This is a cursed flat way of telling you these truths, but let me hear
no more of your sheepish timidity.
no more of your sheepish timidity.
Robert Forst
Hamilton and Miss Kennedy.
Yours in the L--d,
R. B.
* * * * *
XCVII.
TO MISS CHALMERS.
[The blank which takes the place of the name of the "Gentleman in mind
and manners," of this letter, cannot now be filled up, nor is it much
matter: the acquaintance of such a man as the poet describes few or
none would desire. ]
_Edinburgh, Dec. _ 1787.
MY DEAR MADAM,
I just now have read yours. The poetic compliments I pay cannot be
misunderstood. They are neither of them so particular as to point you
out to the world at large; and the circle of your acquaintances will
allow all I have said. Besides, I have complimented you chiefly,
almost solely, on your mental charms. Shall I be plain with you? I
will; so look to it. Personal attractions, Madam, you have much above
par; wit, understanding, and worth, you possess in the first class.
This is a cursed flat way of telling you these truths, but let me hear
no more of your sheepish timidity. I know the world a little. I know
what they will say of my poems; by second sight I suppose; for I am
seldom out in my conjectures; and you may believe me, my dear Madam, I
would not run any risk of hurting you by any ill-judged compliment. I
wish to show to the world, the odds between a poet's friends and those
of simple prosemen. More for your information, both the pieces go in.
One of them, "Where braving angry winter's storms," is already
set--the tune is Neil Gow's Lamentation for _Abercarny_; the other is
to be set to an old Highland air in Daniel Dow's collection of ancient
Scots music; the name is "_Ha a Chaillich air mo Dheith. _" My
treacherous memory has forgot every circumstance about _Les Incas_,
only I think you mentioned them as being in Creech's possession. I
shall ask him about it. I am afraid the song of "Somebody" will come
too late--as I shall, for certain, leave town in a week for Ayrshire,
and from that to Dumfries, but there my hopes are slender. I leave my
direction in town, so anything, wherever I am, will reach me.
I saw yours to ----; it is not too severe, nor did he take it amiss. On
the contrary, like a whipt spaniel, he talks of being with you in the
Christmas days. Mr. ---- has given him the invitation, and he is
determined to accept of it. O selfishness! he owns, in his sober
moments, that from his own volatility of inclination, the
circumstances in which he is situated, and his knowledge of his
father's disposition;--the whole affair is chimerical--yet he _will_
gratify an idle _penchant_ at the enormous, cruel expense, of perhaps
ruining the peace of the very woman for whom he professes the generous
passion of love!
Yours in the L--d,
R. B.
* * * * *
XCVII.
TO MISS CHALMERS.
[The blank which takes the place of the name of the "Gentleman in mind
and manners," of this letter, cannot now be filled up, nor is it much
matter: the acquaintance of such a man as the poet describes few or
none would desire. ]
_Edinburgh, Dec. _ 1787.
MY DEAR MADAM,
I just now have read yours. The poetic compliments I pay cannot be
misunderstood. They are neither of them so particular as to point you
out to the world at large; and the circle of your acquaintances will
allow all I have said. Besides, I have complimented you chiefly,
almost solely, on your mental charms. Shall I be plain with you? I
will; so look to it. Personal attractions, Madam, you have much above
par; wit, understanding, and worth, you possess in the first class.
This is a cursed flat way of telling you these truths, but let me hear
no more of your sheepish timidity. I know the world a little. I know
what they will say of my poems; by second sight I suppose; for I am
seldom out in my conjectures; and you may believe me, my dear Madam, I
would not run any risk of hurting you by any ill-judged compliment. I
wish to show to the world, the odds between a poet's friends and those
of simple prosemen. More for your information, both the pieces go in.
One of them, "Where braving angry winter's storms," is already
set--the tune is Neil Gow's Lamentation for _Abercarny_; the other is
to be set to an old Highland air in Daniel Dow's collection of ancient
Scots music; the name is "_Ha a Chaillich air mo Dheith. _" My
treacherous memory has forgot every circumstance about _Les Incas_,
only I think you mentioned them as being in Creech's possession. I
shall ask him about it. I am afraid the song of "Somebody" will come
too late--as I shall, for certain, leave town in a week for Ayrshire,
and from that to Dumfries, but there my hopes are slender. I leave my
direction in town, so anything, wherever I am, will reach me.
I saw yours to ----; it is not too severe, nor did he take it amiss. On
the contrary, like a whipt spaniel, he talks of being with you in the
Christmas days. Mr. ---- has given him the invitation, and he is
determined to accept of it. O selfishness! he owns, in his sober
moments, that from his own volatility of inclination, the
circumstances in which he is situated, and his knowledge of his
father's disposition;--the whole affair is chimerical--yet he _will_
gratify an idle _penchant_ at the enormous, cruel expense, of perhaps
ruining the peace of the very woman for whom he professes the generous
passion of love!
