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Clerk of the Court of Common Pleas for Kingston 1790-1809, an assistant
Judge of the Court of Common Pleas for the Parish of Port Royal in 1795,
and Clerk of the Court from 1810 until his death in 1812. Added to that, he
earned quite a sum of money from the proceeds of his plantation.

From the Memoir of W.C. MacLehose regarding his grandfather…
'In March 1812, Mr. MacLehose died at Kingston; and, though he had

been in receipt of a large income for many years, as Chief Clerk of the
Court of Common Pleas in Jamaica, no funds were ever received from that
island by his family. A report reached this country, as being a matter of
notoriety in Kingston, that some of his particular friends had, on the
approach of death, sent all of his domestics out of the house; and, as soon
as the breath quitted his body, carried off whatever cash and documents
there were. If so, the friends proved befitting the man. Notice, however,
was given to Mrs. MacLehose that a balance of several hundred pounds,
belonging to her husband, was in the hands of Messrs Coutts in London,
which she soon afterwards obtained.

It was then discovered that he had had an account current at this bank for
many years, while he had suffered his family to have their income eked
out by the generosity of friends: £50 (£6,875) advanced to her, as already
mentioned, before she sailed for Jamaica, and a present of £21 (£2,887) on
leaving that island, being all of which this wealthy husband bestowed on
his family in the long period of thirty-two years. Yet, after her departure
from Jamaica, he was in the habit of speaking of his family with great
affection and boasted of the valuable presents which he had made his wife
and son. It is believed that few men have passed through life outwardly so
respected by society, who have more basely neglected all the ties of
affection and duty. He was a man of good talents and very pleasing
address; much given to an ostentatious kind of hospitality. His temper was
occasionally most violent and ungovernable; often soft and agreeable. His
written correspondence with his wife partakes of the same character: the
same letter contains alternate passages of the most endearing expressions
and the most insulting language.'

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HOME FOREVER

August 1792-June 1794

After another vexatious voyage, Agnes arrived back in Leith cAugust
1792. As she was returning on the Roselle, and known to the crew, she was
treated very respectfully by all. Captain Liddel was still a little guilty for
his encouragement of her to go to Jamaica, so he treated her as he would
his own daughter, this kindness eased any bad feelings she had from
giving up on her marriage. By the time she reached Edinburgh, with £21
(£2,887) in her purse, a leaving gift from MacLehose, approximately 0.2%
of his annual salary as a lawyer, excluding his plantation earnings, she had
regained her equilibrium, and even enjoyed the cooler weather as she
neared home.

What Agnes felt when she returned to the Potterrow we can never know,
relief or failure? She would have been glad that she had held on to her flat,
at least she would not be homeless. It may not be as grand and luxurious
as the house MacLehose lived in in Jamaica, but it was safe and kind and
happy and hers. The first thing she did was to bring home her son Andrew
from Dr. Chapman's boarding school. Unsurprisingly, his fees had not
been paid by his father. MacLehose did not ever make any attempt to pay
the fees and it fell to William Craig to help his cousin out again.

Agnes, having now seen the splendour that her husband was living in and
having informed her friends and remaining relatives about this, was
encouraged to take proceedings against him in the Court of Session to
make him face up to his responsibilities and pay towards his obligations.
Much later, in March 1797, she obtained a Court Judgement ordering him
to pay £100 (£10,288) a year aliment. The main part of the success of the
claim was that 'In the close of the year 1784, Mr. MacLehose settled as an
attorney-at-law, in Kingston, Jamaica, and business increased so rapidly, that he
was soon in possession of, and still enjoys a revenue of *£1000 (£137,500) a year
from his profession.'
*(That was based on the 1784 income, the 1797 income was equivalent to
£102,884 in 2017. Neither amounts take into consideration his further income
from his plantation revenues, which were considerable).

Unfortunately for Agnes, as Jamaica was thousands of miles away,
MacLehose ignored this Judgement and it could not be enforced. In order
that Andrew continue his education, Robert Ainslie did the right thing and
took the boy under his wing hiring him as an apprentice in his law firm.

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Andrew remained living with Agnes until 1809, the year of his marriage.

When Agnes returned to Edinburgh she did not inform Burns that she was
back. Was this to be a clean slate for her, quitting both James MacLehose
and Robert Burns in one fell swoop? She slapped on the 'recovering from the
Tropics' excuse with a trowel gaining sympathy and a willing ear for the
gossip from all 'concerned' friends. William Craig was pleased she had
returned and delighted that this situation with Burns now seemed to have
run its course and reached its correct conclusion. Before leaving she had
written in her last letter to Burns that he was not to contact her personally,
but if he felt the need, he should write to her via Mary Peacock and she
would forward the letters. As it turned out, Burns did write to Agnes via
Mary, but his two letters were lost, that is according to Mary.

On the 6th December 1792 Burns realised that it was a full year since he
had seen Agnes. He must have been feeling quite depressed and the date
brought her to mind. Why this date was more important than the date of
the 19th March 1788, after which he did not see her until the 6th December
1791 - a period of three and three-quarter years, is a mystery. Maybe
another continent made it more meaningful. Anyway, having thought of
Agnes, he realised that Agnes had not replied to the two letters he had
sent to her via Mary. He wanted to know why not, so he again wrote to
Mary demanding to know how to get in touch with Agnes directly.

Letter to Mary Peacock
Dumfries - 6 December 1792
Dear Madam, -
I have written so often to you and have got no answer, that I had resolved
never to lift up a pen to you again, but this eventful day, the sixth of
December, recalls to my memory such a scene! Heaven and earth! when I
remember a far distant person! -But no more of this, until I learn from you
a proper address, and why my letters have lain by you unanswered, as this
is the third I have sent you. The opportunities will be all gone now, I fear,
of sending over the book I mentioned in my last. Do not write me for a
week, as I shall not be at home; but as soon after that as possible.
Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
Dire was the parting thou bidst me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

Yours, -
B. -

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Mary did receive this letter and replied to it post haste, although told not
to by Burns, but it, too, suffered a mishap. Robert was in Ayrshire at the
time of the letter's arrival and Jean Armour left it aside for him to read on
his return. Unfortunately, it got knocked down behind a chest of drawers
and not found until the piece of furniture was moved, about three months
later.

On hearing that Agnes had been back in Scotland since August 1792,
Burns was incandescent with rage, not at Jean who had been careless, but
at everyone else who knew of Agnes' return and who had kept it from
him, including Robert Ainslie with whom he was still occasionally in
contact. His manly pride was cut to the quick. It is quite surprising that
Burns did not hear about Agnes' arrival in Edinburgh, considering the
number of people from that city that Burns knew and still wrote to and the
number of people they both knew in the Excise business. On reading
Mary's belatedly found letter he immediately wrote to Agnes at the
Potterrow.

Letter 72
Spring/March 1793
(see previous letter to Mary Peacock)
(apparently the following has been copied from the original letter)
Robert to Agnes
I suppose, my dear Madam, that by your neglecting to inform me of your
arrival in Europe, a circumstance which could not be indifferent to me, as
indeed no occurrence relating to you can - you meant to leave me to guess
& gather that a correspondence I once had the honor & felicity to enjoy, is
to be no more! -Alas, what heavy laden sounds are these - 'no more'. -The
wretch who has never tasted pleasure, has never known woe, but what
drives the soul to madness, is the recollection of joys that are - no more'! -
But this is not language to the world. -They do not understand it. -But,
come, ye children of Feeling & Sentiment; ye whose trembling bosom
chords ach, to unutterable anguish, as recollection gushed on the heart! Ye
who are capable of an attachment, keen as the arrow of Death, and strong
as the vigour of Immortal Being - Come! & your ears shall drink a tale - but
hush! - I must not, cannot tell it! Agony is in the recollection, & frenzy is in
the recital!
But to leave these paths that lead to madness, I congratulate your friends,
Madam, on your return; and I hope that the precious health which Miss
Peacock tells me is so much injured, is restored, or restoring. -There is a
fatality attends Miss Peacock's correspondence & mine. -Two of my letters,
it seems she never received; and her last, which came when I was in

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Ayrshire, was unfortunately mislaid, and only found about ten days or a
fortnight ago, on removing a desk of drawers.

I present you a book: may I hope you will accept of it. -I dare say you will
have brought your books with you. -The fourth volume of the Scots Songs
is published: I will also send it to you. -

Shall I hear from you? -But first, hear me! No cold language - no
prudential documents - I despise Advice, & scorn Controul - If you are not
to write such language, such sentiments, as you know I shall wish, shall
delight to receive; I conjure you, By wounded Pride! By ruined Peace! By
frantic disappointed Passion! By all the many ills that constitute that sum
of human woes - A BROKEN HEART! -To me be silent for ever!!! -If you
insult me with the unfeeling apothegms of cold-blooded Caution, May all
the - but hold - a Fiend could not breathe a malevolent wish on the head of
MY Angel!

Mind my request! If you send me a page baptised in the font of
sanctimonious Prudence - by Heaven, Earth & Hell, I will tear it into
atoms!

Adieu! May all good things attend you!
R.B.

(In the Glenriddell Manuscript Burns commented, 'I need scarcely remark
that the foregoing was the fustian rant of enthusiastic youth.' Burns was a
married man of 34 at the time, so no youth).

With the above letter Burns sent a copy of the two-volume edition, *4th
Edition, of his poems issued by Creech. It was one of 20 requested by
Burns for him to give to friends. He inscribed the book, but the dedication
page is now missing. Nine years later Agnes wrote on the title page - Mrs.
MacLehose, June 1802, a present from the author.
*(At the first meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Scottish National Library,
held in Edinburgh on 26th October 1925, a valuable gift, in the form of the copy of
his printed Poems which Robert Burns presented to Mrs. Agnes M'Lehose - the
“Clarinda" of poetry and prose - was announced from Sir Henry S. Keith, of
Hamilton.

The copy of the Poems chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, which thus formed the first
donation to the National Library, is of the fourth edition - “the second edition
considerably enlarged"” published in February of 1793'. It includes the contents
of the second and third editions ...The Poet's agreement with his publisher - the
dilatory William Creech-stipulated that he was to receive, in payment for these
additional pieces, "a few books which I very much want, together with as many
copies of this new edition of my own work as Friendship or Gratitude shall prompt
me to present; I mean to present them among a few Great Folk whom I respect and
a few Little Folk whom I love.") (Burns Chronicle 1926).

223585

As far as is known, Agnes did not reply to the letter, making her feelings
towards Burns clear. Maybe she could not reply without feeling passion
and anger and regret and decided to suppress it all by ignoring it. But she
must have written to him some time later as he mentions it in his last
letter.

Fifteen months later Burns was to try again to reach into Agnes' core, by
then, as far as we are aware, it had been two and a half years since she had
written to him. It seems a shame that the last letter we have between the
couple is this following one. It is a heartfelt and heart rending letter and is
probably one of the most honest letters ever written by Burns to anyone.
'You would laugh, were you to see me, where I am just now' - that paragraph is
enough to break the hardest of heart's. If Burns had left the letter without
the bit about Maria Riddell, which I think spoils it, it would have been
perfect. Maybe in the future we will find out that it was not the last at all.

Burns had been kept up to date with Agnes' doings through Robert
Ainslie, and Ainslie would have made sure that Agnes was up to speed
with how Burns was managing, especially if it was controversial. He
makes mention of that contact in the letter. Ainslie was never a good
friend to Burns and maybe Burns realised that to his chagrin. To date his
last recorded letter to Ainslie was in April 1793, but Ainslie got his letters
written to Burns back after the poet's death and had already in his own
hands letters written by Burns to him, all which he burned.

Burns' star was on the wane, he had had his season in the sun, he had
exploded on the scene like a literary vocabulary volcano, a lava of
language and, for the moment anyway, his time was spent. He wasn't
down and out, but health wise, he was an ill man. In his brighter moments
he saw that he had had nearly a decade of celebrity, and had made his
mark all through Scotland, his poems were being read all over the world,
but the thought of being forgot hurt.

On the same day he wrote to both Agnes and Mrs. Dunlop, whom he had
been out of contact with for a while, and apologising for that, Mrs.
Dunlop's letter reads, 'Here in a solitary inn, in a solitary village, am I set by
myself, to amuse my brooding fancy as I may......To tell you that I have been in
poor health, will not be excuse enough, though it is true. -I am afraid that I am
about to suffer for the follies of my youth. -My Medical friends threaten me with a
flying gout; but I trust they are mistaken.'

