DUNNING LETTER FROM A CREDITOR. 205 Dr Currie states, that Burns had the pleasure of receiving an explanation of Mrs Dunlop's silence, and an assurance of the continuance of her friendship to his widow and children; but though her friendly attentions to the latter are undoubted, it was Mrs Burns's constant assertion, that there must have been a mistake as to her husband having received an explanation of Mrs Dunlop's silence in any form. After a few days, sea-bathing seemed to have in some degree eased the pains of our bard, so that he once more began to entertain hopes of life. At this crisis, a sad stroke fell upon him, in the form of a letter from a Dumfries solicitor, urging payment of a bill, now ascertained to have amounted to L.7, 4s., due, or overdue, to a draper for his volunteer uniform. It was generally believed of this tradesman by his contemporaries, that he would never have harassed the poor poet for the debt; indeed, it has been represented, that Mr Williamson (for such was his name)1 had placed this and some other overdue accounts in the solicitor's hands, merely because it seemed the most convenient mode of collecting them; and it is the report of Burns's eldest son, that the letter addressed by Mr Matthew Penn to Burns, did not contain any threatening expressions. In Scotland, however, a letter from a writer is generally regarded as a menacing step on the part of a creditor; and so did it appear on the present occasion to Burns, whose mind was too gloomy and excitable to take calm views on any such matter. Struck with terror lest the worst extremities should be proceeded to, he bethought him of two friends who might be appealed to for the means of averting so dire a calamity. TO MR JAMES BURNES, WRITER, MONTROSE. DUMFRIES, 12th July. MY DEAR COUSIN-When you offered me money assistance, little did I think I should want it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail. Will you be so good as to accommodate me, and that by return of post, with ten pounds? Oh, James! did you know the pride of my heart, you would feel doubly for me! Alas! I am not used to beg. The worst of it is, my health was coming about finely. You know, and my physician assured me, that 1 Burns had been a debtor to Williamson on previous occasions, and does not appear to have been prompt in his payments. In March 1794, Messrs Brown and Williamson, clothiers, announced to Burns that they were dissolving their copartnery, and collecting the debts due to it. They enclosed an account for a balance of L.7, 9s., due by him since the beginning of the preceding year. melancholy and low spirits are half my disease-guess, then, my horrors since this business began. If I had it settled, I would be, I think, quite well in a manner. How shall I use the language to you-oh, do not disappoint me! but strong necessity's curst command. I have been thinking over and over my brother's affairs, and I fear I must cut him up; but on this I will correspond at another time, particularly as I shall [require] your advice. Forgive me for once more mentioning by return of post-save me from the horrors of a jail! My compliments to my friend James,1 and to all the rest. I do not know what I have written. The subject is so horrible, I dare not look it over again. Farewell! R. B. BURNS TO MR THOMSON. BROW, on the Solway Frith, 12th July 1796. AFTER all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to implore you for five pounds. A cruel scoundrel of a haberdasher, to whom I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. Do, for God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. Forgive me this earnestness; but the horrors of a jail have made me half distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for, upon returning health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds' worth of the neatest song-genius you have seen. I tried my hand on Rothemurchie this morning. The measure is so difficult, that it is impossible to infuse much genius into the lines; they are on the other side. Forgive, forgive me! To think of Burns composing love-verses in these circumstances! It was to happy days spent on the banks of the Devon during the short blaze of his fame, and to Charlotte Hamilton and her youthful loveliness, that his mind reverted at this gloomy time. FAIREST MAID ON DEVON BANKS. TUNE-Rothemurchie. CHORUS. Fairest maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou wert wont to do? 1 The son of Mr Burnes, now a youth of sixteen. This respectable man, the father of Sir Alexander Burnes, died in spring 1852. MONEY SENT BY MR THOMSON. Full well thou know'st I love thee dear, Then come, thou fairest of the fair, No love but thine my heart shall know. 207 Mr Burnes, who was not a rich man, but possessed, like his illustrious relative, of a liberal heart, immediately sent the sum asked. Mr Thomson, who was in circumstances not greatly superior to those of Burns himself, but who also possessed a liberal nature, had been ruminating on the illness of the poet, and asking himself if, at such a time, a fresh present of five pounds was not likely to be taken more kindly than that which he had sent three years before. Between two such enthusiasts, in their respective domestic circumstances, such a donation did not truly bear the air of meanness which some writers have since attributed to it. At all events, it was what Mr Thomson had it in his power to give, and he sent it with all his usual cordiality. MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 14th July 1796. MY DEAR SIR-Ever since I received your melancholy letters by Mrs Hyslop, I have been ruminating in what manner I could endeavour to alleviate your sufferings. Again and again I thought of a pecuniary offer, but the recollection of one of your letters on this subject, and the