I will not attempt to
describe
what I felt
on receiving your letter.
on receiving your letter.
Robert Forst
There
is such a number of foreboding fears and distrustful anxieties crowd
into my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to write to
you, that what to speak, or what to write, I am altogether at a loss.
There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
invariably keep with you, and that is honestly to tell you the plain
truth. There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love. No, my
dear E. , I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such
detestable practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to
admit me for your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through
life, there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater
transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts
unworthy of a man, and I will add of a Christian. There is one thing,
my dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this; that you
would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or
cure me of my fears by a generous consent.
It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when
convenient. I shall only add further that, if a behaviour regulated
(though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and
virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest
endeavour to promote your happiness; if these are qualities you would
wish in a friend, in a husband, I hope you shall ever find them in
your real friend, and sincere lover.
R. B.
* * * * *
VII.
TO MISS E.
_Lochlea_, 1783.
I ought, in good manners, to have acknowledged the receipt of your
letter before this time, but my heart was so shocked, with the
contents of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to
write you on the subject.
I will not attempt to describe what I felt
on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, again and again,
and though it was in the politest language of refusal, still it was
peremptory; "you were sorry you could not make me a return, but you
wish me," what without you I never can obtain, "you wish me all kind
of happiness. " It would be weak and unmanly to say that, without you I
never can be happy; but sure I am, that sharing life with you would
have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I can never taste.
Your uncommon personal advantages, and your superior good sense, do
not so much strike me; these, possibly, in a few instances may be met
with in others; but that amiable goodness, that tender feminine
softness, that endearing sweetness of disposition, with all the
charming offspring of a warm feeling heart--these I never again expect
to meet with, in such a degree, in this world. All these charming
qualities, heightened by an education much beyond anything I have ever
met in any woman I ever dared to approach, have made an impression on
my heart that I do not think the world can ever efface. My imagination
had fondly flattered myself with a wish, I dare not say it ever
reached a hope, that possibly I might one day call you mine. I had
formed the most delightful images, and my fancy fondly brooded over
them; but now I am wretched for the loss of what I really had no right
to expect. I must now think no more of you as a mistress; still I
presume to ask to be admitted as a friend. As such I wish to be
allowed to wait on you, and as I expect to remove in a few days a
little further off, and you, I suppose, will perhaps soon leave this
place, I wish to see or hear from you soon; and if an expression
should perhaps escape me, rather too warm for friendship, I hope you
will pardon it in, my dear Miss--(pardon me the dear expression for
once) * * * *
R. B
* * * * *
VIII.
TO ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ.
OF GLENRIDDEL
[These memoranda throw much light on the early days of Burns, and on
the history of his mind and compositions. Robert Riddel, of the
Friars-Carse, to whom these fragments were sent, was a good man as
well as a distinguished antiquary. ]
MY DEAR SIR,
On rummaging over some old papers I lighted on a MS. of my early
years, in which I had determined to write myself out; as I was placed
by fortune among a class of men to whom my ideas would have been
nonsense. I had meant that the book should have lain by me, in the
fond hope that some time or other, even after I was no more, my
thoughts would fall into the hands of somebody capable of appreciating
their value.
is such a number of foreboding fears and distrustful anxieties crowd
into my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to write to
you, that what to speak, or what to write, I am altogether at a loss.
There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
invariably keep with you, and that is honestly to tell you the plain
truth. There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love. No, my
dear E. , I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such
detestable practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to
admit me for your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through
life, there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater
transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts
unworthy of a man, and I will add of a Christian. There is one thing,
my dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this; that you
would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or
cure me of my fears by a generous consent.
It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when
convenient. I shall only add further that, if a behaviour regulated
(though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and
virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest
endeavour to promote your happiness; if these are qualities you would
wish in a friend, in a husband, I hope you shall ever find them in
your real friend, and sincere lover.
R. B.
* * * * *
VII.
TO MISS E.
_Lochlea_, 1783.
I ought, in good manners, to have acknowledged the receipt of your
letter before this time, but my heart was so shocked, with the
contents of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to
write you on the subject.
I will not attempt to describe what I felt
on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, again and again,
and though it was in the politest language of refusal, still it was
peremptory; "you were sorry you could not make me a return, but you
wish me," what without you I never can obtain, "you wish me all kind
of happiness. " It would be weak and unmanly to say that, without you I
never can be happy; but sure I am, that sharing life with you would
have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I can never taste.
Your uncommon personal advantages, and your superior good sense, do
not so much strike me; these, possibly, in a few instances may be met
with in others; but that amiable goodness, that tender feminine
softness, that endearing sweetness of disposition, with all the
charming offspring of a warm feeling heart--these I never again expect
to meet with, in such a degree, in this world. All these charming
qualities, heightened by an education much beyond anything I have ever
met in any woman I ever dared to approach, have made an impression on
my heart that I do not think the world can ever efface. My imagination
had fondly flattered myself with a wish, I dare not say it ever
reached a hope, that possibly I might one day call you mine. I had
formed the most delightful images, and my fancy fondly brooded over
them; but now I am wretched for the loss of what I really had no right
to expect. I must now think no more of you as a mistress; still I
presume to ask to be admitted as a friend. As such I wish to be
allowed to wait on you, and as I expect to remove in a few days a
little further off, and you, I suppose, will perhaps soon leave this
place, I wish to see or hear from you soon; and if an expression
should perhaps escape me, rather too warm for friendship, I hope you
will pardon it in, my dear Miss--(pardon me the dear expression for
once) * * * *
R. B
* * * * *
VIII.
TO ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ.
OF GLENRIDDEL
[These memoranda throw much light on the early days of Burns, and on
the history of his mind and compositions. Robert Riddel, of the
Friars-Carse, to whom these fragments were sent, was a good man as
well as a distinguished antiquary. ]
MY DEAR SIR,
On rummaging over some old papers I lighted on a MS. of my early
years, in which I had determined to write myself out; as I was placed
by fortune among a class of men to whom my ideas would have been
nonsense. I had meant that the book should have lain by me, in the
fond hope that some time or other, even after I was no more, my
thoughts would fall into the hands of somebody capable of appreciating
their value.