Letter 73

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Carlinwark Inn
Castle Douglas 25 June 1794
Robert to Agnes/Clarinda
Before you ask me why I have not written you, first let me be informed of
you, how I shall write you? 'In Friendship', you say; & I have many a time
taken up my pen to try an epistle of 'Friendship' to you, but it will not do:
'tis like Jove grasping a pop-gun, after having wielded his thunder. -When
I take up the pen, Recollection ruins me. -Ah! my ever-dearest Clarinda! -
Clarinda? -What a host of Memory's tenderest offspring crowd on my
fancy at that sound! -But I must not indulge that subject: - you have forbid
it.
I am extremely happy to learn that your precious health is re-established,
& that you are once more fit to enjoy that satisfaction in existence, which
health alone can give us. -My old Friend, Ainslie, has indeed been kind to
you. -Tell him that I envy him the power of serving you. -I had a letter
from him a while ago, but it was so dry, so distant, so like a card to one of
his Clients, that I could scarce bear to read it, & have not yet answered it.
He is a good honest fellow; & can write a friendly letter, which would do
equal honor to his head & his heart, as a whole sheaf of his letters I have
by me will witness; & though Fame does not blow her trumpet at my
approach now, as she did then, when he first honored me with his
friendship, yet I am proud as ever; & when I am laid in my grave, I wish to
be stretched at my full length, that I may occupy every inch of ground
which I have a right to.
You would laugh, were you to see me, where I am just now: - would to
Heaven you were here to laugh with me, though I am afraid that crying
would be our first employment. -Here am I set, a solitary hermit, in the
solitary room, of a solitary inn, with a solitary bottle of wine by me - as
grave & as stupid as an owl - but like that owl, still faithful to my own
song; in confirmation of which, my dear Mrs. Mack, here is your good
health! May the Hand-wal'd bennisons o' Heaven bless your bonie face; &
the wretch wha skellies at your weelfare, may the auld tinkler deil get him
to clout his rotten heart! Amen!
You must know, my dearest Madam, that these now many years,
wherever I am, in whatever company, when a married lady is called as a
toast, I constantly give you: but as your name has never passed my lips,
even to my most intimate friend, I give you by the name of Mrs. Mack. -
This is so well known among my acquaintances, that when my married
lady is called for, the toast-master will say - 'O, we need not ask him who it
is - Here's Mrs. Mac!' I have also among my convivial friends, set on foot a
round of toasts, which I call, a round of Arcadian Shepherdesses; that is, a
round of favourite Ladies, under female names celebrated in ancient song;

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& then, you are my Clarinda: - so my lovely Clarinda, I devote this glass of
wine to a most ardent wish for your happiness!

In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer,
Point out a cens'ring world, & bid me fear:
Above that world on wings of love I rise,
I know its worst - & can that worst despise. -

'Wronged, injured, shunned, unpitied, unredrest;
The mocked quotation of the scorner's jest' -
Let Prudence direst bodements on me fall,
Clarinda, rich reward! o'erpays them all!

I have been rhyming a little of late, but I do not know if they are worth
Postage.

*****
Tell me what you think of the following -

Monody
How cold is that bosom which folly once fired!
How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd!
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired!
How dull is that ear which to flatt'ry once listen'd!

If sorrow and anguish their exit await,
From friendship and dearest affection remov'd,

How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate!
Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst un lov'd.

Loves, Graces and Virtues, I call not on you:
So shy, grave and distant, ye shed not a tear.

But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true,
And flowers let us cull for Maria's cold bier!

We'll search through the garden for each silly flower,
We'll roam thro' the forest for each idle weed,
But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower,

For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash deed.

We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay:
Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre!

There keen Indignation shall dart on his prey,
Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire!

THE EPITAPH
Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect,

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What once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam:
Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
Want only of goodness denied her esteem.

The subject of the foregoing is a woman of fashion in this country, with
whom, at one period, I was well acquainted. -By some scandalous conduct
to me, & two or three other gentlemen here as well as me, she steered so
far to the north of my good opinion, that I have made her the theme of
several ill-natured things. -The following Epigram struck me the other
day, as I passed her carriage.

Pinned to Mrs R.(Riddell)'s coach -
If you rattle along like your Mistress's tongue,

Your speed will out-rival the dart;
But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road,

If your stuff be as rotten's her heart.

These two pieces of poetry are nasty stuff, especially as Burns was the
protagonist in the 'scandalous conduct' ('Rape of the Sabines' drunken
debacle at Friar's Carse, December 1793). Six months after the event he was
still 'nursing his wrath', though the previous January he was all but
kneeling in supplication before her. Having read the lovely start of his
lovely letter how would Agnes have taken the ending lines, not well one
would imagine.

So far, as far as we know, there have been no letters found to or from
either Agnes or Burns over the next two years and twenty-six days until
Burns' death. No doubt they were never far from each other's thoughts,
but somewhere a line had been drawn and neither crossed it ever again. If
Burns hadn't died maybe in some future time they might have been
reconciled, as he was eventually reconciled with Maria Riddell, but fate
took that option from them on 21st July 1796.

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DEATH OF ROBERT BURNS

1795-July 1796

In September 1795 Robert and Jean's four-year-old daughter, their only
surviving daughter, Elizabeth Riddell, died. She was their fourth daughter
to die. She had been ill for some time, and though her death was expected,
it still shocked. Burns was convalescing at the time and could not attend
the funeral, and this pushed him back both mentally and physically. He
became severely depressed and in turn his health worsened.

By the summer of 1796 he was visibly wasting away and his medical
friends, trying all they could to cure him, advised him to go to Brow for
sea bathing. Near Brow, at Lochmaben, at the time was Maria Riddell,
who was also recuperating from an illness. On the 5th July she sent a
carriage to fetch him to dine with her, she wrote 'I was struck with his
appearance on entering the room. The stamp of death was imprinted on his
features. He already seemed touching the brink of eternity...We parted about
sunset on the evening of that day; the next day I saw him again, and we parted to
meet no more!'

He continued to bathe in the Solway, on 10th July he wrote to James
Armour '...I have now been a week at salt water, & though I think I have got some
good by it, yet I have some secret fears that this business will be dangerous, if not
fatal.'

On Monday 18th July he returned to Dumfries, by borrowed gig, and his
first thought was for Jean who was about to give birth to their next child.
Arriving home, he could hardly stand for shaking, his visage and pallor
were death like and he had to be helped into his house. Over the next three
days Burns worsened and he became delirious, his mind wandered into
fearsome places. According to Jean, Burns was aware of these wanderings,
and told her to touch him to bring him back to reality. He died at 5 a.m. on
Thursday 21st July. He did not die alone.

INTIMATION OF THE DEATH OF BURNS AND ACCOUNT OF HIS
FUNERAL
(Offprint from the "Dumfries Journal" in the possession of Dumfries Burns
Club)
FROM THE DUMFRIES JOURNAL
26th July 1796
Robert Burns

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Died here, on the morning of the 21st inst., and in the 38th year of his age,
Robert Burns, the Scottish Bard.

His manly form and penetrating eye strikingly indicated extraordinary
mental vigour.

For originality of wit, rapidity of conception, and fluency of nervous
phrenology, he was unrivalled.

Animated by the fire of Nature, he uttered sentiments which, by their
pathos, melted the heart to tenderness, or expanded the mind by their
sublimity: As a luminary emerging from behind a cloud, he arose, at once,
into notice: and his works and his name can never die; while divine Poesy
shall agitate the chords of the human heart.

Actuated by the regard which is due to the shade of such a genius, his
remains were yesterday interred with military honours and every suitable
respect. The corpse, having been previously conveyed to the Town-hall,
remained there until the following ceremony took place.

The military here, consisting of the Cinq Port Cavalry and the Angus-
shire Fencibles, having handsomely tendered their services, lined the
streets on both sides to the burial ground. The Royal Dumfries Volunteers,
of which he was a member, in uniform, with crapes on their left arms,
supported the bier. A party of that corps, appointed to perform the
military obsequies (Funeral Rites), moving in slow solemn time to the dead
march in Saul, which was played by the military band, preceded in
mournful array with arms reversed. The principal part of the inhabitants
of the town and neighbourhood, with a number of the particular friends of
the bard from remote parts, followed in procession, the great bells of the
churches tolling at intervals. Arrived at the church-yard gate, the funeral
party, according to the rules of that exercise, formed two lines and leant
their heads on their firelocks pointed to the ground. Through this space
the corpse was carried and borne forward to the grave. The party then
drew up alongside of it and fired three vollies over the coffin when
deposited in the earth. The whole ceremony presented a solemn, grand
and affecting spectacle; and accorded with the general sorrow and regret
for the loss of a man whose like we can scarce see again.

It may not be deemed improper, to conclude this account, with the
following extract from his printed poems.

'A Prayer in the Prospect of Death'
O thou, unknown, Almighty Cause....

If I have wander'd in those paths...
Thou know'st that thou hast forgied me...
Where human weakness has come short....

Where with intention I have err'd....
…...Delighteth to forgive'

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The Royal Dumfries Volunteers
Take this mode of returning their best acknowledgements to MAJOR

FRASER and the OFFICERS of the ANGUS-SHIRE FENCIBLES; and to
CAPTAIN FINDLAY and the OFFICERS of the CINQ PORT CAVALRY,
for the very obliging and distinguished compliment, rendered to them at
the funeral.

THE DEATH OF BURNS FROM THE DlARY OF A CONTEMPORARY.
Thursday, 21st July, -This morning Mr Robert Burns died after a long

illness.
Monday, 25th July, -This day, at 12 o'clock, went to the burial of Robert

Burns, who died on the 21st, aged 38 years. In respect to the memory of
such a genius as Mr. Burns, his funeral was uncommonly splendid. The
military here consisted of the Cinque Ports Cavalry and Angusshire
Fencibes, who, having handsomely tendered their services, lined the
streets on both sides from the Court House to the burial ground. (The
corpse was carried from the place where Mr. Burns died to the Court
House last night.) Order of procession: - The firing party, which consisted
of twenty of the Royal Dumfries Volunteers (of which Mr Burns was a
member) in full uniform with crapes on the left arm, marched in front with
their arms reversed, moving in a slow and solemn time to the Dead March
in "Saul", which was played by the military band belonging to the Cinque
Ports Cavalry. Next to the firing party was the band, then the bier or
corpse supported by six of the Volunteers, who changed at intervals. The
relations of the deceased and a number of the respectable inhabitants of
both town and country followed next. Then the remainder of the
Volunteers followed in rank, and the procession closed with a guard of the
Angus-shire Fencibles. The great bells of the churches tolled at intervals
during the time of the procession. When arrived at the churchyard gate the
funeral party formed two lines and leaned their heads on their fire-locks
pointed to the ground. Through this space the corpse was carried and
borne to the grave. The party then drew up alongside of it and fired three
volleys over the coffin when deposited in the earth. Thus, closed a
ceremony which on the whole, presented a solemn, grand, and affecting
spectacle, and accorded with the general sorrow and regret for the loss of a
man whose like we can scarce see again.

As for his private character and behaviour, it might not have been so fair
as could have been wished, but whatever faults he had I believe he was
always worst for himself, and it becomes us to pass over his failings in
silence, and with veneration and esteem look to his immortal works,
which will live for ever. I believe his extraordinary genius may be said to
have been the cause of bringing him so soon to his end, his company being

226425

courted by all ranks of people, and being of too easy and accommodating a
temper, which often involved him in scenes of dissipation and
intoxication, which by slow degrees impaired his health, and at last totally
ruined his constitution. For originality of wit, rapidity of conception, and
fluency of nervous phraseology he was unrivalled. He has left a wife and
five children in very indigent circumstances, but I understand very liberal
and extensive subscriptions are to be made for them. His wife was
delivered of a child about an hour after he was removed from the house.
[The Grierson Diary-Reprinted from the Dumfries and Galloway Courier
and Herald 1890.] (Burns Chronicle 1904)

On 23rd July George Thomson had issued the news of Burns death in the
Glasgow and Edinburgh papers and mentioned Burns' 'frailties'. It
certainly didn't take long for Mr Grierson to enter and enlarge it into his
diary, truthful or not. Too good an accusation to ignore.

ESSAY ON ROBERT BURNS BY CANDIDOR (MARIA RIDDELL)
JULY/AUGUST 1796
(Burns Chronicle 1978, by R.S. Gilchrist)

This essay under the pseudonym 'Candidor' (Latin for 'more candid') was
written by Maria Riddell for the Dumfries Weekly Journal immediately after
the Poet's death. It is here printed as originally published, together with
the editorial deletions - just over 400 words out of over 3,000 which would
have been better left unsaid. I have also appended my own notes and
comments on the printed text.

Mark Anthony's speech on the death of Caesar was in toto about
equivalent to the deletions; but then Shakespeare was a genius. Neither
Maria nor I can qualify on that score, I fear. Burns has qualified, and still
does, however, but he could no longer defend himself.

