Though much of the conduct and conversation of Burns was matter of disapprobation with a portion of society in his own district, his death caused a general feeling of regret throughout Dumfries and its neighbourhood. By high and low, his genius had been admired. Many knew well the generous character of the man. All deplored the premature extinction of a spirit which, but a few years before, had shone out upon society with so bright a promise. They also sympathised with the young widow and her helpless children, now left without any provision for the future. In the general public, although the death of Burns was communicated through an authoritative channel in a manner disrespectful to his memory, the same sentiments of regret and sympathy prevailed. The nation seemed to feel at its heart a pang of self-accusation for not having better appreciated and done more to foster a genius so extraordinary. It felt, and felt truly, that many a year might pass ere another equal to him should arise.

The funeral of Burns is well described by Dr Currie. 'The Gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries determined to bury their illustrious associate with military honours, and every preparation was made to render this last service solemn and impressive. The Fencible Infantry of Angusshire, and the regiment of cavalry of the Cinque Ports, at that time quartered in Dumfries,2 offered their assistance on this occasion; the principal inhabitants of the town and neighbourhood determined to walk in the funeral procession; and a vast concourse of persons assembled, some of them from a considerable distance, to witness the obsequies of the

1 The newspaper notice here adverted to must have been the production of some injudicious friend. 'On the 21st inst., died at Dumfries, after a lingering illness, the celebrated ROBERT BURNS. His poetical compositions, distinguished equally by the force of native humour, by the warmth and the tenderness of passion, and by the glowing touches of a descriptive pencil-will remain a lasting monument of the vigour and versatility of a mind guided only by the Lights of Nature and the Inspirations of Genius. The public, to whose amusement he has so largely contributed, will hear with regret, that his extraordinary endowments were accompanied with frailties which rendered them useless to himself and his family. The last moments of his short life were spent in sickness and indigence; and his widow, with five infant children, and in hourly expectation of a sixth, is now left without any resource but what she may hope from the regard due to the memory of her husband.

'The public are respectfully informed, that contributions for the wife and family of the late Robert Burns, who are left in circumstances of extreme distress, will be received at the houses of Sir William Forbes & Co., of Messrs Mansfield, Ramsay, & Co., and at the shops of the Edinburgh booksellers.

'As it is proposed to publish, some time hence, a posthumous volume of the poetical remains of Robert Burns, for the benefit of the author's family, his friends and acquaintances are requested to transmit such poems and letters as happen to be in their possession to Alexander Cunningham, writer, George's Street, Edinburgh; or to John Syme, Esq., of Ryedale, Dumfries.'-Edin. Advertiser, July 26. 2 The Cinque Ports Cavalry had arrived in Dumfries only a few days before the death of Burns. Among the junior officers was the Hon. Mr Jenkinson, afterwards Earl of Liverpool and prime minister of England.

FUNERAL OF THE POET.

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Scottish bard. On the evening of the 25th of July, the remains of Burns were removed from his house to the Town Hall, and the funeral took place on the succeeding day.1 A party of the Volunteers, selected to perform the military duty in the churchyard, stationed themselves in the front of the procession, with their arms reversed; the main body of the corps surrounded and supported the coffin, on which were placed the hat and sword of their friend and fellow-soldier; the numerous body of attendants ranged themselves in the rear; while the Fencible regiments of infantry and cavalry lined the streets from the Town Hall to the burial-ground in the southern church-yard, a distance of more than half a mile. The whole procession moved forward to that sublime and affecting strain of music, the Dead March in Saul; and three volleys fired over his grave marked the return of Burns to his parent earth! The spectacle was in a high degree grand and solemn, and accorded with the general sentiments of sympathy and sorrow which the occasion had called forth.'

Dr Currie adds: 'It was an affecting circumstance, that on the morning of the day of her husband's funeral, Mrs Burns was undergoing the pains of labour, and that, during the solemn service we have just been describing, the posthumous son of our poet was born.' This child was named Maxwell, in honour of Dr Maxwell, the physician who had attended Burns on his death-bed. He died in infancy.

