From what book, moral or even
pious, will the susceptible young mind receive impressions more
congenial to humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in
short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her
to others--than from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley?
pious, will the susceptible young mind receive impressions more
congenial to humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in
short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her
to others--than from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley?
Robert Burns
" Tell me, my
friend, is this weak prejudice? I believe in my conscience such ideas as
"my country; her independence; her honour; the illustrious names that
mark the history of my native land;" &c. --I believe these, among your
_men of the world_, men who in fact guide for the most part and govern
our world, are looked on as so many modifications of wrongheadedness.
They know the use of bawling out such terms, to rouse or lead THE
RABBLE; but for their own private use, with almost all the _able
statesmen_ that ever existed, or now exist, when they talk of right and
wrong, they only mean proper and improper; and their measure of conduct
is, not what they OUGHT, but what they DARE. For the truth of this I
shall not ransack the history of nations, but appeal to one of the
ablest judges of men that ever lived--the celebrated Earl of
Chesterfield. In fact, a man who could thoroughly control his vices
whenever they interfered with his interests, and who could completely
put on the appearance of every virtue as often as it suited his
purposes, is, on the Stanhopean plan, the _perfect man_; a man to lead
nations. But are great abilities, complete without a flaw, and polished
without a blemish, the standard of human excellence? This is certainly
the staunch opinion of _men of the world_; but I call on honour, virtue,
and worth, to give the stygian doctrine a loud negative! However, this
must be allowed, that, if you abstract from man the idea of an existence
beyond the grave, _then_ the true measure of human conduct is, _proper_
and _improper_: virtue and vice, as dispositions of the heart, are, in
that case, of scarcely the same import and value to the world at large,
as harmony and discord in the modifications of sound; and a delicate
sense of honour, like a nice ear for music, though it may sometimes give
the possessor an ecstasy unknown to the coarser organs of the herd, yet,
considering the harsh gratings, and inharmonic jars, in this ill-tuned
state of being, it is odds but the individual would be as happy, and
certainly would be as much respected by the true judges of society as it
would then stand, without either a good ear or a good heart.
You must know I have just met with the Mirror and Lounger for the
first time, and I am quite in raptures with them; I should be glad to
have your opinion of some of the papers. The one I have just read,
Lounger, No. 61, has cost me more honest tears than anything I have
read of a long time. Mackenzie has been called the Addison of the
Scots, and in my opinion, Addison would not be hurt at the comparison.
If he has not Addison's exquisite humour, he as certainly outdoes him
in the tender and the pathetic. His Man of Feeling (but I am not
counsel learned in the laws of criticism) I estimate as the first
performance in its kind I ever saw.
From what book, moral or even
pious, will the susceptible young mind receive impressions more
congenial to humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in
short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her
to others--than from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley?
Still, with all my admiration of Mackenzie's writings, I do not know
if they are the fittest reading for a young man who is about to set
out, as the phrase is, to make his way into life. Do not you think,
Madam, that among the few favoured of heaven in the structure of their
minds (for such there certainly are) there may be a purity, a
tenderness, a dignity, an elegance of soul, which are of no use, nay,
in some degree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly important
business of making a man's way into life? If I am not much mistaken,
my gallant young friend, A * * * * * *, is very much under these
disqualifications; and for the young females of a family I could
mention, well may they excite parental solicitude, for I, a common
acquaintance, or as my vanity will have it, an humble friend, have
often trembled for a turn of mind which may render them eminently
happy--or peculiarly miserable!
I have been manufacturing some verses lately; but when I have got the
most hurried season of excise business over, I hope to have more
leisure to transcribe anything that may show how much I have the
honour to be, Madam,
Yours, &c.
R. B.
* * * * *
CXCI.
TO COLLECTOR MITCHELL.
[Collector Mitchell was a kind and considerate gentle man: to his
grandson, Mr. John Campbell, surgeon, in Aberdeen, I owe this
characteristic letter. ]
_Ellisland, 1790. _
SIR,
I shall not fail to wait on Captain Riddel to-night--I wish and pray
that the goddess of justice herself would appear to-morrow among our
hon. gentlemen, merely to give them a word in their ear that mercy to
the thief is injustice to the honest man. For my part I have galloped
over my ten parishes these four days, until this moment that I am just
alighted, or rather, that my poor jackass-skeleton of a horse has let
me down; for the miserable devil has been on his knees half a score of
times within the last twenty miles, telling me in his own way,
'Behold, am not I thy faithful jade of a horse, on which thou hast
ridden these many years! '
In short, Sir, I have broke my horse's wind, and almost broke my own
neck, besides some injuries in a part that shall be nameless, owing to
a hard-hearted stone for a saddle.
friend, is this weak prejudice? I believe in my conscience such ideas as
"my country; her independence; her honour; the illustrious names that
mark the history of my native land;" &c. --I believe these, among your
_men of the world_, men who in fact guide for the most part and govern
our world, are looked on as so many modifications of wrongheadedness.
