Delphi Complete Works of Robert Burns (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) (151 page)

I
.

DUMFRIES,
16th September 1792.

Sir, — I have just this moment got your letter. As the request you make to me will positively add to my enjoyments in complying with it, I shall enter into your undertaking with all the small portion of abilities I have, strained to their utmost exertion by the impulse of enthusiasm. Only, don’t hurry me. “Deil tak the hindmost” is by no means the
crie de guerre
of my muse. Will you, as I am inferior to none of you in enthusiastic attachment to the poetry and music of old Caledonia, and, since you request it, have cheerfully promised my mite of assistance — will you let me have a list of your airs, with the first line of the printed verses you intend for them, that I may have an opportunity of suggesting any alteration that may occur to me? You know ‘tis in the way of my trade; still leaving you, gentlemen,
¹³⁹
the undoubted rights of publishers, to approve or reject at your pleasure, for your own publication.
Apropos
if you are for
English
verses, there is, on my part, an end of the matter. Whether in the simplicity of the ballad, or the pathos of the song, I can only hope to please myself in being allowed at least a sprinkling of our native tongue. English verses, particularly the works of Scotsmen, that have merit, are certainly very eligible. “Tweedside;” “Ah! the Poor Shepherd’s Mournful Fate;” “Ah! Chloris, could I now but sit,” etc., you cannot mend; but such insipid stuff as “To Fanny fair, could I impart,” etc., usually set to “The Mill, Mill, O,” is a disgrace to the collections in which it has already appeared, and would doubly disgrace a collection that will have the very superior merit of yours. But more of this in the farther prosecution of the business, if I am to be called on for my strictures and amendments — I say, amendments; for I will not alter, accept where I myself, at least, think that I amend.

As to any renumeration, you may think my songs either above or below price; for they shall absolutely be the one or the other. In the honest enthusiasm with which I embark in your undertaking, to talk of money, wages, fee, hire, etc., would be downright sodomy of soul! A proof of each of the songs that I compose or amend I shall receive as a favour. In the rustic phrase of the season, “Gude speed the wark!” — I am, Sir, your very humble servant,

R. BURNS.

P.S. — I have some particular reasons for wishing my interference to be known as little as possible.

¹³⁹
Thomson in his letter spoke of coadjutors, but in less than a year he became sole editor of the collection.

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II
.

My Dear Sir, — Let me tell you that you are too fastidious in your ideas of songs and ballads. I own that your criticisms are just; the songs you specify in your list have,
all but one
, the faults you remark in them; but how shall we mend the matter? Who shall rise up and say — Go to, I will make a better? For instance, on reading over “The Lea-rig,” I immediately set about trying my hand on it, and, after all, I could make nothing more of it than the following, which, Heaven knows, is poor enough: —

When o’er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo, (etc.)

Your observation as to the aptitude of Dr. Percy’s ballad to the air, “Nannie O,” is just. It is besides, perhaps, the most beautiful ballad in the English language. But let me remark to you, that in the sentiment and style of our Scottish airs there is a pastoral simplicity, a something that one may call the Doric style and dialect of vocal music, to which a dash of our native tongue and manners is particularly, nay, peculiarly apposite. For this reason, and upon my honour, for this reason alone, I am of opinion (but, as I told you before, my opinion is yours, freely yours to approve or reject as you please) that my ballad of “Nannie, O”, might perhaps do for one set of verses to the tune. Now don’t let it enter into your head that you are under any necessity of taking my verses. I have long ago made up my mind as to my own reputation in the business of authorship; and have nothing to be pleased or offended at, in your adoption or rejection of my verses. Though you should reject one half of what I give you, I shall be pleased with your adopting the other half, and shall continue to serve you with the same assiduity.

In the printed copy of my “Nannie, O”, the name of the river is horridly prosaic. I will alter it,

Behind yon hills where
Lugar
flows.

Girvan is the name of the river that suits the idea of the stanza best, but Lugar is the most agreeable modulation of syllables.

I will soon give you a great many more remarks on this business; but I have just now an opportunity of conveying you this scrawl, free of postage, an expense that it is ill able to pay; so, with my best compliments to honest Allan,
¹⁴⁰
goodbye to ye.

Friday night.
Saturday morning.

As I find I have still an hour to spare this morning before my conveyance goes away, I will give you “Nannie, O”, at length.

Your remarks on “Ewe-bughts, Marion”, are just; still it has obtained a place among our more classical Scottish songs; and what with many beauties in its composition, and more prejudices in its favour, you will not find it easy to supplant it.

In my very early years, when I was thinking of going to the West Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear girl. It is quite trifling, and has nothing of the merits of “Ewe-bughts”, but it will fill up this page. You must know that all my earlier love-songs were the breathings of ardent passion, and though it might have been easy in after-times to have given them a polish, yet that polish, to me, whose they were, and who perhaps alone cared for them, would have defaced the legend of my heart, which was so faithfully inscribed on them. Their uncouth simplicity was, as they say of wines, their
race
.

