became more frequent as he drew towards the close
+of his career.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> In the autumn of 1795 he lost an only daughter, which was
+a severe blow to him. Soon afterwards he was seized with a rheumatic
+fever; and &#8220;long the die spun doubtful,&#8221; says he, in a letter to his
+faithful friend Mrs. Dunlap, &#8220;until, after many weeks of a sick bed, it
+seems to have turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room.&#8221;
+The cloud behind which his sun was destined to be eclipsed at noon had
+begun to darken above him. Before he had completely recovered, he had the
+imprudence to join a festive circle; and, on his return from it, he caught
+a cold, which brought back his trouble upon him with redoubled severity.
+Sea-bathing was had recourse to, but with no ultimate success. He lingered
+until the 21st of July, 1796, when he expired. The interest which the
+death of Burns excited was intense. All differences were forgotten; his
+genius only was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> thought of. On the 26th of the same month he was conveyed
+to the grave, followed by about ten thousand individuals of all ranks,
+many of whom had come from distant parts of the country to witness the
+solemnity. He was interred with military honors by the Dumfries
+volunteers, to which body he had belonged.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, at the age of thirty-seven, an age when the mental powers of man
+have scarcely reached their climax, died Robert Burns, one of the greatest
+poets whom his country has produced. It is unnecessary to enter into any
+lengthened analysis of his poetry or character. His works are universally
+known and admired, and criticism has been drawn to the dregs upon the
+subject; and that, too, by the greatest masters who have appeared since
+his death,&mdash;no mean test of the great merits of his writings. He excels
+equally in touching the heart by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> the exquisiteness of his pathos, and
+exciting the risible faculties by the breadth of his humor. His lyre had
+many strings, and he had equal command over them all; striking each, and
+frequently in chords, with the skill and power of a master. That his
+satire sometimes degenerates into coarse invective, can not be denied; but
+where personality is not permitted to interfere, his poems of this
+description may take their place beside any thing of the kind which has
+ever been produced, without being disgraced by the comparison. It is
+unnecessary to re-echo the praises of his best pieces, as there is no
+epithet of admiration which has not been bestowed upon them. Those who had
+best opportunities of judging, are of opinion that his works, stamped as
+they are with the impress of sovereign genius, fall short of the powers he
+possessed. It is therefore to be lamented that he undertook no great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> work
+of fiction or invention. Had circumstances permitted, he would probably
+have done so; but his excise duties, and without doubt his own follies,
+prevented him. His passions were strong, and his capacity of enjoyment
+corresponded with them. These continually precipitated him into the
+variety of pleasure, where alone they could be gratified; and the reaction
+consequent upon such indulgences (for he possessed the finest
+discrimination between right and wrong) threw him into low spirits, to
+which he was also constitutionally liable. His mind, being thus never for
+any length of time in an equable tone, could scarcely pursue with steady
+regularity a work of any length. His moral aberrations, as detailed by
+some of his biographers, have been exaggerated, as already noticed. This
+has been proved by the testimony of many witnesses, from whose authority
+there can be no appeal; for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> they had the best opportunities of judging.
+In fine, it may be doubted whether he has not, by his writings, exercised
+a greater power over the minds of men, and the general system of life,
+than has been exercised by any other modern poet. A complete edition of
+his works, in four vols. 8vo., with a life, was published by Dr. Currie of
+Liverpool, for the benefit of his family, to whom it realized a handsome
+sum. Editions have been since multiplied beyond number; and several
+excellent biographies of the poet have been published, particularly that
+by Mr. Lockhart.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LIFE OF BURNS.<span class="foot"><a name="f1.1" id="f1.1" href="#f1">[1]</a></span></h2>
+<p class="center"><span class="large"><i>PART SECOND.</i></span></p>
+
+<p><br />In the modern arrangements of society, it is no uncommon thing that a man
+of genius must, like Butler, &#8220;ask for bread and receive a stone;&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> 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, and more 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; 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 <i>Life</i>, that has been given to the world!</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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> 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&#8217;s as the hero&#8217;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 <ins class="correction" title="original: acqaintance">acquaintance</ins> of Sir Thomas Lucy&#8217;s,
+and neighbour of John a Combe&#8217;s, had snatched an hour or two from the
+preservation of his game, and written us a Life of Shakspeare! What
+dissertations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> should we not have had,&mdash;not on <i>Hamlet</i> and <i>The Tempest</i>,
+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 honourable Excise Commissioners, and the Gentlemen of the
+Caledonian Hunt, and the Dumfries <ins class="correction" title="original: Aristrocracy">Aristocracy</ins>, and all the Squires and
+Earls, equally with the Ayr Writers, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> say; but still a fare 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:&mdash;Their own and the world&#8217;s true relation to their author, and the
+style in which it 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 honour to a rustic. In all this, however, we
+readily admit that his fault was not want of love, but weakness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> of faith;
+and regret that the first and kindest of all our poet&#8217;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 this: 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> 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
+written on the very popular and condensed scheme of an article for
+<i>Constable&#8217;s Miscellany</i>, 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&#8217;s own writing is generally so good, so clear, direct,
+and nervous, that we seldom wish to see it making place for another man&#8217;s.
+However, the spirit of the work is throughout candid, tolerant, and
+anxiously conciliating; compliments and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> praises are liberally
+distributed, on all hands, to great and small; and, as Mr. Morris Birkbeck
+observes of the society in the backwoods of America, &#8220;the courtesies of
+polite life are never lost sight of for a moment.&#8221; 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.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, we are far from thinking that the problem of Burns&#8217;s
+Biography has yet been adequately solved. We do not allude so much to
+deficiency of facts or documents,&mdash;though of these we are still every day
+receiving some fresh accession,&mdash;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> 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&#8217;s life, from his particular position,
+represent themselves to his mind? How did coexisting 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> 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
+goodwill, and trust they may meet with acceptance from those for whom they
+are intended.</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 &#8220;nine days&#8221; have
+long since elapsed; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> 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, 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> An
+educated man stands, as it were, in the midst of a boundless arsenal and
+magazine, filled with all the weapons and engines which man&#8217;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 <i>his</i> state
+who stands on the outside of that storehouse, and feels that its gates
+must be stormed, or remain for ever 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 the pick-axe; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> 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&#8217;s hut, and the rhymes of a
+Ferguson or Ramsay for his standard of beauty, he sinks not under all
+these impediments. Through the fogs and darkness of that obscure region,
+his eagle 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 irrepressible movement of his inward spirit,
+he 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> 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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> we are not so sure of this; 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: time and means were not lent him for 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, &#8220;amid
+the melancholy main,&#8221; presented to the reflecting mind such a &#8220;spectacle
+of pity and fear,&#8221; 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 race with whom the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> 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 &#8220;Eternal Melodies,&#8221; 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.</p>
+
+<p>Such a gift had Nature in her bounty bestowed on us in Robert Burns; but
+with queen-like indifference she cast it from her hand, like a thing of no
+moment; and it was defaced and torn asunder, as an idle bauble, before we
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>recognized it. To the ill-starred Burns was given the power of making
+man&#8217;s life more venerable, but that of wisely guiding his own was not
+given. Destiny&mdash;for so in our ignorance we must speak,&mdash;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 &#8220;Daisy&#8221; falls not unheeded under his
+ploughshare; nor the ruined nest of that &#8220;wee, cowering, timorous
+beastie,&#8221; cast forth, after all its provident pains, to &#8220;thole the sleety
+dribble, and cranreuch cauld.&#8221; The &#8220;hoar <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>visage&#8221; 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 &#8220;it raises his thoughts to <i>Him
+that walketh on the wings of the wind</i>.&#8221; 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 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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>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&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> eye, under which the &#8220;insolence of condescension&#8221;
+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 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
+&#8220;quick to learn;&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> himself among us; &#8220;a soul like an
+&AElig;olian harp, in whose strings the vulgar wind, as it passed through them,
+changed itself into articulate melody.&#8221; 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 />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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> 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 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> 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 wiredrawn refinings, either in thought or feeling:
+the passion that is traced before us has glowed in a living heart;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> 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 he has lived and labored 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,
+too, with such melody and modulation as he can; &#8220;in homely rustic jingle;&#8221;
+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&#8217;s rule, <i>Si vis me flere</i>, is
+applicable in a wider sense than the literal one. To every poet, to every
+writer, we might say: Be true, if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>This may appear a very simple principle, and one 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> 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, and 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> 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? Surely, all these stormful agonies, this
+volcanic heroism, superhuman contempt, and moody desperation, with so much
+scowling, and teeth-gnashing, and other sulphurous humors, is more like
+the brawling of a player in some paltry tragedy, which is to last three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+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 and affected, in every
+one of these otherwise powerful pieces. Perhaps <i>Don Juan</i>, 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&#8217;s
+susceptibility who comes before us from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> 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>It is necessary, however, to mention, that 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 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, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>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 Shakspeare 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 Scottish 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&#8217;s social rank. His correspondents are often men whose
+relation to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> 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. 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 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
+foregoing. It 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 for ever
+seeking, in external circumstances,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> 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 world, that poetry resides for him; 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, &#8220;a sermon on the duty of staying at home.&#8221; Let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> 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 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 out of his
+native Greece, and two centuries before he was born; or because he wrote
+of what passed in God&#8217;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 object; is it not so?&mdash;they
+have nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> to hope, but an ephemeral favor, even from the highest.</p>
+
+<p>The poet, we cannot but think, 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&#8217;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 to live. Is there not the
+
+fifth act of a Tragedy, in every death-bed, though it were a peasant&#8217;s and
+a bed of heath?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> 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&#8217;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 can not
+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 going, to the
+end of his literary course. He shows himself at least a poet of Nature&#8217;s
+own making;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> 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 &#8220;the
+elder dramatists,&#8221; 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 other things, he must see the world. As to
+seeing the world, we apprehend this will cause him little difficulty, if
+he have but an eye to see it with. Without eyes, indeed, the task might be
+hard. But happily every poet is born <i>in</i> the world, and sees it, with or
+against his will, every day and every hour he lives. The mysterious
+workmanship of man&#8217;s heart, the true light and the inscrutable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> darkness
+of man&#8217;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&mdash;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&#8217;s, 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, soon after that date, vanished from the earth,
+and became no longer attainable by men! Such cobweb speculations have, now
+and then, overhung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> the field of literature; but they obstruct not the
+growth of any plant there: the Shakspeare 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
+<i>we</i> saw where his marble was lying, and what fabric he could rear from
+it? It is not the material but the workman that is wanting. It is not the
+dark <i>place</i> that hinders, but the dim <i>eye</i>. A Scottish peasant&#8217;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 <i>man&#8217;s</i> life, and therefore significant to
+men. A thousand battle-fields remain unsung; but the <i>Wounded Hare</i> has
+not perished without its memorial; a balm of mercy yet breathes on us from
+its dumb agonies, because a poet was there. Our <i>Halloween</i> had passed and
+repassed, in rude awe and laughter, since the era<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> of the Druids; but no
+Theocritus, till Burns, discerned in it the materials of a Scottish Idyl:
+neither was the <i>Holy Fair</i> any <i>Council of Trent</i>, or Roman <i>Jubilee</i>;
+but nevertheless, <i>Superstition</i> and <i>Hypocrisy</i>, and <i>Fun</i> having been
+propitious to him, in this man&#8217;s hand it became a poem, instinct with
+satire, and genuine comic life. 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, and he is vehement, yet without constraint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> or
+too visible effort; he melts the heart, or inflames it, with a power which
+seems habitual and familiar to him. We see in him 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
+&#8220;lightly-moved and all-conceiving spirit.&#8221; And observe with what a prompt
+and eager 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&mdash;some truth to be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>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 can not be forgotten. Is it of description&mdash;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 is not more expressive or exact.</p>
+
+<p>This clearness of sight we may call the foundation of all talent; for in
+fact, unless we <i>see</i> 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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>perhaps a very high excellence; but capable of being united
+indifferently with the strongest, or with ordinary powers. 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&#8217;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 an humble but the readiest proof. Who
+ever uttered sharper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> 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. Our Scottish forefathers in
+the battle-field struggled forward, he says, &#8220;<i>red-wat shod</i>;&#8221; giving, 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, as in his feelings and volitions. Professor Stewart says of
+him, with some surprise: &#8220;All the faculties of Burns&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> his
+conversation I should have pronounced him to be fitted to excel in
+whatever walk of ambition he had chosen to exert his abilities.&#8221; 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 extreme sensibility, and a certain vague pervading 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. The feelings, the gifts, 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 all men, with power, but by being still more a man than they?
