BURNS'S RESIDENCE WITH MR CRUIKSHANK. 157 Burns returned to Edinburgh on the 20th October, ill with a cold caught in his journey. He had now to bethink himself of his long-promised ride to Dumfriesshire, and he immediately addressed Mr Miller on that subject. The letter, hitherto inedited, is of importance as shewing the views of the writer regarding the farming life which he contemplated. These views, it will be observed, were as moderate and prudential as could have been entertained by the veriest son of prose in exist ence. TO PETER MILLER, ESQ., DALSWINTON. EDINBURGH, 20th October 1787. SIR-I was spending a few days at Sir William Murray's, Oughtertyre, and did not get your obliging letter till to-day I came to town. I was still more unlucky in catching a miserable cold, for which the medical gentlemen have ordered me into close confinement,' under pain of death'-the severest of penalties. In two or three days, if I get better, and if I hear at your lodgings that you are still at Dalswinton, I will take a ride to Dumfries directly. From something in your last, I would wish to explain my idea of being your tenant. I want to be a farmer in a small farm, about a ploughgang, in a pleasant country under the auspices of a good landlord. have no foolish notion of being a tenant on easier terms than another. To find a farm where one can live at all is not easy-I only mean living soberly, like an old-style farmer, and joining personal industry. The banks of the Nith are as sweet, poetic ground as any I ever saw; and besides, sir, 'tis but justice to the feelings of my own heart, and the opinion of my best friends, to say that I would wish to call you landlord sooner than any landed gentleman I know. These are my views and wishes; and in whatever way you think best to lay out your farms, I shall be happy to rent one of them. I shall certainly be able to ride to Dalswinton about the middle of next week, if I hear you are not gone. I have the honour to be, sir, your obliged, humble servant, ROBT. BURNS.1 On returning from the north, Burns appears to have taken up his quarters with Mr William Cruikshank, a colleague of Nicol in the High School. The house was composed of the two upper floors of a lofty building, in an airy situation in the New Town— then marked No. 2, now 30, St James's Square. The poet's room had a window overlooking the green behind the Register House, as well as the street entering the Square. It was by far the most agreeable place in which he had ever had more than the most From the original, in possession of Mr W. C. Aitken, Birmingham. temporary lodging. We are told by the historian of the High School, that Mr Cruikshank was regarded as a person of no mean acquirements. He had a daughter, Janet, a young girl of budding loveliness, and much promise as a pianist. To her the poet was indebted for many pleasant hours, in listening to his favourite Scottish airs. He also employed her voice and instrument in enabling him to adapt new verses to old airs for the Scots Musical Museum. Dr Walker says—' About the end of October, I called for him at the house of a friend [Mr Cruikshank], whose daughter, though not more than twelve, was a considerable proficient in music. I found him seated by the harpsichord of this young lady, listening with the keenest interest to his own verses, which she sung and accompanied, and adjusting them to the music by repeated trials of the effect. In this occupation he was so totally absorbed that it was difficult to draw his attention from it for a moment.'2 This gives us some idea of the care and study which Burns bestowed upon his songs, in order to give them that perfect adaptation to their respective airs for which they are remarkable. He gratefully celebrated his favourite, little Miss Jenny Cruikshank, in a song remarkable for involvement of images, but singular grace and delicacy of expression. THE ROSE-BUD. TUNE-The Shepherd's Wife. A rose-bud by my early walk, Ere twice the shades o' dawn are filed, And drooping rich the dewy head, Within the bush, her covert nest, She soon shall see her tender brood, 1 Mr Cruikshank died in 1795. 2 Walker's Life of Burns. p. lxxxi. 8 An open space in a corn-field, generally a ridge left untilled. Nor was this the only proof of the esteem in which Burns held his rose-bud: TO MISS CRUIKSHANK, A VERY YOUNG LADY. WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK PRESENTED TO HER BY THE AUTHOR. Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay, Blooming in thy early May, Never may'st thou, lovely flower, Never Boreas' hoary path, Never Eurus' poisonous breath, Riot on thy virgin leaf! Nor even Sol too fiercely view Thy bosom blushing still with dew! May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem, And every bird thy requiem sings; Shed thy dying honours round, And resign to parent earth The loveliest form she e'er gave birth. The Rose-bud became the wife of Mr Henderson, a legal practitioner at Jedburgh, and has been for some years dead. A lady, who stands towards her in the relation of daughter-in-law, has been so good as to inform me of a beautiful oil-painting in the possession of Mrs Henderson's only surviving son, which 'justifies the appellation of the Rose-bud, as, judging from the Hebe-like appearance of the picture, she must have been a strikingly beautiful girl.' The same lady possesses 'a china bowl which, according to the family tradition, was broken by Burns in one of his merry nights at St James's