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, (etc.)

“Gala Water,” and “Auld Rob Morris,” I think, will most probably be the next subject of my musings. However, even on
my verses
, speak out your criticisms with equal frankness. My wish is, not to stand aloof, the uncomplying bigot of
opiniâtretè
, but cordially to join issue with you in the furtherance of the work. Gude speed the wark!

Amen.

¹⁴⁰
David Allan, the artist.

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III
.

November
8
th
, 1792,

If you mean, my dear Sir, that all the songs in your collection shall be poetry of the first merit, I am afraid you will find more difficulty in the undertaking than you are aware of. There is a peculiar rhythmus in many of our airs, and a necessity of adapting syllables to the emphasis, or what I would call the
feature-notes
of the tune, that cramp the poet, and lay him under almost insuperable difficulties. For instance, in the air, “My Wife’s a wanton wee Thing”, if a few lines, smooth and pretty, can be adapted to it, it is all you can expect. The enclosed were made extempore to it; and though, on farther study, I might give you something more profound, yet it might not suit the light-horse gallop of the air so well as this random clink.

I have just been looking over the “Collier’s bonny Dochter”, and if the enclosed rhapsody which I composed the day, on a charming Ayrshire girl, Miss Baillie, as she passed through this place to England, will suit your taste better than the “Collier Lassie”, fall on and welcome.

I have hitherto deferred the sublimer, more pathetic airs until more leisure, as they will take, and deserve a greater effort. However, they are all put into your hands, as clay into the hands of the potter, to make one vessel to honour, and another to dishonour. Farewell, etc.

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IV
.

Inclosing “Highland Mary”. — Tune —
Katharine Ogie
.

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around, (etc.)

14
th November
1792.

My Dear Sir, — I agree with you, that the song “Katharine Ogie”, is very poor stuff, and unworthy, altogether unworthy, of so beautiful an air. I tried to mend it; but the awkward sound “Ogie,” recurring in the rhyme, spoils every attempt at introducing sentiment into the piece. The foregoing song pleases myself; I think it is in my happiest manner; you will see at the first glance that it suits the air. The subject of the song is one of the most interesting passages of my youthful days; and I own that I should be much flattered to see the verses set to an air which would ensure celebrity. Perhaps, after all,’tis the still glowing prejudice of my heart that throws a borrowed lustre over the merits of the composition.

I have partly taken your idea of “Auld Rob Morris”. I have adopted the two first verses, and am going on with the song on a new plan, which promises pretty well. I take up one or another, just as the bee of the moment buzzes in my bonnet-lug; and do you,
sans ceremonie
, make what use you choose of the productions. Adieu! etc.

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V
.

26
th January
1793.

I approve greatly, my dear Sir, of your plans. Dr. Beattie’s essay will of itself be a treasure. On my part, I mean to draw up an appendix to the Doctor’s essay, containing my stock of anecdotes, etc., of our Scots songs. All the late Mr. Tytler’s anecdotes I have by me, taken down in the course of my acquaintance with him, from his own mouth. I am such an enthusiast, that in the course of my several peregrinations through Scotland, I made a pilgrimage to the individual spot from which every song took its rise, Lochaber and the Braes of Ballendean excepted. So far as locality, either from the title of the air, or the tenor of the song, could be ascertained, I have paid my devotions at the particular shrine of every Scots Muse.

I do not doubt but you might make a very valuable collection of Jacobite songs — but would it give no offence? In the meantime, do not you think that some of them, particularly “The Sow’s Tail to Geordie”, as an air, with other words, might be well worth a place in your collection of lively songs?

If it were possible to procure songs of merit, it would be proper to have one set of Scots words to every air, and that the set of words to which the notes ought to be set. There is a
naïvetè
, a pastoral simplicity, in a slight intermixture of Scots words and phraseology, which is more in unison (at least to my taste, and, I will add, to every genuine Caledonian taste), with the simple pathos or rustic sprightliness of our native music, than any English verses whatever.

The very name of Peter Pindar is an acquisition to your work. His “Gregory” is beautiful. I have tried to give you a set of stanzas in Scots, on the same subject, which are at your service. Not that I intend to enter the lists with Peter; that would be presumption indeed. My song, though much inferior in poetic merit, has, I think, more of the ballad simplicity in it.
LORD GREGORY.
O mirk, mirk is this midnight hour, (etc.)

Your remark on the first stanza of my “Highland Mary” is just, but I cannot alter it, without injuring the poetry.

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VI
.

20th March 1793.

My Dear Sir, — The song prefixed (“Mary Morison”) is one of my juvenile works. I leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for its merits or demerits. It is impossible (at least I feel it so in my stinted powers) to be always original, entertaining, and witty.

What is become of the list, etc., of your songs? I shall be out of all temper with you by and by. I have always looked on myself as the prince of indolent correspondents, and valued myself accordingly; and I will not, cannot bear rivalship from you, nor anybody else.

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