R. S. Gilchrist, M.B., CH.B.

It is not likely that the extinction of a spirit like the late Robert Burns's
should be unattended with a variety of posthumous Anecdotes, Memoirs,
etc., relative to the very rare and uncommon Personage whom it animated.
I shall not attempt to inlist with the voluminous corps of Biographers I
esteem it probably may arrogate to themselves the privilege of criticising
the Character or writings of Mr. Burns, without possessing his genius -
'The inspiring mantle' thrown over him by that tutelary Muse who first
found him like the prophet *Elisha 'at his plough' has -
*(‘The poetic Genius of my Country found me as the prophetic bard Elijah did
Elisha - at the plough; and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bad me sing
the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures of my natal soil, in my

224663

native tongue, etc. etc.' Burns's Preparatory address to the Nob. and Gent. of the
Gal. Hunt.')
- been the portion of few, maybe the portion of fewer still; and if it is true
that men of genius have a privilege in their literary capacities to claim the
rights of the British citizen in a Court of Legatorial Justice, that of being
tried only by their peers - I borrow here an expression I have frequently
heard Burns himself make use of-God forbid I should, any more than the
generality of other people, assume the flattering and peculiar privilege of
sitting upon his jury. But an intimate acquaintance, both of correspondence and
society for five years past, may perhaps justify my (1) presenting to the public a
few of those ideas and observations the habits of intimacy in which we have lived
together have left with me; and (2) which to the day which closed forever the
scene of his happy qualities I have never had the smallest cause to deviate
in or recal.

It will be the misfortunate of Burns's reputation in the records of
literature, not only to future generations and to foreign countries, but even
with his native Scotland, and a number of his contemporaries that he has
been regarded as a poet and nothing but a poet. It must not be supposed
that I consider this title is a trivial one; no person can be more penetrated
with the respect due to the wreath bestowed by the Muses than myself;
and much certainly is due to the merits of a self-taught (3) Bard when his
native fire had already blazed forth in all its wild graces of genuine
simplicity and energetic eloquence of sentiment.

(4) If others had climbed more successfully than him to the heights of
Parnassus, 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. His personal endowments were perfectly correspondent to the
qualifications of his mind. His form was manly, (5} his Action-energy
itself! Such was the irresistible power of attraction that encircled him,
though his manners and appearance were always peculiar he never failed
to delight and to excell. His figure certainly bore the authentic impress of
his birth and original station in life; 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. I believe no man ever (6) was gifted with a larger portion of the
'vivida vis animi'. The animated expressions of his 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

226447

improve upon the magic of his eye; sonorous, replete with the finest
modulations, it alternatively captured the ear with the melody of poetic
numbers, the perspicuity of nervous reasoning or the ardent sallies of
enthusiastic patriotism. The keenness of Satire was, I am almost at a loss
whether to say his forte or his foible; for though Nature had endowed him
with a portion of the (7) most pointed excellence in that 'perilous gift'. It
was not always that sportiveness of humour, 'that unwary pleasantry,'
which Sterne (8) has described to us, under a medium so conciliatory, or
the altercations of parties or of persons happening to kindle the
restlessness of his spirit into interest or aversion. This however was not
unexceptionally the case; his Wit (which is no unusual matter indeed) had
always the start of his judgment, and would lead him to the indulgence of
raillery, uniformly acute, but often unaccompanied with the least desire to
wound. (9) Burns must not be dealt with unconscientiously for being
rather (9a) deficient in the suppression of an arch and full pointed 'bon
mot' from the dread of injuring its object. He paid the forfeit of his talents
as dearly as anyone could do; 'twas no extravagant arithmetic, to say of
him as of Yorick 'that for every ten jokes he got an hundred enemies', and
much allowance should be made by a candid mind for the splenetic
warmth of a spirit whom 'distress had often spited with the world'-and
which, unbounded in its intellectual sallies and punuits continually
experienced the curbs imposed by the waywardness of his fortune, the
vivacity of his wishes and temper checked by almost habitual
disappointments, and endowed with a heart that acknowledged the ruling
passion of independence, without having ever been placed beyond the
grasp of penury his soul was never languid or inactive, and his Genius
extinguished until with the last sparks of retreating life. His Passions
rendered him according as they disclosed themselves in affection or
antipathy the object of enthusiastic attachment or most rancorous
malevolence; for he possessed none of that negative insipidity of character
whose love might be regarded with indifference, or whose resentment
could be considered with contempt. In this it should be seen, the temper of
his companions took the tincture from his own; for he acknowledged in
the universe but two classes of objects, those of adoration the most fervent,
or of aversion the most acrimonious. And it has frequently been
reproached him that unsusceptible of indifference, often halting where he
ought to have despised, he alternately opened his heart and poured forth
all the treasures of his understanding to such as were incapable of
appreciating the homage, and elevated to the privileges of an adversary
many who were unqualified in talents of any nature for the honor of a
contest so distinguishing.

It is said that the celebrated Dr. Johnson professed 'to love a good hater': a

224685

temperament that had singularly adapted him to cherishing a
prepossession in favour of our Bard; who could perhaps feel little short
even of the surly Doctor in this qualification, as long as the disposition to
ill-will continued; but the versatility of his passions were fortunately
tempered to their fervor; he was seldom-never, indeed, implacable in his
resentments; and sometimes it has been alleged, not inviolably faithful in
(10) his engagements of friendship. Where he fancied he had discovered
the traces of unkindness, scorn or neglect, took their measure of asperity
from the overflowings of the opposite sentiment which preceded them,
and which seldom failed to regain its ascendency in his bosom on the
return of calmer reflexion. He was candid and manly in the avowal of his
wrongs, and his avowal was a reparation. His native forte never forsaking
him a moment the value of a frank acknowledgment was enhanced tenfold
towards a gracious mind, from its never being attended with servility. His
mind, organised only for the stronger and more acute operations of the
passions, was impracticable to the efforts of superciliousness that would
have depressed it into humility, and equally superior to the
encroachments of venal suggestions, that might have led him into the
mazes of hypocrisy.

It has been observed that he was far from averse to the incense of flattery
and could receive it tempered with less delicacy than might have been
expected, as he seldom transgressed that way himself; where he paid a
compliment indeed it might claim the power of intoxication, as
approbation from him was always an honest tribute from the warmth and
sincerity of his heart. It has been sometimes represented by those who it
should seem had a view to detract though they could not hope to alienate
that native brilliancy which the powers of this singular man had invariably
bestowed on everything which came from his lips or pen; (11) that the
History of the Ayrshire Plowman was an ingenious fiction, fabricated for
the purposes of obtaining the interest of the great and enhancing the
merits of what in reality required no foil, the Cotter's Saturday Night, Tam
o'Shanter, and the Mountain Daisy, beside a number of later productions
where the maturity of his Genius will be readily traced, and certainly will
not disprove the promise of its dawn and which will be given to the public
as soon as his Friends have collected and re-arranged (12) them, speak
sufficiently for themselves; they had perhaps bestowed (13) as unusual a
grace there, as even to the humbler shades of rustic inspiration, from
whence they really sprung.

To the obscure scene of Mr. Burns's education, and to the laborious
though honourable station of rural industry in which his parentage
enrolled him, almost every habitant of the South of (14) Scotland can give
testimony.

226469

That Burns had received no classical education and was acquainted with
the Greek and Roman Authors only through the medium of translations is
a fact that can be indisputably proved: I have seldom seen him at a loss in
conversation unless where the dead languages and their writers were the
subject of discussion. When I have pressed him to tell me why he never
took pains to acquire the Latin in particular, a language his happy memory
had so soon enabled him to be master of: he used only to reply with a
smile, that he already knew all the Latin he desired to learn and that was
'Omnia vincit Amor' a phrase that from his writings and most favourite
pursuits it should undoubtedly seem he was (15) most thoroughly versed
in.

His poetical pieces blend with alternate happiness of description the
frolic spirit and the joy inspiring bowl or melt the heart to the tender and
impassioned sentiments in which beauty always taught him to pour forth
his own. But who will wish to reprove the feelings he has consecrated with
such lively touches of nature? And where is the rugged moralist that will
persuade us so far to 'chill the genial current of the soul,' as to regret that Ovid
ever celebrated his Corinna or Anacreon (16) sung beneath his vine.

I will not, however, undertake to be the apologist of the irregularities
even of a man of Genius: though I believe it is as certainly understood that
Genius never was free of irregularities; as that their absolution in great
measure may be justly claimed, since it is certain that the world had
continued very stationary in its intellectual acquirements had it never
given birth to any but men of plain sense. Evenness of conduct and a due
regard to the decorums of the world have so rarely been seen to move
hand in hand with Genius, that some have gone as far as to say - though
there I cannot acquiesce - that they are even incompatible (17); .... it is only
on the gem we are disturbed to see the dust. (18) The pebble may be
soiled, and we never regard it ... The calm monitions of reason were not
invariably found sufficient to fetter an imagination which scorned the
narrow limits and restrictions that would chain it to the level of ordinary
minds. The Child of Nature, the Child of Sensibility - unbroke to the
refrigerative precepts of Philosophy, untaught always to vanquish the
passions which were the only sources of his frequent errors - Burns makes
his own artless apology in terms more forcible than all the argumentory
vindications in the world could do in one of his Poems where he delineates
with his usual simplicity the progress of his mind and its first expansion to
lessons of the 'tutelary muse'.

'I saw thy pulse's maddening play,
Wild-send thy Pleasure's devious way,

Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray
By Passion Driven;

225607

But yet the light that led astray,
Was light from Heaven.'

Vide 'The Vision', Duan 11
(19) I have already transgressed far beyond the bounds I had proposed to
myself on first committing to paper these sketches which comprehend at
least what I have been led to deem the leading feature of Burns's Mind and
Character. A Critique, either literary or moral, I cannot aim at; Mine is
wholly fulfilled if in these paragraphs I have been able to delineate any of
these strong traits which distinguished him, of those talents which raised
him from the plough, where he past the bleak morning of his life weaving
his made wreaths of poesy with the wild field flowers that sprung around
his cottage, to the inviable eminence of literary fame, where Scotland will
long cherish his memory with delight and gratitude, and proudly
remember that a Genius was ripened without care or culture beneath her
cold sky, that would have done honor to the genial temperature of climes
better adapted for the cherishing its germs of Genius to the growth of
those luxuriances that warmth of fancy and colouring in which he so
eminently excelled! From several paragraphs I have taken notice of in the
public prints, even since the idea of sending there thither was formed, I
find private animosities are not yet subsided, and envy has not yet done
her part. (20) I still trust, however, that honest fame will be affixed to Burns's
reputation, which he will be found to have merited by the candid and impartial,
among his countrymen; and where a kindred bosom is found, that has been
taught to (21) glow with the fires that animated Burns's; remember at the
same time the imperfection of all human excellence, and leave those
inconsistencies which alternately exalted his nature to the Seraph, and
sunk it again into the man, to the tribunal which alone can investigate the
labyrinths of the human heart,

'Where they alike in trembling hopes repose
The bosom of his father, and his God.'

FOOTNOTES – R.S. GILCHRIST
Mrs. Riddell (see Note (1)) with her much-vaunted friendship for Burns,
would scarcely have wished that any phrases, in her letter to the Dumfries
Chronicle in August 1796, should be open to mis-representation, by future
biographers; she no doubt would wish to go down to posterity with her
friendship undimmed and to be his first entirely favourable biographer.
I feel sure she would have wished to cooperate with John Syme and this
Editor in making some changes in her, no doubt, hurried 3,000-word letter
to the Chronicle!
She would, I am certain, be happy to see such phrases as follows cut
completely out of her Epistle for the reasons stated in the following notes.

226581

(I) Mrs. Riddell's claim to an intimate friendship over a period of five years
hardly stands up to close analysis; however, let the words stay in her
letter, just underline them.
(2) Why act as a signpost for future biographers? How could she be
expected to recognise genius in anybody other than herself?
(3) A somewhat snobbish observation; which is, in any case, incorrect.
(4) Maria was in no position to judge of Burns's powers as a poet.
(5) A cattish remark, quite uncalled for, and quite erroneous, as his
friendships in all social spheres were widely known.
(6) Substitute 'lively force of mind'. Maria was merely airing her
knowledge of 'Latin in the original'! This did not extend, however, to the
phrase 'de mortuis nil nisi bonum'.
(7) Miew! -he had used them on her.
(8) Miew! -and she never forgave him!
(9) Showing off, and quite unnecessary. Excise from the sage to Saints.
(9a) The sentence, as it stood, was grammatically cumbersome.
(10) Another signpost for future biographers to climb and read very
closely.
(11) Perhaps Maria was just plain ignorant! A plow-boy is derogatory.
Burns was a skilled ploughman and a Tenant Farmer in his own right, in
addition.
(12) Alter 'arranged' to 're-arranged'. She, Currie and Syme did a lot of this.
(13) Just snobbish nonsense; worthy of Sir Walter Scott.
(14) Quite wrong, besides being entirely irrelevant.
(15) Maria left school at 16. Did she have a full knowledge of Latin and
Greek in the original? Poor Burns lived on porridge in his latter days.
(16) Underline this. She is showing off again.
(17) Another signpost.
(18) And another.
(19) The underlined words have this Editor's complete agreement. She was
much too quick 'off the mark' here and was adding her own three
pennyworth.
(20) Another needless signpost.
(21) Friends do not remember the imperfections of the subject of a eulogy.

