No More Learning

R. B.

* * * * *




CXVI.


TO MRS. DUNLOP.

[The Tasso, with the perusal of which Mrs. Dunlop indulged the poet,
was not the line version of Fairfax, but the translation of Hoole--a
far inferior performance. ]

_Mauchline, 28th April, 1788. _

MADAM,

Your powers of reprehension must be great indeed, as I assure you they
made my heart ache with penitential pangs, even though I was really
not guilty. As I commence farmer at Whit-Sunday, you will easily guess
I must be pretty busy; but that is not all. As I got the offer of the
Excise business without solicitation, and as it costs me only six
months' attendance for instructions, to entitle me to a
commission--which commission lies by me, and at any future period, on
my simple petition, ca be resumed--I thought five-and-thirty pounds
a-year was no bad _dernier ressort_ for a poor poet, if fortune in her
jade tricks should kick him down from the little eminence to which she
has lately helped him up.

For this reason, I am at present attending these instructions, to have
them completed before Whit-sunday. Still, Madam, I prepared with the
sincerest pleasure to meet you at the Mount, and came to my brother's
on Saturday night, to set out on Sunday; but for some nights preceding
I had slept in an apartment, where the force of the winds and rains
was only mitigated by being sifted through numberless apertures in the
windows, walls, &c. In consequence I was on Sunday, Monday, and part
of Tuesday, unable to stir out of bed, with all the miserable effects
of a violent cold.

You see, Madam, the truth of the French maxim, _le vrai n'est pas
toujours le vraisemblable_; your last was so full of expostulation,
and was something so like the language of an offended friend, that I
began to tremble for a correspondence, which I had with grateful
pleasure set down as one of the greatest enjoyments of my future life.
Your books have delighted me: Virgil, Dryden, and Tasso were all
equally strangers to me; but of this more at large in my next.

R. B.

* * * * *




CXVII.


TO MR. JAMES SMITH,

AVON PRINTFIELD, LINLITHGOW.

[James Smith, as this letter intimates, had moved from Mauchline to
try to mend his fortunes at Avon Printfield, near Linlithgow. ]

_Mauchline, April 28, 1788. _

Beware of your Strasburgh, my good Sir! Look on this as the opening of
a correspondence, like the opening of a twenty-four gun battery!

There is no understanding a man properly, without knowing something of
his previous ideas (that is to say, if the man has any ideas; for I
know many who, in the animal-muster, pass for men, that are the scanty
masters of only one idea on any given subject, and by far the greatest
part of your acquaintances and mine can barely boast of ideas,
1. 25--1. 5--1. 75 or some such fractional matter;) so to let you a
little into the secrets of my pericranium, there is, you must know, a
certain clean-limbed, handsome, bewitching young hussy of your
acquaintance, to whom I have lately and privately given a matrimonial
title to my corpus.

"Bode a robe and wear it,
Bode a pock and bear it,"

says the wise old Scots adage! I hate to presage ill-luck; and as my
girl has been doubly kinder to me than even the best of women usually
are to their partners of our sex, in similar circumstances, I reckon
on twelve times a brace of children against I celebrate my twelfth
wedding-day: these twenty-four will give me twenty-four gossipings,
twenty-four christenings (I mean one equal to two), and I hope, by the
blessing of the God of my fathers, to make them twenty-four dutiful
children to their parents, twenty-four useful members of society, and
twenty-four approved services of their God!