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THE COMPLETE WORKS
OF
ROBERT BURNS
(SELF INTERPRETING)
PRATED WITH SIXTY ETCHINGS AND WOOD CUTS, MAPS AND FACSIMILES
Company
CLARINDA.
Cdttton be luxe
THE COMPLETE WORKS
OF
ROBERT BURNS
(SELF INTERPRETING) Volume 5
ILLUSTRATED WITH SIXTY ETCHINGS
AND WOOD CUTS, MAPS
AND FACSIMILES
Rational library Company
Cbitton 3Be luxe
LIMITED TO ONE THOUSAND SETS.
MAY 1 7 1956
Copyright, 1886 BY GEBBIE & COMPANY
Copyright, 2908 BY KARL A. ARVIDSON
Copyright, 1909 BY JAMES L. PERKINS & COMPANY
INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME V.
WE have made a somewhat radical departure from our pre« vious current arrangement, in this volume ; inasmuch as we have lifted THE POET'S CORRESPONDENCE WITH CLARINDA and WITH GEORGE THOMSON entirely out of the chronological sequence of his works, and treated them as distinct episodes, rounded and complete in themselves, — adding to these his REMARKS ON SCOTTISH BALLADS AND SONGS, his two COMMON- PLACE BOOKS and the record of the Glenriddell MSS., now in the Athenaeum Library, Liverpool.
The advantage of this arrangement will be manifest, because it simplifies the current stride in the record of his writings, poetry and prose, as carefully traced in the other five volumes, and enables us to give these two important episodes, of love- making with Clarinda, and song-making for Thomson, a rounded history and a perfect setting by themselves.
We have, in order to make the Thomson correspondence more valuable and attractive, copied from his collection the music, which he published in his original work, of all the songs published, written or revised by Burns.
In a work treated in chronological order, the difficulty of deal- ing with the COMMON-PLACE BOOKS which, of course, duplicate many of his earlier pieces, was a stumbling-block to our satis- faction, but, by placing them in kindred company with the Bard's REMARKS ON SCOTTISH BALLADS AND SONGS, in this volume of " Specialties •," has relieved our difficulty, and, we believe, will give satisfaction to our readers.
G. G.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
•
CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. A.D. 1787.
PAGB
The Clarinda Correspondence — Introductory I
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (i) — December 6. Madam, I had set, 16 Burns to Mrs. M'l^ehose (2) — December 8. I can say with
truth, Madam, 17
Mrs. M'l^ehose to Burns (i) — December 8. Enured as I
have been, 17
Burns to Mrs. M'lyehose (3) — December 12. / stretch a
point, indeed, 19
Mrs. M'lyehose to Burns (2) — December 16. Miss Nimmo
and I, 19
Burns to Mrs. M'lyehose (4) — December 20. Your last, my
dear Madam, 21
Clarinda to Burns (3) — December 24. When first you saw
Clarinda 's charms, 22
Sylvander to Clarinda (5)— December 28. When dear Clarinda, 23 Clarinda to Sylvander (4) — December 28. I go to the country, 27
1788.
Clarinda to Sylvander (5) — January i. Many happy returns, 29
Clarinda to Sylvander (6) — January 3. I got your lines, . . 32
Sylvander to Clarinda (6)— January 3. My dear Clarinda,
your last verses, 33
Sylvander to Clarinda (7) — January 3. You are right, my
dear, 34
Sylvander to Clarinda (8)— January 5. Some days, some
nights, 37
Clarinda to Sylvander (7)— January 7. I cannot delay thank- ing you, 38
Sylvander to Clarinda (9)— January 8. / am delighted,
charming C., ^X
viii CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
PAGH
Clarinda to Sylvander (8)— January 9. This moment your
letter, 43
Sylvander to Clarinda (10) — January 10. / am certain I
saw you 46
Clarinda to Sylvander (9) — January 10. I could not see you, 47 Sylvander to Clarinda (11) — January 12. Your thoughts on
Religion, 49
Sylvander to Clarinda (12) — January 12. You talk of weep- ing, C.t * ... 50
Clarinda to Sylvander (10) — January 13. / will not deny
it,S., 51
Sylvander to Clarinda (13)— January 14. Why have I not
heard, 53
Sylvander to Clarinda (14) — January 15. That you have
faults, 56
Clarinda to Sylvander (n)— January 16. Your mother's wish
was, 57
Sylvander to Clarinda (15) — January 19. There is no time,
my C., 59
Clarinda to Sylvander (12) — January 19. / am wishing,
Sylvander, 61
Sylvander to Clarinda (16) — January 21. The impertinence
of fools, 65
Sylvander to Clarinda (17)— January 21. I am a discontented
ghost, 69
Sylvander to Clarinda (i 8)— January 24. / have been task- ing my reason, 71
Clarinda to Sylvander (13) — January 24. Sylvander, the
moment I waked, 72
Sylvander to Clarinda (19)— January 25. Clarinda, my life, 75 Sylvander to Clarinda (20) — January 26. I was on the way,
my love, 76
Sylvander to Clarinda (21)— January 27. / have almost
given up, 77
Clarinda to Sylvander (14) — January 27. Sylvander, when
I think, 78
Sylvander to Clarinda (22)— January 29. I cannot go out
to-day, 82
Clarinda to Sylvander (15)— January 31. I have been giving
Mary, 83
Sylvander to Clarinda (23) — February i. Your fears for
Mary 84
Sylvander to Clarinda (24) — February 3. / have just been
before, 85
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V. ix
PAGE
Clarinda to Sylvander (16) — February 6. There is not a sen- timent, 87
Sylvander to Clarinda (25) — February 7. / cannot be easy,
my C.t 91
Sylvander to Clarinda (26) — February 13. My ever dearest
Clarinda, 92
Sylvander to Clarinda (27)— February 13. Madam, after a
wretched day, 93
Sylvander to Clarinda (28) — February 14. / am distressed
for thee, . 95
Sylvander to Clarinda (29) — February 14. / have just now
received, 96
Sylvander to Clarinda (30) — February 15. When matters,
my love, 97
SYI,VANDER ABSENT FROM EDINBURGH.
Sylvander to Clarinda (31) — February 18. The attraction of
Love, 98
Clarinda to Sylvander (17) — February 19. Mr. has
just left me, 99
Sylvander to Clarinda (32) — February 22. / wrote you, my
dear, 101
Clarinda to Sylvander (18) — February 22. I wish you had
given me, 103
Sylvander to Clarinda (33) — February 23. / have just now,
my ever, 105
Sylvander to Clarinda (34) — March 2. / hope, and am cer- tain, 107
Clarinda to Sylvander ( 1 9)— March 5 . / received yours from, 108
Sylvander to Clarinda (35) — March 6. / own myself guilty, no
Sylvander to Clarinda (36) — March 7. Clarinda, I have
been, 112
Clarinda to Sylvander (20)— March 8. I was agreeably sur- prised, 115
SYIyVANDER BACK IN EDINBURGH.
Sylvander to Clarinda (37) — March 17. / will meet you to- morrow, 117
Sylvander to Clarinda (38)— March 18. I am just hurrying, 118
Sylvander to Clarinda (39) — March 19. Clarinda, will that
envious night-cap, 119
Sylvander to Clarinda (40) — March 21. I am just now come, 120
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
COLLAPSE OF THE CORRESPONDENCE.
PAGE
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (41) — March 9, 1789. Madam, the
letter, 124
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (42) — February, 1790. / have, in- deed, been ill, 126
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (43) — August, 1791. I have received
both, 127
Mrs. M'Lehose to Burns (21) — 2d August, 1791. You surely
mistake, 129
Mrs. M'Lehose to Burns (22) — November, 1791. / take the
liberty, 131
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (44)— 23d November, 1791. // is
extremely, 131
BURNS REVISITS EDINBURGH AND AGAIN MEETS CI,ARINDA.
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (45) — i5th December, 1791. I have
some merit, 133
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (46) — 27th December, 1791. I have
yours, 134
THREE IMMORTAI, SONGS TO CI<ARINDA.
Mr3. M'Lehose to Burns (23) — 25th January, 1792. Agitated
to death, 136
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (47) — March, 1793. I suppose, my
dear, 138
Burns to Mrs. M'Lehose (48) — 25th June, 1794. Before you
ask me, 140
The Close of Clarinda's Life, 142
Mrs. M'Lehose to John Syme — December, 1796 146
Mrs. M'Lehose to John Syme— January 9, 1797 146
Songs believed to have been inspired by Clarinda .... 150
END OF CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
CORRESPONDENCE WITH GEORGE THOMSON— 1792-96.
Introductory, with Biographical Sketch 153
George Thomson to Burns ( i )— September, 1792. Twenty- five songs 'wanted, 155
Letter (i) to George Thomson — September 16. " Only don't
hurry me" 156
George Thomson to Burns (2) — October 13. List of eleven sent, 158
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V. xi
PAOB
Letter (2) to George Thomson — October 26. The Lea Rigt
my Nannie, O — The Indies, my Mary, 159
Letter (3) to Thomson— November 8. Winsome wee thing
— Bonie Lesley, 162
Letter (4) to Thomson — November 14. Highland Mary, . 164
George Thomson to Burns (3) — November. Criticisms and
suggestions, 165
Letter (5) to Thomson — December i. The Lea Rig, con- cluded, 168
Letter (6) to Thomson — December 4. Auld Rob Morris —
Duncan Gray 169
I793- Letter (7) to Thomson— January. Poortith Cauld, Gala
Water, 170
George Thomson to Burns (4)— January 20. P. S. by Hon.
A. Erskine, 171
Letter (8) to Thomson — January 26. Lord Gregory, ... 173 Letter (9) to Thomson — March 20. Mary Morison, .... 176 Letter (10) to Thomson— March. Wandering Willie— Open
the door, 177
George Thomson to Burns (5) — April 2. Alterations sug- gested, ... 178
Letter (11) to Thomson — April 2. (This MS. in the British
Museum) 179
George Thomson to Burns (6)— April. " Ballad making
the Poet's hobby-horse" 183
Letter (12) to Thomson — April. Lovely Young Jessie — The
Soldier's Return — Meg o' the Mill — Ballad of Bonie
Jean commenced, 183
Letter (13) to Thomson — April. The last time I came o'er
the Moor, 188
George Thomson to Burns (7) — April 24. " Opening stanza
of the Soldier's Return must be altered," 189
Letter (14) to Thomson — June. Blythe hae I been on yon
hill, 190
Letter (15) to Thomson— June 25. Logan Braes — Yon lilac
fair, 192
George Thomson to Burns (8)— July i. He sends his first
half-volume of Music, and five pounds, 194
Letter (16) to Thomson — July 2. Ballad of Bonie Jean
completed, 195
Letter (17) to Thomson— July. " Your pecuniary parcel
degrades me," 196
xii CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
PAGT2
George Thomson to Burns (9) — August. "Psalm-singing
style of vocalism" 200
letter (18) to Thomson — August. " The Georgium Sidus
out of Tune" 200
Letter (19) to Thomson — Poortith Cauld amended— Phittis
the fair, . .4 • 201
George Thomson to Burns (10) — August. " David Allan's
drawings,'" 203
Letter (20) to Thomson — August. Had I a cave, 204
Letter (21) to Thomson — August. By Allan Stream, . . . 205 George Thomson to Burns (u)— August 20. His collection
to be limited to 100 airs, 207
Letter (22) to Thomson— August. Whistle and Pll come
to you — Adown winding Nith I did wander, 208
Letter (23) to Thomson — August 28. Come, let me take thee
to my breast, 210
Letter (24) to Thomson— August 28. Now rosy May comes in, 212 George Thomson to Burns (12) — September i. " The union
we are now forming can never be broken," 213
Letter (25) to Thomson — August, etc. Very long letter—
Down the Burn, Dame — Reference to the Jolly Beggars
— Thou hast left me ever, Jamie — Where are the joys —
Auld Lang Syney 214
Letter (26) to Thomson — August 31. Behold, the hour the
boat arrive, 224
Letter (27) to Thomson — September i. Scots! wha haewf
Wallace bled, 225
George Thomson to Burns (13) — September 5. Bruce 's ad- dress must be altered so as to fit the tune — Lewie Gordon, 227 Letter (28) to Thomson— September. The Ode remodeled
accordingly, 228
George Thomson to Burns (14) — September 12. " Get rid
of the discouraging phrase, 'gory bed.' Will ' honour' 's
bed' not do?" 229
Letter (29) to Thomson — September. " To the world my
Ode shall go as it is," 230
Letter (30) to Thomson— September. Altered English songs
— " The Primrose" 232
Letter (31) to Thomson — October 29. Thine am I, my
faithful Fair, 236
George Thomson to Burns (15) — November 7. Gavin Turn-
bull's songs, 239
Letter (32) to Thomson — December. Husband, husband,
cease your strife, 239
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
1794.
PAOB
George Thomson to Burns (16)— April 17. " f am a miser- able, weak drinker r 240
Letter (33) to Thomson— June. Here is the glen and here
the bower, 241
Letter (34) to Thomson — July. Farewell, thou stream that
•winding flows, 242
George Thomson to Burns (17)— August 10. " Now is your
propitious season!" 245
Letter (35) to Thomson— August 30. On the seas and far
away, 245
George Thomson to Burns (18) — September 16. " Confound
the bullets r 246
Letter (36) — September. CeC the y owes to the knowes, . . . 247
Letter (37) — September. Sae flaxen were her ringlets — Lassie, w? the lintwhite locks — O let me in this ae night-— Cumnock Psalms, , . . . 248
George Thomson to Burns (19) — October. Suggests that the
Poet should compose an opera, 253
George Thomson to Burns (20) — October 14. " The best sets of
our melodies are rarely to be found in the early collections" 254
Letter (38) to Thomson— October 19. " The true recipe for producing a good song is to set one's self to admire a fine woman" — Saw ye my dear, my Philly? — How long and dreary is the night — Sleep" st thou or wak'st thou — Let not woman e'er complain — But lately seen in glad- some green, 256
George Thomson to Burns (21)— October 27. "/ wish I
knew the adorable she" 264
Letter (39) to Thomson— November. My Chloris, mark how green the groves — It was the charming month of May — Lassie w? the lintwhite locks — Farewell the stream that winding flows, 264
George Thomson to Burns (22) — November 15. "Some of your Chlorises, I suppose, have flaxen hair. I could scarcely conceive a woman to be a beauty who has lint- white locks" 272
Letter (40) to Thomson — November 19. Dialogue Song, O Philly, happy be the day ; Contented wf little, an' cantie w? mair; Carist thou leave me thus, my Katyf 273
George Thomson to Burns (23)— November 28. D. Allan's
design from The Soldier's Return 279
Letter (41) to Thomson — December 9. My Nannie's awat 280
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
1795.
PAOB
letter (42) to Thomson— January 15. For a1 that an' a'
that — Sweet fa s the eve on Craigieburn 282
George Thomson to Burns (24) — January 30. " Your For
a' that, shall undoubtedly be included in my list" . . . 284
Better (43) to Thomson — February 6. O lassie art thou
sleeping yet, 284
Letter (44) to Thomson— February 7. Snowed-in at Eccle-
fechan, 285
George Thomson to Burns (25) — " Drunk or sober, your
mind is never muddy" 287
Letter (45) to Thomson — April. O ivat ye wha's in yon town? — Long, long the night — Their groves o" sweet myrtle — ' Twas no! her bonie blue e'e was my ruin — O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay 287
George Thomson to Burns (26) — May. Presents Burns with
D. Allan's picture from " The Cotter's Saturday Night" 291
Letter (46) to Thomson— May 9. How cruel are the parents — Mark yonder pomp — " / am at this moment holding high converse with the Muses" 291
Letter (47) to Thomson — May. " An artist just now in this town has hit the most remarkable likeness of what I am at this moment" 293
George Thomson to Burns (27) — May 13. " You make me blush when you tell me you have not merited the draw- ing," 295
Letter (48) to Thomson — July 3. Forlorn my love . . . 295
Letter to Thomson (49) — Last May a braw wooer — Why, why
tell the lover — O, this is no my ain bodie, 296
George Thomson to Burns (28) — "For what we have re- ceived, Lord, make us thankful I" 297
Letter (50) to Thomson — August 2. Now Spring has clad
the grove — Yon rosy brier — This is no my ain lassie, . 297
George Thomson to Burns (29). "Petition the charming Jeanie to let the chorus of Whistle an' Pll come to you, my lad, remain unaltered" 301
1796.
George Thomson to Burns (30)— February 5. " Robby Burns,
are ye sleepiri yet?" 3°2
Letter (51) to Thomson — February. "Hey for a lass wf a
tocher r 302
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V. x?
PAOB
George Thomson to Burns (31) — February. " Your lass wf a tocher is a most excellent song, and with you the sub- ject is something new indeed" 304
Letter (52) to Thomson— April. "Alas! my dear Thom- sont I fear it will be some time ere I tune my lyre again /" 305
George Thomson to Burns (32)— May 4. " It is to be hoped you will see the wisdom of taking due care of a life so valuable," 306
Letter (53) to Thomson — May 18. Enclosing a certificate as requested, giving him exclusive right to the songs written for his work, and authorizing him to prosecute for in- fringement of copyright, 306
Letter (54) to Thomson — May. Here's a health to ane I
ld*e dear, 309
Letter (55) to Thomson — Brow, July 4. "Alas! is this a
time for me to woo the Muses!" 311
Letter (56) to Thomson — Brow, July 12. " Necessity compels me to implore you for Five Pounds. I have tried Rothiemurche this morning" 312
George Thomson to Burns (33) — July 14. "With great pleasure I enclose a draft for the very sum I proposed sending" 313
Some account of the several publications of George Thom- son's Collections of Scottish Songs ; with continued Memoir of its Editor 314
FIRST COMMON-PLACE BOOK.
OBSERVATIONS, HINTS, SONGS, SCRAPS, ETC., BY ROBERT BURNSSS.
Introductory Note 318
April, 1783. "Green Eighteen," with the mistress of his
heart, 320
Aug., 1783. Love, Music and Poetry, 321
Aug., 1783. Song— O once I loved a bonie lass, .... 321
Aug., 1783. Criticism on the foregoing Song, 323
Sept., 1783. Sentiment of Remorse — Verses on Remorse, 323
xvi
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
PAGE
March, 1784. A penitential thought in the hour of Remorse, 324 March, 1784. Charity in judging of human failings, . . . 326 March, 1784. A plea for some who are called "Black- guards," 326
March, 1784. Hypochondria — Prayer, " O Thou great
Being," 326
April, 1784. Charms of Winter — "Winter, a Dirge," . . 327
April, 1784. Song — "My father was a farmer," ..... 329
April, 1784. Song— "My Nannie, O," 331
April, 1784. Epitaph on "Souter Hood," 333
April, 1784. Epitaph for the I^aird of Boghead, 333
April, 1784. Epitaph for William Muir, Tarbolton Mill, . 333
April, 1784. Epitaph for the Author's Father, 333
April, 1784. Dissertation on the various species of men, 334
Aug., 1784. Song — "Green grow the rashes, O," .... 335
Aug., 1784. Steal through the vale of lyife in Heaven, . 336
Aug., 1784. A Prayer during illness — "O Thou Unknown," 337
Aug., 1784. A Prayer in prospect of Death — "Why am
I loth," 338
Sept., 1784. Song— "Tibby, I hae seen the day," . . . . 339
Sept., 1784. Song — "My girl she is airy," 340
June, 1785. John Barleycorn — a Ballad, 340
June, 1785. Poor Mailie — Her death and dying words, . 343
June, 1785. Epistle to John Lapraik, April i, 1785, . . . 345
June, 1785. Second Epistle to John Lapraik, April 2 1, 1785, 350
Aug., 1785. "Man was made to mourn," 354
Aug., 1785. The Irvine, the Ayr and the Doon, .... 357
Aug., 1785. "When first I came to Stewart Kyle," . . 357
Aug., 1785. Har'ste — A Fragment, 358
Sept., 1785. The rhythm of old Scotch Songs, 358
Sept., 1785. Glorious old Bards, 359
Sept., 1785. Peggy, his deity for six or eight months, . 360
Sept., 1785. Song — " Montgomerie's Peggy," 361
Sept., 1785. Fragment — "Fickle Fortune," 362
Sept., 1785. Fragment — " O raging Fortune," 363
Oct., 1785. "A poor devil's dear-bought experience," . 363
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V. xvii
PAOK
SECOND COMMONPLACE BOOK. 364
INCLUDES THE ORIGINAL MSS. OF THE FOLLOWING.