EDITORIAL DELETIONS
Footnote
(2) and of his errors (of his genius I will not say, for its monuments will
long survive him) ...
(3) deprived of the advantages of a classical education and the intercourse
of literary persons, or of minds congenial to his own till that period of life
...
(4) But the fact is that even when all his honors are yielded to him, Burns

225629

will undoubtedly be found to move in a sphere less splendid, less
dignified, and even in his own pastoral stile less attractive than several
other writers have done, and that poetry was (I appeal to all who had the
advantage of being personally acquainted with him) actually not his forte
...
(5) Entirely divested however of those graces, all that polish, acquired only
in the refinement of societies in which he seldom had the opportunity to
mix; but where ...
(7) he suffered it* too often *(the perilous gift of Satire) to be the vehicle of
a personal, and sometimes undignified animosities ...
(8) but the darts of ridicule were frequently directed as the caprices of the
instant suggested ...
(9) the sage of Zurich very properly classes as a virtue only to be sought
for in the Calendar of Saints ...
(I0) Much indeed has been talked of his inconstancy and caprices. but I am
inclined to believe they originated less from a levity of sentiment than
from an impetuosity of feeling that rendered him prompt to take umbrage,
and his sensations of pique ...
(13) and had they fallen from a hand more dignified in the ranks of society
than that of a Peasant ...
(14) His only surviving brother, *Samuel Burns, now guides the
ploughshare of his forefathers in Ayrshire, at a small farm near Mauchline,
and our poet's eldest son (a lad of nine years of age, whose early
dispositions already promise him to be the heritor of his father's talents, as
well as indigence) has been destined by his family to the humble
employments of the loom ... (*should be Gilbert)
(15) but I really believe his classic erudition extended little, if any further.
The penchant Mr. Burns had uniformly acknowledged for the festive
pleasures of the table and towards the fairer and softer objects of Nature's
Creation, has been the rallying point where the attacks of his censors, both
pious and moral, have united: and to this it must be confessed he showed
himself no stoic ...
(17) beside the frailties that cast their shade over the splendor of superior
merit are more conspicuously glaring than where they are the attendants
of mere mediocrity ...
(18) The eccentric intuitions of Genius too often yield the soul to the wild
effervescence of desires always unbounded, and sometimes equally
dangerous to the repose of others as fatal to its own. No wonder then if
virtue herself is sometimes lost in the blaze of kindling animation or that ...
(20) and the recollection of the imprudences that soiled his brighter
qualifications, interpose ...

227503

DESCRIPTIONS OF BURNS AT DIFFERENT TIMES

Nellie Martin (later Miller, sweetheart of Robert's brother, William) “...In a
licht-blew coat o' his mither's makin'; ay, an' o' his mither's sewin' I's
warrand, in these days; an' his bonie black hair hingin' doon an' curlin'
ower the neck o't; a buik in his han' -aye a buik in his han' - an' whiles his
bonnet aneath his tither ockster, an' didna ken that he was bareheidit -
gaun aboot the dyke sides an' hedges; an idler, ye ken - an idler jeist, that
did little but read; an' even on the hair'st-rig it was soup an' soup, an' then
the buik! He wasna to ca' a bonie man - dark an' strong; but uncommon
invitin' in his speech - uncommon! Ye couldna hae crackit wi' him for ae
minute, but ye wad hae studen four or five. He was unco by-ordinar
engagin' in his talk.”

She also described the first reading of 'The Holy Fair' at Nance Tannock's
Inn. “There were present Robert an' his sweetheart, Jean Armour, William
an' I, an' anither lad or twa an' their sweethearts. Robin himsel' was in
unco glee. He kneelit ontil a chair in the midds o' the room, wi' his elbows
on the bak o't, an' read ower the 'Holy Fair' frae a paper I' his han' - an' sic
laughan'! We could hardly steer for laughan'; an' I never saw himsel' in sic
glee.”

David Sillar: -"Mr. Robert Burns was some time in the parish of Tarbolton
prior to my acquaintance with him. His social disposition easily procured
him acquaintance; but a certain satirical seasoning, with which he and all
poetical geniuses are in some degree influenced, while it set the rustic
circle in a roar, was not unaccompanied by its kindred attendant -
suspicious fear. I recollect hearing his neighbours observe he had a great
deal to say for himself, and that they suspected his principles. He wore the
only tied hair in the parish; and in the church his plaid, which was of a
particular colour, I think fillemot, he wrapped in a particular manner
round his shoulders." The colour so described is that of a "dead leaf
yellowish brown, from Fr. feullimorte." Again, we are told, "Burns was an
older looking man than might have been expected from his age. He was of
a very dark complexion, with a strong dark eye; of a thoughtful
appearance, amounting to what might be called a gloomy studiousness,
insomuch that when in company which did not elicit his brilliant powers
of conversation, he generally leant down his cheek upon his palm, placing
his elbow on his knee, and in that attitude would continue sitting a
considerable time. He was generally reserved and silent; but when he
found himself in enlightened company, or in the presence of fascinating
women, he uniformly exerted himself, and uniformly shone." This we

225741

have from Robert Chambers, on the authority of "a venerable citizen, who
had the honour of the poet's acquaintance during his brief apprenticeship."
(Burns Chronicle 1905).

(By an old Lady, from personal reminiscences - Edinburgh, December
1786, and January 1787. From the recollection of Rev. John Temple Robb,
parish minister of Forgandenny, Perthshire.)
“... My oId respected relative (Mr. Robb's aunt), who in her sanguine
youth ocularly saw Burns, has frequently told me not one of the portraits
did him even half justice. He apparently did not resemble either Scott's
'douce gudeman' or W. Ernest Henley's 'amazing peasant,' but had an air
of distinction, without an atom of bashfulness or vulgarity. She saw Burns
in December 1786, and in January 1787, at Edinburgh. What she related
was simply that Burns was a handsome man considerably above middle
height, a strapping, well-made fellow, who carried himself with ease. She
did not remember any stoop his legs were strong and straight; neither
'bandy' nor 'knock-kneed.' His hands were large, with long and shapely
fingers. When he laughed his white and perfect teeth were shown. The
head was thickly covered by a mat of glossy black hair. The skin of his face
was clear but not ruddy, the features firm in outline as if cut in marble, the
nose and upper lip short. The eyebrows arched over dazzling eyes. She
never saw such eyes in anyone but Burns blazing with light. She noticed
he was careful about his personal appearance and dress. Always cleanly
shaved and well washed and well brushed, he was never untidy. Burns, in
short, she affirmed, did not resemble a yokel or rustic Scotsman, for he had
the air, manners, and composure of a man of the world both in entering
and moving about a room in which people were assembled. His voice was
low-pitched and musical. You never missed a word, for though he talked
quickly he spoke distinctly. He spoke English with an Ayrshire 'lilt,' but
not broad Scotch. When interested in what he said or heard, his expression
changed swiftly. Women (old, middle aged, and young) were fascinated
by his looks, talk, and manner. Animals appeared to love him, and he had
a word and a touch for dogs and cats. He spoke to animals as friends who
understood what he said. A cat persisted in sitting on Burns's shoulders,
purring.” (Burns Chronicle 1924).

It is important to state that Burns did not die a pauper, but he did leave
debts, part which were funeral and doctor's expenses and the cost of the
uniform for the Dumfries Volunteers. Research by Dr. Clark McGinn into
the Bard's finances shows that Burns' income was £100 p.a. (£10,961) while
his expenditure was £110 p.a. (£12,057). This certainly does put him in the
red financially, but he did have the potential within five years (1801), had

227525

he lived and been healthy, to have upped his salary with raises and
promotions in the Excise, to reach an income of between £800-£1000 p.a.
(£61,231-£76,538) which would have certainly put him by back in the black.
It is also important to note that Gilbert Burns was in debt to his brother for
£182.16.3 (£20,059) at the time of Robert's death. (Burns Chronicle 1900).
Robert was owed more than he owed.

225763

AGNES AFTER
BURNS

Tomorrow, And Tomorrow, And Tomorrow...Remains Of
The Day...The Keeper Of The Memories

227547

TOMORROW, AND TOMORROW, AND TOMORROW

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.
(Shakespeare's Macbeth, written between 1599-1606)

July 1796-October 1841

The days and the weeks and the months after the death of Burns, the sun
rose, shone and set. Birds sang, and flowers bloomed. The world spun on
its axis and all was the same as it had been before, except for a handful of
people. Life and the world went on without Burns and with every minute
that went by he was claimed by the past.

Within a day of Burns' death, it was decided by his friends that a new
edition of his complete poetry and a biography of his life must be issued.
Alexander Cunningham informed John Syme of this and told him that
'were you to write J. Currie at Liverpool, something handsome may be expected.'
It was hoped that the volumes would raise money for the benefit of Jean
and her children who, though not on the breadline, needed financial
support. But in the meantime, they wanted to gather donations for Jean to
see her through. Currie was originally from Kirkpatrick Fleming,
Dumfriesshire, and had purchased Dumcrieff near Moffat in the early
1790s. Unfortunately, Currie was the wrong man at the right time, and was
more interested in the salacious side, whether true or not, of Burns'
behaviour.

When Agnes heard about Burns' demise is not known, but on Saturday
23rd July 1796, George Thomson issued an obituary in the Glasgow
Mercury and the Edinburgh Evening Courant, in which he could not help
but to mention the poet's 'extraordinary endowments were accompanied with
frailties which rendered them useless to himself and his family.' With friends like
him!!! He also wrote that Jean was virtually penniless.

The obituary was repeated and adorned by various newspapers and they

225785

all nailed their colours to the mast of Burns' frailties and made up their
own stories. Any hope that Cunningham and Syme had for collecting
donations for Jean in her situation was severely damaged by Thomson's
words, and many who professed to be friends of Burns refused to donate a
penny.

One of these redesigned obituaries was printed in the London Chronicle of
28th July. Many biographers attributed this article to Thomson, but James
Mackay in his Biography of Burns prefers to lay the blame at the feet of
Henry Mackenzie (page 636).
…...Burns was brought to Edinburgh for a few months, everywhere
invited and caressed, and at last one of his patrons procured him the
situation of an Exciseman, and an income somewhat less than 50 1. per
ann. We know not whether any steps were taken to better this humble
income. Probably he was not qualified to fill a superior station to that
which was assigned him. We know that his manners refused to partake
the polish of genteel society, that his talents were often obscured and
finally impaired by excess, and that his private circumstances were
embittered by pecuniary distress......a man who possessed in an
extraordinary degree the powers and failings of genius. Of the former, his
works will remain a lasting monument; of the latter, we are afraid that his
conduct and his fate afford but too melancholy proofs. Like his
predecessor Ferguson (sic), though he died at an early age, his mind was
previously exhausted; and the apprehension of a distempered imagination
concurred along with the indigence and sickness to embitter the last
moments of his life.

Many of Burns' upper class so called 'friends' refused to contribute any
donations to his widow because of obituaries like these, even if they knew
that they were exaggerations and lies.

It had been four years seven months and fifteen days since Agnes had met
with Burns in person, on that cold December night in 1791. It felt so wrong
that he should die in a warm summer month when the world was alive
and in blossom. Agnes remembered writing to him before she left for
Jamaica on 25th January 1792, his birthday, and not much more after. So
not much contact with him on her part for four years and five months, and
that was her decision, but he had occasionally written to her, most of
which she had ignored, so had she the right to grieve for him? If she hadn't
corresponded much in four years plus, did she even have the right to call
herself a friend? Did she even ever consider attending his funeral?

227569

She thought that keeping him at a distance was the best thing, allowing
them both to get on with their lives, now she was not so sure if her lack of
action had a less than honourable aspect and was a bit more, petty. If she
were being honest, there were no excuses for her bad manners. For a
professed Christian, she had an unforgiving streak in her nature. Shame,
sadness and guilt enveloped her in equal measure, and she reached for the
box that contained his letters, letters written to a once different woman,
and she crushed them tightly to her heart while her soul screamed to see
him again, just one more time, to see herself reflected in the love of his
dark eyes.