+Shakspeare, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> 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 <i>Novum Organum</i>. What Burns&#8217;s
+force of understanding may have been, we have less means of judgment: for
+it dwelt among the humblest objects, never saw philosophy, and never rose,
+except for short intervals, into the region of great ideas. Nevertheless,
+sufficient indication remains for us in his works: we discern the brawny
+movement 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 relation of things could not well have escaped
+his eye, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> 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 this logic works by words, and &#8220;the highest,&#8221; it has been said,
+&#8220;cannot be expressed in words.&#8221; 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, &#8220;wonders,&#8221; in
+the passage above quoted, that Burns had formed some distinct conception
+of the &#8220;doctrine of association.&#8221; We rather think that far subtiler things
+than the doctrine of association had from of old been familiar to him.
+Here for instance:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We know nothing,&#8221; thus writes he, &#8220;or next to nothing, of the structure
+of our souls, so we cannot account for those seeming caprices in them,
+that one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> 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 hare-bell, the fox-glove, 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 &AElig;olian 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> important realities: a God that
+made all things, man&#8217;s immaterial and immortal nature, and a world of weal
+or wo beyond death and the grave.&#8221;</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 probably require this;
+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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> 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 &#8220;love furthers knowledge:&#8221; but, above all, it is the living
+essence of that knowledge which makes poets; the first principle of its
+existence, increase, activity. Of Burns&#8217;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:
+&#8220;the hoary hawthorn,&#8221; the &#8220;troop of gray plover,&#8221; the &#8220;solitary curlew,&#8221;
+are all dear to him&mdash;all live in this Earth along with him, and to all he
+is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> 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 &#8220;ourie cattle&#8221; and
+&#8220;silly sheep,&#8221; and their sufferings in the pitiless storm!</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I thought me on the ourie cattle,<br />
+Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O&#8217; wintry war;</span><br />
+Or thro&#8217; the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Beneath a scaur.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing,<br />
+That in the merry month o&#8217; spring<br />
+Delighted me to hear thee sing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">What comes o&#8217; thee?</span><br />
+Where wilt thou cow&#8217;r thy chittering wing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And close thy ee?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>The tenant of the mean hut, with its &#8220;ragged roof and chinky wall,&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> 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">&#8220;But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben;<br />
+O wad ye tak a thought and men&#8217;!<br />
+Ye aiblins might,&mdash;I dinna ken,&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Still hae a stake;</span><br />
+I&#8217;m wae to think upo&#8217; yon den,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Even for your sake!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>He did not know, probably, that Sterne had been beforehand with him. &#8220;&#8216;He
+is the father of curses and lies,&#8217; said Dr. Slop; &#8216;and is cursed and
+damned already.&#8217;&mdash;&#8216;I am sorry for it,&#8217; quoth my uncle Toby!&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;A poet
+without Love, were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Why should we speak of <i>Scots, wha hae wi&#8217; Wallace bled</i>; since all know
+it, from the king to the meanest of his subjects? This dithyrambic was
+composed on horseback; in riding in the middle of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> tempests, over the
+wildest Galloway moor, in company with a Mr. Syme, who, observing the
+poet&#8217;s looks, forebore to speak,&mdash;judiciously enough,&mdash;for a man composing
+<i>Bruce&#8217;s Address</i> 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 of the whirlwind.
+So long as there is warm blood in the heart of a 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 <i>Macpherson&#8217;s Farewell</i>. Perhaps there is something
+in the tradition itself that co-operates. For was not this grim Celt, this
+shaggy Northland Cacus, that &#8220;lived a life of sturt and strife, and died
+by treacherie,&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> 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&#8217; line, was
+material Fate matched against man&#8217;s Free-will; matched in bitterest though
+obscure duel; and the ethereal soul sunk not, even in its blindness,
+without a cry which has survived it. But who, except Burns, could have
+given words to such a soul&mdash;words that we never listen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> to without a
+strange half-barbarous, half-poetic fellow-feeling?</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><i>Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Sae dauntingly gaed he;</i></span><br />
+<i>He play&#8217;d a spring, and danced it round,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Below the gallows tree.</i></span></p>
+
+<p>Under a lighter and thinner 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 <i>Address to
+the Mouse</i>, or the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span><i>Farmer&#8217;s Mare</i>, or in his <i>Elegy on Poor Mailie</i>,
+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; yet
+altogether different, original, peculiar,&mdash;the Humor of Burns.</p>
+
+<p>Of the tenderness, the playful pathos, and many other kindred qualities of
+Burns&#8217;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 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. <i>Tam O&#8217;Shanter</i> itself, which enjoys so high
+a favor, does not appear to us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> 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,
+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
+Mus&auml;us of this tale. 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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>incredulous
+imaginations between the Ayr public-house 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,
+painted on ale-vapors, and the farce 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 <i>was</i> 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 &#8220;Shakspearian&#8221;
+qualities, as these of <i>Tam O&#8217;Shanter</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> the most strictly poetical of all his
+&#8220;poems&#8221; is one, which does not appear in Currie&#8217;s Edition; but has been
+often printed before and since, under the humble title of <i>The Jolly
+Beggars</i>. The subject truly is among the lowest in nature; but it only the
+more shows our poet&#8217;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,
+and soft of movement; yet sharp and precise in its details; every face is
+a portrait: that <i>raucle carlin</i>, 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
+Rag-castle of &#8220;Poosie-Nansie.&#8221; 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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> in full,
+ruddy, and flaming light, these rough tatterdemalions are seen in their
+boisterous revel; for the strong pulse of 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 &#8220;brats and callets&#8221; are
+hawking, begging, cheating; and some other night, in new combinations,
+they will ring from Fate another hour of wassail and good cheer. It would
+be strange, doubtless, to call this the best of Burns&#8217;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 <i>Beggar&#8217;s Opera</i>, in
+the <i>Beggar&#8217;s Bush</i>, as other critics 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><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>But by far the most finished, complete, and truly inspired pieces of Burns
+are, without dispute, to be found among his <i>Songs</i>. It is here that,
+although through a small aperture, his light shines with the least
+obstruction; in its highest beauty, and pure sunny clearness. The reason
+may be, that Song is a brief and simple species of composition: and
+requires nothing so much for its perfection as genuine poetic feeling,
+genuine music of heart. 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 &#8220;by persons of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> quality;&#8221; we have tawdry, hollow,
+wine-bred, madrigals; many a rhymed &#8220;speech&#8221; in the flowing and watery
+vein of Ossorius the Portugal Bishop, 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 outward, 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
+outside 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 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> 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 Shakspeare
+has here and there sprinkled over his plays, fulfil this condition in
+nearly the same degree as most of Burns&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> 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 slyest mirth; and yet he is sweet and soft,
+&#8220;sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, and soft as their parting
+tear!&#8221; If we farther take into account the immense variety of his
+subjects; how, from the loud flowing revel in <i>Willie brew&#8217;d a peck o&#8217;
+Maut</i>, to the still, rapt enthusiasm of sadness for <i>Mary in Heaven</i>; from
+the glad kind greeting of <i>Auld Langsyne</i>, or the comic archness of
+<i>Duncan Gray</i>, to the fire-eyed fury of <i>Scots, wha hae wi&#8217; Wallace bled</i>,
+he has found a tone and words for every mood of man&#8217;s heart,&mdash;it will seem
+a small praise if we rank him as the first of all our song-writers; for we
+know not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> where to find one worthy of being second to him.</p>
+
+<p>It is on his Songs, as we believe, that Burns&#8217;s chief influence as an
+author will ultimately be found to depend: nor, if our Fletcher&#8217;s aphorism
+is true, shall we account this a small influence. &#8220;Let me make the songs
+of a people,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and you shall make its laws.&#8221; 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 the ends of the earth
+speak a British language. In hut and hall, as the heart unfolds itself in
+the joy and wo of existence, the name, the voice of that joy and that wo,
+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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> 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&#8217;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 remarkable increase of nationality. Even the English writers, most
+popular in Burns&#8217;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&mdash;was not
+nourished by the affections which spring from a native<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> soil. Our Grays
+and Glovers 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 <i>Rambler</i> is little more English than
+that of his <i>Rasselas</i>. 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 <i>Spectators</i>, our good Thomas Boston was
+writing, with the noblest intent, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> alike in defiance of grammar and
+philosophy, his <i>Fourfold State of Man</i>. Then came the schisms in our
+National Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body Politic: Theologic
+ink, and Jacobite blood, with gaul 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, and a tolerably
+clumsy one, 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 &#8220;fervid genius,&#8221; 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> 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&#8217;s lamp that
+kindled the lamp of Adam Smith. Hume was too rich a man to borrow; and
+perhaps he reached on the French more than he was acted on by them: but
+neither had he aught to do with Scotland; Edinburgh, equally with La
+Fl&egrave;che, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+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&#8217;s heart in all this:
+surely the roots, that have fixed themselves in the very core of man&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> neither briers nor roses; but only a flat,
+continuous thrashing-floor for Logic, whereon all questions, from the
+&#8220;Doctrine of Rent,&#8221; to the &#8220;Natural History of Religion,&#8221; are thrashed and
+sifted with the same mechanical impartiality!</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, 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. Direct literary imitation of Burns was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
+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: &#8220;a tide of Scottish prejudice,&#8221; as he modestly calls this deep and
+generous feeling, &#8220;had been poured along his veins; and he felt that it
+would boil there till the flood-gates shut in eternal rest.&#8221; 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 most toilsome journeyings, this object never quits him; it
+is the little happy-valley of his careworn heart. In the gloom of his own
+affliction, he eagerly searches after some lonely brother of the muse, and
+rejoices to snatch one other name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> from the oblivion that was covering it!
+These were early feelings, and they abode with him to the end.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&mdash;&mdash;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&#8217;s sake,<br />
+Some useful plan or book could make,<br />
+Or sing a sang at least.<br />
+The rough bur Thistle spreading wide<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amang the bearded bear,</span><br />
+I turn&#8217;d my weeding-clips aside,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spared the symbol dear.</span></p>
+
+<p>But to leave the mere literary character of Burns, which has already
+detained us too long, we cannot but think that the Life he willed, and was
+fated to lead among his fellow-men, is both more interesting and
+instructive than any of his written works. 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> 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, porticoes, firm masses of building, stand
+completed; the rest more or less clearly indicated; with many a
+far-stretching 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> 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. To the last, he wavers between
+two purposes: glorying in his talent, like a true poet, he yet cannot
+consent to make this his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> chief and sole glory, and to follow it as the
+one thing needful, through poverty or riches, through good or evil report.
+Another far meaner ambition still cleaves to him; he must dream and
+struggle about a certain &#8220;Rock of Independence;&#8221; which, natural and even
+admirable as it might be, was still but a warring with the world, on the
+comparitively insignificant ground of his being more 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
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>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
+steady himself for any fixed or systematic pursuit, but swerves to and
+fro, between passionate hope, and remorseful disappointment: rushing
+onwards 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> is to be developed, most time may be
+required to develope it. A complex condition had been assigned him from
+without, as complex a condition from within: no &#8220;pre-established harmony&#8221;
+existed between the clay soil of Mossgiel and the empyrean soul of Robert
+Burns; it was not wonderful, therefore, 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&#8217;s Life is his journey to
+Edinburgh; but perhaps a still more important<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> 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 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, open-minded 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. Unfortunately, he was very poor; had he been even a little richer,
+almost ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> 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&#8217;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,&mdash;for it lay in him to have
+done this! 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 plough-boy, and British literature took its own course.