They know the use of bawling out such terms, to rouse or lead THE
RABBLE; but for their own private use, with almost all the _able
statesmen_ that ever existed, or now exist, when they talk of right and
wrong, they only mean proper and improper; and their measure of conduct
is, not what they OUGHT, but what they DARE. For the truth of this I
shall not ransack the history of nations, but appeal to one of the
ablest judges of men that ever lived--the celebrated Earl of
Chesterfield. In fact, a man who could thoroughly control his vices
whenever they interfered with his interests, and who could completely
put on the appearance of every virtue as often as it suited his
purposes, is, on the Stanhopean plan, the _perfect man_; a man to lead
nations. But are great abilities, complete without a flaw, and polished
without a blemish, the standard of human excellence? This is certainly
the staunch opinion of _men of the world_; but I call on honour, virtue,
and worth, to give the stygian doctrine a loud negative! However, this
must be allowed, that, if you abstract from man the idea of an existence
beyond the grave, _then_ the true measure of human conduct is, _proper_
and _improper_: virtue and vice, as dispositions of the heart, are, in
that case, of scarcely the same import and value to the world at large,
as harmony and discord in the modifications of sound; and a delicate
sense of honour, like a nice ear for music, though it may sometimes give
the possessor an ecstasy unknown to the coarser organs of the herd, yet,
considering the harsh gratings, and inharmonic jars, in this ill-tuned
state of being, it is odds but the individual would be as happy, and
certainly would be as much respected by the true judges of society as it
would then stand, without either a good ear or a good heart.
You must know I have just met with the Mirror and Lounger for the
first time, and I am quite in raptures with them; I should be glad to
have your opinion of some of the papers. The one I have just read,
Lounger, No. 61, has cost me more honest tears than anything I have
read of a long time. Mackenzie has been called the Addison of the
Scots, and in my opinion, Addison would not be hurt at the comparison.
If he has not Addison's exquisite humour, he as certainly outdoes him
in the tender and the pathetic. His Man of Feeling (but I am not
counsel learned in the laws of criticism) I estimate as the first
performance in its kind I ever saw.
From what book, moral or even
pious, will the susceptible young mind receive impressions more
congenial to humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in
short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her
to others--than from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley?
Still, with all my admiration of Mackenzie's writings, I do not know
if they are the fittest reading for a young man who is about to set
out, as the phrase is, to make his way into life. Do not you think,
Madam, that among the few favoured of heaven in the structure of their
minds (for such there certainly are) there may be a purity, a
tenderness, a dignity, an elegance of soul, which are of no use, nay,
in some degree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly important
business of making a man's way into life? If I am not much mistaken,
my gallant young friend, A * * * * * *, is very much under these
disqualifications; and for the young females of a family I could
mention, well may they excite parental solicitude, for I, a common
acquaintance, or as my vanity will have it, an humble friend, have
often trembled for a turn of mind which may render them eminently
happy--or peculiarly miserable!
I have been manufacturing some verses lately; but when I have got the
most hurried season of excise business over, I hope to have more
leisure to transcribe anything that may show how much I have the
honour to be, Madam,
Yours, &c.
R. B.
* * * * *
CXCI.
TO COLLECTOR MITCHELL.
[Collector Mitchell was a kind and considerate gentle man: to his
grandson, Mr. John Campbell, surgeon, in Aberdeen, I owe this
characteristic letter. ]
_Ellisland, 1790. _
SIR,
I shall not fail to wait on Captain Riddel to-night--I wish and pray
that the goddess of justice herself would appear to-morrow among our
hon. gentlemen, merely to give them a word in their ear that mercy to
the thief is injustice to the honest man. For my part I have galloped
over my ten parishes these four days, until this moment that I am just
alighted, or rather, that my poor jackass-skeleton of a horse has let
me down; for the miserable devil has been on his knees half a score of
times within the last twenty miles, telling me in his own way,
'Behold, am not I thy faithful jade of a horse, on which thou hast
ridden these many years! '
In short, Sir, I have broke my horse's wind, and almost broke my own
neck, besides some injuries in a part that shall be nameless, owing to
a hard-hearted stone for a saddle.