The Holy Fair ; Hallowe'en ; Address to the Deil ; The Auld Farmer's Address to his Mare ; John Barley- corn, a ballad ; Scotch Drink ; Man was made to Mourn ; The Twa Dogs, a Tale ; The Cotter's Sat- urday at E'en ; The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer ; Address to James Smith ; Winter, a Dirge ; Epistle to Davy, a Brother Poet ; The Death of Poor Mailie ; Poor Mailie's Elegy, 364
Burns's Remarks on Ayrshire Versions of popular Ballads, addressed to Alexander Fraser Tytler (Lord Wood- houslie), 1789. — " The Braes o* Yarrow" " Rob Roy the Younger" " Young Hyri Horn" 374
Remarks on Scottish Songs and Ballads inscribed by Burns in an Interleaved Copy of the first four volumes of Johnson's Musical Museum, belonging to Robert Rid- dell, Esq., of Glenriddell, 377
The Glenriddell MSS. of Burns's Poems 413
The Glenriddell MSS. of Burns's Letters 4H
xviii CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAINTER. ENGRAVER. PAGB
Burns and Clarinda Frontispiece
Clarinda (Silhouette)
aged 28 Mieres 16
Clarinda, 80 years of age (Miniature) .... Max Rosenthal . 144
George Thomson, Esq. . Sir H. Raeburn . . . J. Cochran ... 152
The Lea Rig Jas. Archer, R. S. A. . P. Teyssonnieres. 168
Duncan Gray D. Wilkie, R. A. . . S. Hollyer ... 169
The Soldier's Return . J. Faed ....... J. McGoffin ... 183
Logan Braes A. H. Burr P. Teyssonnieres. 192
Scots wha hae wi' Wal- lace Bled Stuart J. R. Rice .... 225
Burns's First Love, Nelly
Kilpatrick . . . . W. B. Scott . . . . J. R. Rice .... 321
WOOD-CUT ILLUSTRATIONS AND FAC-SIMILE LETTERS.
Burns and Clarinda (Silhouettes) 90
Letter from Clarinda to Burns, Dec. 28th, 1787 18
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V. Xi'x
INDEX TO THE MUSIC OF BURNS'S SONGS.
COPIED FROM THE; THOMSON
TITLE. PAG*
My Ain Kind Dearie, O ................... 159
To Mary Campbell ..................... 162
The Winsome Wee Thing ................... 163
Bonnie Lesley ........................ 164
Highland Mary ....................... 164
Auld Rob Morris ...................... 169
Duncan Gray ........................ 169
O Poortith Cauld and Restless Love ............. 170
Galla Water ......................... 170
Lord Gregory ........................ 174
Mary Morison ........................ 176
Wandering Willie ..................... . 177
Open the Door to Me, Oh .................. 178
Jessie ......... . .................. 183
The Poor and Honest Sodger ................ 184
Meg o' the Mill ....................... 184
Blythe ha'e I been ...................... 191
Logan Braes ...... ................... 192
O were My Love Yon Lilac Fair .............. 194
Bonnie Jean ......................... 196
Phillis the Fair ............. . ....... . . 202
Had I a Cave ........................ 204
Allan Water ......................... 206
O Whistle and I'll Come to You, my Lad .......... 209
Phillis, the Queen o' the Fair ..... . .......... 210
Come, Let Me take Thee to My Breast ............ 211
Dainty Davie .................. „ ..... 212
Behold the Hour ...................... 224
Bruce's Address to His Army at Bannockburn ........ 225
Fair Jenny ......................... 232
Deluded Swain, the Pleasure ................. 234
Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair ................ 237
Husband, Husband, Cease Your Strife ............ 239
Here is the Glen, and Here the Bower ........... 242
On the Seas and Far Away ................. 246
Hark, the Mavis' Evening Sang ............... 248
She Says She Lo'es Me Best of A' ..... . ........ 249
O Saw Ye my Dear, my Phely .,... .......... 257
How Lang and Dreary is the Night ............. 260
Let Not Woman e'er Complain ............... 261
The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress ......... 262
xx CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
rm,B.
The Auld Man 263
My Chloris, Mark How Green the Groves 265
It was the Charming Month of May 267
Lassie wi' the Lint-white Locks 268
Farewell, Thou Stream 269
O Philly, Happy Be that Day 273
Contented wi' Little, and Cantie wi' Mair 276
Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katy 276
My Nanie's Awa' 281
Is There for Honest Poverty 283
Craigieburn Wood 283
O Lassie, Art Thou Sleeping Yet 285
O Stay, Thou Warbling Wood Lark, Stay 288
Can I Cease to Care? 288
Their Groves o' Sweet Myrtle 289
'Twas na Her Bonnie Blue E'e 290
How Cruel are the Parents 291
Mark Yonder Pomp 292
Forlorn, My Love 295
Last May a Braw Wooer 296
O This is no My Ain Lassie 299
O Bonnie was Yon Rosy Brier 300
Now Spring has Clad the Grove in Green 300
Hey, for a Lass wi' a Tocher 303
Here's a Health to Ane I Lo'e Dear 309
Fairest Maid, on Devon Banks • 312
PROSE WORKS.
THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
IN the beginning of December, 1787, after his return from the Highland tour, Burns met Mrs. M'Lehose (Clarinda) at the house of Miss Nimmo, Edinburgh, an elderly lady and an intimate friend of the poet's favorite, Peggy Chalmers. They were mutually attracted, and a correspondence began which has become famous. These letters were evidently never intended to meet the eye of the public, yet, from their fervid eloquence, they have attained world-wide celebrity.
In order that our readers may more clearly understand the posi- tion of Clarinda, socially, during the period of this correspondence, we copy a sketch of her life from the Memoir by her grandson, W. C. M'Lehose, published in 1843.
MEMOIR OF MRS. M'LEHOSE.
MRS. M'1/BHOSE, whose maiden name was Agnes Craig, was born in Glasgow in April 1759. She was the daughter of Mr. Andrew Craig, surgeon in that city — a gentleman of a good family. His brother was the Rev. William Craig, one of the ministers of Glasgow, and father of lyord Craig, a Judge of the Court of Session. The mother of Mrs. M'lvehose was a daughter of the Rev. John M'lvaurin, — minister of Luss, and afterwards of St. David's, Glasgow. He was a brother of Colin M'L,aurin, the celebrated mathematician and friend of Sir Isaac Newton.
Of the early years of Agnes Craig but little is recorded. She was so delicate in infancy, that it was hardly expected she would survive childhood. Yet, of four daughters and a son, she alone reached old age : all died in childhood except her sister Margaret, who, at the age of nineteen, became the wife of Captain Kennedy of Kailzie, and died about a year afterwards. The education of Agnes Craig was very incom- plete,— as all female education was at that period, compared with the numerous advantages possessed by young people V. A
2 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
of both sexes in the present day. All the education bestowed upon her was some very imperfect instruction in English grammar, and that laborious idleness called sampler-work ; even spelling was much neglected. The disadvantages attend- ing such an education she afterwards fully perceived, and partially remedied at a period of life when many women neglect the attainments previously acquired, and but few per- severe in the cultivation of further knowledge.
Agnes lost her mother when she was only eight years old ; and her only surviving sister, Mrs. Kennedy, dying about five years afterwards, she was deprived of that compensation for a mother's invaluable influence and superintendence, which might have been derived from an elder sister's counsels. Her mother's instructions, however, were not lost upon her; for many years afterwards she referred with heartfelt grati- tude to the benefit she derived from the religious principles instilled into her by her "sainted mother."
Henceforward, till her marriage, she lived with the father, — except that, for half a year, when fifteen years old, she was sent to an Edinburgh boarding-school — a practice appa- rently prevalent in those days as well as now — to finish that education which could not be said to have been properly begun, and had no solid foundation. This circumstance originated an acquaintance which ended in her marriage. Even at this early age, she was considered one of the beauties of Glasgow, and was styled "the pretty Miss Nancy." Mr. James M'Lehose, a young man of respectable connexions, and a law agent in that city, had been disappointed in getting introduced to her ; and when he learned that she was going to Edinburgh, he engaged all the seats in the stage-coach, excepting the one taken for her. At that period the coach took the whole day to perform the journey between the two cities, stopping a considerable time for dinner on the road, which thus afforded Mr. M'Lehose an excellent opportunity of making himself agreeable, — an opportunity which he took the utmost pains to improve, and with great success, being possessed of an agreeable and attractive person, and most insinuating manners. His deficiency of sound principle was hidden from general observation by great plausibility. After the return of "the pretty Miss Nancy" to Glasgow, Mr. M'Lehose followed up the acquaintance thus commenced, by paying her the most assiduous attention, and thus succeeded in winning her affections. Being young and inexperienced, deprived of the counsels of a mother and sister, and attached
THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 3
to one whom she thought possessed of every virtue, and who had shown so decided a partiality to her in a manner peculiarly calculated to please a romantic mind, — she favor- ably received his addresses.
In this she was not encouraged by her friends, who thought that her beauty, talents, and connexions, entitled her to a superior match. However, she became Mrs. M'Lehose in July 1776, being then only seventeen years of age, and her hus- band five years her senior. Their union, she always stated, was the result of disinterested affection on both sides. But this connexion proved the bane of her happiness, and the source of all her misfortunes. Married at so early an age, before the vivacity of youth was passed, and, indeed, before it was fully developed, possessed of considerable personal attractions, a ready flow of wit, a keen relish for society, in which her conversational powers fitted her to excel, and a strong love of admiration, she appears to have displeased her husband, because she could not at once forego those enjoy- ments so natural to her time of life and situation. And he, without any cause, seems to have conceived the most un- worthy jealousy, which led him to treat her with a severity most injudicious, and, to one of her disposition, productive of the worst consequences.
She soon discovered the mistaken estimate she had formed of her husband's character; and being of a high sanguine spirit, could ill brook the unmerited bad treatment she received. To use her own words, in a statement which she afterwards made for the advice of her friends — "Only a short time had elapsed ere I perceived, with inexpressible regret, that our dispositions, tempers, and sentiments, were so totally different, as to banish all hopes of happiness. Our disagreements rose to such a height, and my husband's treatment was so harsh, that it was thought advisable by my friends a separation should take place : which accordingly followed in December 1780."
Mrs. M'lyehose had at this period only two children living — having lost her first born. A fourth was born a few months after this separation. Soon after this event, her husband took her infant children away from her, in the hopes of thereby working on her maternal feelings, and forcing a reunion which she had firmly refused, being convinced that they could not live happily together. She parted with her children with extreme reluctance — her father being both able and willing to maintain her and them ; while her husband had neglected
4 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
his business, and entered into every species of dissipation, so that he became unable to maintain his children, and they were distributed among his relations, —the youngest infant being, as soon as possible, removed from the tender care of his mother, and committed to the charge of a hireling nurse. He even prohibited her from seeing the children, to whom he knew she was devotedly attached. It required the utmost fortitude, on her part, to bear this cruel deprivation ; but, by enduring it, she rendered her husband's cruel attempt abor- tive. All the children died young, except the late A. C. M'Lehose, W.S.
Immediately after the separation, she had returned to her father's house with her children, where she remained till his death, in the year 1782, two years afterwards. He judiciously left his property to be invested in an annuity for her behoof, entirely independent of her husband, and beyond his control ; and feeling it unpleasant to remain in the same city with her husband and his relations, and yet in a state of alienation, Mrs. M'Lehose, by the advice of her friends, removed to Edin- burgh in the same year, 1782.
Her husband followed her soon after, on his way to London, having formed an intention of going abroad. He solicited an interview in these terms — ' ' Early to-morrow morning I leave this country for ever, and therefore wish much to pass one quarter of an hour with you. Upon my word of honor, my dearest Nancy, it is the last night you probably will ever have an opportunity of seeing me in this world." This appeal she refused for the following reasons : — ' ' I consulted my friends : they advised me against seeing him ; and as I thought it could be productive of no good, I declined the interview." The treatment she received from her husband while living with him, must have been bad indeed, to make one of her forgiving disposition so unyielding ; and he seems to have been not altogether insensible to his misconduct : for, two years later, and just previous to going abroad, he wrote to his wife — "For my own part, I am willing to forget what is past: neither do I require any apology from you : for I am heartily sorry for those instances of my behavior to you which caused our separation. Were it possible to recall them, they should never be repeated." These feelings may have been sincere at the moment, but they had no depth or endurance.
Soon after Mr. M'Lehose went to I/ondon, in the year 1782, he wrote his wife a very reproachful letter, stating his inten- tion of going abroad, and bidding her take her children home
CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 5
to her. In this letter he observed — "The sooner you return to Glasgow the better, and take under your care and protection those endearing pledges of our once-happier days, as none of my friends will have anything to do with them." After speaking of his prospects of employment, he added — "Yet Still, however remote my residence may be from you and those endearing infants, God forbid that I should be so destitute of natural affection for them, as to permit you or them, in the smallest degree, to be burdensome to any of your friends. On the contrary, I shall at all times observe the strictest economy, and exert myself to the uttermost, so that I may be enabled to contribute to your ease and happiness."
It will be seen in the sequel how this fair promise was ob- served. The truth is, that as he could not prevail on his wife to live with him, even by depriving her of her children to whom she was tenderly attached, and his relations would no longer support him in idleness, or his children for his sake, their sympathy for him being blunted, if not deadened, by his misconduct, — he thus contrived to throw the burden of them on his young wife, whose patrimonial income was very limited. Her situation at this trying period is thus related: — "The in- come left me by my father being barely sufficient to board myself, I was now distressed how to support my three infants. With my spirits sunk in deep dejection, I went to Glasgow to see them. I found arrears due for their board. This I paid ; and the goodness of some worthy gentlemen in Glasgow pro- curing me a small annuity from the writers, and one from the surgeons, I again set out for Edinburgh with them in August 1782 ; and, by the strictest economy, made my little income go as far as possible. The deficiency was always supplied by some worthy benevolent friends, whose kindness no time can erase from my grateful heart."
When Mrs. M'L,ehose settled in Edinburgh in 1782, though comparatively a stranger, her youth, beauty, and misfortunes, and, above all, her exemplary conduct, procured for her the friendship, not only of her own relations, but of many respect- able families, till then unknown to her, from whom she re- ceived many substantial proofs of kindness. Thus, though deprived of his assistance, to which she had the most sacred claim, she had much reason to bless God for his goodness in raising up so many friends. Among these friends, Lord Craig,* her cousin-german, then an advocate at the Scottish
* I<ord Craig was the eldest son of the Rev. Dr. Craig of Glasgow, and was born in the year 1745. He passed advocate in 1768 ; and after filling the office*
6 THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
bar, is particularly deserving of mention. He befriended he* from her first arrival in Edinburgh, and continued, during his life, her greatest benefactor. Mrs. M't/ehose consulted him on all occasions of difficulty ; and when deprived of the annuities from Glasgow, soon after her husband settled in Jamaica, on account of his ability to maintain his children himself, Lord Craig generously continued them, and made up the deficiencies of her income. At his death he left her an annuity, and made her son residuary legatee. Besides these substantial acts of kindness, she enjoyed his friendship, and was a frequent visiter at his house, where the best literary society of Edin- burgh used to assemble.
During Mrs. M'Lehose's early residence in Edinburgh, when she had not joined that social circle of which she soon became an ornament, she devoted much time and attention to remedy- ing the defects of her early education. She improved her taste by the study of the best English authors, and became pro- ficient in English composition. Possessed of a most retentive memory, she often quoted aptly from those authors, both in conversation and in her correspondence, which afterwards be- came extensive, and in which she excelled. It is to be re- gretted that so little of that correspondence has been preserved ; but Mrs. M'l^ehose having survived nearly all the friends of her early life, applications made in quarters where it was supposed her letters might have been preserved, have been unsuccessful.
It was at this period, also, that Mrs. M'lyehose began cul- tivating the Muses. She produced many short poetical effu- sions, a few of which have been preserved. Her earliest composition was an * ' Address to a Blackbird, ' ' which she heard singing on a tree near her residence, in the neigh- borhood of a spot where St. Margaret's Convent has since
of Depute-advocate and Sheriff-depute of Ayrshire, he was raised to the bench in 5792, and succeeded Lord Henderland as L,ord Commissioner of Justiciary in 1795. He died in 1813.
The Scots Magazine of that year says of him, "As a judge he was highly honorable and upright— endowed with persevering talents and a complete know- ledge of his profession. Few men despatched more business with greater pre- cision than Lord Craig.
" When at the bar, though considered an able counsel, his practice never was extensive— he was rather remarkable as a man attached to the Belles Lettres. He wrote more papers in the Mirror and Lounger than any other contributor except Henry Mackenzie.
" In private life he was gentle, affable, and unassuming, and in an eminent degree hospitable and benevolent. He possessed the warm esteem of a select circle of friends, to whom he was extremely attached."
THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE, 7
been placed. The ideas, she stated, came into her mind like inspiration.
In the rearing and education of her children she took great delight ; and the society of the many friends she acquired yielded her constant enjoyment for a long series of years, until the progress of time thinned their ranks, and increasing years and infirmities made her, in some degree, willing to relinquish social intercourse, of which she was so fond, for the retirement befitting old age. Among the literary men who used to visit her, Thomas Campbell, who was then prose- cuting his studies at the University ; the amiable Graham, the author of the ' ' Sabbath ; ' ' James Gray, author of ' ' Cuna of Cheyd," and "The Sabbath among the Mountains;" and Robert Ainslie, the friend of Burns, author of various religious works addressed to the young, and of a series of political letters, — may be enumerated. This gentleman proved through- out life a warm and steady friend. He was an original visiter at Mrs. M%ehose's New- Year parties, which were kept up for about forty years, and are still remembered by several of the younger guests for their great conviviality, to which the live- liness and vivacity of the hostess greatly contributed.
Towards the end of the year 1787, Robert Burns was intro- duced to Mrs. M'Lehose, in the house of a mutual friend, Miss Nimmo. They spent the evening together ; and we have the sentiments recorded by both parties of the impressions reciprocally produced. The poet declared, in one of his letters to her, " Of all God's creatures I ever could approach in the beaten way of friendship, you struck me with the deepest, the strongest, the most permanent impression." While she wrote : — ' ' Miss Nimmo can tell you how earnestly I had long pressed her to make us acquainted. I had a presentiment that we would derive pleasure from the society of each other." The poet was at this time preparing to depart from Edinburgh ; and, under these circumstances, could only regret that he had not possessed the opportunity of cultivating the lady's ac- quaintance earlier ; but a severe accident, which happened a day or two later, when he was engaged to spend the evening with her, delayed his departure for some time, and led to a correspondence, in which Mrs. M%ehose fancifully adopted the name of "Clarinda," and Burns followed up the idea by sign- ing " Sylvander." As soon as he recovered from his accident, the poet visited the lady, and they enjoyed much of each other's society for several months, till he left Edinburgh. They met only once afterwards, in the year 1791, — but
8 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
occasionally corresponded till within a short period of his death.
When Mr. M'l^ehose went to London in 1782, he found too many opportunities for indulging in dissipation and extrava- gance to go abroad so long as he was able to procure money from his family in Scotland, — assistance which they could ill afford, and were obliged, finally, to refuse, their patience and generosity being exhausted. After two years and a half thus spent in idleness, Mr. M'L,ehose was thrown into prison for debt ; and his relatives, being once more appealed to, consented to advance the funds necessary for his release and outfit, on condition that he immediately went abroad. With this he complied, and sailed for Jamaica, in November 1784. Before leaving I/mdon, and afterwards from Jamaica, where he be- came very prosperous, he wrote his mother and family most grateful letters for their kindness, but never repaid the debt, though appealed to, when his mother's income became inade- quate to her support.
Mr. M'I,ehose did not favor his wife even with grateful letters ; though she wrote him repeatedly respecting her cir- cumstances and the health of their children. The following appeal to him, from lyord Craig, was equally fruitless:—"! write you this letter to represent to you the situation of your family here. Your wife's father left some property in Glasgow, the interest of which your wife draws for the support of her- self and children ; but this not being sufficient, by the solici- tation of some of your friends ^8 a-year was obtained from the surgeons, and /io a-year from the writers in Glasgow. Even this, however, did not do, owing to the great rise in the expense of housekeeping, and the necessary outlay for your children, and their education ; so that I advanced money to Mrs. M., even while she got the above sums. Accounts, I am informed, have lately arrived from Jamaica which I am very glad of, representing you to be in a very good situation, and as having got into very profitable business. The surgeons and writers have withdrawn their allowance ; and I have been told their principal reason for doing so, is the accounts they have heard of the goodness of your situation. No remittances, how- ever, have, as yet, come from you ; and in this last year, owing to the withdrawal of the writers and surgeons, I have paid Mrs. M'L,ehose upwards of ^30 above what I have received. No person, except my brother, is willing to contribute any- thing ; and all your own relations have positively refused, from the beginning, to contribute a single farthing. In this
THE CI<ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 9
situation I am resolved to advance no more money out of my own funds on the account of your family. What I have al- ready given, I have never laid my account in being reimbursed, and it shall never more be thought of; but for the future, every consideration demands that you should yourself con- tribute for the support of your own children. I expect, there- fore, that you will, by the first opportunity, write to some of your correspondents in this country, giving what directions you think proper about your children, and making some proper remittance on their account ; as, I repeat it again, I am determined not to continue to pay money on their account."
