They are not the blasting depredations of a canker-toothed,
caterpillar critic; nor are they the fair statement of cold
impartiality, balancing with unfeeling exactitude the _pro_ and _con_
of an author's merits; they are the judicious observations of animated
friendship, selecting the beauties of the piece.
caterpillar critic; nor are they the fair statement of cold
impartiality, balancing with unfeeling exactitude the _pro_ and _con_
of an author's merits; they are the judicious observations of animated
friendship, selecting the beauties of the piece.
Robert Burns
My compliments to Mrs.
Morison.
I am,
After all my tribulation,
Dear Sir, yours,
R. B.
* * * * *
CXXXVI.
TO MRS. DUNLOP,
OF DUNLOP.
[Burns had no great respect for critics who found blemishes without
perceiving beauties: he expresses his contempt for such in this
letter. ]
_Mauchline, 27th Sept. 1788. _
I have received twins, dear Madam, more than once; but scarcely ever
with more pleasure than when I received yours of the 12th instant. To
make myself understood; I had wrote to Mr. Graham, enclosing my poem
addressed to him, and the same post which favoured me with yours
brought me an answer from him. It was dated the very day he had
received mine; and I am quite at a loss to say whether it was most
polite or kind.
Your criticisms, my honoured benefactress, are truly the work of a
friend.
They are not the blasting depredations of a canker-toothed,
caterpillar critic; nor are they the fair statement of cold
impartiality, balancing with unfeeling exactitude the _pro_ and _con_
of an author's merits; they are the judicious observations of animated
friendship, selecting the beauties of the piece. I have just arrived
from Nithsdale, and will be here a fortnight. I was on horseback this
morning by three o'clock; for between my wife and my farm is just
forty-six miles. As I jogged on in the dark, I was taken with a poetic
fit as follows:
"Mrs. Ferguson of Craigdarroch's lamentation for the death of her son;
an uncommonly promising youth of eighteen or nineteen years of age. "
"Fate gave the word--the arrow sped,
And pierced my darling's heart. "[190]
You will not send me your poetic rambles, but, you see I am no niggard
of mine. I am sure your impromptus give me double pleasure; what falls
from your pen can neither be unentertaining in itself, nor indifferent
to me.
The one fault you found, is just; but I cannot please myself in an
emendation.
What a life of solicitude is the life of a parent! You interested me
much in your young couple.
I would not take my folio paper for this epistle, and now I repent it.
I am so jaded with my dirty long journey that I was afraid to drawl
into the essence of dulness with anything larger than a quarto, and
so I must leave out another rhyme of this morning's manufacture.
I will pay the sapientipotent George, most cheerfully, to hear from
you ere I leave Ayrshire.
R. B.
I am,
After all my tribulation,
Dear Sir, yours,
R. B.
* * * * *
CXXXVI.
TO MRS. DUNLOP,
OF DUNLOP.
[Burns had no great respect for critics who found blemishes without
perceiving beauties: he expresses his contempt for such in this
letter. ]
_Mauchline, 27th Sept. 1788. _
I have received twins, dear Madam, more than once; but scarcely ever
with more pleasure than when I received yours of the 12th instant. To
make myself understood; I had wrote to Mr. Graham, enclosing my poem
addressed to him, and the same post which favoured me with yours
brought me an answer from him. It was dated the very day he had
received mine; and I am quite at a loss to say whether it was most
polite or kind.
Your criticisms, my honoured benefactress, are truly the work of a
friend.
They are not the blasting depredations of a canker-toothed,
caterpillar critic; nor are they the fair statement of cold
impartiality, balancing with unfeeling exactitude the _pro_ and _con_
of an author's merits; they are the judicious observations of animated
friendship, selecting the beauties of the piece. I have just arrived
from Nithsdale, and will be here a fortnight. I was on horseback this
morning by three o'clock; for between my wife and my farm is just
forty-six miles. As I jogged on in the dark, I was taken with a poetic
fit as follows:
"Mrs. Ferguson of Craigdarroch's lamentation for the death of her son;
an uncommonly promising youth of eighteen or nineteen years of age. "
"Fate gave the word--the arrow sped,
And pierced my darling's heart. "[190]
You will not send me your poetic rambles, but, you see I am no niggard
of mine. I am sure your impromptus give me double pleasure; what falls
from your pen can neither be unentertaining in itself, nor indifferent
to me.
The one fault you found, is just; but I cannot please myself in an
emendation.
What a life of solicitude is the life of a parent! You interested me
much in your young couple.
I would not take my folio paper for this epistle, and now I repent it.
I am so jaded with my dirty long journey that I was afraid to drawl
into the essence of dulness with anything larger than a quarto, and
so I must leave out another rhyme of this morning's manufacture.
I will pay the sapientipotent George, most cheerfully, to hear from
you ere I leave Ayrshire.
R. B.