Square.' The zeal of Burns for the collection, illustration, and extension of the body of Scottish song was at this season a conspicuous feeling in his bosom. He entered into the views of Johnson with an industry and earnestness which despised all money considerations, and which money could not have purchased. The character of our bard is seen strongly here. He adored his native muse, and held the codex of her effusions as a sacred volume. He was also wholly above the idea of mercenary verse. Numbers he gave forth 'because the numbers came.' Though he had published a volume of these, and consented to realise a profit by it, he had no idea of composing either poems or songs with a view to a pecuniary recompense for them. Above all, he was incapable of writing a song directly for money. There may have been something of overfastidiousness in this feeling of Burns; and yet it was, on the whole, in high consonance with the poetical character which he bore. It is at least a more tolerable error than the opposite one of an overkeen solicitude respecting the profits of the pen, which may now be said occasionally to present itself somewhat too obtrusively in the literary world. At Gordon Castle Burns had formed an acquaintance with a Mr James Hoy, ostensibly librarian to the duke, but rather a kind of humble companion; a sensible, learned person, who is described as having lived in that princely mansion for fortysix years (previous to his death in 1828) without ever losing the Dominie - Sampson - like purity of heart and simplicity of manners by which he was distinguished. To him Burns now addressed himself for an object connected with Johnson's design of the Museum. The duke, under an unpretending exterior, possessed a certain dash of song-writing genius, which had produced at least one popular effusion. This ditty, bearing the title of Cauld Kail in Aberdeen, Burns wished to secure. TO MR JAMES HOY, GORDON CASTLE. EDINBURGH, 20th October 1787. SIR-I will defend my conduct in giving you this trouble, on the best of Christian principles- Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.' I shall certainly, among my legacies, leave my latest curse to that unlucky predicament which hurried-tore me away from Castle-Gordon. May that obstinate son of Latin prose [Nicol] be curst to Scotch-mile periods, and damned to seven-league paragraphs; while Declension and Conjugation, Gender, Number, and Tense, under the ragged banners of Dissonance and Disarrangement, eternally rank against him in hostile array! Allow me, sir, to strengthen the small claim I have to your LETTER TO MR HOY, GORDON CASTLE. 161 acquaintance by the following request:-An engraver, James Johnson, in Edinburgh, has, not from mercenary views, but from an honest Scotch enthusiasm, set about collecting all our native songs, and setting them to music, particularly those that have never been set before. Clarke, the well-known musician, presides over the musical arrangement, and Drs Beattie and Blacklock, Mr Tytler of Woodhouselee, and your humble servant to the utmost of his small power, assist in collecting the old poetry, or sometimes, for a fine air, make a stanza when it has no words. The brats, too tedious to mention, claim a parental pang from my bardship. I suppose it will appear in Johnson's second number-the first was published before my acquaintance with him. My request is-Cauld Kail in Aberdeen is one intended for this number, and I beg a copy of his Grace of Gordon's words to it, which you were so kind as to repeat to me. You may be sure we wont prefix the author's name, except you like; though I look on it as no small merit to this work that the names of so many of the authors of our old Scotch songs-names almost forgotten-will be inserted. I do not well know where to write to you-I rather write at you; but if you will be so obliging immediately on receipt of this, as to write me a few lines, I shall perhaps pay you in kind, though not in quality. Johnson's terms are:-each number a handsome pocket volume, to consist at least of a hundred Scotch songs, with basses for the harpsichord, &c. The price to subscribers, 5s.; to non-subscribers, 6s. He will have three numbers, I conjecture. My direction for two or three weeks will be at Mr William Cruikshank's, St James's Square, New Town, Edinburgh. I am, sir, yours to command, To this Hoy answered in the course of a few days— R. B. GORDON CASTLE, 31st October 1787. SIR-If you were not sensible of your fault as well as of your loss, in leaving this place so suddenly, I should condemn you to starve upon cauld kail1 for ae towmont 2 at least; and as for Dick Latine,3 your travelling companion, without banning him wi' a' the curses contained in your letter (which he'll no value a bawbee), I should give him nought but Stra'bogie castocks 4 to chew for sax ouks, or ay until he was as sensible of his error as you seem to be of yours. Your song I shewed without producing the author; and it was judged by the duchess to be the production of Dr Beattie. I sent a copy of it, by her Grace's desire, to a Mrs M'Pherson, in Badenoch, who sings Morag, and all other Gaelic songs, in great perfection. I have recorded it likewise, by Lady Charlotte's desire, in a book belonging to her ladyship; where it is in company with a great many other poems and verses, some of the writers of which are no less 1 Cold mutton broth. 2 A twelvemonth. 3 Mr Nicol. 4 The song speaks of castocks (cabbage stems) in Strathbogie. |