In Mrs. M'Lehose's narrative she states :— " About the year 1787, my youngest boy William fell into ill health. This in- creased my expense ; and, at this period, the annuities from Glasgow were withheld from me ; the reason assigned being, that Mr. M%ehose was doing well, and in a way to support his children himself. I wrote once more to him, giving him an account of his children, particularly of William's helpless situation, and also my reduced circumstances, warmly expostu- lating with him on the duty and necessity of remitting for their support and education. I anxiously waited for an an- swer, but received none. In August 1788, my delicate child was happily delivered from his sufferings. I wrote again im- mediately of his death. Still I received no answer till the following August, when I had a letter, and, soon after, another, inviting me to come out to Jamaica, and enclosing a bill for ^50, which was meant, I suppose, to equip me ; and containing the most flattering directions to give his only surviving son the best education Edinburgh would afford."
"With regard to my dear son," Mr. M'L,ehose writes, "it is my wish that he should be placed' in the first boarding- school for young gentlemen, either in Edinburgh or its en- virons : whatever expense may attend it, shall be regularly and punctually paid. It is my wish that he should continue at the Latin until he is perfect master of that language ; and, when that is accomplished, I wish him to be instructed in the French, which is now become so generally useful all over the globe, and, in particular, here, where I intend to fix him in business. It will be proper, also, that he be immediately put under a dancing-master ; and, what is still more requisite, that he should learn to fence. No expense can be incurred that will not be discharged with infinite pleasure and satisfaction, provided he is to benefit by it as I could wish. If you have no inclination to come out to this country, I then have to re-
10 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
quest you to embrace the first opportunity to inform me of such determination ; as in that case I will immediately ordef my son up to I/ondon, and put him under the care of one of the first West India houses in the city, to receive the re- mainder of his education either at Westminster or at Eton, whichever they think most advisable."
* Mrs. M'lyehose was much at a loss how to act. At first she felt strongly inclined to remain in this country, but finally resolved to proceed to Jamaica. ' ' I consulted my friends ; they declined giving any advice, and referred me to my own mind. After much agitation, and deep and anxious reflection for my only child's sake, for whom he promised such liberal things and encouraged by flattering accounts of his character and conduct in Jamaica, I resolved to undertake the arduous voyage."
The motives which influenced her will best be seen from the letter which she wrote to her friend I^ord Craig, upon the sub- ject. "When I wrote you last, the bidding adieu to my dear boy was my only source of anxiety. I had then no idea whatever of going out to Mr. M'Lehose. Next day I learned from Mrs. Adair that Captain Liddel told her my husband had the strongest resolution of using me kindly, in case I accepted of his invitation ; and that pride alone hindered his acknowledging his faults a second time, still hurt at my not answering his overtures of reconciliation from I/ondon. But that, in case I did not choose to come over, I might rest assured I never would hear from him while he existed. Cap- tain I^iddel added his opinion, that I ought to go, in the strongest terms. Mrs. Adair joins him ; and, above all, my poor boy adds his entreaties most earnestly. I thought it prudent to inform him, for the first time, of the disagreement between his parents, and the unhappy jealousy in his father's temper. Still he argues that his father may be incensed at my refusal. If I go I have a terror of the sea, and no less of the climate ; above all, the horror of again involving myself in misery in the midst of strangers, and almost without remedy. If I refuse, I must bid my only child (in whom all my affec- tions and hopes are entirely centred) adieu for ever ; struggle with a straitened income and the world's censure solitary and unprotected. The bright side of these alternatives is, that if I go my husband's jealousy of temper may be abated, from a better knowledge of the world ; and time and misfortunes, by
* By this time Burns was married and settled at Ellisland— and this no doubt had something to do with the course she determined upon.
THE C1.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. H
making alterations both on person and vivacity, will render me less likely to incur his suspicions ; and that ill humor, which partly arose from straitened fortune, will be removed by affluence. I will enjoy my son's society, and have him for a friend ; and who knows what effect so fine a boy may have on a father long absent from his sight. If I refuse, and stay here, I shall continue to enjoy a circle of kind, respectable friends. Though my income be small, I can never be in want ; and I shall maintain that liberty which, after nine years' en- joyment, I shall find it hard to forego, even to the degree to which I am sensible every married woman must submit."
A few days later she wrote again to the same gentleman. "On Friday last I went down to Leith, and had a conversa- tion on board the Roselle with Captain Liddel. He told me that Mr. M'1/ehose had talked of me, and of my coming over, with great tenderness ; and said, it would be my fault if we did not enjoy great happiness ; and concluded with assuring me, if I were his own child he would advise me to go out. This conversation has tended greatly to decide my accepting my husband's invitation. I have done what you desired me, — • weighed coolly (as coolly as a subject so interesting would permit) all I have to suffer or expect in either situation ; and the result is, my going to Jamaica. This appears to me the preferable choice : it is surely the path of duty ; and as such, I may look for the blessing of God to attend my endeavors for happiness with him who was the husband of my choice, and the father of my children. On Saturday I was agreeably surprised by a call from Mr. Kemp. He had received my letter that morning at Glasgow, and had alighted for a few minutes, on his way to Easter Duddingston, where his family are for summer quarters. He was much affected with my per- plexing situation. Like you, he knew not how to decide, and left me, promising to call early this day, which he has done. I told him of the meeting with Mr. lyiddel, and enumerated all the arguments which I had thought of on both sides of the question. What Mr. Liddel (who is a man of known worth) said to me weighed much with him ; and he, too, is now of opinion my going to Jamaica is advisable. He gave me much good advice as to my conduct towards Mr. M'l^ehose, and promised to write him himself. Your letter luckily arrived while he was with me. The assurance of my little income being secured me, not a little adds both to his opinion of the propriety of my going, and to my ease and comfort, in case (after doing all I can) it should prove impossible to enjoy that
12 THE CIvARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
peace which I so earnestly pant after ; and I would fain hope for a tender reception. After ten years' separation, and the sacrifice I make of bidding adieu (probably for ever) to my friends and my country — indeed, I am much depressed in mind — should I escape the sea, the climate may prove fatal to me ; but should it happen so, I have the satisfaction to think I shall die in attempting to attain happiness in that path of duty which Providence and a succession of events seem to point out for the best. You, my dear kind benefactor, have had much trouble with me first and last ; and though others appear ungrateful, neither time nor absence can ever erase from my heart the remembrance of your past kindness. My prayers shall ascend for the reward of heaven upon your head ! To- morrow I am to write to my husband. Mr. Kemp is to see it on Wednesday. If any person occurs to you as proper to place Andrew with in Edinburgh, let me know — the sooner the better : the hopes of his rejoining me will help to console my mind in the midst of strangers. I am sorry you are to be so long of coming to town. Meantime I shall be glad to hear from you : for I am, my dear Sir, in every possible situation, your affectionate and obliged friend, A. M."
"I accordingly wrote my husband in October 1791, acquaint- ing him with my resolution of forgetting past differences, and throwing myself on his protection." As the Roselle did not leave for Jamaica till spring, she again wrote him in De- cember.
After giving the details of the arrangements she had made for their son's education, in compliance with his instructions, she thus proceeds : — "I had occasion to be in Glasgow lately for two days only. I called for your mother. I felt much for her — bereaved of so many children. The peculiar circum- stances which attended poor Annie's death affected me exces- sively. They told me you had not written these three years past ; but I assured them (and I hope it is the case) that your letters must have miscarried, as I could not believe you capable of such unkind neglect. I am certain, inclination, no less than duty, must ever prompt you to pay attention to your mother. She has met with many and sore afflictions ; and I feel for her the most sincere sympathy." In the same letter, she adds : — * ' I have met with much kindness since I came to Edinburgh, from a set of most agreeable and respectable friends. No ideas of wealth or splendor could compensate for the pain I shall feel in bidding them adieu. Nothing could support me but the fond reliance I have of gaining your af-
THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 13
fections and confidence. To possess these is the dearest wish of my heart ; and I trust the Almighty will grant this my ardent desire. I would fain hope to hear from you ere I sail ; a kind letter from you would prove a balm to my soul during the anxieties of a tedious voyage."
Mrs. M'lvehose sailed from L,eith in February 1792, and ar- rived at Kingston in April following. The day before her departure she received a letter from her fickle husband, dis- suading her from going out, on the pretence that the yellow fever prevailed in the island, and that a revolt had taken place among the negroes ; both of which statements were false. But, having taken leave of her friends, engaged her passage, and made the preparations which the expectation of an ab- sence, prolonged perhaps for years, required, she resolved (unwisely, as the event proved) to proceed. It is a curious coincidence that the vessel she sailed in was the "Roselle," the same in which Burns intended to have sailed for the same destination a few years earlier.
Mrs. M'lyehose suffered much from the voyage, especially in the warmer latitudes ; and when she reached Kingston, her husband did not go down to the ship for a length of time. All the other lady passengers had been speedily joined by their friends. When he came, he was very cold, and seemed far from being glad to see his wife ; and even in this inter- view, before they left the ship, he used some harsh expressions towards her in presence of the captain and others, which wounded her feelings much.
' ' As my constitution never agreed with heat, I felt its bad effects as soon as we had crossed the Line ; but the very cold reception I received from Mr. M'Lehose on landing, gave me a shock which, joined to the climate, deranged my mind to such a degree as made me not answerable for what I either said or did. My husband's after-kindness could not remove the complication of nervous disorders which seized me. They increased to such a height that Dr. Fife, the professional gentleman who attended me, and whose soothing manner I can never forget, was of opinion my going home was abso- lutely necessary — otherwise my reason, if not my life, would fall a sacrifice. Accordingly, in June I took leave of Mr. M'L,ehose, and returned home in the ship I had gone out in. Our parting was most affectionate. On my part, it was with sincere regret that my health obliged me to leave him. Upon his, it was to all appearance equally so. However, we parted with mutual promises of constancy, and of keeping- up a
14 THE ClyARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
regular correspondence. After getting into cool air, I gradually recovered my health."
There were other reasons for leaving Jamaica besides those which she mentioned in the statement just quoted. Mr. M'Lehose, like most West Indian planters, had a family by a colored mistress. This could not be otherwise than a source of mortification and annoyance. The ebullition of temper which he had exhibited towards her on their first meeting, was a prelude to more violent outbreaks, which, though not always directed to her personally, paralyzed her with fear. His slaves were generally the objects of these fits of wrath ; and seeing that his wife pitied their abject condition, he took pleasure in threatening and abusing them in her presence.
Circumstances were thus most unfavorable to Mrs. M'Lehose's stay in Jamaica ; but, had they been propitious, she was ill calculated to endure a permanent change of habits. That she was undoubtedly very unhappy in the West Indies, may be gathered from the following extract from her Journal many years afterwards: — "Recollect that I arrived in Jamaica this day twenty-two years. What I suffered during the three months I remained there ! Lord make me grateful for thy goodness in bringing me back to my native country ! ' '
Mrs. M'Lehose arrived in Edinburgh in August 1792, and soon after resumed housekeeping, and took home her son, who had been placed at Dr. Chapman's excellent boarding-school. The first year had now expired, without any part of the ex- pense being defrayed by his father ; and the debt was ulti- mately cancelled by the liberality of Lord Craig. As Mr. M'Lehose continued thus utterly to neglect his wife and son, she was prevailed on by her friends to institute proceedings against him before the Court of Session, in order to enforce these obligations. In March 1797, accordingly, she obtained a judgment of the Court, ordaining him to pay her a yearly aliment of ^100 sterling. From that judgment the following is an extract: — "In the close of the year 1784, Mr. M'Lehose settled as an attorney- at-law, in Kingston, Jamaica ; and busi- ness increased so rapidly, that he was soon in possession of, and still enjoys, a revenue of ^1000 a-year from his profession."
This decree, however, owing to Mr. M'Lehose being resident in Jamaica, did not add to Mrs. M'Lehose's income ; although ft was the means ultimately of enabling her to recover, in this country, some funds belonging to her husband.
Thus abandoned by her husband, Mrs. M'Lehose and her only son, the late Mr. Andrew M'Lehose, W.S., continued to
THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 15
live together. Soon after her return from Jamaica, Mr. Robert Ainslie the friend of Burns, kindly took her son as apprentice. He continued to live with his mother until the year 1809, when he married. They lived most happily together; and probably there have been few instances of more devoted mutual attachment between parent and child.
In March 1812, Mr. M'Lehose died at Kingston ; and, though he had been in receipt of a large income for manv years, as Chief Clerk of the Court of Common Pleas in Jamaica, no funds were ever received from that island by his family. A report reached this country, as being a matter of notoriety in Kingston, that some of his particular friends had, on the ap- proach of death, sent all his domestics out of the house ; and, as soon as the breath quitted his body, carried off whatever cash and documents there were. If so, the friends proved be- fitting the man. Notice, however, was given to Mrs. M'lyehose that a balance of several hundred pounds, belonging to her husband, was in the hands of Messrs. Coutts in I/mdon, which she soon afterwards obtained.
It was then discovered that he had had an account current at this bank for many years, while he had suffered his family to have their income eked out by the generosity of friends : ^50 advanced to her, as already mentioned, before she sailed for Jamaica, and a present of ,£21 on leaving that island, being all which this wealthy husband bestowed on his family in the long period of thirty-two years. Yet, after her departure from Jamaica, he was in the habit of speaking of his family with great affection, and boasted of the valuable presents which he had made his wife and son. It is known that he was a man of talents and pleasing address, but his temper was occasion- ally violent and ungovernable. Yet he was often soft and agreeable. His written correspondence shewed the same characteristics — alternate passages of the most endearing and the most insulting language.
[We refer the reader back to page i of this vol., recalling the circumstances under which the correspondence which has its commencement on the next page began.]
16 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787.
0 TO MRS. M%EHOSE, EDINBURGH.
(STEWART, 1802.)
[Dec. 6, 1787.]*
MADAM, — I had set no small store by my tea-drink- ing to-night, and have not often been so disappointed. On Saturday evening I shall embrace the opportunity with the greatest pleasure. I leave this town on this day se'enight, and probably for a couple of twelve- months ; but must ever regret that I so lately got an acquaintance whom I shall ever highly esteem, and in whose welfare I shall ever be warmly interested.
Our worthy common friend, in her usual pleasant way, rallied me a good deal on my new acquaintance, and in the humor of her ideas I wrote some lines, which I inclose you, as I think they have a good deal of poetic merit ;f and Miss Nimmo tells me you are not only a critic but a poetess. Fiction, you know, is the native region of poetry ; and I hope you will pardon my vanity in sending you the bagatelle as a tolerable off-hand jen-d*1 esprit. I have several poetic trifles which I shall gladly leave with Miss Nimmo, or you, if they were worth house-room ; as there are scarcely two people on earth by whom it would mortify me more to be forgotten, though at the distance of ninescore miles. — I am, Madam, with the highest respect, your very humble servant,
ROB*. BURNS.
Thursday Evening.
* Dates within brackets are given from internal evidence, and some memoranda, made in 1802, by Mrs. M%ehose's »on. The dating here occasionally varies from that of her grandson referred to above.
t These lines by Burns, which he commends in a style so unwonted when speaking of his own work, seem not to have been preserved.
CLARINDA.
. 29.J THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 17
0 TO MRS. M'LEHOSE, EDINBURGH.
(STEWART, 1802.)
[DEC. 8, 1787.3
I CAN say, with truth, Madam, that I never met with a person in my life whom I more anxiously wished to meet again than yourself. To-night I was to have had that very great pleasure — I was intoxi- cated with the idea ; but an unlucky fall from a coach has so bruised one of my knees, that I can't stir my leg off the cushion : so if I don't see you again, I shall not rest in my grave for chagrin. I was vexed to the soul I had not seen you sooner ; I am deter- mined to cultivate your friendship with the enthusiasm of Religion ; but thus has Fortune ever served me. I cannot bear the idea of leaving Edinburgh without seeing you. I know not how to account for it — I am strangely taken with some people ; nor am I often mistaken. You are a stranger to me ; but I am an odd being ; some yet unnamed feelings — things, not principles, but better than whims — carry me farther than boasted reason ever did a Philosopher. Fare- well ! every happiness be yours !
ROB*. BURNS.
Saturday Evening, St. James' Square, No. 2.
OMRS. M'LEHOSE TO ROBERT BURNS.
(Cl,AR. CORR. 1843.)
Saturday Ev. [Dec. 8, 1787.]
ENURED as I have been to disappointments, I never felt more, nay, nor half so severely, for one of the same nature ! The cruel cause, too, augments my uneasiness. I trust you'll soon recover it ; meantime, if my sympathy, my friendship, can alleviate your pain, be assured you possess them. I am V. B
18 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787.
much flattered at being a favorite of yours. Miss Nirnmo can tell you how earnestly I had long pressed her to make us ac- quainted. I had a presentiment that we should derive pleasure from the society of each other. To-night I had thought of fifty things to say to you ; how unfortunate this prevention ! Do not accuse Fortune ; had I not known she was blind be- fore, her ill-usage of you had marked it sufficiently. However, she is a fickle, old, envious beldame, and I'd much rather be indebted to Nature. You shall not leave town without seeing me, if I should come along with good Miss Nimmo and call for you. I am determined to see you ; and am ready to ex- claim with Yorick, "Tut! are we not all relations?" We are, indeed, strangers in one sense ; but of near kin in many re- spects: these "nameless feelings" I perfectly comprehend, tho' the pen of a Locke could not define them. Perhaps instinct comes nearer their description than either " Principles or Whims." Think ye they have any connection with that "heavenly light which leads astray?" One thing I know, that they have a powerful effect upon me ; and are delightful when under the check of reason and religion.
Miss Nimmo was a favorite of mine from the first hour I met her. There is a softness, a nameless something about her that, were I a man, old as she is, I would have chosen her be- fore most women that I know. I fear, however, this liking is not mutual. I'll tell you why I think so, at meeting. She was in mere jest when she told you I was a Poetess. I have often composed rhyme, (if not reason}, but never one line of poetry. The distinction is obvious to every one of the least discernment. Your lines were truly poetical ; give me all you can spare. Not one living has a higher relish for poetry than I have ; and my reading everything of the kind makes me a tolerable judge. Ten years ago, such lines from such a hand would have half-turned my head. Perhaps you thought it might have done so evenj/*tf, and wisely premised that "Fic- tion was the native region of poetry." Read the enclosed, which I scrawled just after reading yours. * Be sincere, and own that, whatever merit it has, it has not a line resembling poetry. Pardon any little freedoms I take with you ; if they entertain a heavy hour, they have all the merit I intended. Will you let me know, now and then, how your leg is? If I was your sister, I would call and see you ; but 'tis a censorious
* Neither do Clarinda's lines in reply to those of Burns seem to have been preserved.
JST. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 19
world this, and (in this sense) "you and I are not of this world." Adieu. Keep up your heart, you will soon get well^ and we shall meet. Farewell. God bless you ! A. M.
(8)TO MRS. M'LEHOSE, EDINBURGH.
(ClyAR. CORRES., 1843.)
[Dec. 12, 1787.]
I STRETCH a point indeed, my dearest Madam, when I answer your card on the rack of my present agony. Your friendship, Madam ! By heavens, I was never proud before. Your lines, I maintain it, are poetry, and good poetry : mine were indeed partly fiction, and partly a friendship which, had I been so blest as to have met with, you in time, might have led me — God of love only knows where. Time is too short for ceremonies.
I swear solemnly — in all the tenor of my former oath — to remember you in all the pride and warmth of friendship until — I cease to be ! *
To-morrow, and every day, till I see you, you shall hear from me.
Farewell ! May you enjoy a better night's repose than I am likely to have. R. B.
0 MRS. M'LEHOSE TO ROBERT BURNS.
(CI,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
{Sunday Noon, Dec. 16, 1787.]
Miss NIMMO and I had a long conversation last night. Little did I suspect that she was of the party. Gentle, sweet soul ! She is accusing herself as the cause of your misfortune. It was in vain I rallied her upon such an excess of sensibility
* And he did remember her till he died. And she remembered him long, long after he was dead.