As Dr Currie's description of Burns was composed under advantages which no subsequent writer can enjoy, and is an elegant piece of writing, I am induced to transfer it to these pages.

Burns was nearly five feet ten inches in height, and of a form that indicated agility as well as strength. His well-raised forehead, shaded with black curling hair, indicated extensive capacity. His eyes were large, dark, full of ardour and intelligence. His face was well formed; and his countenance uncommonly interesting and expressive. His mode of dressing, which was often slovenly, and a certain fulness and bend in his shoulders, characteristic of his original profession, disguised in some degree the natural symmetry and elegance of his form. The external appearance of Burns was most strikingly indicative of the character of his mind. On a first view, his physiognomy had a certain air of coarseness, mingled, however, with an expression of deep penetration, and of calm thoughtfulness, approaching to melancholy. There appeared in his

The Edinburgh Advertiser of Friday the 29th contains a paragraph, dated 'Dumfries, 26th July,' which says that the remains of Burns were interred on Monday, with military honours and every suitable respect.' Monday was the 25th, and this undoubtedly was the day of the funeral.

first manner and address, perfect ease and self-possession, but a stern and almost supercilious elevation, not, indeed, incompatible with openness and affability, which, however, bespoke a mind conscious of superior talents. Strangers that supposed themselves approaching an Ayrshire peasant who could make rhymes, and to whom their notice was an honour, found themselves speedily overawed by the presence of a man who bore himself with dignity, and who possessed a singular power of correcting forwardness and of repelling intrusion. But though jealous of the respect due to himself, Burns never enforced it where he saw it was willingly paid; and though inaccessible to the approaches of pride, he was open to every advance of kindness and of benevolence. His dark and haughty countenance easily relaxed into a look of good-will, of pity, or of tenderness; and as the various emotions succeeded each other in his mind, assumed with equal ease the expression of the broadest humour, of the most extravagant mirth, of the deepest melancholy, or of the most sublime emotion. The tones of his voice happily corresponded with the expression of his features, and with the feelings of his mind. When to these endowments are added a rapid and distinct apprehension, a most powerful understanding, and a happy command of language-of strength as well as brilliancy of expression-we shall be able to account for the extraordinary attractions of his conversation— for the sorcery which, in his social parties, he seemed to exert on all around him. In the company of women, this sorcery was more especially apparent. Their presence charmed the fiend of melancholy in his bosom, and awoke his happiest feelings; it excited the powers of his fancy, as well as the tenderness of his heart; and by restraining the vehemence and the exuberance of his language, at times gave to his manners the impression of taste, and even of elegance, which in the company of men they seldom possessed. This influence was doubtless reciprocal. A Scottish lady accustomed to the best society, declared with characteristic naïveté, that no man's conversation ever carried her

1 'During his residence in Glasgow, a characteristic instance occurred of the way in which he would repress petulance and presumption. A young man of some literary pretensions, who had newly commenced business as a bookseller, had been in the practice of writing notices of Burns's poems in a style so flippant, and withal so patronising, as to excite feelings in the poet towards him very different from what he counted upon. Reckoning, however, upon a very grateful reception from Burns, he was particularly anxious for an early introduction to his company; and, as his friends knew, had been at some pains to prepare himself for making a dazzling impression upon the Ayrshire ploughman, as it was then the fashion, amongst a certain kind of literary folks, to call the poet. At the moment the introduction took place, Burns was engaged in one of his happiest and most playful veins with my friend and another intimate or two; but upon the gentleman's presentation, who advanced in a manner sufficiently affable, the "ploughman assumed an air of such dignified coldness, as froze him into complete silence during the time he remained in his company.'-Correspondent of the Scotsman, 1828.

MRS RIDDEL'S SKETCH OF BURNS.

213 so completely off her feet, as that of Burns; and an English lady, familiarly acquainted with several of the most distinguished characters of the present times, assured the editor, that in the happiest of his social hours, there was a charm about Burns which she had never seen equalled.2 This charm arose not more from the power than the versatility of his genius. No languor could be felt in the society of a man who passed at pleasure from grave. to gay, from the ludicrous to the pathetic, from the simple to the sublime; who wielded all his faculties with equal strength and ease, and never failed to impress the offspring of his fancy with the stamp of his understanding.

