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She finally told her friends what she had suffered at his hands and allowed
them to see her bruises. They were shocked but not surprised. She had
decided to leave him but needed to know that she would not be ostracised
for doing so, and they gave her the advice she wanted, to leave him for the
sake of her children, and her life. With their support, she arrived at the
door of her father, five months pregnant and with two children in tow,
seeking sanctuary. It was December 1780 and it was the best Christmas
present that Andrew Craig had ever received.

When James MacLehose arrived home on that cold December night in
1780, he was surprised to find no fire in the grate, no smell of cooking in
the kitchen and no children round his ankles. The silence bit colder than
the weather. Lighting a few candles, he looked around, everything was as
it should be, neat and tidy. Where was his wife? Taking down a glass he
poured himself a large measure of brandy and swallowed it in a gulp, at
least it put some heat into him. Filling it up again he put the glass on the
mantle shelf while he set to lighting the fire which had been left ready, the
flames soon ate up the dry wood. Reaching again for the brandy he sat on
one of the fireside chairs, he felt the heat of the fire starting at his shins,
soon he would be warm all over, inside and out. Where was that woman
he thought, before his eyes closed for the night?

Agnes and the children were not back when he awoke, James realised that
something was seriously wrong. He could not think on an empty stomach,
so after quaffing a large brandy he headed off to one of the taverns for
more breakfast. Meeting one of his near neighbours on the way he asked
the man if he had seen Agnes. Apparently, she had been seen leaving a
couple of days before with the children, but hadn't been back, that the
neighbour was aware of. Was there anything wrong? Thinking on his feet
MacLehose told him that she had taken his children and all his money
when he was out at work. The man thought that Agnes was better off
without him, but this was too much good gossip to let go to waste. After
wishing James the best of luck at finding her, the man rushed home to tell
his wife the latest.

The only place she would have gone to was to her father's house, and after
his vintner breakfast, which had given him time to think, he visited her
friends asking if perchance she was with them. How people love to see the
mighty fall, and he would make sure Agnes' reputation was dragged
through the mud. Her friends knew he was lying and the real ones put
him in his place, but those with an axe to grind took him in and listened to
his tale. After a few sympathetic glasses of spirit, he again returned to the

3541

desolate house and fell asleep on his chair. It was freezing cold when he
awoke as he had not prepared the fire. He might as well go to work.

Soon, he finally knew for certain where she was and visited Agnes at her
father's house. Andrew had once again put a ban on him crossing the
threshold, so if he and Agnes needed to talk it meant that they had to go to
one of the coffee houses in the Trongate. It was getting nearer and nearer
to Christmas and MacLehose thought he could talk her round with offers
of presents for her and the children, and bigger promises of himself
changing. It had worked before, no reason why it shouldn't work again.
But shockingly, this time Agnes refused. She had stripped herself
emotionally and humiliatingly bare in front of her father and her friends
and let them know what MacLehose had put her through. If they hadn't
believed her words, then they certainly believed her bruises when she
revealed them.

She was to write in her journal years later 'Only a short time had elapsed ere I
perceived with inexpressible regret, that our dispositions, tempers and sentiments,
were so totally different, as to banish all hopes of happiness. Our disagreements
rose to such a height and my husband's treatment was so harsh, that it was
thought advisable by my friends a separation should take place; which accordingly
followed in December 1780.'

She told her errant husband that she didn't need his support any longer.
Her father was delighted to support her and the boys. If she was stupid
enough to return to him after all she had been through she would lose the
little credibility and respect she had left in her. Apart from that she told
him that she finally realised that she neither loved, liked, nor funnily
enough, even hated him anymore. He had beaten any feeling, any emotion
from her. Yes, she could go back to him. Yes, she could stay away from
him. Whatever she did, it would be her choice, and her choice was to live
with her father, the only man who had ever loved her. She wanted her
boys to be brought up in a house where they would see what a true man
was.

MacLehose was caught off guard at hearing this. Agnes had turned the
tables on him and in a spectacular way. He realised that this was no time
to fight a losing corner. He paid for their coffees and left. Agnes let him get
out of sight before heading home to her father and her sons. The cold wind
gusting along Argyle Street finally cleared the remains of the rose-
coloured blindfold from her eyes as she headed home towards the
Trongate and safety. Andrew Craig held her tightly to him when she

5325

returned. Agnes didn't cry, there were no tears left to shed for her
disastrous marriage.

MacLehose tried on several occasions to get Agnes to return to him, but
she stuck to her guns. Christmas 1780 came and went as did the New Year
of 1781, and they were the most peaceful she had had in years. Sober and
drunk MacLehose knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life in
underestimating his wife, she was much braver and more intelligent than
he had given her credit for. But he still had one card up his sleeve to get
her back, though he would have to wait a few months before he could play
it.

