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Farming had, of course, to engage his attention as well as love-making, but he was less successful in the one than in the other. The first year of Mossgiel, from buying bad seed, the second from a late harvest, he lost half his crops. In these circumstances, he thought of proceeding to the West Indies. Presently he had further cause for contemplating an escape from his native land.
I am so struck, on a review, with the impertinent length of this letter, that I shall not increase it with one single word of apology, but abruptly conclude with assuring you that I am, Sir, yours and misery's most humble servant. XXI. To MR. DAVID BRICE, SHOEMAKER, GLASGOW. MOSSGIEL, June 12th, 1786.
I expect it will be a volume of about two hundred pages it is just the last foolish action I intend to do, and then turn a wise man as fast as possible. Believe me to be, dear Brice, your friend and well-wisher. XXII. To MR. JOHN RICHMOND, EDINBURGH. MOSSGIEL, 9th July 1786. With the sincerest grief I read your letter. You are truly a son of misfortune.
SUMMARY. B. 1759, flax-dresser at Irvine 1781, farms at Mossgiel, has love affair with Jean Armour, pub. first ed. of poems 1786, visits Edin. 1786, goes to Ellisland, became exciseman 1789, pub. songs, c. 1791, d. 1797.
As soon as he was able to leave Edinburgh, he had hurried to Mossgiel and gone through a justice-of-peace marriage with Jean Armour. Burns, with all his faults, was an honest and a high-spirited man, and he loved the mother of his children. Had he hesitated to make her his wife, he must have sunk into the callousness of a ruffian, or that misery of miseries, the remorse of a poet.
He was 'roosed' by Craigen-Gillan; Dugald Stewart, the celebrated metaphysician, and one of the best-known names in the learned and literary circles of Edinburgh, who happened to be spending his vacation at Catrine, not very far from Mossgiel, invited the poet to dine with him, and on that occasion he 'dinnered wi' a laird' Lord Daer. Then came the appreciative letter from Dr.
Every friend was ready with advice as to how and what he should write, and quite as ready, the poet unfortunately knew, to criticise afterwards. The poetry of the Mossgiel period had come from him spontaneously. He had flung off impressions in verse fearlessly, without pausing to consider how his work would be appreciated by this one or denounced by that; and was true to himself.
Farewell, dear friend! may guid luck hit you, And 'mang her favourites admit you, If e'er Detraction shore to smit you, May nane believe him, And ony Deil that thinks to get you, Good LORD, deceive him, XXV. To HIS COUSIN, MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE. MOSSGIEL, Tuesday Noon, 26th Sept. 1786.
"A-a-ah!" protested the baker, who was a Burnsomaniac, "there's waur than a walk by the bank o' a bonny burn. Ye ken what Mossgiel said: 'The Muse nae poet ever fand her, Till by himsel' he learned to wander, Adown some trottin' burn's meander, And no thick lang; Oh sweet to muse and pensive ponder A heartfelt sang." Poetical quotations, however, made the Provost uncomfortable.
You are, wisely and benevolently, placed far below your level, that thousands and ten thousands of your countrymen may be the better enabled to attain to theirs. Assert the dignity of manhood and of genius, and there will be less of wrong and oppression in the world ever after." I spent the remainder of the evening in the farm-house of Mossgiel, and took the coach next morning for Liverpool.
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