20 THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787.
—as I termed it. She is lineally descended from "My Uncle Toby;" has hopes of the devil, and would not hurt a fly. How could you tell me that you were in "agony?" I hope you will swallow laudanum, and procure some ease from sleep. I am glad to hear Mr. Wood attends you. He is a good soul, and a safe surgeon. I know him a little. Do as he bids, and I trust your leg will soon be quite well. When I meet you, I must chide you for writing in your romantic style. Do you remember that she whom you address is a married woman?(| or — Jacob-like — would you wait seven years, and even then- perhaps be disappointed, as he was ? No ; I know you better : you have too much of that impetuosity which generally ac- companies noble minds. To be serious, most people would think, by your style, that you were writing to some vain, silly woman to make a fool of her — or worse. I have too much vanity to ascribe it to the former motive, and too much charity to harbor an idea of the latter ; and viewing it as the effusion of a benevolent heart upon meeting one similar to itself, I have promised you my friendship : it will be your own fault if I ever withdraw it. Would to God I had it in my power to give you some solid proofs of it ! Were I the Duchess of Gordon, you should be possessed of that independence which every generous mind pants after ; but I fear she is "no Duchess at the heart." Obscure as I am (comparatively) I enjoy all the necessaries of life as fully as I desire, and wish for wealth only to procure the "lux- ury of doing good."
My chief design in writing you to-day was to beg you would not write me often, lest the exertion should hurt you. Meantime, if my scrawls can amuse you in your con- finement, you shall have them occasionally. I shall hear of you every day from my beloved Miss Nimmo. Do you know, the very first time I was in her house, most of our conversation was about a certain (lame) poet? I read her soul in her expressive countenance, and have been attached to her ever since. Adieu ! Be patient. Take care of your- self, My best wishes attend you. A. M.
&t. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 21
C) TO MRS. M'LEHOSE, EDINBURGH.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
{Thurs. Dec. 20, 1787.]
YOUR last, my dear Madam, had the -effect on me, that Job's situation had on his friends, when uthey sat down seven days and seven nights astonished, and spake not a word." — u Pay my addresses to a married woman ! " I started as if I had seen the ghost of him I had injured. I recollected my expressions ; some of them indeed were, in the law phrase, " habit and repute," which is being half guilty. I cannot possibly say, Madam, whether my heart might not have gone astray a little ; but I can declare, upon the honor of a poet, that the vagrant has wandered unknown to me. I have a pretty handsome troop of follies of my own ; and, like some other people's, they are but un- disciplined blackguards : but the luckless rascals have something like honor in them ; they would not do a dishonest thing.
To meet with an unfortunate woman, amiable and young, deserted and widowed by those who were bound by every tie of duty, nature, and gratitude, to protect, comfort, and cherish her ; add to all, when she is perhaps one of the first of lovely forms and noble minds — the mind, too, that hits one's taste as the joys of Heaven do a saint — should a vague idea, the natural child of imagination, thoughtlessly peep over the fence — were you, my friend, to sit in judg- ment, and the poor, airy straggler brought before you, trembling, self-condemned, with artless eyes, brimful of contrition, looking wistfully on its judge — you could not, my dear Madam, condemn the hapless wretch to death "without benefit of clergy?"
I won't tell you what reply my heart made to your
22 THB CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787.
raillery of ( ' seven years, ' ' but I will give you what a brother of my trade says on the same allusion : —
" The patriarch to gain a wife,
Chaste, beautiful and young, Serv'd fourteen years a painful life. And never thought it long.
O were you to reward such cares,
And life so long would stay ; Not fourteen but four hundred years
Would seem but as one day ! " *
I have written you this scrawl because I have no* thing else to do, and you may sit down and find fault with it, if you have no better way of consuming your time ; but finding fault with the vagaries of a poet's fancy is much such another business as Xerxes chas- tising the waves of Hellespont.
My limb now allows me to sit in some peace ; to walk I have yet no prospect of, as I can't mark it to the ground.
I have just now looked over what I have written, and it is such a chaos of nonsense that I dare say you will throw it into the fire, and call me an idle, stupid fellow ; but whatever you may think of my brains, believe me to be, with the most sacred respect and heartfelt esteem, My dear Madam, your humble servant, ROB*. BURNS.
(3) TO MR. ROBERT BURNS.
(BRIGHT'S "Glenriddell MSS.") ON BURNS SAYING HE "HAD NOTHING Ei£E TO DO."
When first you saw Clarinda's charms, What rapture in your bosom grew !
Her heart was shut to Love's alarms, But then — you'd nothing else to do.
*Tom D'Urfey's 2nd Vol. of Songs, p. 37, I^ondon, 1719.
T. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 23
Apollo oft had lent his harp,
But now 'twas strung from Cupid's bow;
You sung — it reach'd Clarindd's heart- She wish'd you'd nothing else to do.
Fair Venus smil'd, Minerva frown'd,
Cupid observ'd — the arrow flew: Indifference, ere a week went round,
Show'd you had nothing else to do.
(Three other verses were added, of inferior merit.) Christmas Eve, 1787. CI^ARINDA.
(5) SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART 1802.)
[Dec. 28, 1787.] WHEN dear Clarinda, matchless fair,
First struck Sylvander's raptur'd view, He gaz'd, he listened to despair,
Alas ! 'twas all he dared to do.
Love, from Clarinda' s heavenly eyes, Transfixed his bosom thro' and thro* ;
But still in Friendship's guarded guise, For more the demon fear'd to do.
That heart, already more than lost,
The imp beleagur'd all perdue ; For frowning Honor kept his post —
To meet that frown he shrunk to do.
His pangs the bard refused to own, Tho' half he wish'd Clarinda knew ;
But Anguish wrung the unweeting groan— Who blames what frantic Pain must do?
24 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787,
That heart, where motley follies blend, Was sternly still to Honor true :
To prove Clarinda's fondest friend, Was what a lover sure might do.
The Muse his ready quill employed, No nearer bliss he could pursue ;
That bliss Clarinda cold deny'd—
uSend word by Charles how you do!"
The chill behest disarm' d his muse, Till passion, all impatient grew :
He wrote, and hinted for excuse,
'Twas, 'cause uhe'd nothing else to do."
But by those hopes I have above !
And' by those faults I dearly rue ! The deed, the boldest mark of love,
For thee, that deed I dare to do !
O could the Fates but name the price Would bless me with your charms and you !
With frantic joy I'd pay it thrice, If human art and power could do !
Then take, Clarinda, friendship's hand, (Friendship, at least, I may avow ;)
And lay no more your chill command, I'll write, whatever I've to do.
SYLVANDER.
I beg your pardon, my dear " Clarinda," for the fragment scrawl I sent you yesterday. I really don't know what I wrote. A gentleman, for whose charac- ter, abilities, and critical knowledge, I have the high- est veneration, called in just as I had begun the
^T. 29.] THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 25
second sentence, and I would not make the porter wait.* I read to my much-respected friends several of my own bagatelles, and, among others, your lines, which I had copied out. He began some criticism on them as on the other pieces, when I informed him they were the work of a young lady in this town ; which, I assure you, made him stare. My learned friend seri- ously protested, that he did not believe any young woman in Edinburgh was capable of such lines ; and, if you know anything of Professor Gregory, you will nei- ther doubt of his abilities nor his sincerity. I do love you, if possible, still better for having so fine a taste and turn for poesy. I have again gone wrong in my usual unguarded way, but you may erase the word, and put esteem, respect, or any other tame Dutch expression you please, in its place. I believe there is no holding converse, or carrying on correspondence, with an amia- ble woman, much less a gloriously amiable fine woman, without some mixture of that delicious passion, whose most devoted slave I have more than once had the honor of being — But why be hurt or offended on that account ? Can no honest man have a prepossession for a fine woman, but he must run his head against an intrigue ? Take a little of the tender witchcraft of love, and add it to the generous, the honorable sentiments of manly friendship ; and I know but one more delightful morsel, which few, few in any rank ever taste. Such a com- position is like adding cream to strawberries : it not only gives the fruit a more elegant richness, but has a peculiar deliciousness of its own.
I enclose you a few lines I composed on a late melancholy occasion. I will not give above five or six copies of it at all ; and I would be hurt if any friend should give any copies without my consent, f
*This refers to a short letter (now lost) accompanying the verses, in reply to Clarinda's lines, t The lines here referred to were those " On the death of I,ord President Dundas."
26 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787.
You cannot imagine, Clarinda (I like the idea of Arcadian names in a commerce of this kind), how much store I have set by the hopes of your future friendship. I don't know if you have a just idea of my character, but I wish you to see me as I am. I am, as most people of my trade are, a strange Will- o'-wisp being ; the victim, too frequently, of much imprudence and many follies. My great constituent elements are pride and passion: the first I have endeavored to humanize into integrity and honor ; the last makes me a devotee, to the warmest degree of enthusiasm, in love, religion, or friendship — either of them, or all together, as I happen to be inspired. 'Tis true I never saw you but once ; but how much acquaintance did I form with you in that once ! Do not think I flatter you, or have a design upon you, Clarinda : I have too much pride for the one, and too little cold contrivance for the other ; but of all God's creatures I ever could approach in the beaten way of acquaintance, you struck me with the deepest, the strongest, the most permanent impression. I say the most permanent, because I know myself well , and how far I can promise either on my prepossessions or powers. Why are you unhappy ? And why are so many of our fellow-creatures, unworthy to belong to the same species with you, blest with all they can wish? You have a hand all benevolent to give ; why were you denied the pleasure ? You have a heart formed, gloriously formed for all the most refined luxuries of love ; why was that heart ever wrung ? O Clarinda ! Shall we not meet in a state, some yet unknown state of being, where the lavish hand of Plenty shall minister to the highest wish of Benevolence ; and where the chill north wind of Prudence shall never blow over the flowery fields of Enjoyment ? If we do not, man was made in vain ! I deserved most of the unhappy hours that have lin- gered over my head ; they were the wages of my labor ;
j#r. 29.] TH£ CtARINt)A CORRESPONDENCE. %?
but what unprovoked demon, malignant as hell, stole upon the confidence of unmistrusting busy fate, and dashed your cup of life with undeserved sorrow ?
lyet me know how long your stay will be out of town : I shall count the hours till you inform me of your return. Cursed etiquette forbids your seeing me just now ; and so soon as I can walk, I must bid Edinburgh adieu. I/ord ! why was I born to see misery, which I cannot relieve ; and to meet with friends, whom I can't enjoy? I look back with the pang of unavailing avarice on my loss in not knowing you sooner : all last winter, these three months past, what luxury of intercourse have I not lost ! Perhaps though, 'twas better for my peace. You see I am either above, or incapable of, dissimulation. I believe it is want of that particular genius. I despise design, because I want either coolness or wisdom to be capa- ble of it. I am interrupted. Adieu, my dear Clarinda !
SYLVANDER.
Friday Evening.
(4) CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
[Friday Evening, Dec. 28, 1787.]
I go to the country early to-morrow morning, but will be home by Tuesday — sooner than I expected. I have not time to answer yours as it deserves ; nor, had I the age of Me- thusalem, could I answer it in kind. I shall grow vain. Your praises were enough — but those of a Dr. Gregory super- added ! Take care, many a ' ' glorious woman ' ' has been un- done by having her head turned. "Know you!" I know you far better than you do me. Like yourself, I am a bit of an enthusiast. In religion and friendship quite a bigot — perhaps I could be so in love too ; but everything dear to me in heaven and earth forbids ! This is my fixed principle ; [and] the person who would dare to endeavor at removing it I would hold them as my chief enemy. Like you, I am incapable
28 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1787.
of dissimulation ; nor am I, as you suppose, unhappy. Pos- sessed of fine children, competence, fame, friends kind and attentive — what a monster of ingratitude should I be in the eye of Heaven were I to style myself unhappy ! * True, I have met with scenes horrible to recollection, even at six years' distance ; but adversity, my friend, is allowed to be the school of Virtue. It oft confers that chastened softness which is unknown among the favorites of Fortune ! Even a mind possessed of natural sensibility, without this, never feels that exquisite pleasure which nature has annexed to our sympathetic sorrows. Religion, the only refuge of the unfortunate, has been my balm in every woe. Oh ! could I make her appear to you as she has done to me ! Instead of ridiculing her tenets, you would fall down and worship her very semblance wherever you found it !
I will write again at more leisure, and notice other parts of yours. I send you a simile upon a character I don't know if you are acquainted with. I am confounded at your admiring my lines. I shall begin to question your taste — but Dr. G. ! When I am low-spirited (which I am at times) I shall think of this as a restorative.
Now for the simile : —
The morning sun shines glorious and bright, And fills the heart with wonder and delight ! He dazzles, in meridian splendor seen, Without a blackening cloud to intervene. So, at a distance view'd, your genius bright, Your wit, your flowing numbers can delight, But ah ! when error's dark'ning clouds arise, When passion thunders, folly's lightning flies, More safe we gaze, but admiration dies : And as the tempting brightness snares the moth, Sure ruin marks too near approach to both.
Good night ; for Clarinda's "heavenly eyes" need the earthly aid of sleep. Adieu. CI,ARINDA.
P.S. — I entreat you not to mention our correspondence to one on earth. Though I've conscious innocence, my situation is a delicate one.f
* This was not strictly correct, but was doubtless stated with good independent intent.— G. G.
fThe holograph of this letter is now in the possession of Mr. Robert Clarke of Cincinnati, who kindly lent it to us for reproduction. — G. G.
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&t. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 29
(5) CLARINDA TO SYI.VANDKR.
(Cl^AR. CORRES., 1843.)
January i, 17881,
MANY happy returns of this day to you, my dear, pleasant friend ! May each revolving year find you wiser and happier ! I embrace the first spare hour to fulfill my promise ; and be- gin with thanking you for the enclosed lines — they are very pretty : * I like the idea of personifying the vices rising in the absence of Justice. It is a constant source of refined pleasure, giving "to airy nothings a local habitation and a name." which people of a luxuriant imagination only can enjoy. Yet, to a mind of a benevolent turn, it is delightful to observe how equal the distribution of happiness is among all ranks ! If stupid people are rendered incapable of tasting the refined pleasures of the intelligent and feeling mind, they are like- wise exempted from the thousand distractions and disquietudes peculiar to sensibility.
I have been staying with a dear female friend who has long been an admirer of yours, and was once on the point of meet- ing with you in the house of a Mrs. Bruce. She would have been a much better " Clarinda." She is comely without being beautiful, and has a large share of sense, taste, and sensibility ; added to all, a violent penchant for poetry. If ever I have an opportunity, I shall make you and her acquainted, f No won- der Dr. Gregory criticised my lines. I saw several defects in them myself; but had neither time nor patience (nor ability perhaps) to correct them. The three last verses were longer than the former ; and in the conclusion, I saw a vile tautology which I could not get rid of. But you will wonder when I tell you that I am not only ignorant of every language except my own, but never so much as knew a syllable of the English grammar. If I can write grammatically, 'tis through mere habit. I rejoice to hear of Dr. Gregory being your particular friend. Though unacquainted, I am no stranger to his char- acter : where worth unites with abilities, it commands our love as well as admiration. Alas ! they are too seldom found in
* On the death of Lord President Dundas.
fClarinda's " dear female friend " was " Miss Mary Peacock," whom the reader will soon hear more of in these letters. She afterwards became the second wife of Mr. James Gray, of the High School, Edinburgh : the " Ettrick Shepherd " married a sister of Mr. Gray's first wife.
30 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
one character ! Those possessed of great talents would do well to remember that all depends upon the use made of them. Shining abilities improperly applied, only serve to accelerate our destruction in both worlds. I loved you for your fine taste in poetry long before I saw you ; so shall not trouble myself erasing the same word applied in the same way to me.
You say, " there is no corresponding with an agreeable woman without a mixture of the tender passion." I believe there is no friendship between people of sentiment of different sexes, without a little softness ; but when kept within proper bounds, it only serves to give a higher relish to such inter- course. Love and Friendship are names in every one's mouth ; but few, extremely few, understand their meaning. lyove (or affection) cannot be genuine if it hesitate a moment to sacri- fice every selfish gratification to the happiness of its object. On the contrary, when I would purchase that at the expense of this, it deserves to be styled — not love, but a name too gross to mention. Therefore, I contend that an honest man may have a friendly prepossession for a woman, whose soul would abhor the idea of an intrigue with her. These are my sentiments on the subject : I hope they correspond with yours.
'Tis honest in you to wish me to see you "just as you are." I believe I have a tolerably just idea of your character. No wonder ; for had I been a man, I should have been you. I am not vain enough to think myself equal in abilities ; but I am formed with a liveliness of fancy, and a strength of pas- sion little inferior. Situation and circumstances have, however, had the effects on each of us which might be expected. Mis- fortune has wonderfully contributed to subdue the keenness of my passions, while success and adulation have served to nour- ish and inflame yours. Both of us are incapable of deceit, because we want coolness and command of our feelings. Art is what I never could attain to, even in situations where a little would have been prudent. Now and then I am favored with a salutary blast of "the north wind of prudence." The southern zephyrs of kindness too often send up their sultry fogs, and cloud the atmosphere of my understanding. I have thought that Nature threw me off in the same mould, just after you. We were born, I believe, in one year.* Madam Nature has some merit by her work that year. Don't you think so? I suppose the carline has had a flying visit of Venus and the
* Both were born in the year 1759; Burns, on the asth January, Mrs. M'I,eho»» In April.
^T. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 31
Graces ; and Minerva has been jealous of her attention, and sent Apollo with his harp to charm them away.
But why do you accuse Fate for my misfortunes? There is a noble independence of mind which I admire ; but, when not checked by Religion, it is apt to degenerate into a criminal arraignment of Providence. No " malignant demon," as you suppose, was " permitted to dash my cup of life with sorrow :" it was the kindness of a wise and tender Father who foresaw that I needed chastisement ere I could be brought to Himself. Ah, my friend, Religion converts our heaviest misfortunes into blessings ! I feel it to be so. These passions, naturally too violent for my peace, have been broken and moderated by ad- versity ; and if even that has been unable to conquer my vivacity, what lengths might I not have gone, had I been per- mitted to glide along in the sunshine of prosperity ? I should have forgot my future destination, and fixed my happiness on the fleeting shadows below ! My hand was denied the bliss of giving, but Heaven accepts of the wish. My heart was formed for love, and I desire to devote it to Him who is the source of love ! Yes, we shall surely meet in an "unknown state of being," where there will be full scope for every kind, heartfelt affection— love without alloy, and without end. Your paragraph upon this made the tears flow down my face ! I will not tell you the reflections which it raised in my mind ; but I wished that a heart susceptible of such a senti- ment took more pains about its accomplishment. I fancy you will not wish me to write again ; you'll think me too serious and grave. I know not how I have been led to be so ; but I make no excuse, because I must be allowed to write to you as I feel, or not at all. You say you have "humanized pride into honor and integrity." 'Tis a good endeavor; and could you command your too impetuous passions, it would be a more glorious achievement than his who conquered the world, and wept because he had no more worlds to subdue. Forgive my freedom with you : I never trouble myself with the faults of those I don't esteem, and only notice those of friends, to themselves. I am pleased with friends when they tell me mine, and look upon it as a test of real friendship.
I have your Poems in loan just now, I've read them many times, and with new pleasure. Sometime I shall give you my opinion of them severally. Let me have a sight of some of your "Bagatelles," as you style them. If ever I write any more, you shall have them ; and I'll thank you to correct their errors. I wrote lines on Bishop Geddes, by way of blank
THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [i?8a
verse; but they were what Pope describes, "Where ten low words do creep in one dull line." I believe you (being a genius) have inspired me ; for I never wrote so well before. Pray, is Dr. Gregory pious ? I have heard so. I wish I knew him. Adieu ! You have quantity enough, whatever be the quality ! Good night, Believe me your sincere friend.
CI/ARINDA. [ Tuesday]
(') CIvARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
Thursday, $d Jan. 1788.
I GOT your lines:* they are "in kind!" I can't but laugh at my presumption in pretending to send my poor ones to you! but it was to amuse myself. At this season, when others are joyous, I am the reverse. I have no near relations ; and while others are with theirs, I sit alone, musing upon several of mine with whom I used to be — now gone to the land of forgetfulness.
You have put me in a rhyming humor. The moment I read yours, I wrote the following lines: —
Talk not of I/ove ! it gives me pain,
For I^ove has been my foe : He bound me in an iron chain,
And plung'd me deep in woe !
But Friendship's pure and lasting joys
My heart was formed to prove ; The worthy object be of those,
But never talk of I^ove.
The " Hand of Friendship " I accept,
May Honor be our guard ! Virtue our intercourse direct,
Her smiles our dear reward.
(For added stanza, see letter Sylvander to Clarinda, page 37.) But I wish to know (in sober prose) how your leg is? I would have inquired sooner had I known it would have been acceptable. Miss N. informs me now and then ; but I have not seen her dear face for some time. Do you think you could venture this length in a coach without hurting yourself? I go
* Here, again, the lines of Burns have been lost.
*&. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 33
out of town the beginning of the week for a few days. I wish you could come to-morrow or Saturday. I long for a conversation with you, and lameness of body won't hinder that. 'Tis really curious — so much fun passing between two persons who saw one another only once! Say if you think you dare venture ; only let the coachman be ' ' adorned with sobriety."