+Nevertheless, even in this rugged scene, there is much to nourish him. If
+he drudges, it is with his brother, and for his father and mother, whom he
+loves, and would fain shield from want.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> Wisdom is not banished from their
+poor hearth, nor the balm of natural feeling: the solemn words, <i>Let us
+Worship God</i>, are heard there from a &#8220;priest-like father;&#8221; 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 &#8220;little band of brethren.&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> 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"><span style="margin-left: 3em;">&#8220;&mdash;&mdash;in glory and in joy,</span><br />
+Behind his plough, upon the mountain side!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We know, from the best evidence, that up to this date, Burns was happy;
+nay, that he was the gayest, brightest, most fantastic, fascinating being
+to be found in the world; more so even than he ever afterwards appeared.
+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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> 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 service, but only our determining to desert from it, that
+fits 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> 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! that a man must be sufficient
+for himself; and that &#8220;for suffering and enduring there is no remedy but
+striving and doing.&#8221; Manhood begins when we have in any way made truce
+with Necessity; begins, at all events, 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> 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&#8217;s cottage, he would have learned it
+fully, which he never did,&mdash;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&#8217;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 free-minded 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 conjurors than these men to exorcise. We do not say
+that such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> an intellect as his could have escaped similar doubts, at some
+period of his history; or even 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 &#8220;passions raging like demons&#8221; from within, he had little need
+of skeptical 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
+worldings can even conceive, is destroyed in the eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> 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 the 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; &#8220;hungry Ruin has him in
+the wind.&#8221; 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 &#8220;gloomy night is gathering fast,&#8221; in mental storm and solitude,
+as well as in physical, he sings his wild farewell to Scotland:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Farewell, my friends, farewell my foes!<br />
+My peace with these, my love with those:<br />
+The bursting tears my heart declare;<br />
+Adieu, my native banks of Ayr!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Light breaks suddenly in on him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> 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 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&#8217;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 &#8220;mockery
+king,&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> Nature herself; putting
+forth no claim which there is not strength <i>in</i> him, as well as about him,
+to vindicate. Mr. Lockhart has some forcible observations on this point:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It needs no effort of imagination,&#8221; says he, &#8220;to conceive what the
+sensations of an isolated set of 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> 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,&mdash;nay, to tremble visibly,&mdash;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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>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.&#8221;</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&#8217;s personal interviews with Burns as
+among the best passages of his Narrative; a time will come when this
+reminiscence of Sir Walter Scott&#8217;s, slight though it is, will also be
+precious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As for Burns,&#8221; writes Sir Walter, &#8220;I may truly say <i>Vergilium vidi
+tantum</i>. I was a lad of fifteen in 1786-7, when he came first to
+Edinburgh, but had sense and feeling enough to be much interested in his
+poetry, and would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> 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&#8217;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&#8217;s,
+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&#8217;s manner, was the effect produced upon him by a print
+of Bunbury&#8217;s, representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog
+sitting in misery on one side,&mdash;on the other, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> widow, with a child in
+her arms. These lines were written beneath:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden&#8217;s plain,<br />
+Perhaps that mother wept her soldier slain:<br />
+Bent o&#8217;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 baptized in tears.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;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&#8217;s, called by the unpromising title of
+&#8220;The Justice of Peace.&#8221; 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>&#8220;His person was strong and robust;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> his manners rustic, not clownish; a
+sort of dignified plainness and simplicity, which received part of its
+effect perhaps from one&#8217;s knowledge of his extraordinary talents. His
+features are represented in Mr. Nasmyth&#8217;s picture: but to me it conveys
+the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his
+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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+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>&#8220;I remember, on this occasion, I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>mention, I thought Burns&#8217;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>&#8220;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 <i>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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>remark this. I do not know any thing I
+can add to these recollections of forty years since.&#8221;</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&#8217;s affairs, scarcely of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> characters, it did
+afford him: but a sharper feeling of Fortune&#8217;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 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 enough 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> halt forever between two opinions, two objects; making
+hampered advancement towards either. But so is it with many men: we &#8220;long
+for the merchandise, yet would fain keep the price;&#8221; 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, 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 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> 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 mere 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 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: and it was a question which 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> 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; and that we should be at a loss, even now, to suggest one decidedly
+better. Some of his admirers, indeed, are scandalized at his ever
+resolving to <i>gauge</i>; and would have had him apparently lie still at the
+pool, till the spirit of Patronage should stir the waters, and then heal
+with one plunge all his worldly sorrows! We fear such counsellors knew but
+little of Burns; and did not consider that happiness might in all cases be
+cheaply had by waiting for the fulfilment of golden dreams, were it not
+that in the interim the dreamer 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+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 &#8220;did not intend to borrow honor from any
+profession.&#8221; We think, then, 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. Nay, after all, it was no
+failure of external means, but of internal, that overtook Burns. His was
+no bankruptcy of the purse, but of the soul; to his last day, he owed no
+man any thing.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile he begins well; with two good and wise actions. His donation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> 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 his treatment of the woman whose life&#8217;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 &#8220;patrons of genius,&#8221; who could give him nothing, but
+taken nothing from him, at least nothing more!&mdash;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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> which was his own by birth-right, 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,<small><a name="f2.1" id="f2.1" href="#f2">[2]</a></small>
+all manner of fashionable danglers after literature, and, far worse, all
+manner of convivial Mec&aelig;nases, hovered round him in his retreat; and his
+good as well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> 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&#8217;s inequality awoke with
+new bitterness in their neighborhood, and Burns had no retreat but to the
+&#8220;Rock of Independence,&#8221; which is but an air-castle, after all, that looks
+well at a distance, but will screen no one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> 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 guide, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> 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&mdash;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
+him! For is he not a well-wisher of the French Revolution, a Jacobin, and
+therefore in that one act guilty of all? These <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>accusations, political and
+moral, it has since appeared, were false enough; but the world hesitated
+little to credit them. Nay, his convivial Mec&aelig;nases 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
+intrusion 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&#8217;s, which
+will not out of our thoughts:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A gentleman of that country, whose name I have already more than once had
+occasion to refer to, has often told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> me that he was seldom more grieved,
+than when, riding into Dumfries one fine summer evening about this time to
+attend a country 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: &#8216;Nay, nay, my young friend, that&#8217;s all over now;&#8217;
+and quoted, after a pause, some verses of Lady Grizzel Baillie&#8217;s pathetic
+ballad:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;His bonnet stood ance fu&#8217; fair on his brow,<br />
+His auld ane looked better than mony ane&#8217;s new;<br />
+But now he lets &#8217;t wear ony way it will hing,<br />
+And casts himsell dowie upon the corn-bing.<br />
+<br />
+&#8216;O were we young, as we ance hae been,<br />
+We sud hae been galloping down on yon green,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>And linking it ower the lily-white lea!<br />
+<i>And werena my heart light I wad die.</i>&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>It was little in Burns&#8217;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.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alas! when we think that Burns now sleeps &#8220;where bitter indignation can no
+longer lacerate his heart,&#8221;<small><a name="f3.1" id="f3.1" href="#f3">[3]</a></small> and that most of these fair dames and
+frizzled gentlemen already lie at his side, where the breastwork of
+gentility is quite thrown down,&mdash;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> genius of Burns would ever reach
+maturity, or accomplish ought 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! &#8220;If he 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!&#8221; 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 at all other reward
+for it but what the labor itself brought him. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> 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 &#8220;thoughtless follies&#8221; that had &#8220;laid him low,&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> them will plead for
+him in all hearts for ever.</p>
+
+<p>We are here arrived at the crisis of Burns&#8217;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 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> 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>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> 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, 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
+really believe that this was his essential want; or well see how any
+private man could, even presupposing Burns&#8217;s consent, have bestowed on him
+an independent fortune, with much prospect of decisive advantage. It is a
+mortifying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> 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 &#8220;Patronage,&#8221; that is, pecuniary or other
+economic furtherance, to be &#8220;twice cursed;&#8221; cursing him that gives, and
+him that takes! 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> 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: and we may question, whether, without great precautions,
+even a pension 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&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> 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 further, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> 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
+Shakspeare; as King Charles and his cavaliers did Butler, as King Philip
+and his Grandees did Cervantes. Do men gather grapes of thorns? or shall
+we cut down our thorns for yielding only a <i>fence</i>, and haws? How, indeed,
+could the &#8220;nobility and gentry of his native land&#8221; hold out any help to
+this &#8220;Scottish Bard, proud of his name and country?&#8221; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> 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, are all melted, or melting back into the
+primeval Chaos, as man&#8217;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 them to do it. Let us pity and forgive
+them. But, better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> 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, &#8220;Love one another, bear one another&#8217;s burdens,&#8221; 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.</p>
+
+<p>Still we do not think that the blame of Burns&#8217;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 reviling, the prison, the cross, the poison-chalice, have, in most
+times and countries, been the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> market-place 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&#8217;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. So
+neglected, so &#8220;persecuted they the Prophets,&#8221; not in Judea only, but in
+all places where men have been. We reckon that every poet of Burns&#8217;s order
+is, or should be, a prophet and teacher to his age; that he has no right
+therefore 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&#8217;s goodness; and that the blame of his failure, as
+we have said, lies not chiefly with the world.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>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 wo: yet many men, in all ages, have triumphed over
+Death, and led it captive;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> 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 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.</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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> any thing, by halves.
+The heart, not of a mere hot-blooded, popular verse-monger, or poetical
+<i>Restaurateur</i>, 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 skepticism, 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 repel or resist; 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 have lost it, without
+reconciling them here.</p>
+
+<p>Burns was born poor; and born also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> 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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> and wrote his <i>Essay
+on the Human Understanding</i>, sheltering himself in a Dutch garret. Was
+Milton rich or at his ease, when he composed <i>Paradise Lost</i>? 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. Did not Cervantes finish his work, a
+maimed soldier, and in prison? Nay, was not the <i>Araucana</i>, which Spain
+acknowledges as its Epic, written without even the aid of paper; 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> 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 shrunk 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 &#8220;golden calf of
+Self-love,&#8221; however curiously carved, was not their Deity; but the
+Invisible Goodness, which alone is man&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> 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 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 a 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> 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, &#8220;a great
+Perhaps.&#8221;</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, &#8220;independent;&#8221; but <i>it 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; &#8220;to seek within himself for that consistency and sequence,
+which external events<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> would for ever refuse him.&#8221; 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 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. &#8220;I would not for much,&#8221;
+says Jean Paul, &#8220;that I had been born<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> richer.&#8221; And yet Paul&#8217;s birth was
+poor enough; for, in another place, he adds; &#8220;The prisoner&#8217;s allowance is
+bread and water; and I had often only the latter.&#8221; But the gold that is
+refined in the hottest furnace comes out the purest; or, as he has himself
+expressed it, &#8220;the canary-bird sings sweeter the longer it has been
+trained in a darkened cage.&#8221;</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&#8217;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 with the coarse roar
+of altogether earthly voices, and brightening the thick smoke of
+intoxication with fire lent him from heaven? Was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> it his aim to <i>enjoy</i>
+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>a-muck</i> against them all. How could a man, so falsely placed, by his own
+or others&#8217; 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
+&#8220;respectability.&#8221; 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 endowment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> 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&#8217;s
+soul, and strives towards the Infinite and the Eternal; and soon feels
+that all this is but mounting to the house-top to reach the stars! Like
+Burns, he is only a proud man; might like him have &#8220;purchased a
+pocket-copy of Milton to study the character of Satan;&#8221; for Satan also is
+Byron&#8217;s grand exemplar, the hero of his poetry, and the model apparently
+of his conduct. As in Burns&#8217;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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> 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,&mdash;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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>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 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,&mdash;<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: &#8220;He, who would write<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> heroic poems, must make
+his whole life a heroic poem.&#8221; 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 for him. Let him dwindle into a modish balladmonger;
+let him worship and be-sing the idols of the time, and the time will not
+fail to reward him,&mdash;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&#8217;s or
+a Burns&#8217;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 and
+furtherance for literature; like the costliest flower-jar enclosing the
+loveliest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>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 Drayhorse? 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> 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 reflection 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&#8217;s,
+its diameter the breadth of the solar system; or it may be a city
+hippodrome; nay, the circle of a ginhorse, its diameter a score of feet or
+paces. But the inches of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>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; and the pilot is therefore blameworthy; for 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.</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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> from the memory of
+man. While the Shakspeares 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 Fountain will also
+arrest our eye: for this also is of Nature&#8217;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>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center">THE END.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><strong>Footnotes:</strong></p>
+
+<p><a name="f1" id="f1" href="#f1.1">[1]</a> A review of the Life of Robert Burns. By J. G. Lockhart, LL. B.