James MacLehose jnr. was born on 1st May 1781 in Andrew Craig's house
in the Saltmarket. It had been so long since a new-born's cries had been
heard in the house. Both mother and child emerged well from the
experience, for Agnes this was the least traumatic birth she had ever gone
through. But peace was not to last long as June/July 1781, James
MacLehose crossed over the threshold he was barred from, and took the
children from Agnes and her father, as was his right in law, to be looked
after by his own family, although they had said that they did not want the
responsibility of the boys. As for the baby, he was given to a wet nurse, a
stranger, to look after.

MacLehose refused Agnes permission to see the children unless she came
back to him - unconditionally. Despite missing her children Agnes could
not agree to return under the terms produced to her. She was afraid to
return. MacLehose in his anger, drunk or sober, was capable of anything,
even killing her. Pragmatically she realised that she must stay away from
them and bide her time. She was made aware, by reports from friends,
how much the boys were not welcome in the MacLehose household, being
a drain on the finances of a family which was already owed so much by
their father. But Agnes knew she would get them back one day.

Every day without her children was a heart break. She was aware that
James hardly ever went near his children, nor did he pay anything toward
their keep. Not only that but he was spreading malicious stories about
Agnes among her friends, she was a bad mother, she had an eye for the
men, her father was sick of her living with him, her treatment of him was
appalling. It made for good gossip. She could hardly go anywhere in
Glasgow without meeting someone they both knew, or worse, some of his
unpleasant friends.

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Quite a few of MacLehose's friends openly told her that if she was
considering divorcing him, and it was understandable why she would
want to do that, then if she needed a shoulder to cry on, or 'anything else'
the 'friend' would be there for her. Every time she politely refused the
offer, the insulted man invented his own story of her. She was beginning
to feel besieged in her own city. She considered leaving Glasgow for
Edinburgh, but not while her father was alive and not with the hope of
someday getting her sons back.

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DECISION TIME

1781

Her father was ageing rapidly, though he was still occasionally working,
but a spark had left him. He had slowed down considerably since her
marriage, and the stress caused by the breakup didn't help him in any
way. Andrew Craig, being a doctor, knew he was very ill, but he had not
told Agnes how ill. She had enough on her plate, but she had to know
when he found himself unable to work after the boys were taken from her.
On the 10th January 1781 Andrew went to his lawyer to get a settlement
arranged in Agnes' favour if anything should suddenly happen to him -
this settlement cut James MacLehose out of everything. Agnes now looked
after her father twenty-four hours a day. She had access to the money in
his bank and so much of that was going on his medicines, which
unfortunately were not alleviating his medical problems.

Andrew knew that his illness was terminal, and he begged her to promise
that when he died she would never go back to MacLehose. Even more, he
made her swear that after he died, she would leave Glasgow, with or
without her sons. Apart from him there was really no one else here for her
to lean on. Apart from her boys there was nothing to hold her here. She
was entitled to a new life, one lived without fear or shame. She would get
her sons back one day and it would be best for them all to quit their native
city, away from the influence of the MacLehose family and James
MacLehose, who would always use them against her as a bargaining tool.
She had her cousin William Craig in Edinburgh, he had agreed to help her,
and her mother's cousin John MacLaurin. Though John wasn't the nicest of
men she might, as a last resort, turn to him for a little support as well.
Agnes agreed to think seriously about it, but it just firmed up the decision
that she had already arrived at, and she knew it was the only solution to
her problems.

By the fire at night, while her ailing father slept, Agnes would jot down
ideas for her future, pros and cons of remaining in Glasgow and the same
for moving to Edinburgh. Now and then MacLehose would turn up at her
father's door to talk to Agnes. They would go for coffee, while he tried to
convince her to come back to him and promising that he had changed
dramatically. That was not what she was hearing. The only reason she
tolerated these meetings was to hear how her children were faring.
MacLehose was aware of this and only ever mentioned the boys before
leaving, the crumbs of information dropped from a bully's plate. Agnes

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showed no emotion and thanked him for his coffee and his information on
the children. She never mentioned her father, or his illness, but MacLehose
had heard about it on the professional grapevine. He could bide his time,
when the old man died she would have no option but to scurry back to
him.

Christmas 1781 came and went, half the year without her children, and her
father slowly fading from her. She tried hard not to feel sorry for herself,
but this time of year made it almost impossible. She took responsibility for
her mistakes, James MacLehose was her biggest. She had been told,
warned off him and was too pig headed to change her mind or see what
was directly in front of her. Her father stirred in his sleep, at least the
laudanum gave him some rest. What kind of Christmas were her sons
having? She would pray for them, pray to get them back soon. Hopefully
they had not forgotten her. Closing her eyes, she pictured their faces as she
lay back into the fireside chair and drifted off into a deep sleep.

1782

Agnes and her father saw New Year 1782 in. She hoped that 1782 would
be easier than 1781. She could hear carousing in the street, people singing,
people fighting, all she wanted to do was cry her heart out - and run.
Bringing another glass of claret to her father's bed, she was aware of how
he had changed since the previous New Year. She knew, without a doubt,
that he would not see the next. What a good man and father he had been.
Even with his illness he had taken her and her children in without a
moment's hesitation. She did not know then how ill he was.

