The uninformed mob may swell a nation's bulk; and the titled, tinsel,
courtly throng, may be its feathered ornament; but the number of those
who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of a court!
courtly throng, may be its feathered ornament; but the number of those
who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of a court!
Robert Burns
Reasons of no less weight than the support
of a wife and family, have pointed out as the eligible, and, situated
as I was, the only eligible line of life for me, my present
occupation. Still my honest fame is my dearest concern; and a
thousand times have I trembled at the idea of those _degrading_
epithets that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my name. I have
often, in blasting anticipation, listened to some future hackney
scribbler, with the heavy malice of savage stupidity, exulting in his
hireling paragraphs--"Burns, notwithstanding the _fanfaronade_ of
independence to be found in his works, and after having been held
forth to public view and to public estimation as a man of some genius,
yet quite destitute of resources within himself to support his
borrowed dignity, he dwindled into a paltry exciseman, and slunk out
the rest of his insignificant existence in the meanest of pursuits,
and among the vilest of mankind. "
In your illustrious hands, Sir, permit me to lodge my disavowal and
defiance of these slanderous falsehoods. BURNS was a poor man
from birth, and an exciseman by necessity: but I _will_ say it! the
sterling of his honest worth, no poverty could debase, and his
independent British mind, oppression might bend, but could not subdue.
Have not I, to me, a more precious stake in my country's welfare than
the richest dukedom in it? --I have a large family of children, and the
prospect of many more. I have three sons, who, I see already, have
brought into the world souls ill qualified to inhabit the bodies of
SLAVES. --Can I look tamely on, and see any machination to
wrest from them the birthright of my boys,--the little independent
BRITONS, in whose veins runs my own blood? --No! I will not!
should my heart's blood stream around my attempt to defend it!
Does any man tell me, that my full efforts can be of no service; and
that it does not belong to my humble station to meddle with the
concern of a nation?
I can tell him, that it is on such individuals as I, that a nation has
to rest, both for the hand of support, and the eye of intelligence.
The uninformed mob may swell a nation's bulk; and the titled, tinsel,
courtly throng, may be its feathered ornament; but the number of those
who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of a court! --these are a
nation's strength.
I know not how to apologize for the impertinent length of this epistle;
but one small request I must ask of you further--when you have honoured
this letter with a perusal, please to commit it to the flames. BURNS, in
whose behalf you have so generously interested yourself, I have here in
his native colours drawn _as he is_, but should any of the people in
whose hands is the very bread he eats, get the least knowledge of the
picture, _it would ruin the poor_ BARD _for ever_!
My poems having just come out in another edition, I beg leave to
present you with a copy, as a small mark of that high esteem and
ardent gratitude, with which I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your deeply indebted,
And ever devoted humble servant,
R. B.
* * * * *
CCLVI.
TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
["Up tails a', by the light o' the moon," was the name of a Scottish
air, to which the devil danced with the witches of Fife, on Magus
Moor, as reported by a warlock, in that credible work, "Satan's
Invisible World discovered. "]
_April 26, 1793. _
I am d--mnably out of humour, my dear Ainslie, and that is the reason,
why I take up the pen to _you_: 'tis the nearest way (_probatum est_)
to recover my spirits again.
I received your last, and was much entertained with it; but I will not
at this time, nor at any other time, answer it. --Answer a letter? I
never could answer a letter in my life! --I have written many a letter
in return for letters I have received; but then--they were original
matter--spurt-away! zig here, zag there; as if the devil that, my
Grannie (an old woman indeed) often told me, rode on will-o'-wisp, or,
in her more classic phrase, SPUNKIE, were looking over my
elbow.
of a wife and family, have pointed out as the eligible, and, situated
as I was, the only eligible line of life for me, my present
occupation. Still my honest fame is my dearest concern; and a
thousand times have I trembled at the idea of those _degrading_
epithets that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my name. I have
often, in blasting anticipation, listened to some future hackney
scribbler, with the heavy malice of savage stupidity, exulting in his
hireling paragraphs--"Burns, notwithstanding the _fanfaronade_ of
independence to be found in his works, and after having been held
forth to public view and to public estimation as a man of some genius,
yet quite destitute of resources within himself to support his
borrowed dignity, he dwindled into a paltry exciseman, and slunk out
the rest of his insignificant existence in the meanest of pursuits,
and among the vilest of mankind. "
In your illustrious hands, Sir, permit me to lodge my disavowal and
defiance of these slanderous falsehoods. BURNS was a poor man
from birth, and an exciseman by necessity: but I _will_ say it! the
sterling of his honest worth, no poverty could debase, and his
independent British mind, oppression might bend, but could not subdue.
Have not I, to me, a more precious stake in my country's welfare than
the richest dukedom in it? --I have a large family of children, and the
prospect of many more. I have three sons, who, I see already, have
brought into the world souls ill qualified to inhabit the bodies of
SLAVES. --Can I look tamely on, and see any machination to
wrest from them the birthright of my boys,--the little independent
BRITONS, in whose veins runs my own blood? --No! I will not!
should my heart's blood stream around my attempt to defend it!
Does any man tell me, that my full efforts can be of no service; and
that it does not belong to my humble station to meddle with the
concern of a nation?
I can tell him, that it is on such individuals as I, that a nation has
to rest, both for the hand of support, and the eye of intelligence.
The uninformed mob may swell a nation's bulk; and the titled, tinsel,
courtly throng, may be its feathered ornament; but the number of those
who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of a court! --these are a
nation's strength.
I know not how to apologize for the impertinent length of this epistle;
but one small request I must ask of you further--when you have honoured
this letter with a perusal, please to commit it to the flames. BURNS, in
whose behalf you have so generously interested yourself, I have here in
his native colours drawn _as he is_, but should any of the people in
whose hands is the very bread he eats, get the least knowledge of the
picture, _it would ruin the poor_ BARD _for ever_!
My poems having just come out in another edition, I beg leave to
present you with a copy, as a small mark of that high esteem and
ardent gratitude, with which I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your deeply indebted,
And ever devoted humble servant,
R. B.
* * * * *
CCLVI.
TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
["Up tails a', by the light o' the moon," was the name of a Scottish
air, to which the devil danced with the witches of Fife, on Magus
Moor, as reported by a warlock, in that credible work, "Satan's
Invisible World discovered. "]
_April 26, 1793. _
I am d--mnably out of humour, my dear Ainslie, and that is the reason,
why I take up the pen to _you_: 'tis the nearest way (_probatum est_)
to recover my spirits again.
I received your last, and was much entertained with it; but I will not
at this time, nor at any other time, answer it. --Answer a letter? I
never could answer a letter in my life! --I have written many a letter
in return for letters I have received; but then--they were original
matter--spurt-away! zig here, zag there; as if the devil that, my
Grannie (an old woman indeed) often told me, rode on will-o'-wisp, or,
in her more classic phrase, SPUNKIE, were looking over my
elbow.