Adieu! Believe me (on my simple word) your real friend and well-wisher, A. M.
0 SYIvVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(Cl,AR. CORRICS., 1843.)
\Thursday, Jany. $d, 1788.]
MY DEAR CLARINDA, — Your last verses have so de- lighted me, that I have copied them in among some of my own most valued pieces, which I keep sacred for my own use. Do let me have a few now and then.
Did you, Madam, know what I feel when you talk of your sorrows !
Good God ! that one, who has so much worth in the sight of heaven, and is so amiable to her fellow- creatures, should be so unhappy ! I can't venture out for cold. My limb is vastly better ; but I have not any use of it without my crutches. Monday, for the first time, I dine in a neighbor's, next door. As soon as I can go so far, even in a coach, my first visit shall be to you. Write me when you leave town, and im- mediately when you return ; and I earnestly pray your stay may be short. You can't imagine how miserable you made me when you hinted to me not to write. Farewell. SYLVANDER.
34 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
0 SYIvVANDER TO C^ARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
[Thursday, Jan. 3, 1788.]
You are right, my dear Clarinda ; a friendly corre- spondence goes for nothing, except one write their undisguised sentiments. Yours please me for their intrinsic merit, as well as because they are yours, which, I assure you, is to me a high recommendation. Your religious sentiments, Madam, I revere. If you have, on some suspicious evidence from some lying oracle, learnt that I despise or ridicule so sacredly important a matter as real religion, you have, my Clarinda, much misconstrued your friend. — "I am not mad, most noble Festus ! ' ' Have you ever met a per- fect character? Do we not sometimes rather exchange faults than get rid of them? For instance, I am per- haps tired with, and shocked at, a life too much the prey of giddy inconsistencies and thoughtless follies ; by degrees I grow sober, prudent, and statedly pious — I say statedly, because the most unaffected devotion is not at all inconsistent with my first character — I join the world in congratulating myself on the happy change. But let me pry more narrowly into this affair. Have I, at bottom, any thing of a secret pride in these endowments and emendations? Have I nothing of a presbyterian sourness, a hypocritical severity, when I survey my less regular neighbors? In a word, have I missed all those nameless and numberless modifications of indistinct selfishness, which are so near our own eyes, that we can scarce bring them within the sphere of our vision, and which the known spotless cambric of our character hides from the ordinary observer?
^T. 29.] THE CIARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 35
My definition of worth is short ; truth and hu- manity respecting our fellow-creatures ; reverence and humility in the presence of that Being, my Creator and Preserver, and who, I have every reason to be- lieve, will one day be my Judge. The first part of my definition is the creature of unbiassed instinct ; the last is the child of after reflection. Where I found these two essentials I would gently note and slightly mention any attendant flaws — flaws, the marks, the consequences of human nature.
I can easily enter into the sublime pleasures that your strong imagination and keen sensibility must derive from religion, particularly if a little in the shade of misfortune ; but I own I cannot, without a marked grudge, see heaven totally engross so amiable, so charming a woman, as my friend Clarinda ; and should be very well pleased at a circumstance that would put it in the power of somebody (happy some- body !) to divide her attention, with all the delicacy and tenderness of an earthly attachment.
You will not easily persuade me that you have not a grammatical knowledge of the English language — so far from being inaccurate, you are elegant beyond any woman of my acquaintance, except one, whom I wish you knew.*
Your last verses to me have so delighted me, that I have got an excellent old Scots air that suits the measure, and you shall see them in print in the u Scots Musical Museum, n a work publishing by a friend of mine in this town. I want four stanzas ; you gave me but three, and one of them alluded to an expression in my former letter; so I have taken your two first verses, with a slight alteration in the second, and have added a third; but you must help me to a fourth. Here they are: the latter half of the first
*Tbi» lady mu«t have been Miss Chalmer*.
36 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
stanza would have been worthy of Sappho; I am in raptures with it
"Talk not of Love, it gives me pain,
For Love has been my foe: He bound me with an iron chain, And sunk me deep in woe.
But Friendship's pure and lasting joys
My heart was form'd to prove : There, welcome, win and wear the prize,
But never talk of Love.
Your friendship much can make me blest,
O, why that bliss destroy ! Why urge the only* one request
You know I mustf deny?"
The alteration in the second stanza is no improve- ment, but there was a slight inaccuracy in your rhyme. The third I only offer to your choice, and have left two words for your determination. The air is The Banks of Spey, and is most beautiful.
To-morrow evening I intend taking a chair, and paying a visit at Park Place, to a much- valued old friend, t If I could be sure of finding you at home (and I will send one of the chairmen to call), I would spend from five to six o'clock with you, as I go past. I cannot do more at this time, as I have something on my hand that hurries me much. I propose giving you the first call, my old friend the second, and Miss Nimmo as I return home. Do not break any engage- ment for me, as I will spend another evening with you, at any rate, before I leave town.
Do not tell me that you are pleased when your friends inform you of your faults. I am ignorant what they are ; but I am sure they must be such evanes-
* Or " odious one request.1 f Or, " will deny."— R. B. \ Probably Mr. Nicol.
4£f. 29.] THE CI,ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 37
cent trifles, compared with your personal and mental accomplishments, that I would despise the ungenerous, narrow soul, who would notice any shadow of imper- fections you may seem to have, any other way than in the most delicate agreeable raillery. Coarse minds are not aware how much they injure the keenly feeling tie of bosom-friendship, when, in their foolish officious- ness, they mention what nobody cares for recollecting. People of nice sensibility and generous minds have a certain intrinsic dignity that fires at being trifled with, or lowered, or even too nearly approached.
You need make no apology for long letters : I am even with you. Many happy New Years to you, charming Clarinda ! I can't dissemble, were it to shun perdition. He who sees you as I have done, and does not love you, deserves to be damn'd for his stupidity ! He who loves you, and would injure you, deserves to be doubly damn'd for his villainy ! Adieu.
SYLVANDER.
P.S. — What would you think of this for a fourth
stanza ?
Your thought, if love must harbor there,
Conceal it in that thought, Nor cause me from my bosom tear -The very friend I sought.
(8) SYLVANDER TO CIvARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
\$thjan. 1788.]
SOME days, some nights, nay, some hours, like the "ten righteous persons in Sodom, " save the rest of the vapid, tiresome, miserable months, and years of life. One of these hours, my dear Clarinda, blest me with yesternight.
" — One well-spent hour, In such a tender circumstance for friends, Is better than an age of common time." — Thomson,
38 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
My favorite feature in Milton's Satan is his manly fortitude in supporting what cannot be remedied ; in short, the wild broken fragments of a noble, exalted mind in ruins. I meant no more by saying he was a favorite hero of mine.
I mentioned to you my letter to Dr. Moore, giving an account of my life : it is truth, every word of it, and will give you the just idea of a man whom you have honored with your friendship. I am afraid you will hardly be able to make sense of so torn a piece. Your verses I shall muse on deliciously, as I gaze on your image in my mind's eye, in my heart's core : they will be in time enough for a week to come. I am truly happy your headache is better. Oh, how can Pain or Evil be so daringly, unfeelingly, cruelly savage as to wound so noble a mind, so lovely a form !
My little fellow is all my namesake.* Write me soon. My every, strongest good wish attend you, Clarinda, SYLVANDER.
Saturday \ Noon.
I know not what I have written. I am pestered with people around me.
0 CLARINDA TO SYIvVANDER.
(ClvAR. CORRES., 1843.)
[Monday Night, Jany. yth, 1788.]
I CANNOT delay thanking you for the packet of Saturday ; f twice have I read it with close attention. Some parts of it did beguile me of my tears. With Desdemona, I felt " 'twas piti- ful, 'twas wondrous pitiful." When I reached the paragraph where I^ord Glencairn is mentioned, I burst out into tears. 'Twas that delightful swell of the heart which arises from a combination of the most pleasurable feelings. Nothing is so binding to a generous mind as placing confidence in it. I
* Robert Burns, junior, born 36! September 1786.
t This packet was evidently from Clarinda's remarks on this letter, a copy of Burns's autobiography, sent to Dr. Moore.
J#. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 39
have ever felt it so. You seem to have known this feature in my character intuitively ; and therefore entrusted me with all your faults and follies. The description of your first love-scene delighted me. It recalled the idea of some tender circumstan- ces which happened to myself, at the same period of life — only mine did not go so far. Perhaps in return, I'll tell you the particulars when we meet. Ah, my friend ! our early love emotions are surely the most exquisite. In riper years we may acquire more knowledge, sentiment, &c. ; but none of these can yield such rapture as the dear delusions of heart- throbbing youth ! Like yours, mine was a rural scene too, which adds much to the tender meeting. But no more of these recollections.
One thing alone hurt me, though I regretted many ; your avowal of being an enemy to Calvinism. I guessed it was so by some of your pieces ; but the confirmation of it gave me a shock I could only have felt for one I was interested in. You will not wonder at this, when I inform you that I am a strict Calvinist, one or two dark tenets excepted, which I never meddle with. Like many others, you are so, either from never having examined it with candor and impartiality, or from having unfortunately met with weak professors who did not understand it ; and hypocritical ones who made it a cloak for their knavery. Both of these, I am aware, abound in country life : nor am I surprised at their having had this effect upon your more enlightened understanding. I fear your friend, the captain of the ship, was of no advantage to you in this and many other respects.
My dear Sylvander, I flatter myself you have some opinion of Clarinda's understanding. Her belief in Calvinism is not (as you will be apt to suppose) the prejudice of education. I was bred by my father in the Arminian principles. My mother, who was an angel, died when I was in my tenth year. She was a Calvinist — was adored in her life, and died triumphing in the prospect of immortality. I was too young at that period to know the difference ; but her pious precepts and example often recurred to my mind amidst the giddiness and adula- tion of "Miss in her teens." 'Twas since I came to this town, five years ago, that I imbibed my present principles. They were those of a dear, valued friend, in whose judg- ment and integrity I had entire confidence. I listened often to him with delight, upon the subject. My mind was docile and open to conviction. I resolved to investigate with deep attention that scheme of doctrine which had such happy ef- fects upon him. Conviction of understanding, and peace of
40 THE CI,ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
mind were the happy consequences. Thus have I given you a true account of my faith. I trust my practice will ever correspond. Were I to narrate my past life as honestly as you have done, you would soon be convinced that neither of us could hope to be justified by our good works.
If you have time and inclination I should wish to hear your chief objections to Calvinism. They have been often con- futed by men of great minds and exemplary lives ; but per- haps you never enquired into these. Ah Sylvander ! Heaven has not endowed you with such uncommon powers of mind to employ them in the manner you have done. This long, serious subject will, I know, have one of three effects : either to make you laugh in derision — yawn in supine indifference— or set about examining the hitherto-despised subject. Judge of the interest Clarinda takes in you when she affirms that there are but few events could take place that would afford her the heartfelt pleasure of the latter.
Read this letter attentively, and answer me at leisure. Do not be frightened at its gravity ; believe me, I can be as lively as you please. Though I wish Madame Minerva for my guide, I shall not be hindered from rambling sometimes in the fields of Fancy. I must tell you that I admire your narrative, in point of composition, beyond all your other productions. One thing I am afraid of; there is not a trace of friendship towards a female ; now, in the case of Clarinda, this is the only "consummation devoutly to be wished."
You told me you never had met with a woman who could love as ardently as yourself. I believe it ; and would advise you never to tie yourself till you meet with such a one. Alas ! you'll find many who canna, and some who manna; but to be joined to one of the former description would make you miser- able. I think you had almost best resolve against wedlock ; for unless a woman were qualified for the companion, the friend, and the mistress, she would not do for you. The last may gain Sylvander, but the others alone can keep him. Sleep, and want of room, prevent my explaining myself upon "infidelity in a husband," which made you stare at me.* This and other things shall be matter for another letter, if you are not wishing this to be the last. If agreeable to you, I'll keep the narrative till we meet. Adieu ! '' Charming Clarinda" must e'en resign herself to the arms of Morpheus. — Your true friend, CLARINDA.
* Probably one of the subjects of conversation during their short interview on the evening of Friday, 4th January.
. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
. — Don't detain the porter. Write when convenient.
I am probably to be in your Square this afternoon, near two o'clock. If your room be to the street, I shall have the pleasure of giving you a nod. I have paid the porter, and you may do so when you write. I am sure they sometimes have made us pay double. Adieu !
Tuesday Morning.
0 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
Jany. 8, 1788.
I AM delighted, charming Clarinda, with your hon- est enthusiasm for religion. Those of either sex, but particularly the female, who are lukewarm in that most important of all things — UO my soul, come not thou into their secrets ! ' J
I feel myself deeply interested in your good opinion, and will lay before you the outline of my belief: — • He who is our Author and Preserver, and will one day be our Judge, must be — not for His sake, in the way of duty, but from the natural impulse of our hearts — the object of our reverential awe and grateful adoration. He is almighty, and all-bounteous ; we are weak and dependent : hence prayer and every other sort of devotion. u He is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to everlasting life : " consequently, it must be in every one's power to embrace His offer of ' ( everlasting life ; ' ' otherwise he could not, in justice, condemn those who did not. A mind pervaded, actuated, and governed by purity, truth, and charity, though it does not merit heaven, yet is an absolutely necessary prerequisite, without which heaven can neither be obtained nor enjoyed ; and, by divine promise, such a mind shall never fail of attaining "everlasting life : " hence, the impure, the deceiving, and the uncharitable, exclude them-
42 THE CIvARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
selves from eternal bliss, by their unfitness for enjoy- ing it. The Supreme Being has put the immediate administration of all this, for wise and good ends known to Himself, into the hands of Jesus Christ, a great personage, whose relation to Him we cannot comprehend, but whose relation to us is that of a Guide and Saviour ; and who, except for our own obstinacy and misconduct, will bring us all, through various ways, and by various means, to bliss at last.
These are my tenets, my lovely friend ; and which, I think, cannot be well disputed. My creed is pretty nearly expressed in the last clause of Jamie Dean's grace, an honest weaver in Ayrshire; "L,ord, grant that we may lead a gude life ! for a gude life maks a gude end, at least it helps weel!"
I am flattered by the entertainment you tell me you have found in my packet. You see me as I have been, you know me as I am, and may guess at what I am likely to be. I too may say, uTalk not of love, &c:," for indeed he has "plunged me deep in woe!" Not that I ever saw a woman who pleased unexcep- tionably, as my Clarinda elegantly says, uin the companion, the friend, and the mistress." One in- deed I could except — One, before passion threw its mists over my discernment, I knew — the first of women ! Her name is indelibly written in my heart's core * — but I dare not look in on it — a degree of agony would be the consequence. Oh ! thou perfidious, cruel, mischief-making demon, who presidest o'er that frantic passion — thou mayest, thou dost poison my peace, but shalt not taint my honor ! I would not, for a single moment, give an asylum to the most distant imagina- tion that would shadow the faintest outline of a selfish gratification, at the expense of her whose happiness is twisted with the threads of my existence. May she
* Evidently in half-drunk mood he was thinking of Jean Armour.— G. G,
.ajf. 29.] THE CIvARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 43
be happy as she deserves ! And if my tenderest, faithfulest friendship can add to her bliss, I shall at least have one solid mine of enjoyment in my bosom ! Don1 1 guess at these ravings !
I watched at our front window to-day, but was dis- appointed. It has been a day of disappointments. I am just risen from a two hours' bout after supper, with silly or sordid souls, who could relish nothing in
common with me — but the Port. One! 'tis now
* ' witching time of night ; ' J and whatever is out of joint in the foregoing scrawl, impute it to enchant- ments and spells ; for I can't look over it, but will seal it up directly, as I don't care for to-morrow's criticisms on it.
You are by this time fast asleep, Clarinda ; may good angels attend and guard you as constantly and faithfully as my good wishes do !
" Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces."
John Milton, I wish thy soul better rest than I expect on my pillow to-night ! O for a little of the cart-horse part of human nature ! Good night, my dearest Clarinda !
Tuesday Night.
£) CLARINDA TO SYL,VANDER.
CORRI5S., 1843.)
Wednesday 10 P.M. [Jan. $thy 1788.]
THIS moment your letter was delivered to me. My boys are asleep. The youngest has been for sometime in a crazy state of health, but has been worse these two days past. Partly this, and the badness of the day, prevented my exchang- ing a heartfelt "How d'ye," yesterday. Friday, if nothing
44 THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1789.
prevents, I shall have that pleasure, about two o'clock, or a little before it."
I wonder how you could write so distinctly after two or three hours over a bottle ; but they were not congenial whom you sat with, and therefore your spirits remained unexhausted ; and when quit of them, you fled to a friend who can relish most things in common with you (except port). 'Tis dreadful what a variety of these " silly, sordid souls " one meets with in life ! but in scenes of mere sociability these pass. In reading the account you gave of your inveterate turn for social pleas- ure, I smiled at its resemblance to my own. It is so great that I often think I had been a man but for some mistake of Nature. If you saw me in a merry party, you would suppose me only an enthusiast in fun; but I now avoid parties. My spirits are sunk for days after ; and, what is worse, there are sometimes dull or malicious souls who censure me loudly for what their sluggish natures cannot comprehend. Were I pos- sessed of an independent fortune, I would scorn their pitiful remarks ; but everything in my situation renders prudence necessary.
I have slept little these two nights. My child was uneasy, and that kept me awake watching him. Sylvander, if I have merit in anything, 'tis in an unremitting attention to my two children ; but it cannot be denominated merit, since 'tis as much inclination as duty. A prudent woman (as the world goes) told me she was surprised I loved them ' ' considering what a father they had." I replied with acrimony, I could not but love my children in any case ; but my having given them the misfortune of such a father endears them doubly to my heart ; they are innocent ; they depend upon me ; and I feel this the most tender of all claims. While I live, my fondest attention shall be theirs.
All my life I loved the unfortunate, and ever will. Did you ever read Fielding's Amelia? If you have not, I beg you would. There are scenes in it, tender, domestic scenes, which I have read over and over, with feelings too delightful to de- scribe ! I meant a "Booth," as such a one is infinitely to be preferred to a brutal, though perhaps constant husband. I can conceive a man, fond of his wife, yet (Sylvander-like) hurried into a momentary deviation, while his heart remained faithful. If he concealed it, it could not hurt me ; but if, unable to bear the anguish of self-reproach, he unbosomed it to me, I would not only forgive him, but comfort and speak kindly, and in secret only weep. Reconciliation in such a case would be ex- quisite beyond almost anything I can conceive ! Do yuu now
#t. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 45
understand me on this subject ? I was uneasy till it was ex- plained ; for all I have said, I know not if I had been an " Amelia," even with a "Booth." My resentments are keen, like all my other feelings : I am exquisitely alive to kindness and to unkindness. The first binds me for ever ! But I have none of the spaniel in my nature. The last would soon cure me, though I loved to distraction. But all this is not perhaps interesting to Sylvander. I have seen nobody to-day ; and like a true egotist, talk away to please myself. I am not in a humor to answer your creed to-night.
I have been puzzling my brain about the fair one you bid me " not guess at." I first thought it your Jean ; but I don't know if she now possesses your ' ' tenderest, faithfulest friend- ship." I can't understand that bonie lassie : her refusal, aftei such proofs of love, proves her to be either an angel or a dolt. I beg pardon, I know not all the circumstances, and am no judge therefore. I love you for your continued fondness, even after enjoyment : few of your sex have souls in such cases. But I take this to be the test of true love — mere desire is all that the bulk of people are susceptible of; and that is soon satisfied. " Your good wishes." You had mine, Syl- vander, long before I saw you. You will have them while I live. With you, I wish I had a little of the "carthorse" in me. You and I have some horse properties ; but more of the eagle, and too much of the turtle-dove ! Good night ! — Your friend, CI<ARINDA.
Thursday Morning, [Jany. 10, 1788.]
This day is so good that I'll make out my call to your Square. I am laughing to myself at announcing this for the third time. Were she "who poisons your peace" to intend you a Pisgah view, she could do no more than I have done on this trivial occasion. Keep a good heart, Sylvander ; the eternity of your love-sufferings will be ended before six weeks. Such perjuries "the laughing gods allow." But re- member there is no such toleration in friendship, and— I am yours, CI,ARINDA.
46 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
(10) SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
[Jan»- 10, 1788.]
I AM certain I saw you, Clarinda ; but you don't look to the proper story for a poet's lodging,
"Where speculation roosted near the sky."
I could almost have thrown myself over for very vexa- tion. Why didn't you look higher? It has spoilt my peace for this day. To be near my charming Clar- inda ; to miss her look while she was searching for me. I am sure the soul is capable of disease ; for mine has convulsed itself into an inflammatory fever. I am sorry for your little boy : do let me know to- morrow how he is.