+Edinburgh, 1828.</p>
+
+<p><a name="f2" id="f2" href="#f2.1">[2]</a> There is one little sketch certain &#8220;English gentlemen&#8221; of this class,
+which, though adopted in Currie&#8217;s Narrative, and since then repeated in
+most others, we have all along felt an invincible disposition to regard as
+imaginary: &#8220;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 great-coat fixed round him by a belt, from
+which depended an enormous Highland broad-sword. It was Burns.&#8221; Now, we
+rather think, it was not Burns. For, to say nothing of the fox-skin cap,
+loose and quite Hibernian watch-coat with the belt, what are we to make of
+this &#8220;enormous Highland broad-sword&#8221; 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 tendency to seek for distinction,
+either in his own eyes, or those of others, by such poor mummeries.</p>
+
+<p><a name="f3" id="f3" href="#f3.1">[3]</a> <i>Ubi s&aelig;va indignatio cor ulterius lacerare nequit.</i>&mdash;Swift&#8217;s Epitaph.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Life of Robert Burns, by Thomas Carlyle
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Life of Robert Burns
+
+
+Author: Thomas Carlyle
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 9, 2011  [eBook #36074]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+More: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/lifeofrobertburn00carl
+
+
+
+
+
+LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS.
+
+Mostly by
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York:
+Delisser & Procter, 508 Broadway.
+1859.
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S PREFACE.
+
+
+The readers of the "Household Library" will certainly welcome a Life of
+Burns. That his soul was of the real heroic stamp, no one who is familiar
+with his imperishable lyric poetry, will deny.
+
+This Life of the great Scottish bard is composed of two parts. The first
+part, which is brief, and gives merely his external life, is taken from
+the "Encyclopedia Britannica." The principle object of it, in this place,
+is to prepare the reader for what follows. The second part is a grand
+spiritual portrait of Burns, the like of which the ages have scarcely
+produced; the equal of which, in our opinion, does not exist. In fact,
+since men began to write and publish their thoughts in this world, no one
+has appeared who equals Carlyle as a spiritual-portrait painter; and,
+taken all in all, this of his gifted countryman Burns is his master-piece.
+I should not dare to say how many times I have perused it, and always with
+new wonder and delight. I once read it in the Manfrini Palace, at Venice,
+sitting before Titian's portrait of Ariosto. Great is the contrast between
+the Songs of Burns and the _Rime_ of the Italian poet, between the fine
+spiritual perception of Carlyle's mind and the delicate touch of Titian's
+hand, between picturesque expression and an expressive picture; yet this
+very antithesis seemed to prepare my mind for the full enjoyment of both
+these famous portraits; the sombre majesty of northern genius seemed to
+heighten and be heightened by the sunset glow of the genius of the south.
+
+Besides giving the article from the "Encyclopedia Britannica," as a kind
+of frame for the portrait of Burns, we will here add, from the "English
+Cyclopedia," a sketch of Carlyle's life. A severe taste may find it a
+little out of place, yet we must be allowed to consult the wishes of those
+for whom these little volumes are designed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Carlyle, (Thomas,) a thinker and writer, confessedly among the most
+original and influential that Britain has produced, was born in the parish
+of Middlebie, near the village of Ecclefechan, in Dumfries-shire,
+Scotland, on the 4th of December, 1795. His father, a man of remarkable
+force of character, was a small farmer in comfortable circumstances; his
+mother was also no ordinary person. The eldest son of a considerable
+family, he received an education the best in its kind that Scotland could
+then afford--the education of a pious and industrious home, supplemented
+by that of school and college. (Another son of the family, Dr. John A.
+Carlyle, a younger brother of Thomas, was educated in a similar manner,
+and, after practising for many years as a physician in Germany and Rome,
+has recently become known in British literature as the author of the best
+prose translation of Dante.) After a few years spent at the ordinary
+parish school, Thomas was sent, in his thirteenth or fourteenth year, to
+the grammar school of the neighboring town of Annan; and here it was that
+he first became acquainted with a man destined, like himself, to a career
+of great celebrity. "The first time I saw Edward Irving," writes Mr.
+Carlyle in 1835, "was six-and-twenty years ago, in his native town, Annan.
+He was fresh from Edinburgh, with college prizes, high character, and
+promise: he had come to see our school-master, who had also been his. We
+heard of famed professors--of high matters, classical, mathematical--a
+whole Wonderland of knowledge; nothing but joy, health, hopefulness
+without end, looked out from the blooming young man." Irving was then
+sixteen years of age, Carlyle fourteen; and from that time till Irving's
+sad and premature death, the two were intimate and constant friends. It
+was not long before Carlyle followed Irving to that "Wonderland of
+Knowledge," the University of Edinburgh, of which, and its "famed
+professors," he had received such tidings. If the description of the
+nameless German university, however, in "Sartor Resartus," is to be
+supposed as allusive also to Mr. Carlyle's own reminiscences of his
+training at Edinburgh, he seems afterwards to have held the more formal or
+academic part of that training in no very high respect. "What vain jargon
+of controversial metaphysic, etymology, and mechanical manipulation,
+falsely named science, was current there," says Teufelsdroeckh; "I indeed
+learned better perhaps than most." At Edinburgh, the professor of
+"controversial metaphysic" in Carlyle's day, was Dr. Thomas Brown, Dugald
+Stewart having then just retired; physical science and mathematics, were
+represented by Playfair and Sir John Leslie, and classical studies by men
+less known to fame. While at college, Carlyle's special bent, so far as
+the work of the classes was concerned, seems to have been to mathematics
+and natural philosophy. But it is rather by his voluntary studies and
+readings, apart from the work of the classes, that Mr. Carlyle, in his
+youth, laid the foundation of his vast and varied knowledge. The college
+session in Edinburgh extends over about half the year, from November to
+April; and during these months, the college library, and other such
+libraries as were accessible, were laid under contribution by him to an
+extent till then hardly paralleled by any Scottish student. Works on
+science and mathematics, works on philosophy, histories of all ages, and
+the great classics of British literature, were read by him miscellaneously
+or in orderly succession; and it was at this period, also, if we are not
+mistaken, he commenced his studies--not very usual then in Scotland--in
+the foreign languages of modern Europe. With the same diligence, and in
+very much the same way, were the summer vacations employed, during which
+he generally returned to his father's house in Dumfries-shire, or rambled
+among the hills and moors of that neighborhood.
+
+Mr. Carlyle had begun his studies with a view to entering the Scottish
+Church. About the time, however, when these studies were nearly ended, and
+when, according to the ordinary routine, he might have become a preacher,
+a change of views induced him to abandon the intended profession. This
+appears to have been about the year 1819 or 1820, when he was twenty-four
+years of age. For some time, he seems to have been uncertain as to his
+future course. Along with Irving, he employed himself for a year or two,
+as a teacher in Fifeshire; but gradually it became clear to him, that his
+true vocation was that of literature. Accordingly, parting from Irving,
+about the year 1822, the younger Scot of Annandale, deliberately embraced
+the alternative open to him, and became a general man of letters. Probably
+few have ever embraced that profession with qualifications so wide, or
+with aims so high and severe. Apart altogether from his diligence in
+learning, and from the extraordinary amount of acquired knowledge of all
+kinds, which was the fruit of it, there had been remarked in him, from the
+first, a strong originality of character, a noble earnestness and fervor
+in all that he said or did, and a vein of inherent constitutional contempt
+for the mean and the frivolous, inclining him, in some degree, to a life
+of isolation and solitude. Add to this, that his acquaintance with German
+literature, in particular, had familiarized him with ideas, modes of
+thinking, and types of literary character, not then generally known in
+this country, and yet, in his opinion, more deserving of being known than
+much of a corresponding kind that was occupying and ruling British
+thought.
+
+The first period of Mr. Carlyle's literary life may be said to extend from
+1822 to 1827, or from his twenty-sixth to his thirty-second year. It was
+during this period that he produced (besides a translation of Legendre's
+"Geometry," to which he prefixed an "Essay on Proportion,") his numerous
+well-known translations from German writers, and also his "Life of
+Schiller." The latter and a considerable proportion of the former, were
+written by him during the leisure afforded him by an engagement he had
+formed in 1823, as tutor to Charles Buller, whose subsequent brilliant
+though brief career in the politics of Britain, gives interest to this
+connection. The first part of the "Life of Schiller" appeared originally
+in the "London Magazine," of which John Scott was editor, and Hazlitt,
+Charles Lamb, Allan Cunningham, De Quincey, and Hood, were the best known
+supporters; and the second and third parts, were published in the same
+magazine in 1824. In this year appeared also the translation of Goethe's
+"Wilhelm Meister," which was published by Messrs. Oliver and Boyd, of
+Edinburgh, without the translator's name. This translation, the first real
+introduction of Goethe to the reading world of Great Britain, attracted
+much notice. "The translator," said a critic in "Blackwood," "is, we
+understand, a young gentleman in this city, who now for the first time
+appears before the public. We congratulate him on his very promising
+debut; and would fain hope to receive a series of really good translations
+from his hand. He has evidently a perfect knowledge of German; he already
+writes English better than is at all common, even at this time; and we
+know of no exercise more likely to produce effects of permanent advantage
+upon a young mind of intellectual ambition." The advice here given to Mr.
+Carlyle by his critic, was followed by him in so far that, in 1827, he
+published in Edinburgh, his "Specimens of German Romance," in four
+volumes; one of these containing "Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjahre," as a
+fresh specimen of Goethe; the others containing tales from Jean Paul,
+Tieck, Musaeus, and Hoffman. Meanwhile, in 1825, Mr. Carlyle had revised
+and enlarged his "Life of Schiller," and given it to the world in a
+separate form, through the press of Messrs. Taylor and Hessay, the
+proprietors of the "London Magazine." In the same year, quitting his
+tutorship of Charles Buller, he had married a lady fitted in a pre-eminent
+degree to be the wife of such a man. (It is interesting to know that Mrs.
+Carlyle, originally Miss Welch, is a lineal descendent of the Scottish
+Reformer, Knox.) For some time after the marriage, Mr. Carlyle continued
+to reside in Edinburgh; but before 1827 he removed to Craigenputtoch, a
+small property in the most solitary part of Dumfries-shire.
+
+The second period of Mr. Carlyle's literary life, extending from 1827 to
+1834, or from his thirty-second to his thirty-ninth year, was the period
+of the first decided manifestations of his extraordinary originality as a
+thinker. Probably the very seclusion in which he lived helped to develope,
+in stronger proportions, his native and peculiar tendencies. The following
+account of his place and mode of life at this time was sent by him, in
+1828, to Goethe, with whom he was then in correspondence, and was
+published by the great German in the preface to a German translation of
+the "Life of Schiller," executed under his immediate care:--"Dumfries is a
+pleasant town, containing about fifteen thousand inhabitants, and to be
+considered the centre of the trade and judicial system of a district which
+possesses some importance in the sphere of Scottish activity. Our
+residence is not in the town itself, but fifteen miles to the northwest of
+it, among the granite hills and the black morasses which stretch westward
+through Galloway almost to the Irish Sea. In this wilderness of heath and
+rock, our estate stands forth a green oasis, a tract of ploughed, partly
+inclosed and planted ground, where corn ripens and trees afford a shade,
+although surrounded by sea-mews and rough-woolled sheep. Here, with no
+small effort, have we built and furnished a neat, substantial dwelling;
+here, in the absence of a professional or other office, we live to
+cultivate literature according to our strength, and in our own peculiar
+way. We wish a joyful growth to the roses and flowers of our garden; we
+hope for health and peaceful thoughts to further our aims. The roses,
+indeed, are still in part to be planted, but they blossom already in
+anticipation. Two ponies which carry us every where, and the mountain air,
+are the best medicine for weak nerves. This daily exercise, to which I am
+much devoted, is my only recreation; for this nook of ours is the
+loneliest in Britain--six miles removed from any one likely to visit me.