She crossed to her window and remembered the last hours they shared
together and how, from that same window, she watched him merge into
the blackness of a cold night and make her life smaller. Now it was
impossible for him to ever return to her. She closed her eyes and tried to
remember him on that night. His deep, dark eyes. His hypnotic voice. His
inviting smile. His lips. His gentle kiss. She touched her cheek, as he had
done, and it felt like his touch reaching through her fingertips and she
loved him, despite everything, and she was grateful to her God to have
known him.

For fifteen weeks, in her 30th year, Burns filled Agnes' life with stardust
and excitement.

In July 1796 Maxwell and Syme began collecting Burns' correspondence
together for his forthcoming biography. They had many letters that he had
received but needed those that the poet had sent. Agnes was one of the
people contacted. cAugust of that year Syme discussed a packet of letters
'they are letters from a female, who must have felt the genuine passion of
love......the person, if alive, must have an anxious, distracted heart.'

When it was discovered who the female was, the letters were eventually
sent back to Agnes in exchange for her letters from Burns. She held on to
them, as did many others - Maria Riddell, Robert Ainslie, George
Thomson, William Creech to mention but a few. Riddell, Thomson, Creech
and Ainslie destroyed the letters that they had written when they got them
back, as did others. Agnes, it is thought, though she denied it, destroyed
some, but not all. She may have not actually burned letters, but on
occasion, if asked, she would take scissors to a letter if someone expressed
an interest in having a keepsake of Burns' penmanship.

On 3rd August 1796, The Gentlemen of the Committee for the forthcoming

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biography (Syme, Maxwell, McMurdo, Patrick Miller and his son and
Wallace, a young writer from Dumfries) met at the poet's house in
Dumfries and started sorting through all the manuscripts and letters that
Burns had in his possession when he died. That first day showed them all
how much work would be involved in separating the chaff from the
wheat, some pieces were immediately put on the destruction pile.

On the second meeting, before the 12th August, they started going through
the letters Burns had received, among those were the letters from
'Clarinda'. Syme wrote to Cunningham 'We paused before we ventured to
read. We consulted whether to seal them up and deliver them to the person, who, if
alive, must have an anxious, a distracted heart. We resolve to be a Court of honour
and delicacy, and to examine what the letters contained. We read three or four and
were rapt and astonished at the inconceivable merits of the authoress. But Love,
such Love as Eloise flames on St Preux, is the inexhaustible fountain. Heavens!
were it possible to get his letters to that person...What shall be done with these
letters? Avaunt the sacrilege of destroying them or shutting them up for ever from
the light. But on the other hand, can we bring them into the light? If you consult
on this point, let it be with one or two chosen friends - one or two of the elect - and
let the seal of honour and secrecy be previously impressed.'

On the 11th September Syme had realised how much there was still to do
and had reached his saturation point. It also seems as though the others of
his Committee had not been doing their fair share. He passed the buck to
Cunningham 'So that the only plan I can propose is to send you the whole
Budgett, as we call a heap of unsorted things. If you have leisure to look into them
and arrange them, I dare say you will reap much gratification...' Syme also
advised Cunningham to reclaim any outlays occurring to the fund
collected for the family. Cunningham was not a happy man.

As said before many people wanted their letters returned - to destroy them
- the most successful of all was Maria Riddell, and she also made sure she
had a say in which letters Burns wrote to her were issued. She was quite
the hypocrite in that she had ring fenced her letters and then forced her
way into everyone else's lives and letters, insisting in her normal
manipulative and dogmatic way that they must have them printed. Maybe
Burns was not so wrong about her in the end in his last poems about her to
Agnes.

Cunningham discovered that the letters signed 'Clarinda' belonged to
Agnes MacLehose. He knew people who knew her and asked them to ask
Agnes for permission for her letters to Burns to be published in the

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upcoming edition. Agnes was shocked and refused in the loudest of terms,
demanding via Robert Ainslie that the letters held by Cunningham, her
letters to Burns, be returned to her. Just as she thought that she had buried
as much as she could about her and Burns and was back on an even keel,
the poet goes and dies, and his friends start dredging up everything about
him for a biography.

She was scared, if her letters were read, it was a sure fact that they would
be taken the wrong way. What would William Craig say, what would
James MacLehose think? He always accused her of being man mad! By the
middle of September 1796 Cunningham realised that without Agnes' say
so, the letters could not be printed, and therefore should be returned to
her.

On 19th September he was visited by Robert Ainslie for the second time.
Cunningham wrote to Syme, 'I have today had another call from a Mr. Ainslie,
W.S., whom I suspect does Mrs. McLhose's business, demanding her Letters. He
wished very much to introduce me to her, which I declined for two reasons. I never
accept of an invitation from any Man without intending to make the retort
courteous; and his manners and behaviour seemed quite opposite to what I would
wish to meet with in a common acquaintance, besides involving me in an
introduction to a Woman who for aught I know may be a chaste as Diana, but who
bears a quisquis character in the world, and which might lead to many
perplexities.'

After this the Committee decided to hold on to the letters and not return
them. So much for Ainslie the hardman!

Syme wrote to Cunningham on the 30th September, 'Clarinda has written
Mrs. Riddell several excellent letters, but I have not seen them. Do not mention
this. Mrs. R. will most probably get Burns letters from her but keep a calm sugh.'

The following are letters from Agnes to Syme, the first is undated. There
must have been a letter from Syme to Agnes regarding his fears for the
letters, or maybe Maria Riddell had said something to Agnes in one of her
letters about fears for their destruction or suppression - quite hypocritical
considering Maria had made sure she had suppressed and destroyed her
own correspondences. Maria Riddell was another of Burns' questionable
friends.

Mrs. MacLehose to Mr. John Syme,
What can have impressed such an idea upon you, as that I ever conceived

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the most distant intention to destroy these precious memorials of an
acquaintance, the recollection of which would influence me were I to live
till fourscore! Be assured I will never suffer one of them to perish. This I
give you my solemn word of honour upon; - nay, more, on condition that
you send me my letters, I will select such passages from our dear bard's
letters as will do honour to his memory, and cannot hurt my own fame,
even with the most rigid. His letters, however, are not literary; they are the
passionate effusions of an elegant mind - indeed, too tender to be exposed
to any but the eye of a partial friend! Were the world composed of minds
such as yours, it would be cruel even to bury them: but ah! how very few
would understand, much less relish, such compositions! The bulk of
mankind are strangers to the delicate refinements of superior minds.

Edinburgh, 9 January 1797
Dear Sir,

I am much obliged to you for the speedy reply you made to my last letter.
What could induce you to spend New Year's Day in so solitary a manner?
Had I not heard other things of you, I should have imagined you in the
predicament of Hamlet, when he exclaims, 'Man delights not me, nor
woman neither'. I have a presentment some melancholy recollection has
been the cause of your secluding yourself from the world on a day when
all ranks are devoted to festivity. When I first came to Edinburgh it was to
me the dullest day in the year because I had been accustomed to spend it
in the society of several of the 'Charities', as Milton styles them, who were
no more.

But for several years past, I have acquired friends, with whom I pass it
cheerfully, though death has deprived me of all near relations except Lord
Craig (my first cousin) and a son, who is the pride and pleasure of my life.
I thought a lady's letter, on a subject so near her heart, ought to have been
answered - even had half an hour been stolen from your sleep, and
therefore rallied you by a quotation from Lord Littleton's poem on Lucy
pleading want of time: for the truth is, you were at a loss what to say; you
wished not to return the letters and hardly knew how to use the language
of denial - is not this a just statement?

For when a lady's in the case
You know all other things give place.
Seriously I can easily conceive you must be excessively hurried; twenty
letters in a day - and dry uninteresting stuff! Had I them to write, they
should be favourites indeed to whom I would add one to the score. I had no
right to expect you to 'epistolise' to me, far less to be a regular
correspondent. Your neglect of Mrs. Riddell is amazing, because she is, in
my estimation, the first female writer I ever saw; and, I am convinced, a

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good soul as ever was, from her uncommon attention to our dear Burns
and his family. Besides I suppose she is an OLD FRIEND of yours. I am
delighted with her letters and reckon her correspondence a great
acquisition. She sent me Mr. Roscoe's Monody on Burns. She tells me 'tis
he and Doctor Currie are to be his editors.' I am happy you have consented
to return my letters at last, and that my pledge has pleased you. Please
direct them, put up in a parcel, for my usual address, and send them by
the Dumfries carrier who comes here once a week.

You must pardon me for refusing to send Burns's letters. I never will. I
am determined not to allow them to be out of my house; but it will be
quite the same to you, as you shall see them all when you come to
Edinburgh next month. Do write me previous to your arrival, and name
the day, that I may be at home and guard against our being interrupted in
pursuing these dear memorials of our lamented friend. I hold them sacred
- too sacred for the public eye; and I am sure you will agree they are so
when you see them. If any argument could have prevailed on me, and
Mrs. Riddell exhausted all her eloquence could dictate, the idea of their
affording pecuniary assistance was most likely. But I am convinced they
would had added little to this effect; for I heard, by a literary conversation
here, that it was thought by most people there would be too much
intended to be published; and that letters especially it was nonsense to
give, as few would be interested in them. This I thought strange, and so
will a few enthusiastic admirers of our bard; but I fear 'tis the general voice
of the public.

I earnestly hope the MSS. may turn out as valuable to you suppose them.
It rejoices me to hear so large a sum is to come from other places - and join
in reprobating Caledonia's capital for her shabby donation. But there are
few souls anywhere who understand or who could enter into the relish of
such a character as Burns. There was an electricity about him which could
only touch or pervade a few cast in Nature's finest mould. I fear I have
been inaccurate, for I am hurried at present. You always shine when
mounted on pygmies. I know not whether you may have reached the top
of Parnassus; but you have certainly gathered some sweet flowers on the
way.

Yours with regard,
Clarinda

James Currie and John Syme had been friends for a long time and since the
death of Burns had been in regular contact. Currie was from the Borders
and was now a medical practitioner in Liverpool and had been running
the English end of the donations appeal for the Burns Family. He saw that
no one in Edinburgh was enthusiastic on taking over the editorship of the

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suggested Works of Burns and put himself forward for the job - they
grabbed him with both hands.

Letter to Syme from Currie 15th August 1796, 'The very circumstance of
Burns having portrayed himself in such vivid colours, is a decisive proof of his
superior genius. It is not often that the real character of an authour appears in his
work. Inferior minds shrink from a full exposure of themselves......It is only for
men of the first order of genius to present themselves, without covering or
disguise, in all the nakedness of truth and all the energy of nature. This fact may
be easily explained......That an authorised biographer should be fixed soon, seems
to me, the more necessary, because it is to be feared volunteers may appear,
attracted by the popularity of a subject which they may deform and
disgrace......But I have not the least wish to step out of my way on this occasion, if
this business is already settled, and in proper hands; and therefore I communicate
my offer to you only, and in confidence.'

In other words, care should be taken with choosing an editor as he could
make or break a subject. He led Syme to believe that he would be the best
and most honest and honourable person to be allowed to take on the job.
(One of the paragraphs in the published book, 'His temper now became more
irritable and gloomy; he fled from himself into society, often of the lowest kind.
And in such company that part of convivial scene, in which wine increases
sensibility and excites benevolence, was hurried over, to reach the succeeding part,
over which uncontrouled passion generally presided. He who suffers from
pollution of inebriation, how shall he escape other pollution? But let us refrain
from the mention of errors over which delicacy and humanity draw veil.)'

So much for honest and honourable reporting! Currie, said once to be a
heavy drinker, was probably referring to the things he got up to when
falling about in the shebeens and brothels of his youth. He also suggested,
after the post mortem, that Burns was considered to have died from
alcoholic poisoning with just a hint of venereal disease. It took well over a
century before this 'suggestion' was well and truly buried, along with the
reputation of Dr. James Currie.

Ten days later, on the 25th August Currie had second thoughts at the
enormous challenge this task would put on him, his career and his family,
'I, however, altogether renounce the task of his biography; though, if have leisure, I
shall, possibly, amuse myself with some criticisms on his writings, which you
shall see'. He thought it would be better being done by someone who
knew Burns and who lived north of the border - he was not allowed to
change his mind. After many letters back and forth on the subject, on 16th

228625

September 1796 Currie wrote to Syme, again changing his mind, 'As the
biography and criticism will not be wanted for some time, I can have no hesitation
in undertaking it, provided a better hand does not seem likely to be procured...'

As much as James Currie has been vilified regarding his take on Burns, it
is important to include his following letter to Syme before Currie set out to
piece the biography together. Syme's Committee, through laziness and/or
disinterest, had reneged in their duty.