You have converted me, Clarinda — I shall love that name while I live ; there is heavenly music in it. Booth and Amelia I know well. Your sentiments on that subject, as they are on every subject, are just and noble. uTo be feelingly alive to kindness, and to unkindness," is a charming female character.
What I said in my last letter, the powers of fud- dling sociality only know for me. By yours, I under- stand my good star has been partly in my horizon, when I got wild in my reveries. Had that evil planet, which has almost all my life shed its baleful rays on my devoted head, been, as usual, in its zenith, I had certainly blabb'd something that would have pointed out to you the dear object of my tenderest friendship, and, in spite of me, something more. Had that fatal information escaped me (and it was merely chance, or kind stars, that it did not), I had been undone! You never would have written me, except perhaps once more ! O, I could curse circumstances, and the coarse tie of human laws, which keeps fast what common
#?. 29.] THE CIvARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 47
sense would loose, and which bars that happiness itself cannot give — happiness which, otherwise, Love and Honor would warrant ! But hold, I shall make no more "hair-breadth ' scapes. "
My friendship, Clarinda, is a life-rent business. My likings are both strong and eternal. I told you I had but one male friend : I have but two female. I should have a third, but she is surrounded by the blandish- ments of flattery and courtship. The name I register in my heart's core is Peggy Chalmers: Miss Nimmo can tell you how divine she is. She is worthy of a place in the same bosom with my Clarinda? That is the highest compliment I can pay her. Farewell, Clarinda ! Remember SYLVANDER.
Thursday Noon.
(9) CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
Thursday Eve., [Jan. 10, 1788.]
I COULD not see you, Sylvander, though I had twice traversed the Square. I'm persuaded you saw not me neither. I met the young lady I meant to call for first ; and returned to seek another acquaintance, but found her moved. All the time my eye soared to poetic heights, alias garrets, but not a glimpse of you could I obtain ! You surely was within the glass, at least. I returned, finding my intrinsic dignity a good deal hurt, as I missed my friend. Perhaps I will see you again next week : say how high you are. Thanks for the enquiry about my child ; his complaints are of a tedious kind, and re- quire patience and resignation. Religion has taught me both. By nature I inherit as little of them as a harum-scarum friend of mine. In what respects has Clarinda "converted you?" Tell me. It were an arduous task indeed !
Your "ravings" last night, and your ambiguous remarks upon them, I can not, perhaps ought not to comprehend. I am your friend, Sylvander : take care lest Virtue demand even Friendship as a sacrifice. You need not curse the tie of human laws ; since what is the happiness Clarinda would derive from being loosed? At present, she enjoys the hope of having her
48 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
children provided for. In the other case, she is left indeed at liberty, but half dependent on the bounty of a friend — kind in substantials, but having no feeling of romance : and who are the generous, the disinterested, who would risk the world's " dread laugh" to protect her and her little ones? Perhaps a Sylvander-like son of "whim and fancy" might, in a sudden fit of romance : but would not ruin be the consequence ? Per- haps one of the former . . . yet if he was even dearer to her than all the world — such are still her romantic ideas — she could not be his.
You see, Sylvander, you have no cause to regret my bond- age. The above is a true picture. Have I not reason to re- joice that I have it not in my power to dispose of myself? (I commit myself into Thy hands, Thou Supreme Disposer of all events ! do Thou with me as seemeth to Thee good !) Who is this one male friend ? I know your third female. Ah, Sylvander, many ' ' that are first shall be last, ' ' and vice versa ! I am proud of being compared to Miss Chalmers : I have heard how amiable she is. She cannot be more so than Miss Nimmo : why do you not register her also ? She is warmly your friend ; surely you are incapable of ingratitude. She has almost wept to me at mentioning your intimacy with a certain famous, or rather infamous, man in town.* Do you think Clarinda could anger you just now? I composed lines addressed to you some time ago, containing a hint upon the occasion. I had not courage to send them then : if you say you'll not be angry, I will yet.
I know not how 'tis, but I felt an irresistible impulse to write to you the moment I read yours. I have a design in it. Part of your interest in me is owing to mere novelty. You'll be tired of my correspondence ere you leave town, and will never fash to write me from the country. I forgive you in a "state of celibacy." Sylvander, I wish I saw you happily married: you are so formed, you cannot be happy without a tender at- tachment, Heaven direct you !
When you see Bishop Geddes,f ask him if he remembers a lady at Mrs. Kemp's, on a Sunday night, who listened, to every word he uttered, with the gaze of attention. I saw he ob- served me, and returned that glance of cordial warmth which assured me he was pleased with my delicate flattery. I wished that night he had been my father that I might shelter me in his bosom.
* The reference here was probably to William Nicol.
t Geddes was the Roman Catholic prelate of Edinburgh, who won the special reverence of Burns.
a$T. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 49
You shall have this, as you desired, to-morrow ; and if pos- sible, none for four or five days. I say, if possible, for I really can't but write as if I had "nothing else to do." I admire your Epitaph ; but while I read it, my heart swells at the sad idea of its realization. Did you ever read Sancho's Letters? they would hit your taste. My next will be on my favorite theme — religion.
Farewell, Sylvander ! Be wise, be prudent, and be happy.
CLARINDA.
I^et your next be sent in the morning.
If you were well, I would ask you to meet me to-morrow, at twelve o'clock. I go down in the Leith Fly, with poor Willie : what a pleasant chat we might have ! But I fancy 'tis impossible. Adieu!
Friday. One o'clock.
C1) SYLVANDER TO CIvARINDA. (STEWART, 1802.)
Saturday Morning [Jan. ~L2th, 1788.]
YOUR thoughts on religion, Clarinda, shall be wel- come. You may perhaps distrust me when I say 'tis also my favorite topic ; but mine is the religion of the bosom. I hate the very idea of controversial divinity ; as I firmly believe that every honest, upright man, of whatever sect, will be accepted of the Deity. If your verses, as you seem to hint, contain censure, except you want an occasion to break with me, don't send them. I have a little infirmity in my disposition, that where I fondly love or highly esteem, I cannot bear reproach.
" Reverence thyself" is a sacred maxim; and I wish to cherish it. I think I told you Lord Boling- broke's saying to Swift — " Adieu, dear Swift! with all thy faults I love thee entirely : make an effort to love me with all mine." A glorious sentiment, and with- out which there can be no friendship ! I do highly, V. D
50 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
very highly, esteem you, Clarinda : you merit it all ! Perhaps, too (I scorn dissimulation), I could fondly love you ; judge then, what a maddening sting your reproach would be. ' ' Oh, I have sins to heaven, but none to you." With what pleasure would I meet you to-day, but I cannot walk to meet the Fly. I hope to be able to see you, on foot, about the middle of next week. I am interrupted — perhaps you are not sorry for it. You will tell me ; but I won't anticipate blame. O Clarinda ! did you know how dear to me is your look of kindness, your smile of approbation, you would not, either in prose or verse, risk a cen- sorious remark.
"Curst be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe."
SYLVANDER. [Probably a letter of Clarinda's lost here.]
(12) SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
{Saturday, Jan. 12.]
You talk of weeping, Clarinda ! Some involuntary drops wet your lines as I read them. Offend me, my dearest angel ! You cannot offend me — you never offended me. If you had ever given me the least shadow of offence, so pardon me, my God, as I for- give Clarinda. I have read yours again ; it has blotted rny paper. Though I find your letter has agitated me into a violent headache, I shall take a chair, and be with you about eight. A friend is to be with us to tea, on my account, which hinders me from coming sooner. Forgive, my dearest Clarinda, my unguarded expressions ! For Heaven's sake, forgive me, or I shall never be able to bear my own mind. — Youi unhappy, SYLVANDER.
j$T. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 51
[On Saturday night (i2th January) Burns had his second tete-a-tete meeting with Clarinda, in her own house. The first of these interviews (on Friday 4th January) was of short dura- tion, yet sufficiently long to afford time to Sylvander to give Clarinda a sketch of his bygone attachment to Jean Armour, with its results ; and also for Clarinda to make Sylvander "stare at her remarks on infidelity in a husband." The letter of Clarinda which follows, and especially its supplement of Tuesday, gives the reader a peep "behind the scenes." At parting the poet wished her, in his own mother's phrase, "A sound sleep and a blythe waukening."] — Douglas.
f10) ClyARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
(ClvAR. CORRES. 1843.)
Sunday Evening p, [Jan. 13.]
I WILL not deny it, Sylvander, last night was one of the most exquisite I ever experienced. Few such fall to the lot of mortals ! Few, extremely few, are formed to relish such refined enjoyment. That it should be so, vindicates the wis- dom of Heaven. But though our enjoyment did not lead beyond the limits of virtue, yet to-day's reflections have not been altogether unmixed with regret. The idea of the pain it would have given, were it known to a friend to whom I am bound by the sacred ties of gratitude (no more) ;* the opinion Sylvander may have formed from my unreservedness ; and, above all, some secret misgivings that Heaven may not ap- prove, situated as I am — these procured me a sleepless night ; fcnd though at church, I am not at all well.
Sylvander, you saw Clarinda last night, behind the scenes 1 Now, you'll be convinced she has faults. If she knows her- self, her intention is always good ; but she is too often the victim of sensibility, and hence is seldom pleased with her- eelf. A rencontre to-day I will relate to you, because it will show you I have my own share of 'pride. I met with a sister of Ivord Napier at the house of a friend with whom I sat be- tween sermons : I knew who she was ; but paid her no other marks of respect than I do to any gentlewoman. She eyed me with minute, supercilious attention, never looking at me when I spoke, but even half interrupted me, before I had done
* Her cousin, lyord Craig ; the expression (no more) means, evidently, nay, more.
52 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
addressing the lady of the house. I felt my face glow with resentment and consoled myself with the idea of being her superior in every respect but the accidental, trifling one of birth ! I was disgusted at the fawning deference the lady showed her ; and when she told me at the door that it was my Ix>rd Napier's sister, I replied, "Is it indeed? — by her ill-breeding I should have taken her for the daughter of some upstart tradesman !"
Sylvander, my sentiments as to birth and fortune are truly unfashionable : I despise the persons who pique themselves on either — the former especially. Something may be allowed to bright talents, or even external beauty — these belong to us essentially ; but birth in no respect can confer merit, because it is not our own. A person of vulgar, uncultivated mind I would not take to my bosom in any station ; but one possessed of natural genius improved by education and diligence, such an one I'd take for my friend, be her extraction ever so mean. These alone constitute any real distinction between man and man. Are we not all the offspring of Adam ? Have we not one God — one Saviour — one Immortality? I have found but one among all my acquaintance who agreed with me — my Mary whom I mentioned to you. I am to spend to-morrow with her, if I am better. I like her the more that she likes you.
I intended to resume a little upon your favorite topic, the "Religion of the bosom." Did you ever imagine that I meant any other? Poor were that religion and unprofitable whose seat is merely in the brain. In most points we seem to agree : only I found all my hopes of pardon and acceptance with Heaven upon the merit of Christ's atonement — whereas you do upon a good Hie. You think "it helps weel at least." If any- thing we could do had been able to atone for the violation of God's L,aw, where was the need (I speak it with reverence) of such an astonishing Sacrifice? Job was an "upright man." In the dark season of adversity, when other sins were brought to his remembrance, he boasted of his integrity ; but no sooner did God reveal Himself to him, than he exclaimed, "Behold I am vile, and abhor myself in dust and ashes." Ah ! my friend, 'tis pride that hinders us from embracing Jesus ! we would be our own Saviour, and scorn to be indebted even to the "Son of the Most High." But this is the only sure foundation of our hopes. It is said by God Himself, it is "to some a stumbling-block, to others foolishness;" but they who believe feel it to be "the wisdom of God."
&r. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 53
If my head did not ache, I would continue the subject. I too hate controversial religion ; but this is the " Religion of the Bosom." My God! Sylvander, why am I so anxious to make you embrace the Gospel ? I dare not probe too deep for an answer : let your heart answer ; in a word Benevolence. When I return, I'll finish this. Meantime, adieu ! Sylvan- der, I intended doing you good ; if it prove the reverse I shall never forgive myself. Good night.
Tuesday noon [Jan. i^th.] Just returned from the Dean, where I dined and supped with fourteen of both sexes — all stupid. My Mary and I alone understood each other. How- ever, we were joyous, and I sung in spite of my cold ; but no wit. 'Twould have been pearls before swine literalized. I re- collect promising to write you. Sylvander, you'll never find me worse than my word. If you have written me (which I hope), send it to me when convenient, either at nine in the morning or evening. I fear your limb may be worse from staying so late. I have other fears too : guess them ! Oh ! my friend, I wish ardently to maintain your esteem ; rather than forfeit one iota of it, I'd be content never to be wiser than now. Our last interview has raised you very high in mine. I have met with few indeed of your sex who understood delicacy in such circumstances ; yet 'tis that only which gives relish to such delightful intercourse. Do you wish to preserve my esteem, Sylvander ? Do not be proud to Clarinda ! She deserves it not. I subscribe to Lord B.'s sentiment to Swift ; yet some faults I shall still sigh over, though you style it 1 ' reproach ' ' even to hint them. Adieu ! You have it much in your power to add to the happiness or unhappiness of
ClyARINDA.
(13) SYIyVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
Monday Evening, n o'clock, [Jan. 14.] WHY have I not heard from you, Clarinda? To-day I well expected it ; and before supper when a letter to me was announced, my heart danced with rapture ; but behold, 'twas some fool who had taken into his head to turn poet, and made me an offering of the
54 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
first fruits of his nonsense, "It is not poetry, but prose run mad."
Did I ever repeat to you an epigram I made on a Mr. Blphinston, who has given a translation of Mar- tial, a famous L,atin poet? The poetry of Klphinston can only equal his prose notes.* I was sitting in a merchant's shop of my acquaintance, waiting some- body ; he put Elphinston into my hand, and asked my opinion of it : I begged leave to write it on a blank leaf, which I did, as you shall see on a new page :
To MR.
O thou, whom poesy abhors ! Whom prose has turned out of doors ! Heard'st thou yon groan ? proceed no further ! 'Twas laurel' d Martial calling murther !
I am determined to see you, if at all possible, on Saturday evening. Next week I must sing —
" The night is my departing night,
The morn's the day I maun awa : There's neither friend nor foe o' mine
But wishes that I were awa ! What I hae done for lack o' wit,
I never, never can reca' ; I hope ye're a' my friends as yet,
Gude night, and joy be wi' you a' ! "
If I could see you sooner, I would be so much the happier ; but I would not purchase the dearest gratifi-
* Mr. James Elphinston, born in Edinburgh in 1721, set up a boarding-school at Kensington, London, where Samuel Johnson sometimes visited him. He died at Hammersmith in 1809. He pleased Johnson mightily by suggesting and causing the publication in Edinburgh of an edition of The Rambler in 8 vols. duodecimo, with translation of the mottoes. It is the handsomest edition of that work ever printed. — Douglas.
His own writings are now forgotten, or remembered for their absurdity. Dr. Beattie says "His translation of Martial is truly au unique: the specimens issued by him for subscribers did very well to laugh at ; but a whole quarto of nonsense and gibberish is too much. It is strange that a man, not wholly illiterate, should have lived so long in England, without learning the language." —Biog. Diet.
J£T. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 55
cation on earth, if it must be at your expense in worldly censure ; far less, inward peace !
I shall certainly be ashamed of thus scrawling whole sheets of incoherence. The only unity (a sad word with poets and critics !) in my ideas, is Clarinda. There my heart " reigns and revels."
" What art thou, Love? whence are those charms,
That thus thou bear'st an universal rule? For thee the soldier quits his arms,
The king turns slave, the wise man fool. In vain we chase thee from the field,
And with cool thoughts resist thy yoke : Next tide of blood, alas ! we yield ;
And all those high resolves are broke!"
I like to have quotations ready for every occasion. They give one's ideas so pat, and save one the trouble of finding expression adequate to one's feelings. I think it is one of the greatest pleasures attending a poetic genius, that we can give our woes, cares, joys, loves, &c., an embodied form in verse, which, to me, is ever immediate ease. Goldsmith says finely of his muse —
" Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe : Who found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so."
My limb has been so well to-day, that I have gone up and down stairs often without my staff. To-mor- row I hope to walk once again on my own legs to dinner. It is only next street. Adieu !
SYLVANDER.
66 THE CI<ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
(14) SYLVANDER TO CI.ARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
Tuesday Evening [Jan. 15],
THAT you have faults, my Clarinda, I never doubted • but I knew not where they existed, and Saturday night made me more in the dark than ever. O Clarinda ! why would you wound my soul by hinting that ulast night must have lessened my opinion of you !" True, I was " behind the scenes with you ;" but what did I see ? A bosom glowing with honor and benevolence ; a mind ennobled by genius, informed and refined by education and reflection, and exalted by native religion, genuine as in the climes of heaven ; a heart formed for all the glorious meltings of friendship, love, and pity. These I saw. I saw the noblest immortal soul, crea- tion ever showed me.
I looked long, my dear Clarinda, for your letter ; and am vexed that you are complaining. I have not caught you so far wrong as in your idea, that the commerce you have with one friend hurts you, if you cannot tell every tittle of it to another. Why have so injurious a suspicion of a good God, Clarinda, as to think, that Friendship and Love, on the sacred inviolate principles of Truth, Honor, and Religion, can be anything else than an object of his divine approbation ?
I have mentioned, in some of my former scrawls, Saturday evening next. Do allow me to wait on you that evening. Oh, my angel ! how soon must we part ! — and when can we meet again? I look forward on the horrid interval with tearful eyes ! What have I not lost by not knowing you sooner? I fear, I fear my acquaintance with you is too short, to make that lasting impression on your heart I could wish.
SYI.VANDER.
&$. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 57
(u) CLARINDA TO SYI.VANDER.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
Wed. Morn. [i6/a«. 1788.]
YOUR mother's wish was fully realized. I slept sounder last night than for weeks past, and I had " a blythe waukening" ; for your letter was the first object my eyes opened on. Syl- vander, 1 fancy you and " Vulcan " are intimates : he had lent you a key which open's Clarinda's heart at pleasure — shews you what is there, and enables you to adapt yourself to its every feeling ! I believe I shall give over writing you. Your letters are too much! my way is, alas! "hedged in;" but had I, like Sylvander, " the world before me," I should bid him, "if he had a friend that loved me," tell him to write as he does, and "that would woo me." Seriously, you are the first letter-writer I ever knew, and I only wonder how you can \& fashed with my scrawls. I impute it to partiality.
Hither to-morrow, or Friday, I shall be happy to see you. On Saturday, I am not sure of being alone, or at home. Say which you'll come ? Come to tea if you please ; but eight will be an hour less liable to intrusions. I hope you'll come afoot, even tho' you take a chair home. A chair is so uncommon a thing in our neighborhood, it is apt to raise speculation ; but they are all asleep by ten. I'm happy to hear of your being able to " walk " — even to the next street. You are a consummate flatterer ; really my cheeks glow while I read your flights of fancy. I fancy you see I like it, when you peep into the Re- pository. I know none insensible to that "delightful essence." If I grow affected or conceited, you are alone to blame. Ah ! my friend, these are disgusting qualities ! but I'm not afraid. I know any merit I have perfectly ; but I know many sad counterbalances.
Your lines on Blphinston are clever, beyond anything I ever saw of the kind ; I know the character — the figure is enough to make one cry Murder ! He is a complete pedant in lan- guage ; but are not you and I pedants in something else ? Yes, but in far superior things — I^ove, Friendship, Poesy, Re- ligion ! Ah, Sylvander ! you have murdered Humility, and I can say thou didst it.
You carry your warmth too far as to Miss Napier (not Nairn) ; yet I am pleased at it. She is sensible, lively, and well-
58 THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE). [1788.
liked, they say. She was not to know Clarinda was. " divine, " and therefore kept her distance. She is comely, but a thick bad figure, waddles in her pace, and has rosy cheeks.
Wha is that clumsy damsel there? Whisht ! it's the daughter of a Peer, Right Honorably Great!"
The daughter of a Peer, I cried,
It doth not yet appear What we shall be (in t'other world),
God keep us frae this here ! That she has Blude, I'se no dispute,
I see it in her face ; Her honor's in her name, I fear,
And in nae other place.
I hate myself for being satirical — hate me for it too. I'll certainly go to Miers to please you, either with Mary or Miss N. Sylvander, some most interesting parts of yours I cannot enter upon at present. I dare not think upon parting — upon the interval ; but I'm sure both are wisely order 'd for our good. A line in return to tell me which night you'll be with me — " lasting impression ! " Your key might have shewn you me better. Say
"my lover, poet, and my friend,
What day next month th' Eternity will end?"
