Saturday, January 25, 2014
Robbie Burns told his own story "ingenuously and forcibly" in a letter to Dr. Moore.
[The first chapter of The Poetical Works of Robert Burns* consists of Burns's autobiography.]
"But before leaving my native country for ever, I resolved to publish my poems. I weighed my productions as impartially as was in my power: I thought they had merit; and it was a delicious idea that I should be called a clever fellow, even though it should never reach my ears--a poor negro-driver; or, perhaps, a victim to that inhospitable clime, and gone to the world of spirits. I can only say, that pauvre inconnu as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high an idea of myself and of my works as I have at this moment, when the public has decided in their favour. It ever was my opinion that the mistakes and blunders, both in a rational and religious point of view, of which we see thousands daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of themselves.
To know myself had been all along my constant study--I weighed myself alone--I balanced myself with others--I watched every means of information, to see how much ground I occupied as a man and as a poet--
I studied assiduously Nature's design in my formation--where the lights and shades in my character were intended. I was pretty confident my poems would meet with some applause; but, at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would deafen the voice of censure, and the novelty of West Indian scenes make me forget neglect. I threw off six hundred copies, of which I had got subscriptions for about three hundred and fifty. My vanity was highly gratified by the reception I met with from the public; and besides, I pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly twenty pounds."
*Edited by John & Angus MacPherson. The publication date is not stated; however, a personal inscription: January 7, 1895.
[The first chapter of The Poetical Works of Robert Burns* consists of Burns's autobiography.]
"But before leaving my native country for ever, I resolved to publish my poems. I weighed my productions as impartially as was in my power: I thought they had merit; and it was a delicious idea that I should be called a clever fellow, even though it should never reach my ears--a poor negro-driver; or, perhaps, a victim to that inhospitable clime, and gone to the world of spirits. I can only say, that pauvre inconnu as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high an idea of myself and of my works as I have at this moment, when the public has decided in their favour. It ever was my opinion that the mistakes and blunders, both in a rational and religious point of view, of which we see thousands daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of themselves.
To know myself had been all along my constant study--I weighed myself alone--I balanced myself with others--I watched every means of information, to see how much ground I occupied as a man and as a poet--
I studied assiduously Nature's design in my formation--where the lights and shades in my character were intended. I was pretty confident my poems would meet with some applause; but, at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would deafen the voice of censure, and the novelty of West Indian scenes make me forget neglect. I threw off six hundred copies, of which I had got subscriptions for about three hundred and fifty. My vanity was highly gratified by the reception I met with from the public; and besides, I pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly twenty pounds."
*Edited by John & Angus MacPherson. The publication date is not stated; however, a personal inscription: January 7, 1895.
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