STENHOUSE (WILLIAM) Illustrations of the lyric poetry and music of Scotland. William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh. 1853. [8°.] STEPHEN (LESLIE). DICTIONARY OF NATIONAL BIOGRAPHY. STEVENSON (ROBERT LOUIS) Familiar studies of men and books. London: Chatto and Windus. 1882. [Cr. 8°.] SWINBURNE (ALGERNON CHARLES) 'Robert Burns,' a poem in the Nineteenth Century. February 1896. TAINE (HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE) Histoire de la littérature Anglaise. [4 vols.] Paris: L. Hachette et Cie. 1863[-4]. [8°.] (III., p. 427.) VEITCH (JOHN) The feeling for nature in Scottish poetry. In two volumes. Edinburgh William Blackwood and Sons. [Cr. 8°.] : WALKER (HUGH) Three centuries of Scottish literature. 1887. [In two volumes.] Glasgow: James MacLehose and Sons. 1893. [Cr. 8°.] [WALKER (JOSIAH)] An account of the life and character of Robert Burns with miscellaneous remarks on his writings. Written for Morison's Edition of the Works of Burns. Edinburgh: Trustees of James Morison. 1811. [8°.] WARD (THOMAS HUMPHRY) The English poets. Selections with critical introductions by various writers and a general introduction by Matthew Arnold. [In four volumes.] London: Macmillan and Co. 1880. [Cr. 8°.] See Vol. I., 'Introduction;' and Vol. III., 'Burns' by John Service, D.D. WATSON (WILLIAM) The father of the forest; and other poems. London: John Lane. 1895. [Fcap. 8°.] WILSON (JOHN) Essays critical and imaginative. [4 vols.] William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh. 1857. [Cr. 8°.] (Vol. III., p. 1 and p. 212.) WORDSWORTH (DOROTHY) Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland A.D. 1803. Edited by J. C. Shairp. London: Hamilton, 1874. [8°.] WORDSWORTH (WILLIAM) A letter to a friend of Robert Burns [ James Gray, Esq., Edinburgh']: occasioned by an intended republication of the account of the life of Burns, by Dr Currie; and of the selection made by him from his letters. London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown. 1816. [8°., pp. 37.] Complete poetical works. With an introduction by John See also the biographies incorporated with the editions of the works APPENDICES. No. I.-ADDITIONAL LETTERS. HE MSS. of the first and second of the following letters were found among the papers of the late Major Young of Lincluden. Although the first has been already given (Vol. III., p. 196) with conjectural date August 1790, it is here inserted-Currie's deviations from the MS. being numerous. The second and third have not been included in any previous edition of Burns's Works. TO MISS HELEN CRAIK, ARBIGLAND. MADAME Some unlooked-for accidents have prevented my doing myself the honor of a second visit to Arbigland, as I was so hospitably invited and so positively meant to have done. However, I still hope to have that pleasure before the commencement of the busy days of harvest. I inclose you two of my late pieces, as some kind of return for the pleasure I have received in perusing a certain manuscript volume of poems in the possession of Captain Riddel. To repay one with an old song' is a proverb whose force you, Madam, I know, will not allow. What is said of Illustrious Descent is, I believe, equally true of a Talent for Poesy— none ever despised it who had the least pretensions to it. It is often a reverie of mine when I am disposed to be melancholy, the characters and fates of the Rhyming tribe. There is not among all the martyrologies that ever were penned so rueful a narrative as Johnson's 'Lives of the Poets.' In the comparative view of wretches the criterion is not what they are doomed to suffer, but how they are formed to bear. Take a being of our kind; give him a stronger imagination and more delicate sensibility, which will ever between them engender a more ungovernable set of passions than the usual lot of man; implant in him an irresistible impulse to some idle vagary, such as arranging wild flowers in fantastical nosegays, tracing the grasshopper to his haunt by his chirping song, watching the frisks of the little minnows in the sunny pool or hunting after the intrigues of wanton butterflies; in short, send him adrift after some wayward pursuit, which shall eternally mislead him from the paths of Lucre, yet curse him with a keener relish than any man living for the pleasures that only lucre can bestow; lastly, fill up the measure of his woes by bestowing on him a spurning sense of his own dignity; and you have created a wight nearly as miserable as a poet. To you, Madam, I need not recount the fairy pleasures the Muse, to counterbalance this catalogue of evils, bestows on her votaries. Bewitching poesy is like bewitching Woman; she has in all ages been accused of misleading mankind from the counsels of wisdom and the paths of prudence, involving them in difficulties, baiting them with poverty, branding them with infamy, and plunging them in the vortex of Ruin; yet where is the man but must own that all our happiness on earth is not worthy the name, that even the holy hermit's solitary prospect of paradisical bliss is but the glitter of a northern sun rising over a frozen region, compared with the many pleasures, the nameless raptures we owe to the lovely QUEENS OF THE HEARTS OF MEN !!! Please present my most respectful compliments to Mr Craik and the Captain. I have the honour to be, Madam, your very humble servant, ROBT. BURNS. ELLISLAND, 9th August, 1790. DUMFRIES, 12th January, 1792. I have just a snatch of time at present to put pen to paper in, but in that moment allow me, Dear Madam, to grant your obliging, flattering request as unceremoniously as a 'how d'ye' to a friend, and as sincerely as a burst of indignation to the person we hate. Setting my obligations to and respect for, the Arbigland family out of the question, any friend of a gentleman whom I value and respect as I do Mr Maxwell of Carruchan may command me, nay, would honour me with his or her commands in a much more important matter than a copy of a poetic bagatelle. As to Helen, I shall certainly bestow my utmost attention on it, if possible that I can start a hint that may not have occurred to you in smoothing a line or improving a thought. Now that I have, by my removal to town, got time and opportunity, I shall often intrude on you with my assurance how sincerely and respectfully I am, Dear Madam, your obliged and obedient humble servant, ROBT. BURNS. TO M. FYFFE, SURGEON, EDINBURGH.