8th February 1797
My Dear Syme,

Your letter of the 6th January reached me on the 12th, and along with it
came the remains of poor Burns. I viewed the huge and shapeless mass
with astonishment! Instead of finding, as I expected, a selection of his
papers, with such annotation as might clear up any obscurities - of papers
perused and approved by his friends as fit for publication - I received the
complete sweepings of his drawers and of his desk (as it appeared to me),
even to the copy-book on which his little boy had been practising writing.
No one has given these papers a perusal, or even an inspection; the sheep
were not separated from the goats; and - what has, perhaps, not happened
before since the beginning to the world - the manuscripts of a man of
genius, unarranged by himself, and unexamined by his family or friends,
were sent, with all their sins on their head, to meet the eye of an entire
stranger.

'Were sent, with all their sins on their head, to meet the eye of an entire stranger!'
It seems as if what started out as a very good idea on 26th July 1796 directly
after Burns funeral, got too much for his friends and so it was shipped out
as soon as possible, and they washed their hands of it. This is why we get
misrepresentations of Burns. His supposed friends, the ones who knew
him well, allowed his name to be sullied. Burns at times was his own
worst enemy, though not as black as painted, he certainly could not be
considered on the far side of the white spectrum, more melding in and out
of the middle, just like the rest of us! Burns could never whole heartedly
play the game, and maybe that was part of his problem.

Currie got his information directly from many of Burns' 'friends' and
acquaintances, not to mention his immediate family. It took years for them
to give their shouts of 'foul' as to descriptions of Burns' behaviour, they
should have made sure this was done at the time. Gilbert could have done
it, should have, but didn't. He was a lot less brave than his brother. But
Burns was human, he drank, he fornicated, he lied, he had a temper, he

226863

was not a martyr or a saint, he doesn't need to be protected today. And,
yes, Currie exaggerated, but no one else wanted to take on the task of
Biographer. Syme and Cunningham knew what he wrote, and they let it
be. Maybe we should cut Currie just a wee bit of slack, but not too much.

Because of the forthcoming edition of Burns Life and Works Agnes had
been corresponding with Maria Riddell regarding her letters, and she in
turn had been corresponding with James Currie regarding Agnes. The
following from several Burns Chronicles, are extracts from Maria's letters
to him.

London, 9th December 1796
'I had a most inimitable letter from “Clarinda” lately. If you and Mr.
Roscoe are B.'s biographers, I must obtain permission to entrust some of
those letters to you. They contain treasures relative to him. She wrote me
last day by Dr. Moyes, who had desired an introduction; but I find it is not
easy for a blind philosopher, his inclination to be what it will, to make
rendezvous...'

13 Bridge Street, Westminster, 12th January 1797
'…...Clarinda is stilI a faithful correspondent, and her letters full of the
most inestimable anecdote for Burns's biographers. I must and will
demand permission to communicate to you, when required.'

Duke Street, St James 18, 19th January 1797
'I wrote yesterday to Clarinda to continue her communications. I
conceived it cruel to trespass on her sensibility unless they were likely to
be of service to you. I send with this packet containing her letters. Most of
them contain some interesting passages relative to our Poet, those that did
not I have destroyed. I declare I think, after all, the packet will be scarcely
worth its postage, to you even, and there was no such thing as reasonably
desiring either peer or commoner to frank so many at a time. This has
absolutely been the discreet cause of my withholding them so long from
you. I have just number'd them in order for your perusal, and as you
asked me once before, have enclosed the copies of some of my letters to
Clarinda relative to Burns's death. I send them to you just as she got them
copied; if I had once looked over them I am sure I should have put them
into the fire. Clarinda's are, I perceive, too enthusiastic to be perused when
one is de sang froid, and mine were written under the immediate and
powerful impression of circumstances and scenes that affected me
extremely, most of them written with great dispatch, much feeling, and
little reflection, and at the time of poor B----'s death. Clarinda was, from
her talents, misfortunes, and their mutual attachment, a very interesting
object to all B----'s friends. Now pray do not display all this nonsensical

228647

correspondence, but when you have made what use you can of it, lay it
aside to send me back again; I entrust it to you on that condition only. I
have not time to take extracts, so rely on your fidelity in this respect ... ';
Adieu! Believe me, faithfully yours, MARIA RIDDELL.

London 17th February 1797
'As for the lines to Clarinda, unless anecdotes were circulated with them
calculated to attach the sentiments to himself, I own I do not see why they
can be thought to affix more censurability upon Burns, than the Epistle of
Elouise to Abelard did upon Pope. Pray lay those sketches of mine upon
the shelf; something better may be made of them if they contain materials
worth working upon, but in the present state you have them with "all their
imperfections on their head," some of which are very glaring indeed. What
have you done with the copy of B-'s Poems I lent you to refer to? If you
know of no private opportunity likely to occur shortly, I shall request you
to forward them to me by the ordinary channel; the two volumes are a
necessary vade mecum with me. Clarinda's letters, I tell you candidly, I will
entrust to no biographer of Burns except yourself, nor do I esteem my
yielding the perusal to you justifiable on any other score. I do not know
Mr. Alison even by name, but Burns's biographer must be a liberal and
even an independent man. These qualifications are not frequent among the
Scots Clergy......' -Believe me, your sincere and faithful MARIA RIDDELL.

Bloxworth, 28th September 1797
'You know the nature of "Clarinda's" letters; I do not know if she could
not afford you some assistance. I will look over her letters to me again. I
left them at Kingston Hall. Yet, after all, they are of so private a nature I
am not clear you could make anything of them for your purpose.'

Kingston Hall 20th November 1797
'I now attend to you again, my dear Sir... Well but of Clarinda's
correspondence I declare I know not how to act in it but will be guided
willingly by you. You formerly begged me to entrust to you such letters of
Clarinda's to myself as related to Burns, as well as those I wrote in return
giving her the information she required of the particulars of his death, &c.
One or two of these you saw at Liverpool, I believe. Of my own letters,
upon my honour, I do not think you can make much use, for half of them
are very nonsensical; and Clarinda's contain private anecdotes of his
history, his marriage, and so forth, that I can conceive the public will have
nothing to do with. Of Burns's letters to her I can only procure a partial
selection, as you may suppose, from the fair one herself; but I will write to
her to-morrow for all she will give, and if you after this account still wish
to have the reading of them, I have nothing to refuse you, and they shall be
sent you in any way you will appoint: none occur to me at present except a
parcel by the mail, and the thing is whether you think them worth that

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method of conveyance. Let me know by a line, and your will shall be done
immediately.'

Bloxworth, 6th December 1797
'You forgot, after all, one of the main purports of my letter-relative to
Clarinda. I now inclose you a letter I received from her two days ago; you
will read it and let me know in consequence whether you wish for any of
these Extracts from Burns's letters, and if any passages concerning Him, in
mine to her, will be worth your looking over. Have you heard of these said
Memoirs of Burns, by one Heron? Clarinda mentions them. I dare say they
are no great things. If you approve a continuation of this selection from his
letters to Clarinda, I conclude you would prefer those delineating his
feelings, sentiments, and opinions on every subject, with as little of the
love episodes as possible. The concluding passage in that extract of
Clarinda's does great honor to Burns's religion; you will be pleased with,
and I dare say will find use for it. I have, since this was begun, received
more papers from Clarinda. If Syme has not been satisfactory to you on the
subject of Burns's closing scene I really will, on farther consideration, give
my letters to Clarinda into your hands. Now, without sitting down to
write me a regular epistle, just scrawl me a line or two by the earliest post,
or make one of your young men do so, to let me know if I shall continue to
send you any of these extracts, &c., Clarinda forwards to me.......I shall
now busily set about preparing my copies, &c., of my own and Clarinda's
letters, with those of Burns's she sends me, en attendant your orders for
sending them, which I shall look for soon, if at all......Pray lay apart the
letters, &c., I send, or may send, you from Clarinda, to return me when
done with, as I should not like wholly to resign them.' -Addio! Yours very
faithfully, MARIA RIDDELL.

18 Duke Street, St James, 10th June 1798
'En passant, you have never returned me, or acknowledged even the
receipt of, Clarinda's letters; I wish, if you have taken your extracts, or in
short done with them, that you would return them to me before I leave
London. Have you not some other papers of mine beside?' -Adieu! Health
and Fraternity! MARIA RIDDEL

Sunday, 7th July 1798
'... I recommend all the MSS. you possess of mine, Clarinda's letters, &c.,
to your care till an opportunity occurs to remit them to me .... Here,
however, is my list copied, and I have manufactured another epistle to
Fullarton, bidding him, if his list is not in time to catch me, forward it to
you or McCreery at Liverpool.'

Kew Road, Richmond, 9th April 1799
'…...P.S.'... When do you mean to return me Clarinda's letters and all the
valuable MSS. you contrived to coax me out of?'

228669

Kingston Hall, Wimbourne, Dorset, 28th December 1799
'My dear Doctor, -Make what use you please of me and mine. Those
letters to Clarinda are rather fantastical, I believe, being written under the
immediate impression when enthusiasm about "the archangel ..." and all
that related to him and his excentricities [sic], was most prevalent in my
mind. I shall not ask for a review, to correct them, as I would otherwise
have done, since you intend undertaking the office. It must indeed be base
coin which your improving hand cannot amend so as at least to make it
pass comment. I have dropped Clarinda's correspondence, which was
quite unnecessary when our aim was once accomplished - in part at least.
Other circumstances I have since been apprized of, or rather which have
been hinted to me, render me unwilling to have my correspondence with
her noticed further than between Syme, you, and myself. So what you let
the public participate in must be as communications to yourself, if you
chuse it, to person or persons unknown, in short certainly not to Her, as
her writing that introductory epistle to me which I believe you have in
your custody, and the romantic spirit that dictated it (which, I confess, I
admired extremely, especially from the frame of mind in which it found
me) not being previously communicated, my intercourse with a woman so
circumstanced might provoke a little good-natured criticism, and is
altogether unfit for the knowledge of the profane. I recollect (it may seem
an affectation, but it is true) not one sentence of the contents of any of
those letters, having retained no duplicates from the copies I lent you; but I
am sure they contain nothing but facts and probably some little
interesting, but all I did or can recollect, of that interview, to which I often
recur in remembrance with pleasure and with regret!'

Jermyn Street, 6th May 1800
'…...I hope you have kept my correspondence with Clarinda entre nous. I
have had the ingenuity to get back my letters, alleging their utility for
furnishing information to Burns's biographer, and I have heard some
circumstances of our Bard's heroine that have rather diminished my
Sentimental ardour! And I was a little afraid for the future sake of those
rare epistles of mine, which might, all things considered, have placed me
in an awkward predicament.'

Tunbridge Wells, July 1800
'…...I see you have drawn a veil over the connection and correspondence
with Clarinda; a strange and unfathomable anecdote in the history of our
friend's sentimental errors and inconsistencies. And circumstances as all
things were, I do not see how you could have acted otherwise or more
correctly.'

It is to be noted that Currie was not the first Biographer of Burns. That

227807

accolade goes to Robert Heron, a writer from Creehead, New Galloway,
born in 1764. In 1797/1796 he wrote his ‘Memoire of the Life of the Late Robert
Burns’. Heron met Burns at the home of Dr. Blacklock when Burns came to
Edinburgh. In 1789 Heron visited Burns at Ellisland and was trusted to
deliver a letter to Dr. Blacklock on Heron’s return to Edinburgh, this he
did not do, and it angered Burns. Burns wrote in his Epistle to Dr.
Blacklock.

The ill-thief blaw the Heron south!
And never drink be near his drouth!
He tauld myself by word o' mouth,

He'd tak my letter,
I lippened to the chief in trouth,

And bade no better.
But aiblins, honest Master Heron
Had, at the time, some dainty fair one,

To ware his theologic care on
And holy study;

And tired o' sould to waste his lear on,
E'en tried the body.

Heron was not pleased at this rhyme, and it probably contributed to his
less than honest ‘Memoire’. Heron and Currie were the instigators of many
slanders and false accusations made against Burns’ and his lifestyle.
Though Robert Burns was no innocent, what these men wrote was nothing
but character assassination, for their own reasons.

Having moved to London in 1799, Heron amassed debts and because of
this, was incarcerated in Newgate prison by his creditors. He developed a
fever in Newgate in 1807 and was transferred to St Pancras Hospital, the
Fever Hospital, where he died a week later, on 13th April 1807.

228781

REMAINS OF THE DAY

1810-1841

As for Agnes MacLehose and the rest of her life, well it was nothing more
than ordinary, just like everyone else. She had already had her 15 weeks or
so in the sun, a lot longer than the future Andy Warhole's 15 minutes
quote, and after the biographies and collections of poems were published,
she gained a kind of renown, even notoriety, which could be quite fun for
an upwardly mobile middle-aged matron in her forties. She was pointed
out in the street and nodded at, a genteel version of today's celebrity, and
she loved the attention.