+Here Rousseau would have been as happy as on his island of Saint-Pierre.
+My town friends, indeed, ascribe my sojourn here to a similar disposition,
+and forbode me no good result; but I came hither solely with the design to
+simplify my way of life, and to secure the independence through which I
+could be enabled to remain true to myself. This bit of earth is our own;
+here we can live, write, and think, as best pleases ourselves, even though
+Zoilus himself were to be crowned the monarch of literature. Nor is the
+solitude of such great importance, for a stage-coach takes us speedily to
+Edinburgh, which we look upon as our British Weimar; and have I not, too,
+at this moment, piled upon the table of my little library, a whole
+cart-load of French, German, American, and English journals and
+periodicals--whatever may be their worth? Of antiquarian studies, too,
+there is no lack."
+
+Before this letter was written, Mr. Carlyle had already begun the
+well-known series of his contributions to the "Edinburgh Review." The
+first of these was his essay on "Jean Paul," which appeared in 1827; and
+was followed by his striking article on "German Literature," and by his
+singularly beautiful essay on "Burns" (1828). Other essays in the same
+periodical followed, as well as articles in the "Foreign Quarterly
+Review," which was established in 1828, and shorter articles of less
+importance in Brewster's "Edinburgh Encyclopedia," then in course of
+publication. Externally, in short, at this time, Mr. Carlyle was a writer
+for reviews and magazines, choosing to live, for the convenience of his
+work and the satisfaction of his own tastes, in a retired nook of
+Scotland, whence he could correspond with his friends, occasionally visit
+the nearest of them, and occasionally also receive visits from them in
+turn. Among the friends whom he saw in his occasional visits to Edinburgh,
+were Jeffrey, Wilson, and other literary celebrities of that capital (Sir
+Walter Scott, we believe, he never met otherwise than casually in the
+streets); among the more distant friends who visited him, none was more
+welcome than the American Emerson, who, having already been attracted to
+him by his writings, made a journey to Dumfries-shire, during his first
+visit to England, expressly to see him; and of his foreign correspondents,
+the most valued by far was Goethe, whose death in 1832, and that of Scott
+in the same year, impressed him deeply, and were finely commemorated by
+him.
+
+Meanwhile, though thus ostensibly but an occasional contributor to
+periodicals, Mr. Carlyle was silently throwing his whole strength into a
+work which was to reveal him in a far other character than that of a mere
+literary critic, however able and profound. This was his "Sartor
+Resartus;" or, an imaginary History of the Life and Opinions of Herr
+Teufelsdroeckh, an eccentric German professor and philosopher. Under this
+quaint guise (the name "Sartor Resartus" being, it would appear, a
+translation into Latin of "The Tailor done over," which is the title of an
+old Scottish song), Mr. Carlyle propounded, in a style half-serious and
+half-grotesque, and in a manner far more bold and trenchant than the rules
+of review-writing permitted, his own philosophy of life and society in
+almost all their bearings. The work was truly an anomaly in British
+literature, exhibiting a combination of deep, speculative power, poetical
+genius, and lofty moral purpose, with wild and riotous humor and shrewd
+observation and satire, such as had rarely been seen; and coming into the
+midst of the more conventional British literature of the day, it was like
+a fresh but barbaric blast from the hills and moorlands amid which it had
+been conceived. But the very strangeness and originality of the work
+prevented it from finding a publisher; and after the manuscript had been
+returned by several London firms to whom it was offered, the author was
+glad to cut it into parts and publish it piecemeal in "Frazer's Magazine."
+Here it appeared in the course of 1833-34, scandalising most readers by
+its Gothic mode of thought and its extraordinary torture, as it was
+called, of the English language; but eagerly read by some sympathetic
+minds, who discerned in the writer a new power in literature, and wondered
+who and what he was.
+
+With the publication of the "Sartor Resartus" papers, the third period of
+Mr. Carlyle's literary life may be said to begin. It was during the
+negotiations for the publication that he was led to contemplate removing
+to London--a step which he finally took, we believe, in 1834. Since that
+year--the thirty-ninth of his life--Mr. Carlyle has permanently resided
+in London, in a house situated in one of the quiet streets running at
+right angles to the River Thames, at Chelsea. The change into the bustle
+of London, from the solitude of Craigenputtoch was, externally, a great
+one. In reality, however, it was less than it seemed. A man in the prime
+of life, when he came to reside in the metropolis, he brought into its
+roar and confusion, not the restless spirit of a young adventurer, but the
+settled energy of one who had ascertained his strength, and fixed his
+methods and his aims.
+
+Among the Maginns and others who contributed to "Frazer," he at once took
+his place as a man rather to influence than be influenced; and gradually,
+as the circle of his acquaintances widened so as to include such notable
+men as John Mill, Sterling, Maurice, Leigh Hunt, Browning, Thackeray, and
+others of established or rising fame in all walks of speculation and
+literature, the recognition of his rare personal powers of influence
+became more general and deep. In particular, in that London circle, in
+which John Sterling moved, was his personal influence great, even while as
+yet he was but the anonymous author of the "Sartor Resartus" papers, and
+of numerous other contributions, also anonymous, to "Frazer's Magazine,"
+and the "Edinburgh," "Foreign Quarterly," "British and Foreign," and
+"Westminster," Reviews. It was not till 1837, or his forty-second year,
+that his name, already so well known to an inner circle of admirers, was
+openly associated with a work fully proportional to his powers. This was
+his "French Revolution: a History," in three volumes, the extraordinary
+merits of which as at once a history and a gorgeous prose-epic, are known
+to all. In 1838, the "Sartor Resartus" papers, already re-published in the
+United States, were put forth, collectively, with his name; and, in the
+same year, his various scattered articles in periodicals, after having
+similarly received the honor of re-publication in America, were given to
+the world in four volumes, in their chronological series from 1827 to
+1837, under the title of "Miscellanies." Mr. Carlyle's next publication
+was his little tract on "Chartism," published in 1839, in which, to use
+the words of one of his critics, "he first broke ground on the Condition
+of England question."
+
+During the time when these successive publications were carrying his name
+through the land, Mr. Carlyle appeared in a new capacity, and delivered
+four courses of lectures in London to select but crowded audiences,
+including many of the aristocracy both of rank and of literature: the
+first, a course on "German Literature," delivered at Willis's Rooms in
+1837; the second, a course on "The History of Literature, or the
+Successive Periods of European Culture," delivered in Edward-street,
+Portman-square, in 1838; the third, a course on "the Revolutions of Modern
+Europe," delivered in 1839; and the fourth, a course on "Heroes,
+Hero-worship, and the Heroic in History," delivered in 1840. This last
+course alone was published; and it became more immediately popular than
+any of the works which had preceded it. It was followed, in 1843, by "Past
+and Present," a work contrasting, in a historico-philosophical spirit,
+English society of the middle ages with English society in our own day;
+and this again, in 1845, by "Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches, with
+elucidations and a connecting narrative;" such being the unpretending form
+which a work, originally intended to be a history of Cromwell and his
+times, ultimately assumed. By the year 1849, this work had reached a third
+edition. In 1850, appeared the "Latter-Day Pamphlets," in which, more than
+in any previous publication, the author spoke out in the character of a
+social and political censor of his own age. From their very nature, as
+stern denunciations of what the author considered contemporary fallacies,
+wrongs, and hypocrisies, these pamphlets produced a storm of critical
+indignation against Mr. Carlyle, which was still raging, when, in 1851,
+he gave to the world his "Life of John Sterling." While we write (April,
+1856) this, with the exception of some papers in periodicals, is the last
+publication that has proceeded from his pen; but at the present the
+British public are anxiously expecting a "History of the Life and Times of
+Frederick the Great," in which he is known to have been long engaged. A
+collection of some of the most striking opinions, sentiments, and
+descriptions, contained in all his works hitherto written, has been
+published in a single volume, entitled, "Passages selected from the
+Writings of Thomas Carlyle," (1855,) from the memoir prefixed to which, by
+the editor, Mr. Thomas Ballantyne, we have derived most of the facts for
+this notice.
+
+An appreciation of Mr. Carlyle's genius and of his influence on British
+thought and literature, is not to be looked for here, and indeed is hardly
+possible in the still raging conflict of opinions--one might even say,
+passions and parties--respecting him. The following remarks, however, by
+one of his critics, seems to us to express what all must admit to be the
+literal truth:--"It is nearly half a generation since Mr. Carlyle became
+an intellectual power in this country; and certainly rarely, if ever, in
+the history of literature, has such a phenomenon been witnessed as that of
+his influence. Throughout the whole atmosphere of this island his spirit
+has diffused itself, so that there is, probably, not an educated man under
+forty years of age, from Caithness to Cornwall, that can honestly say that
+he has not been more or less affected by it. Not to speak of his express
+imitators, one can hardly take up a book or a periodical, without finding
+some expression or some mode of thinking that bears the mint-mark of his
+genius." The same critic notices it as a peculiarity in Mr. Carlyle's
+literary career, that, whereas most men begin with the vehement and the
+controversial, and gradually become calm and acquiescent in things as they
+are, he began as an artist in pure literature, a critic of poetry, song,
+and the drama, and has ended as a vehement moralist and preacher of social
+reforms, disdaining the etiquette and even the name of pure literature,
+and more anxious to rouse than to please. With this development of his
+views of his own functions as a writer, is connected the development of
+his literary style, from the quiet and pleasing, though still solid and
+deep beauty of his earlier writings, to that later and more peculiar, and
+to many, disagreeable form, which has been nicknamed 'the Carlylese.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As all the world knows, two volumes of Carlyle's Frederick the Great have
+recently appeared. We might add, from personal acquaintance, many
+anecdotes, but we have learned, during a long residence abroad, to respect
+the hospitality that we have enjoyed.
+
+O. W. WIGHT.
+
+_January, 1859._
+
+
+
+
+LIFE OF BURNS.
+
+_PART FIRST._
+
+
+Robert Burns, the national bard of Scotland, was born on the 25th of
+January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage about two miles south of the town
+of Ayr. He was the eldest son of William Burnes, or Burness, who, at the
+period of Robert's birth, was gardener and overseer to a gentleman of
+small estate; but resided on a few acres of land which he had on lease
+from another person. The father was a man of strict religious principles,
+and also distinguished for that penetration and knowledge of mankind
+which was afterwards so conspicuous in his son. The mother of the poet
+was likewise a very sagacious woman, and possessed an inexhaustible store
+of ballads and legendary tales, with which she nourished the infant
+imagination of him whose own productions were destined to excel them all.
+
+These worthy individuals labored diligently for the support of an
+increasing family; nor, in the midst of harassing struggles did they
+neglect the mental improvement of their offspring; a characteristic of
+Scottish parents, even under the most depressing circumstances. In his
+sixth year, Robert was put under the tuition of one Campbell, and
+subsequently under Mr. John Murdoch, a very faithful and pains-taking
+teacher. With this individual he remained for a few years, and was
+accurately instructed in the first principles of composition. The poet and
+his brother Gilbert were the aptest pupils in the school, and were
+generally at the head of the class. Mr. Murdoch, in afterwards recording
+the impressions which the two brothers made on him, says: "Gilbert always
+appeared to me to possess a more lively imagination, and to be more of the
+wit, than Robert. I attempted to teach them a little church music. Here
+they were left far behind by all the rest of the school. Robert's ear, in
+particular, was remarkably dull, and his voice untunable. It was long
+before I could get them to distinguish one tune from another. Robert's
+countenance was generally grave, and expressive of a serious,
+contemplative, and thoughtful mind. Gilbert's face said, _Mirth, with thee
+I mean to live_; and certainly, if any person who knew the two boys had
+been asked which of them was the most likely to court the muses, he would
+never have guessed that _Robert_ had a propensity of that kind."