When you use your key, don't rummage too much, lest you find I am half as great a fool in the tender as yourself. Fare- well, Sylvander ! I may sign, for I am already sealed, your friend. CI/ARINDA.
In reference to the lady's expressed anxiety that the poet's visits to her house be kept as secret as possible, Chambers makes the following grave observation: — ["The lady doubt- less meant well, but it is impossible to applaud either her prudence or her delicacy in encouraging visits which she felt would tell upon her reputation if they were discovered. It need not be insisted on that the pure are under an obliga- tion to society to maintain all the appearances as well as the reality of purity."]
. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE.
(15) SYLVANDER TO CI.ARINDA. (STEWART, 1802.)
Saturday Morn. \\<$th Jan.]
THERE is no time, my Clarinda, when the con- scious thrilling chords of L/ove and Friendship give such delight as in the pensive hours of what our favorite Thomson calls, " philosophic melancholy." The sportive insects, who bask in the sunshine of Prosperity, or the worms that luxuriantly crawl amid their ample wealth of earth ; they need no Clarinda — they would despise Sylvander, if they dared. The family of Misfortune, a numerous group of brothers and sisters ! — they need a resting-place to their souls. Unnoticed, often condemned by the world — in some degree, perhaps, condemned by themselves — they feel the full enjoyment of ardent love, delicate tender en- dearments, mutual esteem and mutual reliance.
In this light I have often admired religion. In proportion as we are wrung with grief, or distracted with anxiety, the ideas of a compassionate Deity, an Almighty Protector, are doubly dear.
" 'Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright ; 'Tis this that gilds the horrors of our night."
I have been this morning taking a peep through, as Young finely says, "the dark postern of time lon^ elapsed ; ' ' and you will easily guess ' twas a rueful prospect : what a tissue of thoughtlessness, weakness, and folly ! My life reminded me of a ruined temple : what strength, what proportion in some parts ! — what unsightly gaps, what prostrate ruins in others ! I kneeled down before the Father of mercies, and said, " Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son!"
60 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
I rose eased and strengthened. I despise the super- stition of a fanatic ; but I love the religion of a man. "The future, » said I to myself, "is still before me: there let me
'on reason build resolve That column of true majesty in man ! '
I have difficulties many to encounter, ' ' said I ; " but they are not absolutely insuperable : — and where is firmness of mind shown, but in exertion? Mere de- clamation is bombast rant. Besides, wherever I am, or in whatever situation I may be,
" 'Tis nought to me,
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full;
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy ! "
Saturday Night— half after Ten.
What luxury of bliss I was enjoying this time yes- ternight ! My ever-dearest Clarinda, you have stolen away my soul : but you have refined, you have ex- alted it : you have given it a stronger sense of virtue, and a stronger relish for piety. — Clarinda, first of your sex ! if ever I am the veriest wretch on earth to forget you ; if ever your lovely image is effaced from my soul,
" May I be lost, no eye to weep my end ; And find no earth that's base enough to bury me ! "
What trifling silliness is the childish fondness of the every-day children of the world ! 'Tis the unmeaning toying of the younglings of the fields and forests : but where Sentiment and fancy unite their sweets ; where Taste and Delicacy refine ; where Wit adds the flavor, and Good-sense gives strength and spirit to all ; what a delicious draught is the hour of tender endearment! Beauty and Grace, in the arms of Truth and Honor, in all the luxury of mutual love !
J&f. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDBNCB, 61
Clarinda, have you ever seen the picture realized? Not in all its very richest coloring, but
" Hope, thou nurse of young Desire, Fair promiser of Joy."
Last night, Clarinda, but for one slight shade, was the glorious picture —
Innocence
Look'd gaily smiling on ; while rosy Pleasure Hid young Desire amid her flowery wreath, And pour'd her cup luxuriant, mantling high The sparkling heav'nly vintage — Love and Bliss ! "
Clarinda, when a poet and poetess of Nature's mak- ing— two of Nature's noblest productions — when they drink together of the same cup of Love and Bliss, attempt not, ye coarser stuff of human nature, pro- fanely to measure enjoyment ye never can know ! Good night, my dear Clarinda ! SYLVANDER.
(") CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
(Cl,AR. CORRIJS., 1843.)
Saturday Even, [igth Jan.]
I AM wishing, Sylvander, for the power of looking into your heart. It would be but fair, for you have the key of mine. You are possessed of acute discernment. I am not deficient either in that respect. I/ast night must have shown you Clarinda not "divine," but as she really is. I can't recollect some things I said, without a degree of pain. Nature has been kind to me in several respects ; but one essential she has denied me entirely : it is that instantaneous perception of fit and unfit, which is so useful in the conduct of life. No one can discriminate more accurately afterwards than Clarinda. But when her heart is so expanded by the influence of kind- ness, she loses all command of it, and often suffers severely in the recollection of her unguardedness. You must have perceived this ; but at any rate, I wish you "to know me as
62 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
I really am." I would have given much for society to-day ; for I can't bear my own : but no human being has come near me. Well as I like you, Sylvander, I would rather lose your love than your esceem : the first I ought not to wish ; the other I shall ever endeavor to maintain. But no more of this : you prohibit it, and I obey.
For many years have I sought for a male friend, endowed with sentiments like yours ; one who could love me with tenderness, yet unmixed with selfishness ; who could be my friend, companion, protector, and who would die sooner than injure me. I sought — but I sought in vain ! Heaven has, I hope, sent me this blessing in my Sylvander ! Whatever weaknesses may cleave to Clarinda, her heart is not to blame : whatever it may have been by nature, it is unsullied by art. If she dare dispose of it — last night can leave you at no loss to guess the man :
Then, dear Sylvander, use it weel, And row it in your bosom's biel ; Ye'll find it ay baith kind and leal,
And fu' o' glee; It wad na wrang the vera deil ;
Ah, far less thee !
How do you like this parody on a passage of my favorite poet ? It is extempore — from the heart ; and let it be to the heart. I am to enclose the first fruits of my muse : —
TO A BLACKBIRD SINGING ON A TREE.
MORNINGSIDE, 1784.
Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care, Thy cheerful notes will hush despair ; Thy tuneful warblings, void of art, Thrill sweetly thro' my aching heart. Now choose thy mate and fondly love, And all the charming transport prove — Those sweet emotions all enjoy, Let Love and Song thy hours employ ; Whilst I, a love-lorn exile, live, And rapture nor receive nor give. Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care, Thy cheerful notes will hush despair.
It has no poetic merit, but it bespeaks a sweet feminine mind — such a one as I wish mine to be ; but my vivacity de- prives me of that softness which is, in my opinion, the first female ornament. It was written to soothe an aching heart. I then labored under a cruel anguish of soul, which I cannot
j#t. 29.] THE CIvARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 63
tell you of. If I ever take a walk to the temple of Hymen, I'll disclose it ; but you and I (were it ever possible) would "fall out by the way."
The lines on the soldier* were occasioned by reading a book entitled the "Sorrows of the Heart." Miss Nimmo was pleased with them, and sent them to the gentleman. They are not poetry, but they speak what I felt at a survey of so much filial tenderness.
I agree with you in liking quotations. If they are apt, they often give one's ideas more pleasantly than our own language can at all times. I am stupid to-night. I have a soreness at my heart. I conclude, therefore, with a verse of Goldsmith, which of late has become an immense favorite of mine ;
" In Nature's simplest habit clad, No wealth nor power had he ; Genius and worth were all he had, But these were all to me."
Good night, "my dear Sylvander," say this (like Werter) to yourself, — Your CI/ARINDA.
Sunday Evening.
I would have given much, Sylvander, that you had heard Mr. Kemp this afternoon. You would have heard my princi- ples, and the foundation of all my immortal hopes, elegantly delivered. ' ' Let me live the life of the righteous, and my lat- ter end be like his," was the text. Who are the righteous? "Those," says Sylvander, "whose minds are actuated and governed by purity, truth, and charity." But where does such a mind exist? "It must be where the soul is made perfect," for I know none such on earth. " The righteous," then, must mean those who believe in Christ, and rely on His perfect righteousness for their salvation. "Everlasting" life, as you observe, is in the power of all to embrace, and this is eternal life, to "believe in Him whom God hath sent." Purity, truth, and charity will flow from this belief, as naturally as the stream from the fountain. These are indeed the only evidences we can have of the reality of our faith ; and they must be produced in a degree ere we can be fit for the enjoyment of Heaven. But where is the man who dare plead these before "Infinite Holiness?" Will inflexible Justice pardon our thousand violations of His laws ? Will our imperfect repentance and amendments atone for past guilt? or, will we presume to present our best services (spot*
» This piece has not been preserved.
64 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
ted as they are) as worthy of acceptance before unerring Rec- titude ? I am astonished how any intelligent mind, blessed with a divine revelation, can pause a moment on the subject. " Enter not into judgment with me, O juord ! in Thy sight no flesh can be justified ! " This must be the result of every can- did mind upon surveying its own deserts. If God had not been pleased to reveal His own Son, as our all-sufficient Sa- viour, what could we have done but cried for mercy, without any sure hope of obtaining it ? But when we have Him clearly announced as our surety, our guide, our blessed advocate with the Father— who, in their senses, ought to hesitate in putting their souls into the hands of this glorious "Prince of Peace?" Without this, we may admire the Creator in His works, but we can never approach Him with the confidential tenderness of children — "I will arise, and go to my Father." This is the blessed language of every one who believes and trusts in Jesus. Oh, Sylvander, who would go on fighting with them- selves, resolving and re-resolving, while they can thus fly to their Father's house ? But alas ! it is not till we tire of these husks of our own, that we recollect that there, there is bread enough, and to spare. Whenever the wish is sincerely formed in our hearts, our Heavenly Father will have compassion upon us "though a great way off." This is the "religion of the bosom." I BKI/IKVE that there will be many of every sect, nation and people who will " stand before the throne ; " but I believe that it will be the effect of Christ's atonement, con- veyed to them by ways too complicated for our finite minds to comprehend. But why should we who know " the way, the truth, and the life " deprive ourselves of the comfort it is fitted to yield ? Let my earnest wish for your eternal as well as temporal happiness, excuse the warmth with which I have un- folded what has been my own fixed point of rest. I want no controversy — I hate it ; let our only strivings be, who shall be the most constant and attached friend, which of us shall ren- der our conduct most approved to the other. I am well aware how vain it were (vain in every sense of the expression) to hope to sway a mind so intelligent as yours, by any arguments I could devise. May that God, who spoke worlds into existence, open your eyes to see " the truth, as it is in Jesus ! " Forgive me, Sylvander, if I've been tedious upon my favorite theme. You know who it was, who could not stop "when his divinity came across him." * Even there you see we are congenial.
* " But when Divinity comes cross me, My readers ay are sure to lose me."
* . Dedication to Q. g
&t. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 65
I'll tell you a pretty apt quotation I made to-day, warm from my heart. I met the Judges in the morning, as I went into the Parliament Square, among whom was Lord Dreghorn, in his new robes of purple. He is my mother's cousin-german, the greatest real honor he could ever claim ; but used me in a manner unfeeling, harsh beyond description, at one of the darkest periods of my chequered life. I looked steadfastly in his sour face ; his eye met mine. I was a female, and there- fore he stared ; but, when he knew who it was, he averted his eyes suddenly. Instantaneously these lines darted into my mind :
" Would you the purple should your limbs adorn, Go, wash the conscious blemish with a. tear."
The man, who enjoys more pleasure in the mercenary embrace of a courtezan, than in relieving the unfortunate, is a detesta- ble character, whatever his bright talents may be.
I pity him ! Sylvander, all his fortune could not purchase half the luxury of Friday night ! Let us be grateful to Heaven, . though it has denied us wealth and power, for being endowed with feelings, fitted to yield the most exquisite enjoyments here and hereafter ! May I hope you'll read what I have urged on religion, with attention, Sylvander, when Reason resumes her reign? I've none of those future delusive hopes which you too vainly express as having towards Clarinda. Do not indulge them ; my wishes extend to your immortal welfare. Let your first care be to please God : for that which he delights in must be happiness. I must conclude, or I'll relapse. I have not a grain of humor to-night in my composition ; so, lest "charming Clarinda" should make you yawn, she'll decently say "good night!"
I laugh to myself at the recollection of your earnest assevera- tions as to your being anti-Platonic ! Want of passions is not merit : strong ones under the control of reason and religion- let these be our glory. — Once more good night.
CLARINDA.
C1) SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
Sunday Night [Jan. THE impertinence of fools has joined with a return of an old indisposition, to make me good for nothing V.
66 THE CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788-
to-day. The paper has lain before me all this evening to write to my dear Clarinda, but —
" Fools rush'd on fools, as waves succeed to waves."
I cursed them in my soul ; they sacrilegiously dis- turbed my meditations on her who holds my heart. What a creature is man ! A little alarm last night and to-day, that I am mortal, has made such a revo- lution in my spirits ! There is no philosophy, no divinity, comes half so home to the mind. I have no idea of courage that braves Heaven. 'Tis the wild ravings of an imaginary hero in bedlam. I can no more, Clarinda ; I can scarcely hold up my head ; but I am happy you don't know it, you would be so uneasy. SYLVANDER.
Monday Morning.
I am, my lovely friend, much better this morning on the whole ; but I have a horrid languor on my
spirits.
" Sick of the world and all its joy,
My soul in pining sadness mourns ; Dark scenes of woe my mind employ, The past and present in their turns."
Have you ever met with a saying of the great and likewise good Mr. Locke, author of the famous Essay on the Human Understanding? He wrote a letter to a friend, directing it uNot to be delivered till after my decease. " It ended thus, — "I know you loved me when living, and will preserve my memory now I am dead. All the use to be made of it is, that this life affords no solid satisfaction, but in the conscious- ness of having done well, and the hopes of another life. Adieu ! I leave my best wishes with you. — J. LOCKE. "
Clarinda, may I reckon on your friendship for life? I think I may. Thou Almighty Preserver of men ! Thy friendship, which hitherto I have too much
-as?. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 67
neglected — to secure it shall, all the future days and nights of my life, be my steady care. The idea of my Clarinda follows :
"Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where, mix'd with God's, her loved idea lies."
But I fear inconstancy, the consequent imperfection of human weakness. Shall I meet with a friendship that defies years of absence and the chances and changes of fortune ! Perhaps * ' such things are. ' ' One honest man I have great hopes from that way ; but who, except a romance writer, would think on a love that could promise for life, in spite of distance, absence, chance, and change, and that, too, with slender hopes of fruition?
For my own part, I can say to myself in both requisitions — uThou art the man." I dare, in cool resolve, I dare declare myself that friend and that lover. If womankind is capable of such things, Clar- inda is. I trust that she is ; and feel I shall be miserable if she is not. There is not one virtue which gives worth, or one sentiment which does honor to the sex, that she does not possess superior to any woman I ever saw : her exalted mind, aided a little, perhaps, by her situation, is, I think, capable of that nobly romantic love-enthusiasm. May I see you on Wed- nesday evening, my dear angel ? The next Wednesday again, will, I conjecture, be a hated day to us both. I tremble for censorious remarks, for your sake ; but in extraordinary cases, may not usual and useful pre- caution be a little dispensed with ! Three evenings, three swift-winged evenings, with pinions of down, are all the past ; I dare not calculate the future. I shall call at Miss Nimmo's to-morrow evening : 'twill be a farewell call.
I have wrote out my last sheet of paper, so I am reduced to my last half-sheet. What a strange, mys-
68 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
terious, faculty, is that thing called imagination ! We have no ideas almost at all of another world ; but I have often amused myself with visionary schemes of what happiness might be enjoyed by small alterations — alterations that we can fully enter to, in this present state of existence. For instance, suppose you and I just as we are at present ; the same reasoning powers, sentiments, and even desires ; the same fond curiosity for knowledge, and remarking observation in our minds ; and imagine our bodies free from pain, and the necessary supplies for the wants of nature, at all times, and easily within our reach : imagine farther, that we were set free from the laws of gravitation which bind us to this globe, and could at pleasure fly, without inconvenience, through all the yet unconjec- tured bounds of creation, what a life of bliss would we lead, in our mutual pursuit of virtue and knowl- edge, and our mutual enjoyment of friendship and love !
I see you laughing at my fairy fancies, and calling me a voluptuous Mahometan ; but I am certain I would be a happy creature, beyond any thing we call bliss here below ; nay, it would be a paradise conge- nial to you too. Don't you see us, hand in hand, or rather, my arm about your lovely waist, making our remarks on Sirius, the nearest of the fixed stars, or surveying a comet, flaming innoxious by us, as we just now would mark the passing pomp of a travelling monarch ; or in a shady bower of Mercury or Venus, dedicating the hour to love, in mutual converse, re- lying honor, and revelling endearment, whilst the most exalted strains of poesy and harmony would be the ready, spontaneous language of our souls ! Devo- tion is the favorite employment of your heart ; so it is of mine : what incentives then to, and powers for reverence, gratitude, faith and hope, in all the fervors of adoration and praise to that Being, whose unsearch-
JS*. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 69
able wisdom, power, and goodness, so pervaded, so inspired every sense and feeling ! By this time, I dare say, yon will be blessing the neglect of the maid that leaves me destitute of paper !
SYLVANDER.
O7) SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(Cl,AR. CORRSS., 1843.)
[Monday zist Jany.~\
. . . I AM a discontented ghost, a perturbed spirit. Clarinda, if ever you forget Sylvander, may you be happy, but he will be miserable.
O what a fool I am in love ! what an extraordinary prodigal of affection ! Why are your sex called the tender sex, when I never have met with one who can repay me in passion? They are either not so rich in love as I am, or they are niggards where I am lavish.
0 Thou, whose I am, and whose are all my ways ! Thou seest me here, the hapless wreck of tides and tempests in my own bosom : do Thou direct to Thy- self that ardent love for which I have so often sought a return, in vain, from my fellow-creatures ! If Thy goodness has yet such a gift in store for me, as an equal return of affection from her who, Thou knowest, is dearer to me than life, do Thou bless and hallow our bond of love and friendship ; watch over us, in all our outgoings and incomings, for good ; and may the tie that unites our hearts be strong and indissolu- ble as the thread of man's immortal life !
1 am just going to take your Blackbird, the sweetest, I am sure, that ever sung, and prune its wings a little.
SYIvVANDER*
70
CI<A!UNDA CORRESPONDENCE.
[1788.
[Burns had formed a resolution to leave Edinburgh per- manently on Wednesday 3oth January. He had written to Creech, his publisher, with a view to bring him to a final settlement. In the foregoing letter to Clarinda he requests a fourth private meeting with her on the evening of the 23rd, and along with it he probably sent his Parting Song to that lady, which is mentioned in his next letter as being in the hands of Mr. Schetki to set to music.
FAREWEI.lv TO CLARINDA,
ON IRVING EDINBURGH.
Slow and Expressive.
Cla - rinda, mistress of my soul, The measur'd time is run !
tr
The wretch beneath the drea - ry pole, So marks his lat • est sun.
Clarinda, mistress of my soul, The measured time is run !
The wretch beneath the dreary pole, So marks his latest sun."
To what dark cave of frozen night Shall poor Sylvander hie?
Deprived of thee, his life and light, The sun of all his joy?
We part— but, by these precious drops
That fill thy lovely eyes, No other light shall guide my steps
Till thy bright beams arise.
She, the fair sun of all her sex, Has blest my glorious day ;
And shall a glimmering planet fix My worship to its ray?
Referring to the meeting on Wednesday 23rd January, Cham- bers thus observes: — "On this occasion, it would appear, the
jKt. 29.] THE; CI.ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 71
communications of the pair had been of a more fervent and unreserved kind than heretofore, insomuch as to leave self- accusing reflections in the bosom of Clarinda. Kach wrote a letter to the other the next day."]
(«) SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
Thursday Morning [Jan. 24/£.] "Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain."
I HAVE been tasking my reason, Clarinda, why a woman, who, for native genius, poignant wit, strength of mind, generous sincerity of soul, and the sweetest female tenderness, is without a peer ; and whose per- sonal charms have few, very few parallels among her sex ; why, or how, she should fall to the blessed lot of a poor harum-scarum poet, whom Fortune had kept for her particular use to wreak her temper on, when- ever she was in ill-humor.
One time I conjectured that, as Fortune is the most capricious jade ever known, she may have taken, not a fit of remorse, but a paroxysm of whim, to raise the poor devil out of the mire where he had so often and so conveniently served her as a stepping-stone, and given him the most glorious boon she ever had in her gift, merely for the maggot's sake, to see how his fool head and his fool heart will bear it.
At other times, I was vain enough to think that Nature, who has a great deal to say with Fortune, had given the coquettish goddess some such hint as — " Here is a paragon of female excellence, whose equal, in all my former compositions, I never was lucky enough to hit on, and despair of ever doing so again : you have cast her rather in the shades of life. There is a cgrtajg^oet of my making : among your frolics,
72 THE CI,ARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
it would not be amiss to attach, him to this master piece of iny hand, to give her that immortality among mankind, which no woman of any age ever more de- served, and which few rhymsters of this age are bet- ter able to confer.''