fear of offending your independent spirit, checked my resolution. I thank you heartily, therefore, for the frankness of your letter of the 12th, and with great pleasure enclose a draft for the very sum I proposed sending. Would I were Chancellor of the Exchequer but for one day, for your sake! Pray, my good sir, is it not possible for you to muster a volume of poetry? If too much trouble to you, in the present state of your health, some literary friend might be found here, who would select and arrange from your manuscripts, and take upon him the task of editor. In the meantime, it could be advertised to be published by subscription. Do not shun this mode of obtaining the value of your labour: remember, Pope published the Iliad by subscription. Think of this, my dear Burns, and do not reckon me intrusive with my advice. You are too well convinced of the respect and friendship I bear you, to impute anything I say to an unworthy motive. Yours faithfully. The verses to Rothemurchie will answer finely. I am happy to see you can still tune your lyre. A kind-hearted friend, Mr Gracie, banker in Dumfries, sent to inquire after the poet's health, and to offer his carriage to bring him back to his home. TO JAMES GRACIE, ESQ. BROW, Wednesday morning [13th July.] MY DEAR SIR-It would [be] doing high injustice to this place not to acknowledge that my rheumatisms have derived great benefits from it already; but, alas! my loss of appetite still continues. I shall not need your kind offer this week, and I return to town the beginning of next week, it not being a tide-week. I am detaining a man in a burning hurry. So, God bless you! R. B. The delicate condition of Mrs Burns had of course prevented her from accompanying her husband to Brow. He addressed her thus, apparently on the 14th: TO MRS BURNS. BROW, Thursday. MY DEAREST LOVE-I delayed writing until I could tell you what effect sea-bathing was likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny that it has eased my pains, and I think has strengthened me; but my appetite is still extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I swallow; porridge and milk are the only thing I can taste. I am very happy to hear, by Miss Jess Lewars, that you are all well. My very best and kindest compliments to her, and to all the children. I will see you on Sunday. Your affectionate husband, R. B. Mr M'Diarmid of Dumfries communicated to Mr Lockhart an anecdote of Burns referable to this time. Rousseau, we all know, when dying, wished to be carried into the open air, that he might obtain a parting look of the glorious orb of day. A night or two before Burns left Brow, he drank tea with Mrs Craig, widow of the minister of Ruthwell. His altered appearance excited much silent sympathy; and the evening being beautiful, and the sun shining brightly through the casement, Miss Craig-now Mrs Henry Duncan-was afraid the light might be too much for him, and rose with the view of letting down the window-blinds. Burns immediately guessed what she meant; and, regarding the young lady with a look of great benignity, said: "Thank you, my dear, for your kind attention; but oh, let him shine: he will not shine long for me!"' 1 Mrs Duncan was the wife of the late highly estimable Dr Duncan, minister of Ruthwell, the originator of savings-banks, and the first describer of reptilian footsteps on the surfaces of ancient strata. DEATH OF THE POET. 209 Before leaving Brow, Burns experienced a new attack of fever. According to Allan Cunningham, who was living in Dumfries at the time, the poet 'returned on the 18th, in a small spring-cart. The ascent to his house was steep, and the cart stopped at the foot of the Mill-hole-brae: when he alighted, he shook much, and stood with difficulty; he seemed unable to stand upright. He stooped as if in pain, and walked tottering towards his own door: his looks were hollow and ghastly, and those who saw him then expected never to see him in life again.' Dr Currie, who probably had exact information regarding the case from Maxwell, says: 'At this time a tremor pervaded his frame; his tongue was parched, and his mind sank into delirium when not roused by conversation.' On returning to his home, he wrote what is supposed to be the last letter or composition of any kind penned by him. It was addressed to his father-in-law, and related to an expected domestic event which helped in no small degree to deepen the tragic character of the hour. TO MR JAMES ARMOUR, MAUCHLINE. DUMFRIES, 18th July 1796. MY DEAR SIR-Do, for Heaven's sake, send Mrs Armour here immediately. My wife is hourly expecting to be put to bed. Good God! what a situation for her to be in, poor girl, without a friend! I returned from sea-bathing quarters to-day, and my medical friends would almost persuade me that I am better; but I think and feel that my strength is so gone, that the disorder will prove fatal to me. Your son-in-law, R. B. The life of Burns was now to be measured by hours rather than days. To secure the quietness demanded at such a time, his four little boys were sent to the house of Mr Lewars. Jessy hovered by his couch with her usual assiduity. Findlater came occasionally to soothe the last moments of his friend. Early in the morning of the 21st, Burns had sunk into delirium, and it became evident that nature was well-nigh exhausted. The children were then sent for to see their parent for the last time in life. They stood round the bed, while calmly and gradually he sank into his last repose. The eldest son retained a distinct recollection of the scene, and has reported the sad fact, that the last words of the bard were a muttered execration against the legal agent by whose letter, wittingly or unwittingly, the parting days of Burns had been imbittered. 1 Mrs Burns was not yet thirty years of age. |