+
+Besides the tuition of Mr. Murdoch, Burns received instructions from his
+father in writing and arithmetic. Under their joint care, he made rapid
+progress, and was remarkable for the ease with which he committed
+devotional poetry to memory. The following extract from his letter to Dr.
+Moore, in 1787, is interesting, from the light which it throws upon his
+progress as a scholar, and on the formation of his character as a
+poet:--"At those years," says he, "I was by no means a favorite with
+anybody. I was a good deal noted for a retentive memory, a stubborn,
+sturdy something in my disposition, and an enthusiastic idiot piety. I say
+idiot piety, because I was then but a child. Though it cost the
+schoolmaster some thrashings, I made an excellent scholar; and by the time
+I was ten or eleven years of age, I was a critic in substantives, verbs,
+and particles. In my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old
+woman who resided in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity,
+and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the
+country, of tales and songs, concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies,
+witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths,
+apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other
+trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry; but had so strong an
+effect upon my imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I
+sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places; and though nobody
+can be more skeptical than I am in such matters, yet it often takes an
+effort of philosophy to shake off these idle terrors. The earliest
+composition that I recollect taking pleasure in, was, _The Vision of
+Mirza_, and a hymn of Addison's, beginning, "_How are thy servants blest,
+O Lord!_" I particularly remember one-half stanza, which was music to my
+boyish ear:
+
+  "For though on dreadful whirls we hung
+  High on the broken wave."
+
+I met with these pieces in _Mason's English Collection_, one of my
+school-books. The first two books I ever read in private, and which gave
+me more pleasure than any two books I ever read since, were, _The Life of
+Hannibal_, and _The History of Sir William Wallace_. Hannibal gave my
+young ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up and down
+after the recruiting drum and bagpipe, and wish myself tall enough to be a
+soldier; while the story of Wallace poured a tide of Scottish prejudice
+into my veins, which will boil along there till the flood-gates of life
+shut in eternal rest."
+
+Mr. Murdoch's removal from Mount Oliphant deprived Burns of his
+instructions; but they were still continued by the father of the bard.
+About the age of fourteen, he was sent to school every alternate week for
+the improvement of his writing. In the mean while, he was busily employed
+upon the operations of the farm; and, at the age of fifteen, was
+considered as the principal laborer upon it. About a year after this he
+gained three weeks of respite, which he spent with his old tutor, Murdoch,
+at Ayr, in revising the English grammar, and in studying the French
+language, in which he made uncommon progress. Ere his sixteenth year
+elapsed, he had considerably extended his reading. The vicinity of Mount
+Oliphant to Ayr afforded him facilities for gratifying what had now become
+a passion. Among the books which he had perused were some plays of
+Shakspeare, Pope, the works of Allan Ramsay, and a collection of songs,
+which constituted his _vade mecum_. "I pored over them," says he,
+"driving my cart or walking to labor, song by song, verse by verse,
+carefully noticing the true, tender or sublime, from affectation and
+fustian." So early did he evince his attachment to the lyric muse, in
+which he was destined to surpass all who have gone before or succeeded
+him.
+
+At this period the family removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton.
+Some time before, however, he had made his first attempt in poetry. It was
+a song addressed to a rural beauty, about his own age, and though
+possessing no great merit as a whole, it contains some lines and ideas
+which would have done honor to him at any age. After the removal to
+Lochlea, his literary zeal slackened, for he was thus cut off from those
+acquaintances whose conversation stimulated his powers, and whose kindness
+supplied him with books. For about three years after this period, he was
+busily employed upon the farm, but at intervals he paid his addresses to
+the poetic muse, and with no common success. The summer of his nineteenth
+year was spent in the study of mensuration, surveying, etc., at a small
+sea-port town, a good distance from home. He returned to his father's
+considerably improved. "My reading," says he, "was enlarged with the very
+important addition of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. I had seen human
+nature in a new phasis; and I engaged several of my school-fellows to keep
+up a literary correspondence with me. This improved me in composition. I
+had met with a collection of letters by the wits of Queen Anne's reign,
+and I pored over them most devoutly; I kept copies of any of my own
+letters that pleased me, and a comparison between them and the composition
+of most of my correspondents flattered my vanity. I carried this whim so
+far, that though I had not three farthings' worth of business in the
+world, yet almost every post brought me as many letters as if I had been a
+broad, plodding son of day-book and ledger."
+
+His mind, peculiarly susceptible of tender impressions, was continually
+the slave of some rustic charmer. In the "heat and whirlwind of his love,"
+he generally found relief in poetry, by which, as by a safety-valve, his
+turbulent passions were allowed to have vent. He formed the resolution of
+entering the matrimonial state; but his circumscribed means of subsistence
+as a farmer preventing his taking that step, he resolved on becoming a
+flax-dresser, for which purpose he removed to the town of Irvine, in 1781.
+The speculation turned out unsuccessful; for the shop, catching fire, was
+burnt, and the poet returned to his father without a sixpence. During his
+stay at Irvine he had met with Ferguson's poems. This circumstance was of
+some importance to Burns, for it roused his poetic powers from the torpor
+into which they had fallen, and in a great measure finally determined the
+_Scottish_ character of his poetry. He here also contracted some
+friendships, which he himself says did him mischief; and, by his brother
+Gilbert's account, from this date there was a serious change in his
+conduct. The venerable and excellent parent of the poet died soon after
+his son's return. The support of the family now devolving upon Burns, in
+conjunction with his brother he took a sub-lease of the farm of Mossgiel,
+in the parish of Mauchline. The four years which he resided upon this farm
+were the most important of his life. It was here he felt that nature had
+designed him for a poet; and here, accordingly, his genius began to
+develop its energies in those strains which will make his name familiar
+to all future times, the admiration of every civilized country, and the
+glory and boast of his own.
+
+The vigor of Burns's understanding, and the keenness of his wit, as
+displayed more particularly at masonic meetings and debating clubs, of
+which he formed one at Mauchline, began to spread his fame as a man of
+uncommon endowments. He now could number as his acquaintance several
+clergymen, and also some gentlemen of substance; amongst whom was Mr.
+Gavin Hamilton, writer in Mauchline, one of his earliest patrons. One
+circumstance more than any other contributed to increase his notoriety.
+"Polemical divinity," says he to Dr. Moore in 1787, "about this time was
+putting the country half mad; and I, ambitious of shining in
+conversation-parties on Sundays, at funerals, etc., used to puzzle
+Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion, that I raised a hue-and-cry
+of heresy against me, which has not ceased to this hour." The farm which
+he possessed belonged to the Earl of Loudon, but the brothers held it in
+sub-lease from Mr. Hamilton. This gentleman was at open feud with one of
+the ministers of Mauchline, who was a rigid Calvinist. Mr. Hamilton
+maintained opposite tenets; and it is not matter of surprise that the
+young farmer should have espoused his cause, and brought all the resources
+of his genius to bear upon it. The result was _The Holy Fair_, _The
+Ordination_, _Holy Willie's Prayer_, and other satires, as much
+distinguished for their coarse severity and bitterness, as for their
+genius.
+
+The applause which greeted these pieces emboldened the poet, and
+encouraged him to proceed. In his life, by his brother Gilbert, a very
+interesting account is given of the occasions which gave rise to the
+poems, and the chronological order in which they were produced. The
+exquisite pathos and humor, the strong manly sense, the masterly command
+of felicitous language, the graphic power of delineating scenery, manners,
+and incidents, which appear so conspicuously in his various poems, could
+not fail to call forth the admiration of those who were favored with a
+perusal of them. But the clouds of misfortune were gathering darkly above
+the head of him who was thus giving delight to a large and widening circle
+of friends. The farm of Mossgiel proved a losing concern; and an amour
+with Miss Jane Armour, afterwards Mrs. Burns, had assumed so serious an
+aspect, that he at first resolved to fly from the scene of his disgrace
+and misery. One trait of his character, however, must be mentioned. Before
+taking any steps for his departure, he met Miss Armour by appointment,
+and gave into her hands a written acknowledgment of marriage, which, when
+produced by a person in her situation, is, according to the Scots' law, to
+be accepted as legal evidence of an _irregular_ marriage having really
+taken place. This the lady burned, at the persuasion of her father, who
+was adverse to a marriage; and Burns, thus wounded in the two most
+powerful feelings of his mind, his love and pride, was driven almost to
+insanity. Jamaica was his destination; but as he did not possess the money
+necessary to defray the expense of his passage out, he resolved to publish
+some of his best poems, in order to raise the requisite sum. These views
+were warmly promoted by some of his more opulent friends; and a
+sufficiency of subscribers having been procured, one of the finest volumes
+of poetry that ever appeared in the world issued from the provincial
+press of Kilmarnock.
+
+It is hardly possible to imagine with what eager admiration and delight
+they were every where received. They possessed in an eminent degree all
+those qualities which invariably contribute to render any literary work
+quickly and permanently popular. They were written in a phraseology of
+which all the powers were universally felt, and which being at once
+antique, familiar, and now rarely written, was therefore fitted to serve
+all the dignified and picturesque uses of poetry, without making it
+unintelligible. The imagery and the sentiments were at once natural,
+impressive, and interesting. Those topics of satire and scandal in which
+the rustic delights; that humorous imitation of character, and that witty
+association of ideas, familiar and striking, yet not naturally allied to
+one another, which has force to shake his sides with laughter; those
+fancies of superstition, at which one still wonders and trembles; those
+affecting sentiments and images of true religion, which are at once dear
+and awful to the heart; were all represented by Burns with the magical
+power of true poetry. Old and young, high and low, grave and gay, learned
+and ignorant, all were alike surprised and transported.
+
+In the mean time, a few copies of these fascinating poems found their way
+to Edinburgh, and having been read to Dr. Blacklock, obtained his warmest
+approbation; and he advised the author to repair to Edinburgh. Burns lost
+no time in complying with this request; and accordingly, towards the end
+of the year 1786, he set out for the capitol, where he was received by Dr.
+Blacklock with the most flattering kindness, and introduced to every
+person of taste among that excellent man's friends. Multitudes now vied
+with each other in patronizing the rustic poet. Those who possessed at
+once true taste and ardent philanthropy were soon united in his praise;
+those who were disposed to favor any good thing belonging to Scotland,
+purely because it was Scottish, gladly joined the cry; while those who had
+hearts and understandings to be charmed without knowing why, when they saw
+their native customs, manners, and language, made the subjects and the
+materials of poesy, could not suppress that impulse of feeling which
+struggled to declare itself in favor of Burns.
+
+Thus did Burns, ere he had been many weeks in Edinburgh, find himself the
+object of universal curiosity, favor, admiration, and fondness. He was
+sought after, courted with attentions the most respectful and assiduous,
+feasted, flattered, caressed, and treated by all ranks as the great boast
+of his country, whom it was scarcely possible to honor and reward in a
+degree equal to his merits.
+
+A new edition of his poems was called for; and the public mind was
+directed to the subject by Henry Mackenzie, who dedicated a paper in the
+_Lounger_ to a commendatory notice of the poet. This circumstance will
+ever be remembered to the honor of that polished writer, not only for the
+warmth of the eulogy he bestowed, but because it was the first printed
+acknowledgment which had been made to the genius of Burns. The copyright
+was sold to Creech for L100; but the friends of the poet advised him to
+forward a subscription. The patronage of the Caledonian Hunt, a very
+influential body, was obtained. The list of subscribers rapidly rose to
+1500, many gentlemen paying a great deal more than the price of the
+volume; and it was supposed that the poet derived from the subscription
+and the sale of his copyright a clear profit of at least L700.