'This, indeed, is to represent Burns in his happiest phasis. In large and mixed parties, he was often silent and dark, sometimes fierce and overbearing; he was jealous of the proud man's scorn, jealous to an extreme of the insolence of wealth, and prone to avenge, even on its innocent possessor, the partiality of fortune. By nature, kind, brave, sincere, and in a singular degree compassionate, he was on the other hand proud, irascible, and vindictive. His virtues and his failings had their origin in the extraordinary sensibility of his mind, and equally partook of the chills and glows of sentiment. His friendships were liable to interruption from jealousy or disgust, and his enmities died away under the influence of pity or self-accusation. His understanding was equal to the other powers of his mind, and his deliberate opinions were singularly candid and just; but, like other men of great and irregular genius, the opinions which he delivered in conversation were often the offspring of temporary feelings, and widely different from the calm decisions of his judgment. This was not merely true respecting the characters of others, but in regard to some of the most important points of human speculation.'

Little more than a fortnight after the death of Burns, Mrs Walter Riddel presented anonymously in the Dumfries Journal a view of his personal qualities, designed to counteract the effects of the misrepresentation and calumny which had already begun to circulate regarding him. The notice is even more creditable to the heart than to the intellect of the lady, for, before writing it, she had to forgive all those unhappy lampoons which, under temporary irritation, Burns had launched against her and her husband. We must consider the whole conduct of this lady respecting Burns as a solid testimony in his favour. He had sinned against her, as against much that was more sacred than

1 It has been stated that this lady was Jane, Duchess of Gordon.

2 Mrs Walter Riddel is here meant.

she; but she, nevertheless, acknowledged his many merits and excellences, and found in him no offences which a pure mind might not regard with leniency. The late Mr Alexander Smellie, son of the rough old naturalist already introduced to the reader, had visited Mrs Riddel a few months before Burns's death, when he found her talking of him in terms of opprobrium, only perhaps too well justified by his conduct towards herself. He revisited her immediately after the death of the poet, and found that all offence had been lost in admiration and regret. Attended by her young friend, the enthusiastic lady went that night at a late hour to St Michael's Church-yard, and planted laurels over the poet's new-made grave.

Mrs Riddel opens with an assertion which must have been startling to the public of that day, who had not yet learned to contemplate Burns as anything beyond a prodigy of versifying power. She says: The fact is, that poetry (I appeal to all who have had the advantage of being personally acquainted with him) was actually not his forte. Many others, perhaps, may have ascended to prouder heights in the region of Parnassus, but none certainly ever outshone Burns in the charms, the sorcery, I would almost call it, of fascinating conversation, the spontaneous eloquence of social argument, or the unstudied poignancy of brilliant repartee; nor was any man, I believe, ever gifted with a larger portion of the vivida vis animi. His personal endowments were perfectly correspondent to the qualifications of his mindhis form was manly-his action, energy itself-devoid in a great measure perhaps of those graces, of that polish, acquired only in the refinement of societies where in early life he could have no opportunities of mixing; but where, such was the irresistible power of attraction that encircled him, though his appearance and manners were always peculiar, he never failed to delight and to excel. His figure seemed to bear testimony to his earlier destination and employments. It seemed rather moulded by nature for the rough exercises of agriculture, than the gentler cultivation of the belles-lettres. His features were stamped with the hardy character of independence, and the firmness of conscious, though not arrogant, pre-eminence; the animated expressions of countenance were almost peculiar to himself; the rapid lightnings of his eye were always the harbingers of some flash of genius, whether they darted the fiery glances of insulted and indignant superiority, or beamed with the impassioned sentiment of fervent and impetuous affections. His voice alone could improve upon the magic of his eye: sonorous, replete with the finest modulations, it alternately captivated the ear with the melody of poetic numbers, the perspicuity of nervous reasoning, or the ardent