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Updated: June 14, 2025
A good God bless you, and make you happy up to the warmest weeping wish of parting friendship! ... If you see Jean tell her I will meet her, so help me God in my hour of need! MOSSGIEL, 20th March, 1786. DEAR SIR, I am heartily sorry I had not the pleasure of seeing you as you returned through Mauchline; but as I was engaged, I could not be in town before the evening.
But she did resist them, and still, from the luxurious elegancies, the gay entertainments and the flatteries of fashionable life, her heart turned with undiminished tenderness to the tranquil shades of Mossgiel, and still paid there its willing homage to the loftiest intellect and the noblest heart, in her estimation, with which earth was blessed.
There was one of his family, he said on his deathbed, for whose future he feared; and Robert knew who that one was. He turned to the window, the tears streaming down his cheeks. Mossgiel, to which the brothers now removed, taking with them their widowed mother, was a farm of about one hundred and eighteen acres of cold clayey soil, close to the village of Mauchline.
I imagine his Jacobitism, like my own, belonged to the fancy rather than the reason." CXLIV. To HIS BROTHER, GILBERT BURNS, MOSSGIEL. ELLISLAND, 11th January 1790. Dear Brother, I mean to take advantage of the frank, though I have not in my present frame of mind much appetite for exertion in writing. My nerves are in a cursed state.
In those boyish days I remember, in particular, being struck with that part of Wallace's story, where these lines occur "Syne to the Leglen wood, when it was late, To make a silent and a safe retreat." MOSSGIEL, 18th Nov. 1786.
'Mossgiel and Ballochmyle, and the house where you lived in Mauchline. 'We'll go to that first; it's not a great sight, I warn you only a whitewashed, thatched cottage in a by-street. When we've seen that, we'll take a trap and drive to the other places. 'But that will cost a great deal, said Gladys doubtfully, recalled for the moment to the small economies it was her daily lot to practise.
I expect, therefore, my dear Sir, you will not neglect any opportunity of letting me hear from you, which will very much oblige, My dear Cousin, yours sincerely, XI. To MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE. MOSSGIEL, 3rd August 1784. We have been surprised with one of the most extraordinary phenomena in the moral world, which, I dare say, has happened in the course of this half century.
His prose consists mostly of letters, but it also includes a noble fragment of autobiography; three journals of observations made at Mossgiel, Edinburgh, and Ellisland respectively; two itineraries, the one of his border tour, the other of his tour in the Highlands; and historical notes to two collections of Scottish songs.
These, my worthy friend, are my ideas; and I know they are not far different from yours. It becomes a man of sense to think for himself, particularly in a case where all men are equally interested, and where, indeed, all men are equally in the dark. Adieu, my dear Sir; God send us a cheerful meeting! LXXXI To MRS. DUNLOP. MOSSGIEL, 7th March 1788.
No! that was not Burns's lay; nor would he have found a public had he emulated the contemporary St. Andrews professor, Mr. Wilkie, who wrote The Epigoniad, and sang of Cadmeian Thebes, to the delight of David Hume, his friend. The public of 1780-90 did not want new epics of heroic Greece from Mossgiel; nor was the literature accessible to Burns full of the mediaeval legends of Troy and Athens.
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