+
+The conversation of Burns, according to the testimony of all the eminent
+men who heard him, was even more wonderful than his poetry. He affected no
+soft air nor graceful motions of politeness, which might have ill accorded
+with the rustic plainness of his native manners. Conscious superiority of
+mind taught him to associate with the great, the learned, and the gay,
+without being overawed into any such bashfulness as might have rendered
+him confused in thought, or hesitating in elocution. He possessed withal
+an extraordinary share of plain common sense, or mother-wit, which
+prevented him from obtruding upon persons, of whatever rank, with whom he
+was admitted to converse, any of those effusions of vanity, envy, or
+self-conceit, in which authors who have lived remote from the general
+practice of life, and whose minds have been almost exclusively confined to
+contemplate their own studies and their own works, are but too prone to
+indulge. In conversation, he displayed a sort of intuitive quickness and
+rectitude of judgment, upon every subject that arose. The sensibility of
+his heart, and the vivacity of his fancy, gave a rich coloring to whatever
+opinions he was disposed to advance; and his language was thus not less
+happy in conversation than in his writings. Hence those who had met and
+conversed with him once, were pleased to meet and to converse with him
+again and again.
+
+For some time he associated only with the virtuous, the learned, and the
+wise, and the purity of his morals remained uncontaminated. But
+unfortunately he fell, as others have fallen in similar circumstances. He
+suffered himself to be surrounded by persons who were proud to tell that
+they had been in company with Burns, and had seen Burns as loose and as
+foolish as themselves. He now also began to contract something of
+arrogance in conversation. Accustomed to be among his associates what is
+vulgarly but expressively called "the cock of the company," he could
+scarcely refrain from indulging in a similar freedom and dictatorial
+decision of talk, even in the presence of persons who could less patiently
+endure presumption.
+
+After remaining some months in the Scottish metropolis, basking in the
+noontide sun of a popularity which, as Dugald Stewart well remarks, would
+have turned any head but his own, he formed a resolution of returning to
+the shades whence he had emerged, but not before he had perambulated the
+southern border. On the 6th of May, 1787, he set out on his journey, and,
+visiting all that appeared interesting on the north of the Tweed,
+proceeded to Newcastle and other places on the English side. He returned
+in about two months to his family at Mauchline; but in a short period he
+again set out on an excursion to the north, where he was most flatteringly
+received by all the great families. On his return to Mossgiel he completed
+his marriage with Miss Armour. He then concluded a bargain with Mr. Miller
+of Dalswinton, for a lease of the farm of Elliesland, on advantageous
+terms.
+
+Burns entered on possession of this farm at Whit-Sunday, 1788. He had
+formerly applied with success for an excise commission, and during six
+weeks of this year, he had to attend to the business of that profession at
+Ayr. His life for some time was thus wandering and unsettled; and Dr.
+Currie mentions this as one of his chief misfortunes. Mrs. Burns came
+home to him towards the end of the year, and the poet was accustomed to
+say that the happiest period of his life was the first winter spent in
+Elliesland. The neighboring farmers and gentlemen, pleased to obtain for a
+neighbor the poet by whose works they had been delighted, kindly sought
+his company, and invited him to their houses. Burns, however, found an
+inexpressible charm in sitting down beside his wife, at his own fireside;
+in wandering over his own grounds; in once more putting his hand to the
+spade and the plough; in farming his enclosures, and managing his cattle.
+For some months he felt almost all that felicity which fancy had taught
+him to expect in his new situation. He had been for a time idle; but his
+muscles were not yet unbraced for rural toil. He now seemed to find a joy
+in being the husband of the mistress of his affections, and in seeing
+himself the father of children such as promised to attach him for ever to
+that modest, humble, and domestic life, in which alone he could hope to be
+permanently happy. Even his engagements in the service of excise did not,
+at first, threaten either to contaminate the poet or to ruin the farmer.
+
+From various causes, the farming speculation did not succeed. Indeed, from
+the time he obtained a situation under government, he gradually began to
+sink the farmer in the exciseman. Occasionally he assisted in the rustic
+occupations of Elliesland, but for the most part he was engaged in very
+different pursuits. In his professional perambulations over the moors of
+Dumfries-shire he had to encounter temptations which a mind and
+temperament like his found it difficult to resist. His immortal works had
+made him universally known and enthusiastically admired; and accordingly
+he was a welcome guest at every house, from the most princely mansion to
+the lowest country inn. In the latter he was too frequently to be found as
+the presiding genius, and master of the orgies. However, he still
+continued at intervals to cultivate the muse; and, besides a variety of
+other pieces, he produced at this period the inimitable poem of Tam
+O'Shanter. Johnson's Miscellany was also indebted to him for the finest of
+its lyrics. One pleasing trait of his character must not be overlooked. He
+superintended the formation of a subscription library in the parish, and
+took the whole management of it upon himself. These institutions, though
+common now, were not so short at the period of which we write; and it
+should never be forgotten that Burns was amongst the first, if not the
+very first, of their founders in the rural districts of southern Scotland.
+
+Towards the close of 1791 he finally abandoned his farm; and obtaining an
+appointment to the Dumfries division of excise, he repaired to that town
+on a salary of L70 per annum. All his principal biographers concur in
+stating that after settling in Dumfries his moral career was downwards.
+Heron, who had some acquaintance with the matter, says, "His dissipation
+became still more deeply habitual; he was here more exposed than in the
+country to be solicited to share the revels of the dissolute and the idle;
+foolish young men flocked eagerly about him, and from time to time pressed
+him to drink with them, that they might enjoy his wit. The Caledonia Club,
+too, and the Dumfries-shire and Galloway Hunt, had occasional meetings in
+Dumfries after Burns went to reside there: and the poet was of course
+invited to share their conviviality, and hesitated not to accept the
+invitation. In the intervals between his different fits of intemperance,
+he suffered the keenest anguish of remorse, and horribly afflictive
+foresight. His Jane behaved with a degree of conjugal and maternal
+tenderness and prudence, which made him feel more bitterly the evil of his
+misconduct, although they could not reclaim him."
+
+This is a dark picture--perhaps too dark. The Rev. Mr. Gray, who, as the
+teacher of his son, was intimately acquainted with Burns, and had frequent
+opportunities of judging of his general character and deportment, gives a
+more amiable portrait of the bard. Being an eye-witness, the testimony of
+this gentleman must be allowed to have some weight. "The truth is," says
+he, "Burns was seldom _intoxicated_. The drunkard soon becomes besotted,
+and is shunned even by the convivial. Had he been so, he could not have
+long continued the idol of every party." This is strong reasoning; and he
+goes on to mention other circumstances which seem to confirm the truth of
+his position. In balancing these two statements, a juster estimate of the
+moral deportment of Burns may be formed.
+
+In the year 1792 party politics ran to a great height in Scotland, and the
+liberal and independent spirit of Burns did certainly betray him into some
+indiscretions. A general opinion prevails, that he so far lost the good
+graces of his superiors by his conduct, as to consider all prospects of
+future promotion as hopeless. But this appears not to have been the case;
+and the fact that he acted as supervisor before his death is a strong
+proof to the contrary. Of his political verses, few have as yet been
+published. But in these he warmly espoused the cause of the Whigs, which
+kept up the spleen of the other party, already sufficiently provoked; and
+this may in some measure account for the bitterness with which his own
+character was attacked.
+
+Whatever opinion may be formed of the extent of his dissipation in
+Dumfries, one fact is unquestionable, that his powers remained unimpaired
+to the last; it was there he produced his finest lyrics, and they are the
+finest, as well as the purest, that ever delighted mankind. Besides
+Johnson's _Museum_, in which he took an interest to the last, and to which
+he contributed most extensively, he formed a connection with Mr. George
+Thomson, of Edinburgh. This gentleman had conceived the laudable design of
+collecting the national melodies of Scotland, with accompaniments by the
+most eminent composers, and poetry by the best writers, in addition to
+those words which were originally attached to them. From the multitude of
+songs which Burns wrote, from the year 1792 till the commencement of his
+illness, it is evident that few days could have passed without his
+producing some stanzas for the work. The following passage from his
+correspondence, which was also most extensive, proves that his songs were
+not hurriedly got up, but composed with the utmost care and attention.
+"Until I am complete master of a tune in my own singing, such as it is,"
+says he, "I can never compose for it. My way is this: I consider the
+poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression--then
+choose my theme--compose one stanza. When that is composed, which is
+generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out--sit down
+now and then--look out for objects in nature round me that are in unison
+or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my
+bosom--humming every now and then the air, with the verses I have framed.
+When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside
+of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper; swinging at intervals
+on the hind legs of my elbow-chair, by way of calling forth my own
+critical strictures, as my pen goes. Seriously, this, at home, is almost
+invariably my way." This is not only interesting for the light which it
+throws upon his method of composition, but it proves that conviviality had
+not as yet greater charms for him than the muse.
+
+From his youth Burns had exhibited ominous symptoms of a radical disorder
+in his constitution. A palpitation of the heart, and a derangement of the
+digestive organs, were conspicuous. These were, doubtless, increased by
+his indulgences, which became more frequent as he drew towards the close
+of his career. In the autumn of 1795 he lost an only daughter, which was
+a severe blow to him. Soon afterwards he was seized with a rheumatic
+fever; and "long the die spun doubtful," says he, in a letter to his
+faithful friend Mrs. Dunlap, "until, after many weeks of a sick bed, it
+seems to have turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room."
+The cloud behind which his sun was destined to be eclipsed at noon had
+begun to darken above him. Before he had completely recovered, he had the
+imprudence to join a festive circle; and, on his return from it, he caught
+a cold, which brought back his trouble upon him with redoubled severity.
+Sea-bathing was had recourse to, but with no ultimate success. He lingered
+until the 21st of July, 1796, when he expired. The interest which the
+death of Burns excited was intense. All differences were forgotten; his
+genius only was thought of. On the 26th of the same month he was conveyed
+to the grave, followed by about ten thousand individuals of all ranks,
+many of whom had come from distant parts of the country to witness the
+solemnity. He was interred with military honors by the Dumfries
+volunteers, to which body he had belonged.
+
+Thus, at the age of thirty-seven, an age when the mental powers of man
+have scarcely reached their climax, died Robert Burns, one of the greatest
+poets whom his country has produced. It is unnecessary to enter into any
+lengthened analysis of his poetry or character. His works are universally
+known and admired, and criticism has been drawn to the dregs upon the
+subject; and that, too, by the greatest masters who have appeared since
+his death,--no mean test of the great merits of his writings. He excels
+equally in touching the heart by the exquisiteness of his pathos, and
+exciting the risible faculties by the breadth of his humor. His lyre had
+many strings, and he had equal command over them all; striking each, and
+frequently in chords, with the skill and power of a master. That his
+satire sometimes degenerates into coarse invective, can not be denied; but
+where personality is not permitted to interfere, his poems of this
+description may take their place beside any thing of the kind which has
+ever been produced, without being disgraced by the comparison. It is
+unnecessary to re-echo the praises of his best pieces, as there is no
+epithet of admiration which has not been bestowed upon them. Those who had
+best opportunities of judging, are of opinion that his works, stamped as
+they are with the impress of sovereign genius, fall short of the powers he
+possessed. It is therefore to be lamented that he undertook no great work
+of fiction or invention. Had circumstances permitted, he would probably
+have done so; but his excise duties, and without doubt his own follies,
+prevented him. His passions were strong, and his capacity of enjoyment
+corresponded with them. These continually precipitated him into the
+variety of pleasure, where alone they could be gratified; and the reaction
+consequent upon such indulgences (for he possessed the finest
+discrimination between right and wrong) threw him into low spirits, to
+which he was also constitutionally liable. His mind, being thus never for
+any length of time in an equable tone, could scarcely pursue with steady
+regularity a work of any length. His moral aberrations, as detailed by
+some of his biographers, have been exaggerated, as already noticed. This
+has been proved by the testimony of many witnesses, from whose authority
+there can be no appeal; for they had the best opportunities of judging.