Evening -, Nine o'clock.
I am here — absolutely unfit to finish my letter- pretty hearty, after a bowl which has been constantly plied since dinner till this moment. I have been with Mr. Schetki the musician, and he has set the song finely. I have no distinct ideas of anything, but that I have drunk your health twice to-night, and that you are all my soul holds dear in this world.
SYI,VANDEP~
OCLARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
CORRES., 1843.)
Thursday Forenoon [Jan*-
SYI/VANDER, the moment I waked this morning, I received a summons from Conscience to appear at the Bar of Reason. While I trembled before this sacred throne, I beheld a succes- sion of figures pass before me in awful brightness ! Religion, clad in a robe of light, stalked majestically along, her hair dishevelled, and in her hand the Scriptures of Truth, held open at these words — "If you love Me, keep My commandments." Reputation followed : her eyes darted indignation, while she vaved a beautiful wreath of laurel, intermixed with flowers gathered by Modesty in the Bower of Peace. Consideration held her bright mirror close to my eyes, and made me start at my own image ! Love alone appeared as counsel in my behalf. She was adorned with a veil, borrowed from Friendship, which hid her defects, and set off her beauties to advantage. She had no plea to offer, but that of being the sister of Friendship, and the offspring of Charity. But Reason refused to listen to her defence, because she brought no certificate from the Tem- ple of Hymen. While I trembled before her, Reason addressed me in the following manner: — "Return to my paths, which alone are peace ; shut your heart against the fascinating intru-
jtff. 29.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 73
sion of the passions ; take Consideration for your guide, and you will soon arrive at the Bower of Tranquillity."
Sylvander, to drop my metaphor, I am neither well nor happy to-day : my heart reproaches me for last night. If you wish Clarinda to regain her peace, determine against everything but what the strictest delicacy warrants.
I do not blame you, but myself. I must not see you on Saturday, unless I find I can depend on myself acting other- wise. Delicacy, you know, it was which won me to you at once : take care you do not loosen the dearest, most sacred tie that unites us ! Remember Clarinda' s present and eternal hap- piness depends upon her adherence to virtue. Happy Sylvan- der ! that can be attached to Heaven and Clarinda together. Alas ! I feel I cannot serve two masters. God pity me ! !
Thursday night.
Why have I not heard from you, Sylvander ? Everything in nature seems tinged with gloom to-day. Ah Sylvander,
" The heart's ay the part ay That makes us right or wrang ! "
How forcibly have these lines recurred to my thoughts ! Did I not tell you what a wretch love rendered me ? Affection to the strongest height I am capable of, to a man of my Sylvan- der's merit ; if it did not lead me into weaknesses and follies my heart utterly condemns. I am convinced without the approbation of Heaven and my own mind, existence would be to me a heavy curse. Sylvander, why do not your Clarinda' s repeated levities cure the too passionate fondness you express for her? Perhaps it has a little removed esteem. But I dare not touch this string ; it would fill up the cup of my present misery. O Sylvander, may the friendship of that God you and I have too much neglected to secure, be henceforth our chief study and delight. I cannot live deprived of the consciousness of this favor. I feel something of this awful state all this day. Nay, while I approached God with my lips, my heart was not fully there.
Mr. lyocke's posthumous letter ought to be written in let- ters of gold. What heartfelt joy does the consciousness of having done well in any one instance confer ; and what agony the reverse ! Do not be displeased when I tell you I wish our parting was over. At a distance we shall retain the same heartfelt affection and interestedness in each other's concerns ; but absence will mellow and restrain those violent heart-agita-
74 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
tions which, if continued much longer, would unhinge my very soul, and render me unfit for the duties of life.
You and I are capable of that ardency of love for which the wide creation cannot afford an adequate object. Let us seek to repose it in the bosom of our God. Let us next give a place to those dearest on earth — the tender charities of parent, sister, child ! I bid you good-night with this short prayer of Thomson's —
" Father of I,ight and I4fe, thou Good Supreme ! O teach us what is good— teach us Thyself! Save us from folly, vanity, and vice," &c.
Your letter— I should have liked had it contained a little of the last one's seriousness. Bless me ! you must not flatter so ; but it's in a "merry mood," and I make allowances. Part of some of your encomiums I know I deserve ; but you are far out when you enumerate "strength of mind" among them. I have not even an ordinary share of it ; every passion does what it will with me ; and all my life, I have been guided by the impulse of the moment — unsteady and weak ! I thank you for the letter, though it sticket my prayer. Why did you tell me you drank away Reason, that "heaven-lighted lamp in man ?" When Sylvander utters a calm, sober sentiment, he is never half so charming. I have read several of these in your last letter with vast pleasure. Good night !
Friday Morning [25 JanJ\
My servant (who is a good soul)* will deliver you this. She is going down to Leith, and will return about two or three o'clock. I have ordered her to call then, in case you have ought to say to Clarinda to-day. I am better of that sickness at heart I had yesterday ; but there's a sting remains, which will not be removed until I am at peace with Heaven and myself. Another interview, spent as we ought, will help to procure this. A day when the sun shines gloriously always makes me devout ! I hope 'tis an earnest (to-day) of being soon restored to the "light of His countenance" who is the source of love and standard of perfection. Adieu !
Cl,ARINDA.
* Was this Jenny Clow,— who is referred to in letter from Clarinda November, 1791, in a bad fix? See page 131, infra,— G. G.
. 30.] THE: CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 75
H SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
[Friday, January 25/A.]
CLARINDA, my life, you have wounded my soul. Can I think of your being unhappy, even though it be not described in your pathetic elegance of lan- guage, without being miserable ? Clarinda, can I bear to be told from you that " you will not see me to- morrow night — that you wish the hour of parting were come ! ' ' Do not let us impose on ourselves by sounds. If, in the moment of fond endearment and tender dalliance, I perhaps trespassed against the letter of decorum's law, I appeal even to you, whether I ever sinned, in the very least degree, against the spirit of her strictest statute ? But why, my love, talk to me in such strong terms ; every word of which cuts me to the very soul? You know a hint, the slightest signification of your wish, is to me a sacred command.
Be reconciled, my angel, to your God, yourself, and me ; and I pledge you Sylvander's honor — an oath, I daresay, you will trust without reserve, that you shall never more have reason to complain of his conduct. Now, my love, do not wound our next meeting with any averted looks or restrained caresses. I have marked the line of conduct — a line I know, exactly to your taste — and which I will inviolably keep ; but do not you show the least inclination to make bound- aries. Seeming distrust, where you know you may confide, is a cruel sin against sensibility.
* ( Delicacy, you know, it was which won me to you at once ; take care you do not loosen the dearest, most sacred tie that unites us." Clarinda, I would not have stung your soul, I would not have bruised
76 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
your spirit, as that harsh, crucifying "Take care" did mine ; no, not to have gained heaven ! L,et me again appeal to your dear self, if Sylvander, even when he seemingly half-transgressed the laws of deco- rum, if he did not shew more chastened trembling, faltering delicacy, than the many of the world do in keeping these laws?
0 Love and Sensibility, ye have conspired against my Peace ! I love to madness, and I feel to torture ! Clarinda, how can I forgive myself that I have ever touched a single chord in your bosom with pain ! would I do it willingly? Would any consideration, any gratification, make me do so? Oh, did you love like me, you would not, you could not, deny or put off a meeting with the man who adores you — who would die a thousand deaths before he would injure you ; and who must soon bid you a long farewell !
1 had proposed bringing my bosom friend, Mr. Ainslie, to-morrow evening, at his strong request, to see you ; as he has only time to stay with us about ten minutes, for an engagement. But I shall hear from you — this afternoon, for Mercy's sake ! for, till I hear from you, I am wretched. O Clarinda, the tie that binds me to thee is intwisted — incorporated with my dearest threads of life ! SYLVANDER.
[Clarinda could not resist the foregoing passionate appeal. Another meeting took place on Friday night (the poet's birth- day) and Sylvander's visit was repeated on the night of Satur- day—both of which facts the following short letter discloses.]
H SYIyVANDER TO CLARINDA.
(STEWART, 1802.)
[Saturday z6th Jan."]
I WAS on the way, my love, to meet you (I never do things by halves) when I got your card. Mr. Ainslie goes out of town to-morrow morning, to see a
^T. 30.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 77
brother of his who is newly arrived from France. I am determined that he and I shall call on you to- gether ; so, look you, lest I should never see to-mor- row, we will call on you to-night. Mary and you may put off tea till about seven ; at which time, in the Galloway phrase, uan the beast be to the fore, and the branks bide hale," expect the humblest of your humble servants, and his dearest friend. We propose staying only half an hour, "for ought we ken." I could suffer the lash of misery eleven months in the year, were the twelfth to be composed of hours like yesternight. You are the soul of my enjoyment ; all else is of the stuff of stocks and stones.
SYLVANDER.
(21) SYIvVANDER TO CLARINDA
(Cl^AR. CORRES., 1843.)
Sunday Noon [Jan. i^th.]
I HAVE almost given up the Excise idea. I have
been just now to wait on a great person, Miss 's
friend, , why will great people not only deafen
us with the din of their equipage, and dazzle us with their fastidious pomp, but they must also be so very dictatorially wise? I have been questioned like a child about my matters, and blamed and schooled for my Inscription on Stirling window. Come Clarinda ! "Come, curse me Jacob; come defy me Israel?"
Sunday Night.
I have been with Miss Nimmo. She is indeed ua good soul," as my Clarinda finely says. She has reconciled me, in a good measure, to the world, with her friendly prattle.
Schetki has sent me the song, set to a fine air of
78 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
his composing. I have called the song c ( Clarinda. * ' I have carried it about in my pocket and hummed it over all day.
Monday Morning.
If my prayers have any weight in heaven, this morning looks in on you and finds you in the arms of Peace, except where it is charmingly interrupted by the ardors of Devotion. I find so much serenity of mind, so much positive pleasure, so much fearless daring toward the world, when I warm in devotion, or feel the glorious sensation — a consciousness of Almighty friendship, that I am sure I shall soon be an honest enthusiast.
" How are thy servants blest, O Lord !
How sure is their defence !
Eternal Wisdom is their guide,
Their help, Omnipotence ! "
I am, my dear Madam, yours SYLVANDER.
H CXARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
(Cl,AR. CORRES., 1843.)
Sunday, 8 Ev. \vjth Jan.\
SYLVANDER, when I think of you as my dearest and most attached friend, I am highly pleased ; but when you come across my mind as my lover, something within gives a sting resembling that of guilt ! Tell me why is this ? It must be from the idea that I am another's. What? another's wife! O cruel Fate ! I am indeed bound in an " iron chain ! " Forgive me, if this should give you pain. You know I must (I told you I must} tell you my genuine feelings, or be silent. Last night we were happy ! beyond what the bulk of mankind can conceive! Perhaps the "line" you had mark'd was a little infringed — it was really ; but, tho' I disapprove, I have not been unhappy about it. I am convinced no less of your dis- cernment than of your wish to make your Clarinda happy. I know you sincere, when you profess horror at the idea of what
a$T. 30.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 79
would render her miserable forever. But we must guard against going to the verge of danger. Ah ! my friend, much need had we to "watch and pray ! " May these benevolent spirits whose office it is to "save the fall of Virtue, struggling on the brink of vice" be ever present to protect and guide us in right paths !
I had an hour's conversation to-day with my worthy friend
Mr. K p.* You'll attribute, perhaps to this, the abov?
sentiments. 'Tis true, there's not one on earth has so much influence on me, except Sylvander ; partly it has forced me to "feel along the mental intelligence." However, I've broke the ice. I confessed I had conceived a tender impression of late — that it was mutual, and that I had wish'd to unbosom myself to him (as I always did), particularly to ask if he thought I should, or not, mention it to Tf&y 'friend f\ I saw he felt for me (for I was in tears) ; but he bewail' d that I had given my heart, while in my present state of bondage — wish'd I had made it friendship only — in short, talk'd to me in the style of a tender Parent, anxious for my happiness. He disapproves altogether of my saying a syllable of the matter to my friend ; says it could only make him uneasy ; and that I'm in no way bound to do it by any one tie. This has eased me of a load which has lain upon my mind ever since our intimacy. Syl- vander, I wish you and Mr. K p were acquainted — such
worth and sensibility ! If you had his piety and sobriety of manners, united to the shining abilities you possess ! you'd be "a faultless monster which the world ne'er saw." He too has great talents. His imagination is rich, his feelings delicate, his discernment acute ; yet there are shades in his, as in all characters : but these it would ill become Clarinda to point out. Alas ! I know too many blots in my own !
Sylvander, I believe nothing were a more impracticable task than to make you feel a little of genuine Gospel humility! Believe me, I wish not to see you deprived of that noble fire of an exalted mind which you eminently possess. Yet a sense of your faults — a feeling sense of them ! — were devoutly to be wish'd. Tell me, did you ever, or how oft have you smote on your breast, and cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner?" I fancy, once or twice, when suffering from the effects of your errors. Pardon me if I be hurting your "intrinsic dignity;" it need not — even "divine Clarinda" has been in this mortal predicament.
* The Rev. John Kemp, minister of Tolbooth parish church, f Her cousin, Lord Craig.
80 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [i7Sa
Pray, what does Mr. Ainslie think of her ! was he not as* tonished to find her merely human? Three weeks ago, I suppose you would have walked into her presence unshod ; but one must bury even divinities when they discover symp- toms of mortality ! (l^et these be interred in Sylvander's bosom !)
My dearest friend, there are two wishes uppermost in my heart ; to see you think alike with Clarinda on religion ; and settled in some creditable line of business. The warm in- terest I take in both these is perhaps the best proof of the sincerity of my friendship, as well as the earnest of its dura- tion. As to the first, I devolve it over into the hands of the Omniscient ! May He raise up friends who will effectuate the other ! While I breathe these fervent wishes, think not that anything but pure disinterested regard prompts them. They're fond, but chimerical ideas. They are never indulged but in the hour of tender endearment, when
"Innocence
I^ooks gaily smiling on ; while rosy Pleasure Hides young Desire amid her flowery wreath, And pours her cup luxuriant, mantling high The sparkling heavenly vintage — I/ove and Bliss !"
'Tis past ten ; and I please myself with thinking Sylvander will be about to retire, and write to Clarinda. I fancy you'll find this stupid enough ; but I can't be always bright ; the sun will be sometimes under a cloud. Sylvander, I wish our kind feelings were more moderate ; why set one's heart upon impossibilities ? Try me merely as your friend (alas ! all I ought to be) : believe me, you'll find me most rational. If you'd caress the " mental intelligence" as you do the corpo- real frame, indeed, Sylvander, you'd make me a philosopher. I see you fidgetting at this violently blasting rationality. I have a headache which brings home those things to the mind. To- morrow I'll hear from you, I hope ! This is Sunday, and not a word on our favorite subject. O fy ! "divine Clarinda." I intend giving you my idea of Heaven in opposition to your heathenish description (which, by the by, was elegantly drawn). Mine shall be founded on Reason and supported by Scripture ; but it's too late ; my head aches, but my heart is affectionately yours.
^T. 30.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 81
Monday Morning.
I am not sorry almost at the Excise affair misgiving. You will be better out of Edin. : it is full of temptation to one of your social turn. Providence (if you be wise in future) will order something better for you. I'm half-glad you were school' d about the Inscription ; 'twill be a lesson, I hope, in future. Clarinda would have lectured you on it before, "if she dared." Miss N. is a woman after my own heart. You are reconciled to the world by her ' ' friendly prattle ! : ' How can you talk so diminutively of the conversation of a woman of solid sense ? what will you say of Clarinda's chit chat ? I suppose you will give it a still more insignificant term if you durst ; but it is mixed with something that makes it more bearable, were it even weaker than it is. Miss N. is right in both her conjectures. Ah, Sylvander ! my peace must suffer ; yours cannot. You think, in loving Clarinda, you are doing right; all Sylvander's eloquence cannot convince me that it is so ! If I were but at liberty — Oh how I would indulge in all the luxury of innocent love ! It is, I fear, too late to talk in this strain after indulging you and myself so much ; but would Sylvander shelter his I^ove in Friendship's allowed garb, Clarinda would be much happier !
"To-morrow," did'st thou say? The time is short now; is it not too frequent? Do not sweetest dainties cloy soonest? Take your chance — come half-past eight. If anything particu- lar occur to render it improper to-morrow, I'll send you word, and name another evening. Mr. Kemp is to call to-night, I believe. He too " trembles for my peace." Two such worthies to be interested about my foolish ladyship ! The Apostle Paul, with all his rhetoric, would not reconcile me to the great (little souls) when I think of them and Sylvander together; but I pity them.
" If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat, With any wish so mean, as to be great, Continue, Heav'n, far from me to remove The numble blessings of that life I'd love."
Till we meet, my dear Sylvander, adieu !
CLARINDA.
[The meetings at Clarinda's house became more frequent as the anticipated hour of parting drew nearer. From the pre- ceding letter we gather that Burns proposed an interview on Tuesday 29th January. Miss Mary Peacock, already spoken ofe seems to have been staying for a day or two about this period V. P
82 THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
with her friend Mrs. M'Lehose. From Sylvander's letter of Friday morning ist February, we learn that Mary was present at an interview between the lovers on the Wednesday even- ing-]
SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA,
(STEWART, 1802.)
an.]
I CANNOT go out to-day, my dearest Clarinda, without sending you half a line, by way of a sin offering ; but believe me, 'twas the sin of ignorance. Could you think that I intended to hurt you by any thing I said yesternight? Nature has been too kind to you for your happiness, your delicacy, your sensi- bility. — O why should such glorious qualifications be the fruitful source of woe! You have " murdered sleep " to ,me last night. I went to bed, impressed with an idea that you were unhappy ; and every start I closed my eyes, busy Fancy painted you in such scenes of romantic misery, that I would almost be persuaded you are not well this morning.
"If I unwitting have offended, Impute it not ......
But while we live
But one short hour, perhaps, between us two^ I^et there be peace."
If Mary is not gone by the time this reaches you, give her my compliments. She is a charming girl, and highly worthy of the noblest love.
I send you a poem to read till I call on you this night, which will be about nine. I wish I could pro- cure some potent spell, some fairy charm, that would protect from injury, or restore to rest that bosom chord, u trembling alive all o'er," on which hangs your peace of mind. I thought, vainly I fear I thought, that the devotion of love — love strong as
j$T. 30.] THE CLARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. 83
even you can feel — love guarded, invulnerably guarded by all the purity of virtue, and all the pride of honor, — I thought, such a love might make you happy. Shall I be mistaken? I can no more for hurry.
SYLVANDER.
Tuesday Morning.
CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER.
CORRES., 1843.)
Thursday, Noon [31 Jan."]
I HAVE been giving Mary * a convoy ; the day is a genial one. Mary is a happy woman to-day. Mrs. Cockburnf has seen her "Henry," and admired it vastly. She talked of you, told her she saw you, and that her lines even met your applause. Sylvander, I share in the joy of every one ; and am ready to "weep with those who weep," as well as "rejoice with those who rejoice." I wish all the human race well ; my heart throbs with the large ambitious wish to see them blest ; yet I seem sometimes as if born to inflict misery. What a cordial evening we had last night ! I only tremble at the ardent manner Mary talks of Sylvander ! She knows where his affections lie, and is quite unconscious of the eagerness of her expression. All night I could get no sleep for her admiration. I like her for it, and am proud of it ; but I know how much violent admira- tion is akin to love.
I go out to dinner, and mean to leave this, in case of one from you to-day. Miss Chalmers's letters are charming. Why did not such a woman secure your heart? O the caprice of human nature ! to fix impossibilities.
I am, however, happy you have such valuable friends. What a pity that those who will be most apt to feel your merit, will be probably among the number who have not the power of serving you ! Sylvander, I never was ambitious ; but of late I have wished for wealth with ardor unfelt before, to be able to say, "Be independent, thou dear friend of my heart!"
*"Mary Peacock, subsequently married Burns's friend James Gray, of the High School, Edinburgh.
t Authoress of the beautiful song "The Flowers of the Forest," commencing "I've seen the smiling of Fortune beguiling."
84 THE ClyARINDA CORRESPONDENCE. [1788.
What exquisite joy! Then "your head would be lifted up above your enemies." O then what little shuffling, sneaking attentions ! shame on the world ! Wealth and power command its adulation, while real genius and worth, without these, are neglected and contemned.
In nature's simplest habit clad,
No wealth nor power had he; Genius and worth were all he had,
And these were all to me."
Forgive my quoting my most favorite