Sometime in 1810 Agnes moved from the Potterrow to 3 Calton Hill,
where she lived for about a year. In 1811 she again moved, up the road a
little to number 14 Calton Hill, where she remained for the rest of her life.
The first move may have been made due to Andrew getting married,
which he did in 1809 to Mary Goodrum. The couple had three sons,
unfortunately one died as a baby and another died as a young man. Agnes
got on very well with her daughter-in-law as can be read in her letters. The
letters also show that Agnes lived quite a social life and was not parading
around Edinburgh hand on forehead, sighing at the name of Burns.

Letter to Mary MacLehose from Borthwick 11th August 1812, 3.00pm
My Dear Mary,

I received your letter and the shoes only an hour ago. Owing to the
carelessness of the Guard the parcel was carried on to Bankhouse and had
it not been for the Landlord knowing me and observing the direction in
the way bill it would have had a much longer journey, probably to Carlisle
and I suppose a very uncertain return.

This information I received on my return hither this forenoon from an
excursion on horseback with Mr. Adniston. We left this yesterday morning
with an intention to risk two romantic leagues in a remote situation about
thirty miles up the country towards Hawick. But on reaching Innerleithen
we got so unfavourable an account of the roads, of the accommodation etc.
that we altered our scheme and rode down the banks of the Tweed to
Clovenford, the small Inn where you remember we stopped on our way
from Selkirk to Bankhouse. The house has been enlarged lately but the fare
is still very poor, however we got good beds to compensate for a very bad
dinner.

We had a pleasant walk in the evening to Yair and concluded the night
with a game at picquet. We rode home this forenoon. I had almost omitted

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to mention that I met Mr. A. at Dalkeith on Friday and accompanied him
hither in the Gig. Mr. Cranstoun and Mr. David Gray dined with us that
day. We took a short ride on Saturday and on Sunday went (as in duty
bound) to Church. Mr. John Borthwick dined with us after sermon. Thus,
ends my journal.

I am happy to hear that you and 'my two pretty boys' are well. I hope you
take great care of yourself and avoid all unnecessary anxiety which is so
prejudicial to your health. The loss of your little nephew would be a great
shock to you and most distracting to his parents. Poor Hannah has really
been very unfortunate in her family. I think my/your mother should call
on Mrs. Fraser and report progress to our (torn manuscript) friend at the
post office Cambridge, but if she wrote on Sunday or even yesterday to
Peterborough it will probably reach him. Give my kind love to
Grandmama and tell her I hope William is more (torn manuscript). If the
servant who carries this to Middleton shall bring back any letter requiring
immediate attention, I propose returning to Edinburgh tomorrow
forenoon but if there is nothing very urgent I will not return till Thursday
where Mr. Adniston and I are to go on a Gig and we will have the pleasure
of dining with you at four. You may have some fish and a bit of roast beef
or mutton for us. We will probably reach Picardy (5 Picardy Place) about
one or two o'clock. We have had fine weather, and everything here is
very agreeable still. I begin to long for a sight of you and the dear boys.

Addio mia cara
I am most affectedly/affectively yours
A. C. M. (Agnes Craig McLehose)

Best respects to Mrs. Thomson

Agnes mentioning worshipping in Borthwick Church and the bracketed
'as in duty bound' is susceptible of more than one interpretation. The
minister John Clunie of Borthwick had been a friend of Burns, who styled
him 'a worthy little fellow of a clergyman.' The poet and Stephen Clarke spent
an evening with Clunie in 1787 and it was on that occasion that the words
of the song 'Ca the Yowes to the Knowes' which Clunie sang were taken
down by Clarke. The two pretty boys were Agnes grandsons, one of
whom was named William Craig MacLehose, who in 1843 wrote the
memoir of his celebrated grandmother.

Kerse is a small property on the banks of the Nethan Water, a little to the
north of Lesmahagow, Lanarkshire. Agnes stayed some days in the
neighbourhood under the hospitable roof of Mr. & Mrs. Clarke, had
pleasant walks in the vicinity and saw Auchtyfardle which summoned up
many a tender recollection, Agnes having visited there more than forty

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years before. It is a lively colourful account to Mary of her doings there

Kerse 20th August 1813
My Dear Mary,

I take up my pen with pleasure to comply with your request that I would
write to you.

About half past one o'clock I arrived in safety at Lanark where I found
Mrs. Clarke and Mrs. George Hamilton who is staying here waiting for me
at the Inn. We got here to dinner about four and I received the same kind
welcome from Mr. Clarke I had done from his lady on my arrival.
Although I had heard much of the beauty of Kerse before, it surpasses all
my expectation. Never did I behold a place more lovely or romantic, even
Eldon must yield to it, being both more extensive and laid out with
superior taste. Nothing can exceed the attention and hospitality of the
owners toward their guests.

On Wednesday we had a long walk through a beautiful wood planted ten
years ago by Mr. Clarke, situated on the banks of the limped river named
the Nethan. Through the trees I saw my old acquaintance, Auchtyfardle.
There I had lived more than forty years ago with my angel sister (Mrs.
Margaret Kennedy), and you may believe I could not view the house even at
half a mile's distance, without many a tender recollection. I felt impatient
to visit the scene of my youthful days but was informed Mrs. Mosman was
in a state of great agitiation, her eldest son being with Lord Wellington.
They awaited the account of his safety with fearful anxious expectation.
We were all interested to hear the result of the last engagement.

Yesterday one of his servants brought notice to us while at breakfast that
the mail coach had passed with a flag flying announcing a complete
victory. Mrs. Mosman soon after sent the newspapers, accompanied by the
pleasing intelligence that their minds were relieved. Her son's name
appeared not either in the list of the killed or wounded. This put us all in
good spirits and we ladies took a walk before dinner to the village of
Lesmahagow and called at a niece of Mrs. Clarke's who is married to a Mr.
Macirdie who has built a fine house at a place called Birkwood, in the
vicinity of the village which is reckoned the most beautifully situated of
any village in Scotland (Upper Birkwood was sold to John McKirdy, born
4/7/1764. He married a Mary Elliot).

It was five before we got home to dinner. Indeed, I thought we never
should have got our hostess out of the village, her manners are so frank
and kind. She called at many shops and accosted everyone she met with
such kind condescention. Both her and Mr. C. are adored here by their
servants, their neighbours and the poor.

I never saw a couple so much improved. Mr. Clarke is one of the most

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intelligent pleasant men I ever met with and though strictly bias it is of
that rational unostentatious kind which must command respect even from
the most dissolute sceptic. I have heard neither prayers nor singing of
psalms since I came. Once or twice we have had some conversation tinged
with the serious, enough so to show me his mind is settled on the great
points of religion which secures his bosom's peace.

In general, we have most cheerful, even gay conversations, sometimes
amusing about old friends and old stories of our native city and D /Mr. C.
accompanies with such genuine strokes of wit and humour as render them
truly entertaining. Mr. C. has read a great deal and he writes large books
both of prose and verse some of which he kindly allows me to peruse.

They have adopted a lovely little girl of Mr. Wilkies about a month
younger than our dear 'Wingy'. She is, if possible, more an idol with them
than he is with you. She is bigger than William, talks quite distinctly and
can repeat her catechism and two psalms six months ago. Yet, I may be
partial perhaps, but I think she is neither so lovely nor so engaging a child
as our darling William. You know we never thought Mary and (unknown
word) engaging, Jean is just a good likeness of her.

Mrs. Kennedy (James Kennedy's second wife, Janet Orr) is at Aughtifardle,
and yesterday sent me a letter from Mrs. Bogle (Agnes' niece, Margaret) she
had kindly enclosed to her. It is a very kind one. After expressing her
thanks for the kindness shown by us all to Margaret, (either Margaret herself
or her daughter, Margaret Orr) she tells me of going to Largs adding that she
will be home by the middle or end of September when she hopes to see me
in Glasgow. It is most likely I shall accept as I cannot have so good an
opportunity as now. Mr. & Mrs. Macirdie are to dine here today and we
expect an invitation very soon to spend the day at Aughtifardle.

I hope you continue to be in strength my dear by bathing in good air and
that our beloved is well and the little one’s hearty and wild as usual. Do
write me on receipt for I long to hear of you all and, if anything good has
occurred about you or the place.

Tell A. (Andrew) I am very abstemious here. They have always a good
dinner but no variety of dishes. Hodge-Podge, a joint and vegetables,
never a remove. None of them taste supper. I eat my fresh egg or cheese or
vegetables and my porter or toddy, in which Mrs. H. partakes sometimes.
In short if I could but see you all I should have everything here I could
desire. Tell him also that henceforward I shall believe you as a prophetess
not him as a prophet. Again, I beseech you to write immediately. Mrs. C.
has just popped in to give me wax to seal this, she desires her and Mr.
Clarke's best respects to you and Andrew and hopes to see you at Kerse as
soon as convenient. Her whole demeanor is such as makes me forget the
past and believe her perfectly sincere in her kind attentions.

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My love to Andrew and the darlings, and believe me your affectionate
mother

A. McLehose.
Kisses to my lamb
P.S. Remember me to Mrs. Blackwell.

Agnes' understandable fears about her reputation after Currie's Four
Volume Edition of Burns was published in 1800, proved to be groundless.
She may have felt a little miffed about that, well the writer, poet and
performer in her might have. It is not known if she ever bought a copy of
the volumes, though maybe some kind-hearted person might have gifted a
copy to her. It certainly wouldn't have been William Craig. When it did get
around eventually that she was the Clarinda of the poems, she very
quickly fitted into her fame, and lived it. Burns was dead now, so she was
the mistress, director and editor of the story of Clarinda and Sylvander,
and as every historian knows, it is the victor, or survivor, who writes the
history. She was a walking legend in Edinburgh aged just past 40.

Instead of being Agnes MacLehose, deserted wife, she was now ‘The
'Clarinda’ of Burns' fame. She became an Edinburgh celebrity, and that
lasted until the end of her life. Her social whirl, though not lacking before,
became even whirlier and she was talked of and to in the streets by people
wanting to hear about the 'real' Burns. She was as honest as her memory
could recollect or allow her. Some thought that she was a bit flighty, but
many people listened to her and her stories. Over the years, every time
things quietened down, an article on Burns would appear in the paper, or
a new edition of Burns poetry would be published, and for Agnes it all
began again. She was interviewed by the hopeful authors and refused
requests from well- known people to sit for a portrait, all we have left of
her image is the Miers Silhouette. To the day she died she was always the
Mrs. MacLehose of 'Clarinda' fame, even in her obituary.

Apart from the wave of interest when a new edition was issued, life for
Agnes was interesting but quite normal, and not very exciting. There were
two events that stuck out though. The first one was meeting with James
Glencairn Burns and the second and most important was a meeting with
Jean Armour.

The first took place in 1825 and she sent a letter to a friend, John Aitken,
asking if he would like to be there.

Calton Hill
Sat. 3rd December, 1825(?)

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My Dear Sir,
I have just received a note from Mr. Ainslie, telling me 'Capt. Burns from

India', the poet's son, is to call on me at 12 o'clock forenoon'. -It has
occurred to me that you would like to see him. You, do come at that hour
much I owe you for many favours and kind attention. I only wish I had it
in my power to make many returns. Good wishes are all alas! in my
power. These you and your dear admirable family have and always shall.

Ever yours Sincerely,
A. MacLehose.

P.S. Capn. Burns, leaves Edbr immediately! so it is the only time to see
him (if you wish it).

Mr. Aitken did wish it and did turn up for the meeting. At the foot of
Agnes' letter, he wrote

'I accepted the invitation and met Capt. Burns. He is 34 years of age, under
middle size -and stout - rather the worse for wear in a burning climate. There are
no hair brained sentimental traces about the son of the Bard. He seems a matter of
fact man - says little and not in feature resembles his father, if except one piercing
black eye - only one'. J.A.

In 1828 a J.S. Sibbald had written a Memoir of Burns, and in it he had
made some unflattering remarks about Agnes. Andrew, her son, was very
angry at the man and wrote to him demanding an apology. Sibbald replied

5 May 1828
Sir,

I am heartily sorry to find that I have in rashness and ignorance offered
offence to the feelings of yourself and your family. I trusted to notes and
letters of people in whom I thought every trust might be placed - and they
also I doubt not, had been deceived themselves.

What is in my power I (hastily have) done. Should another edition of the
Memoir of Burns be called for I shall take care to alter the passage so as to
meet, I hope & trust, your approbation.

Never having had the least communication with Sir W. Scott and any of
the subjects mentioned in your letter which I take leave to decline showing
him your letter which might give pain where I feel satisfied no such
infliction is due or were the whole circumstances understood would be so
considered by yourself.

I have the honour to be Sir with many thanks for the courteous manner in
which you have against a severe tho' most unintentional injury.