† Saturday morn: six o'clock. MY DEAR SIR-My loins are girded, my sandals on my feet and my staff in my hand; and in half-an-hour I shall set off from this venerable, respectable, hospitable, social convivial, imperial Queen of cities, Auld * 'Helen' is the title of one of the poems in the 'certain MS. volume' referred to in letter of 9th August 1790. From the MS. in possession of Andrew Fyffe, Esq., M. D. Reekie. My compliments to Mr M'Cartney, and I have sent him that engraving. Farewell! Now, God in heaven bless REEKIE'S town With plenty, joy and peace! And may her wealth and fair renown To latest times encrease!!!—AMEN. ROBT. BURNS. No. II.-MARIA RIDDEL ON BURNS. Little more than a fortnight after Burns's death, Mrs Riddel, who had, as we have seen, been reconciled to the poet,* sent the following sketch of his character to the Dumfries Journal : The attention of the public is much occupied at present with the irreparable loss it has recently sustained in the death of the Caledonian poet, Robert Burns. It is not probable that this mournful event, which is likely to be felt severely in the literary world, as well as in the circle of private friendship which surrounded him, shall fail to be attended with the usual profusion of posthumous anecdotes and memoirs that commonly spring up at the death of every rare and celebrated personage. I shall not attempt to enlist with the numerous corps of biographers who may, without possessing a kindred genius, arrogate to themselves the privilege of criticising the character and writings of Burns. An inspiring mantle' like that thrown over him by the tutelary Muse who first found him at the plough' has been vouchsafed to few, and may be the portion of fewer still; and if it be true that men of genius have a claim, in their literary capacities, to the legal right of a British citizen in a court of justice-that of being tried only by his peers' (I borrow here an expression I have frequently heard Burns himself make use of), God forbid I should assume the flattering and peculiar privilege of sitting upon his jury! But the intimacy of our acquaintance for several years past may perhaps justify my presenting to the public a few of those ideas and observations I have had the opportunity of forming, and which, to the day that closed for ever the scene of his happy qualities and of his errors, I have never had the smallest cause to deviate in, or to recall. It will be an injustice done to Burns's reputation in the records of literature, not only as respects future generations and foreign countries, but even with his native Scotland and some of his contemporaries, that he is generally talked of and considered with reference to his poetical * Several months prior to the death of Burns, Mr Alexander Smellie, son of the rough old typographer and natural historian, had visited Mrs Riddel, and found her talking of the poet in terms of indignation and opprobrium, only perhaps too well justified by his conduct towards herself. He revisited her shortly after Burns's funeral day, and found that all offence had been lost in admiration and regret. Attended by her young friend, the enthusiastic lady after nightfall clambered the kirkyard stile and made her way to the poet's grave, which she planted with laurels and emblematic flowers. talents only. In regarding Burns as something more than a Poet, it must not be supposed that I consider that title as a trivial one; no person can be more penetrated with the respect due to the wreath bestowed by the Muses than myself; aud much certainly is due to the merit of a self-taught bard, deprived of the advantages of classical tuition and the intercourse of congenial minds till that period of life when his native fire had already blazed forth in all its wild graces of genuine simplicity and energetic eloquence of sentiment. But the fact is, that even when all his honours are yielded to him, Burns will perhaps be found to move in a poetical sphere less splendid, less dignified, and less attractive, even in his own pastoral style, than some other writers have done. Nevertheless, I hesitate not to affirm—and in vindication of my opinion I appeal to all who had the advantage of personal acquaintance with him-that Poetry was actually not his forte. If others have climbed more successfully the heights of Parnassus, none certainly ever outshone Burns in the charms--the sorcery I would almost call it—of fascinating conversation; the spontaneous eloquence of social argument, or the unstudied poignancy of brilliant repartee. His personal endowments were perfectly correspondent with the qualifications of his mind. His form was manly, his action energy itself, devoid in a great measure, however, of those graces, of that polish acquired only in the refinement of societies where in early life he had not the opportunity to mix ; but where-such was the irresistible power of attraction that encircled him-though his appearance and manner were always peculiar, he never failed to delight and to excel. His figure certainly bore the authentic impress of his birth and original station in life; it seemed moulded by Nature for the rough exercises of agriculture rather than the gentler cultivation of belles lettres. His features were stamped with the hardy character of independence, and the firmness of conscious though not arrogant pre-eminence. I believe no man was ever gifted with a larger portion of the vivida vis animi: the animated expressions of his countenance were almost peculiar to himself. The rapid lightnings of his eye were always the harbingers of some flash of genius, whether they darted the fiery glances of insulted and indignant superiority, or beamed with the impassioned sentiment of fervent and impetuous affections. His voice alone could improve upon the magic of his eye; sonorous, replete with the finest modulations, it alternately captivated the ear with the melody of poetic numbers, the perspicuity of nervous reasoning, or the ardent sallies of enthusiastic patriotism. I am almost at a loss to say whether the keenness of satire was the forte or the foible of Burns; for though Nature had endowed him with a portion of the most pointed excellence in that 'perilous gift,' he suffered it too often to be the vehicle of personal, and sometimes unfounded animosities. It was not always that sportiveness of humour -that 'unwary pleasantry,' which Sterne has described to us with touches so conciliatory; but the darts of ridicule were frequently directed as the caprice of the instant suggested, or the altercations of parties or of per |