+In fine, it may be doubted whether he has not, by his writings, exercised
+a greater power over the minds of men, and the general system of life,
+than has been exercised by any other modern poet. A complete edition of
+his works, in four vols. 8vo., with a life, was published by Dr. Currie of
+Liverpool, for the benefit of his family, to whom it realized a handsome
+sum. Editions have been since multiplied beyond number; and several
+excellent biographies of the poet have been published, particularly that
+by Mr. Lockhart.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE OF BURNS.[1]
+
+_PART SECOND._
+
+
+In the modern arrangements of society, it is no uncommon thing that a man
+of genius must, like Butler, "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, and more 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; 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!
+
+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 neighbour of John a Combe's, had snatched an hour or two from the
+preservation of his game, and written us a Life of Shakspeare! 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 honourable Excise Commissioners, and the Gentlemen of the
+Caledonian Hunt, and the Dumfries Aristocracy, and all the Squires and
+Earls, equally with the Ayr Writers, 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 fare 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 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 honour 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 this: 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
+written on the very popular and condensed scheme of an article for
+_Constable's Miscellany_, 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
+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.
+
+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 coexisting 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
+goodwill, and trust they may meet with acceptance from those for whom they
+are intended.
+
+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, 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
+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 for ever 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 the pick-axe; 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 for his standard of beauty, he sinks not under all
+these impediments. Through the fogs and darkness of that obscure region,
+his eagle 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 irrepressible movement of his inward spirit,
+he 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; 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: time and means were not lent him for 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 race with whom 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.
+
+Such a gift had Nature in her bounty bestowed on us in Robert Burns; but
+with queen-like indifference she cast it from her hand, like a thing of no
+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 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." 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_." 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 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 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
+Aeolian harp, in whose strings the vulgar wind, as it passed through them,
+changed itself into articulate melody." 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 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 wiredrawn 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 he has lived and labored 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,
+too, 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_, 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.
+
+This may appear a very simple principle, and one 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, and 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? Surely, all these stormful agonies, this
+volcanic heroism, superhuman contempt, and moody desperation, with so much
+scowling, and teeth-gnashing, and other sulphurous humors, 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 and affected, in every
+one of these otherwise 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.
+
+It is necessary, however, to mention, that 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 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 Shakspeare 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 Scottish 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. 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 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
+foregoing. It 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 for ever
+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 world, that poetry resides for him; 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 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 out of his
+native Greece, and two centuries before he was born; or because he wrote
+of 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 object; is it not so?--they
+have nothing to hope, but an ephemeral favor, even from the highest.
+
+The poet, we cannot but think, 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 to live. Is there not the
+fifth act of a Tragedy, in every death-bed, 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 can not
+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 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 other things, he must see the world. As to
+seeing the world, we apprehend this will cause him little difficulty, if
+he have but an eye to see it with. Without eyes, indeed, the task might be
+hard. 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, 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, soon after that date, vanished from the earth,
+and became no longer attainable by men! Such cobweb speculations have, now
+and then, overhung the field of literature; but they obstruct not the
+growth of any plant there: the Shakspeare 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 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 battle-fields 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. 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, and 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 in him 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 prompt
+and eager 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 can not 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 is not more expressive or exact.
+
+This clearness of sight we may call 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 powers. 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 an humble but the readiest proof. Who
+ever 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. Our Scottish forefathers in
+the battle-field struggled forward, he says, "_red-wat shod_;" giving, 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, as in his feelings and volitions. Professor Stewart says of
+him, with some surprise: "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 extreme sensibility, and a certain vague pervading 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. The feelings, the gifts, 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 all men, with power, but by being still more a man than they?
+Shakspeare, 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 judgment: for
+it dwelt among the humblest objects, never saw philosophy, and never rose,
+except for short intervals, into the region of great ideas. Nevertheless,
+sufficient indication remains for us in his works: we discern the brawny
+movement 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 relation 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 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 subtiler 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 hare-bell, the fox-glove, 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 Aeolian 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, and a world of weal
+or wo beyond death and the grave."
+
+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 probably require this;
+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 curlew,"
+are all 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,
+                Beneath a scaur.
+
+  Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing,
+  That in the merry month o' spring
+  Delighted me to hear thee sing,
+                What comes o' thee?
+  Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing,
+                And close thy ee?"
+
+The tenant of the mean hut, with its "ragged roof and chinky wall," 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!"
+
+He did not know, probably, that Sterne had been beforehand with him. "'He
+is the father of curses and lies,' said Dr. Slop; 'and is cursed and
+damned already.'--'I am sorry for it,' quoth my uncle Toby!"--"A poet
+without Love, were a physical and metaphysical impossibility."
+
+Why should we speak of _Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled_; since all know
+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, forebore 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 of the whirlwind.
+So long as there is warm blood in the heart of a 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 co-operates. For was not this grim Celt, this
+shaggy Northland Cacus, 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, was
+material Fate matched against man's Free-will; matched in bitterest though
+obscure duel; and the ethereal soul sunk 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 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 and thinner 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; 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 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,
+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
+Musaeus of this tale. 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 public-house 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,
+painted on ale-vapors, and the farce 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 "Shakspearian"
+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,
+and soft of movement; yet sharp and precise in its details; every face is
+a portrait: that _raucle carlin_, that _wee Apollo_, that _Son of Mars_,
+are Scottish, yet ideal; the scene is at once a dream, and the very
+Rag-castle of "Poosie-Nansie." 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, and flaming light, these rough tatterdemalions are seen in their
+boisterous revel; for the strong pulse of 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 ring from Fate another hour of wassail and good cheer. 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_, in
+the _Beggar's Bush_, as other critics 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 the least
+obstruction; in its highest beauty, and pure sunny clearness. The reason
+may be, that Song is a brief and simple species of composition: and
+requires nothing so much for its perfection as genuine poetic feeling,
+genuine music of heart. 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 Ossorius the Portugal Bishop, 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 outward, 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
+outside 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 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 Shakspeare
+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 slyest mirth; and yet he is sweet and soft,
+"sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, and soft as their parting
+tear!" If we farther 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 for _Mary in Heaven_; from
+the glad kind greeting of _Auld Langsyne_, 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 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 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 the ends of the earth
+speak a British language. In hut and hall, as the heart unfolds itself in
+the joy and wo of existence, the name, the voice of that joy and that wo,
+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 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 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 Thomas Boston was
+writing, with the noblest intent, but alike in defiance of grammar and
+philosophy, his _Fourfold State of Man_. Then came the schisms in our
+National Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body Politic: Theologic
+ink, and Jacobite blood, with gaul 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, and a tolerably
+clumsy one, 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. Hume was too rich a man to borrow; and
+perhaps he reached 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, 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 Rent," to the "Natural History of Religion," are thrashed and
+sifted with the same mechanical impartiality!
+
+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, 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. 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," 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 most toilsome journeyings, this object never quits him; it
+is the little happy-valley of his careworn heart. In the gloom of his own
+affliction, he eagerly searches after some lonely brother of the muse, and
+rejoices to snatch one other name from the oblivion that was covering it!
+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.
+
+But to leave the mere literary character of Burns, which has already
+detained us too long, we cannot but think that the Life he willed, and was
+fated to lead among his fellow-men, is both more interesting and
+instructive than any of his written works. 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, porticoes, firm masses of building, stand
+completed; the rest more or less clearly indicated; with many a
+far-stretching 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. 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 report.
+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
+comparitively insignificant ground of his being more 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
+steady himself for any fixed or systematic pursuit, but swerves to and
+fro, between passionate hope, and remorseful disappointment: rushing
+onwards 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 develope 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, therefore, 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 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, open-minded 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. Unfortunately, he was very poor; had he been even a little richer,
+almost ever 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! 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 plough-boy, and British literature took its own course.
+Nevertheless, even in this rugged scene, there is much to nourish him. If
+he drudges, it is 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;" 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!"
+
+We know, from the best evidence, that up to this date, Burns was happy;
+nay, that he was the gayest, brightest, most fantastic, fascinating being
+to be found in the world; more so even than he ever afterwards appeared.
+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 service, but only our determining to desert from it, that
+fits 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! 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, at all events, 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 free-minded 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 conjurors 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 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" from within, he had little need
+of skeptical 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
+worldings 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 the 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," 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:
+  The bursting tears my heart declare;
+  Adieu, my native banks of Ayr!"
+
+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 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," 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 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."
+
+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 _Vergilium vidi
+tantum_. I was a lad of fifteen in 1786-7, 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,
+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, representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog
+sitting in misery on one side,--on the other, his widow, 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 baptized 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." 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 picture: but to me it conveys
+the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his
+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.
+
+"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 any thing I
+can add to these recollections of forty years since."
+
+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 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 enough 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, 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 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 mere 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 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: and it was a question which 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; and that we should be at a loss, even now, to suggest one decidedly
+better. Some of his admirers, indeed, are scandalized at his ever
+resolving to _gauge_; and would have had him apparently lie still at the
+pool, till the spirit of Patronage should stir the waters, and then heal
+with one plunge all his worldly sorrows! We fear such counsellors knew but
+little of Burns; and did not consider that happiness might in all cases be
+cheaply had by waiting for the fulfilment of golden dreams, were it not
+that in the interim the dreamer 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." We think, then, 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. Nay, after all, it was no
+failure of external means, but of internal, that overtook Burns. His was
+no bankruptcy of the purse, but of the soul; to his last day, he owed no
+man any thing.
+
+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 his 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 birth-right, 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,[2]
+all manner of fashionable danglers after literature, and, far worse, all
+manner of convivial Mecaenases, 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 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 guide, 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
+him! For is he not a well-wisher of 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. Nay, his convivial Mecaenases 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
+intrusion 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 country, 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 country 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:
+
+  'His bonnet stood ance fu' fair on his brow,
+  His auld ane looked 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 galloping 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."
+
+Alas! when we think that Burns now sleeps "where bitter indignation can no
+longer lacerate his heart,"[3] and that most of these 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 ought 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 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 at 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," 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 for ever.
+
+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 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, 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
+really 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! 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: and we may question, whether, without great precautions,
+even a pension 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 further, 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
+Shakspeare; as King Charles and his cavaliers did Butler, as King Philip
+and his Grandees did Cervantes. Do men gather grapes of thorns? 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?" 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, 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 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," 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.
+
+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 reviling, the prison, the cross, the poison-chalice, have, in most
+times and countries, been the market-place 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. So
+neglected, so "persecuted they the Prophets," 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
+therefore 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 wo: yet many men, in all ages, have triumphed over
+Death, and led it captive; 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 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.
+
+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 any thing, by halves.
+The heart, not of a mere hot-blooded, popular verse-monger, or poetical
+_Restaurateur_, 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 skepticism, 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 repel or resist; 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 have lost it, without
+reconciling them here.
+
+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. Did not Cervantes finish his work, a
+maimed soldier, and in prison? Nay, was not the _Araucana_, which Spain
+acknowledges as its Epic, written without even the aid of paper; 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 shrunk 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 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 a 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 for ever 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 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." 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 with the coarse roar
+of altogether earthly voices, and 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
+_a-muck_ 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 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 house-top 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 also is
+Byron's grand exemplar, the hero of his poetry, and the model apparently
+of his conduct. 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 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." 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 for him. Let him dwindle into a modish balladmonger;
+let him worship and be-sing 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 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 Drayhorse? 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 reflection 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 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; and the pilot is therefore blameworthy; for 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.
+
+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
+man. While the Shakspeares 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 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!
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] A review of the Life of Robert Burns. By J. G. Lockhart, LL. B.
+Edinburgh, 1828.
+
+[2] There is one little sketch 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 great-coat 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 fox-skin cap,
+loose and quite Hibernian watch-coat 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 tendency to seek for distinction,
+either in his own eyes, or those of others, by such poor mummeries.
+
+[3] _Ubi saeva indignatio cor ulterius lacerare nequit._--Swift's Epitaph.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
+
+The following misprints have been corrected:
+  "aquaintances" corrected to "acquaintances" (page 34)
+  "acqaintance" corrected to "acquaintance" (page 66)
+  "Aristrocracy" corrected to "Aristocracy" (page 67)
+
+Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in spelling and
+hyphenation have been retained from the original.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS***
+
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