Your misquoted humble svt.
J.S. Sibbald

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P.S. I must protest against being understood to have meant to hazard any
imputation against the character of your relative. I had no intention of
doing so and if other people so interpreted my language I am heartily
grieved, for the result of my own hasty and inaccurate mode of
compilation. But I offer nothing as an apology - I have none for I ought to
have inquired and considered (what) I wrote and printed. J.S.S.

In 1834 Allan Cunningham was intent on issuing a new of the Life and
Works of Burns. He asked Agnes if she would agree to her letters being
included in the Edition. Agnes refused his request, she had become very
wary of giving her permission. Her letter to Cunningham explaining her
refusal is dated 16th July 1834.
…...Mrs. James Gray, then Miss Peacock, and Mr. Grahame, the author of
'The Sabbath,' (two of my most valued and lamented friends,) applied to
me on behalf of a literary gentleman of the name of Findlay, who was then
engaged in writing a Life of the Poet, for permission to make a few extracts
from the Letters to enrich his Life. This was unfortunately granted; and the
Letters lent to Mr. Findlay by Mr. Grahame under this express condition,
that a few extracts inserted in the Life was the sole permission granted to
him. Besides making the use of the Letters, Mr. Findlay gave permission to
a bookseller to publish all the Letters which had been intrusted to him, and
added, most falsely, in an advertisement prefixed to them, that this was
done with my permission, ('condescension,' as he termed it) and that the
editor was vested with the sole power to publish these Letters. Nothing
could be more contrary to the truth. (Ae Fond Kiss, edited by Donny
O'Rourke, 2001. Preface to the 1843 Edition of the Letters by W.C.
MacLehose).

In 1828 Jean Armour was invited to Edinburgh by George Thomson. He
had asked her through on many occasions and she had declined his
invitations, but this time she decided to accept. She stayed at his house in
High Street and met many people who had once known her husband all
those years ago, she even met Walter Scott. It was hard to fit the fat,
wrinkled old men with the descriptions that Burns had given her of them
in their heyday - but people and times change, and the proof was right in
front of her. She was looking forward to meeting the legendary Clarinda.
It would be nice to see what her competition of forty years previously
looked like now, aged 70, she had never seen Agnes, apart from the
silhouette by Miers, which Burns still had in his possession when he died,
an image Burns often gazed on - just for inspiration?

Agnes didn't know what to expect in meeting with Jean, she felt a bit

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guilty, but for what? 1788 was a long time ago, forty years, for everyone
concerned, and nothing had happened between her and Burns. Still it
might be an uncomfortable situation if on meeting face to face they hated
each other at first sight. The question might be how much should she talk
about Burns without it sounding that she was still a love lorn follower?

Agnes turned up at George Thomson's house and was let in by the maid
servant. Thomson took her through to meet Jean who was in the parlour
waiting. Jean rose from her chair and after the introduction he left them
alone. There was no report back of the meeting, as it was just the two
women in the room together, everything is a 'maybe they'... What did
come out of it was that both women seemed to hit it off once the
awkwardness had worn off. They could see in each other what Burns saw
in them, and Jean knew that there had been nothing physical between him
and Agnes, but she could see why Burns might have tried his hand. Jean
finally realised that Agnes had never been a threat to her, and as Agnes
left, she realised why Burns had chosen to marry his Jean. Jean later said,
“I well remember the visit by Agnes McLehose, we had tea together and talked at
length about our families, it was most evident that she had a fondness for Robert.”
(Burns Chronicle 2010).

As the years advanced her peers began to age, fade and die. But it was the
death of the young that was so unjust. Her second grandson died in 1832
aged 20, her third had died at only seven months in 1816. Mary, her
beloved daughter-in-law, died in 1838. Approaching her final years, all she
had left were Andrew, his son William in America and Margaret Bogle in
Glasgow.

Gone was William Craig in 1813, James MacLehose in 1812, John
MacLaurin in 1796. Mary Peacock passed in 1829, far from home, followed
in 1830 by James Gray, her husband. Poor Jenny Clow in 1792! John Kemp,
she missed his sermons. Miss Nimmo, her busyness! Maria Riddell in 1808.
Robert Ainslie's wife in 1837, she had a copy of the letter she sent to him.

From Mrs. MacLehose, Calton Hill
Written, immediately on the death of Mrs. A. 13th January 1837

Robert Ainslie, Esq,
Grahame Street

My Dear Friend,
I have not language to express, what I felt yesterday, on receiving, your

card of the Death of your Excellent wife.
She was indeed, a very superior woman and one, I mightily esteemed &

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loved! and I cannot, doubt is in Heaven! Far happier than any of us! May
this, be your consolation.

I feel for you deeply & most Sincerely & that the Almighty may comfort
you under it, it is, and ever will be the sincere wish & prayer of your old
and affectionate friend.

Agnes MacLehose

Robert Ainslie outlasted his wife by just fifteen months, he was Agnes' last
connection to Robert Burns. Like her he saw, he remembered, he had lived
it.

She was surprised to hear one day in 1834 that she had survived Jean
Armour, she didn't expect that. And, never forgotten, the bringer of, the
creator of it all, Robert Burns himself! She was now the last of that mad,
exciting, thrilling, unforgettable, magical time of nearly fifty years ago. She
was now the Keeper of the Memory. It seemed fitting, Burns began it for
all of them, and Agnes would be the one to wrap it all up.

So many people! So many memories! So many hopes and dreams! So
much laughter! So much youth! So much life! Where does it all go to, she
wondered, all that energy, all that love, all those unfulfilled expectations?
Too many hard questions for her old addled mind she decided, as she
prepared herself for her daily constitutional in her adopted city.

1839

Through so many deaths, the death of her son Andrew was the most
shocking. He died in April 1839, a year after his wife. Agnes felt that God
was stripping her bare of all the people she had ever cared about. No
matter how she tried she could not see His purpose in it. She was scared
for her grandson William. Would he be the next in God's plan? He was
only 29 and was in America and surely had a long lifetime before him, just
like she had had, but she was afraid even to hope for that for him. She
thought she was alone when she came to Edinburgh nearly sixty years
ago, now she felt alone and afraid. Her belief in the goodness of God was
sorely tested. Her friends gathered round her, but all she wanted was her
son. He was her rock and now he was gone. The world had become a more
insecure place.

Just to get up in the morning took more energy than she could muster, and
so daily she stayed in bed a bit longer than normal. Fatigue then crept in
and depression hit her very hard. As the Spring moved to Summer, Agnes

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realised that she had to uplift her spirits, it is what Andrew would have
wanted and would have expected of her. Her servant Margaret, who was
most solicitous of her, gently helped her return to the world outside. She
did it slowly, and accepted visitors when she was ready. Her hearing was
gradually dulling, so she did not fit in well with larger gatherings. She was
happiest when she was at home with just one or two people to talk to, she
could concentrate better.

In the Burns Chronicle for 2003, there is a letter describing Agnes' son's
death. It is written by Margaret Gray, surmised to be her servant/carer.

Edinburgh 21st April 1840
Dear Miss Lyle,

I thought I would just write you a few particulars concerning Mrs.
McLehose as I know you would be anxious to hear, she is in good health at
present looking well but drooping very fast, she does not know the
Sabbath day from any other day of the week. She has never been in
Picardy Place since Mrs. McLehose’s (her daughter-in-law) burial day, the
reason was always speaking to her son to take a situation and he was
inclined and before they died they were in the depths of poverty, they sold
everything that could produce money. And then they were obliged to get
some of old Mrs. McLehose silver plate to sell, to support them for five
years Miss Berry and Miss Campbell and other kind friends supported the
old Mistress greatly.

Mr. McLehose was up in his mother’s eight days before he died and
wrote a letter to his son. And his cough was a great deal better but his legs
and feet were greatly swollen, he went out two days after that to take a
walk and he fell and cut his brow which hastened on his death, two nights
before he died he was up in his mother’s but was obliged to be helped and
when he went away he kissed his mother and bade the Lord bless her and
by his looks I knew he would never be up again. And he was found dead
just the way he had lain down on his right side with his head turned and
his eyes looking upward, and when word came to her she fell back in her
chair and when she got around she wished to be put to bed she could not
go down to see his corps for she could not stand it. Miss Berry’s death
hurted her as much as his death.

The house that he was in was hers he had lifted £150 (c£17,740) upon it
the few (fue) duty had not been paid for some years and it was found
among his papers that she was come good to pay it, the thoughts of that
entirely took away her memory for she never could bear debt.

Her grandson wrote her after his father’s death that he would like to
come home but his purse would not afford it and she wrote back to him

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that she could not supply him, and he was greatly offended at it for he
never wrote to her again. She sees very few people by the reason that she
does not know them when they call. Mrs. Bogle (her niece Margaret) from
Glasgow was here last summer and looked over all her journals and
papers and put them all to rights she said that I was not to let her want for
nothing they were very kind to her they have all her affairs in their own
hands they give me so much at a time and I lay it out and give them in the
account.

I am very much confined with her she thinks I should never let out of her
sight my greatest cross is not getting out in the Sabbath day, but I trust in
the Lord will make up my want.

Barbara wishes to be kindly remembered to you she is doing wonderful
well. This is just a few particulars. Mrs. McLehose desires to be kindly
remembered to you and your sister and Miss Hardy she is always
speaking about you she thought she saw you one day passing by the
window she thought you have surely forgotten her as you did not come in
I had to tell her where you was and had never been in Edinburgh since
you left it. I say no more at present, but remain your well-wisher,

Margaret Gray.

When people called, the talk always focussed on Robert Burns, and Agnes
enjoyed that - these were her halcyon days, and, even if she couldn't
remember where she put the daily newspaper five minutes previously, she
could remember everything from that time as if it were yesterday. She
could still regale with her stories, lose herself in her recollections. She
realised that if she was talking about Burns and the past, she was not
thinking of the aching hole left in her heart from Andrew's death. She told
and retold all her tales of Burns and an Edinburgh of two generations past
to young and old. Famous people came to see her and ask her about those
she had known, and she felt it was her duty to tell them all she could
remember - after all she was the Keeper of the Memory, the last to recall.

Most who came to see her now were strangers, she was outliving all her
friends, many were young, but that was nice as she was passing on her
records to a new generation, and they never tired of hearing all she had to
impart. When it got too much for her, and she was tiring, Margaret would
politely usher them out with an invitation to come back another day.
Agnes would then lie back in her chair, close her eyes and drift backwards
in time to the best years, or to be more precise, fifteen weeks, of her life.

1841

228929

For an eighty plus year old, Agnes was quite active, and went for a slow
stroll almost daily, with her servant, Margaret. Apart from that, her life
was not as hectic, nor as full as it had been even ten years previously.
Luckily, for Agnes and for us, fate decreed that a Mrs. Moodie moved to
Edinburgh to near where Agnes lived. Mrs. Moodie was the widow of the
Commissary-General of Van Dieman's Land, and she kept a journal. She
got to know Agnes in her remaining months and she mentioned her in her
writings.

Edinburgh, 10th March 1841
I have been interested by nothing more in this Queen of Cities, with its
'palaces and towers', than by poor Burns's Monument. It is pleasant, in the
land of his nativity, to find the bard of nature, and of all time, in full
possession of that 'posthumous fame' which it was his delight to
contemplate in life, and to which he was confident his genius would
entitle him. An accidental circumstance improved by my curiosity (which I
beg to leave to dignify by denominating literary,) has brought me
acquainted with the one who was the friend and correspondent of the
poet. This is the celebrated 'Clarinda', who still lives, at the advanced age
of eighty-two near the Calton Hill. I have had many opportunities of
conversing with her. Her memory is greatly impaired and being also a
little deaf, and seldom now quitting her house, common occurrences have
ceased to interest her; even the affairs of the Kirk, which at present agitate
and divide all Scotland from John o' Groats' to the border, make no
impression on her mind. But it is satisfactory to observe how much
remains in that mind to cheer the hours of solitude and to give consolation
to the close of a life prolonged beyond the common lot......

30th March 1841
Owing to sickness in my family I did not see Mrs. MacLehose for a short
time. When I called, I found this interesting old lady much altered in
appearance, though not in spirits, she lives in great simplicity and is very
sensible of the great blessing of health.

June 1841
I still see her with interest; for, although her memory is much weakened
by time, and the severe shock she suffered about two years ago in the
sudden death of her son, yet her state is far from that of second childhood.
She is perfectly conscious that her intellectual powers are much abridged.
She remarked upon the loss of her memory, -'It was the strongest organ I
possessed: therefore, having been so much exercised, it is no wonder it has taken
leave the first.'
Although her memory is gone as to daily occurrences, yet her recollection
is extraordinary as to past events, particularly in reciting anecdotes in

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