When he died, all she would have left would be her estranged children -
and James MacLehose. She promised herself she would never break the
word she had given to her dying father and return to him, and no matter
how long it took she would get her boys back. She was aware that she
would have to keep her plans for her future secret from MacLehose and
from everyone she knew until the very last minute.

Andrew took the glass offered by his smiling daughter. What a brave and
courageous woman she had become, he thought, he was so proud of her.
She had come through a lot this past year. She had seen far too much
sorrow in her twenty-three years, her mother's death, the deaths of her
siblings, a brutal marriage, her son's death and now she was watching
over him until he passed on and joined his waiting family.

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Agnes had the biggest heart he had ever come across, and MacLehose was
set on smashing it to smithereens. But Andrew knew his daughter, thrawn
she might have been when she married that snake but determined she
would stay in her intention never to go back to him. She had suffered
enough at her husband's hands, she knew she deserved better. Agnes
kissed him gently on the forehead as the old man sipped his wine and
wished him a good new year. His sleeping draft was in the wine and he
would soon drift off leaving Agnes with her pens, paper and plans for the
forthcoming year.

The winter months came and went, and Andrew Craig opened his eyes
each morning to see a new day he was not expecting. Each one became a
gift, and though dying, he never felt more alive in his life. Come the spring
he realised that it was time to recheck his Will. He sent for his lawyer and
went through his possessions and finances again. All was for Agnes. He
should have left her more, but his illness took up his savings. He set £50
(£7,884) aside and made sure that income from properties he rented out
were hers.

All in the house now belonged to her, she could sell what she did not
want. Most of all his intention was to make sure MacLehose did not get his
hands on anything. A wife was her husband's property, and anything she
had or inherited, unless written out with the authority of the law,
belonged to him. Andrew had had a codicil entered in his last will and
testament stating that nothing, not even a scraping from his shoe, was to
be touched by James MacLehose. He had the document read and checked
over to make sure MacLehose, a devious but competent lawyer, could not
find a loophole. With everything tied up Andrew Craig was ready to go in
peace.

Father and daughter celebrated Agnes' twenty-fourth birthday on the 26th
April 1782. Agnes made a small cake and they had a nice tea. The
poignancy of the day was not overlooked as each realised that this would
be the last birthday for Agnes that Andrew would see, but that was not to
be dwelt upon. They laughed and talked of Christian and Margaret, and
family in general His eyes sparked with life as they recalled as much as
they could remember of the past with them. He would not have long to
wait until he was reunited with them again, he thought to himself. James
MacLehose's name was not allowed to be mentioned on this special day.

Agnes never forgot that birthday, nor the morning she rose to find that her
father had died in the night. It was 13th May 1782 and the rain was still

4507

falling, it had been raining and cold since April. The previous day they
had celebrated Andrew's 65th birthday, and they had celebrated it well. It
was as if he had given her that day as a last memory of him, and now it
was his time to go, all was in order, he had sorted his Will and had done
right by her and he regretted nothing. There was no need for haste, she sat
by his bed holding his cold soft hand, her heart full of gratitude for his
bringing her so far this past eighteen months, never giving up on nor
turning his back on her. She knew for sure he was now with her mother
and that thought both gladdened and saddened her heart. Now she was
alone, and she would do what was necessary, what was best, and keep her
promise to him.

She cried, the tears fell soundless and sweet as they dropped on to the
lifeless hand of her father, a hand that had cured, a hand that had
caressed, a hand that had cared. Her tears were the last thing she would
give him to take to the grave, and they held no bitterness in them. Calm
was in the air and calm was now in the Craig home. She kissed his brow,
now free from pain, covered his face, pulled her cloak around her and left
the house to inform the Kirk, the Authorities, the Surgeons and the
Hospitals. Andrew Craig's funeral was well attended by all and sundry, he
had been well loved and respected, and was sorely missed by the
Saltmarket paupers.

James MacLehose was made aware of his father-in-law's death and he
waited for the call for him to come and collect his wife, her belongings and
her inheritance. Andrew Craig had a few worthwhile assets and
possessions including some rental properties, and he was looking forward
to owning them. He wasn't sure how much the old man had, but anything
would be better than nothing, and his family were bleating on at him
again for the money due to them for the upkeep of the children. He tried
to find information through Andrew's lawyers, but they told him nothing.

The awaited call from Agnes never came.

THE RECKONING

Soon after Andrew's funeral Agnes went to her father's legal advisors. She
felt bad at this, it was like grasping at blood money, but she knew she had
to be sensible. They informed her of her father's Will and bequests. £50
(£7,884) was a lot of money, it could help set her up in Edinburgh if she
chose to move. Her father's properties could be sold and what profit came
from the sale put in the bank. The flat belonged to the hospital, but she

5481

could sell the furniture which would give her more income. Best of all
Andrew Craig had made sure that her husband could not touch a penny of
her inheritance. Everything was legally hers and belonged to her alone.
Andrew had successfully protected her to the very end.

With her father's demise Agnes had plenty of time on her hands. She now
had to focus solely on her own future. She had a limited time to stay in the
flat as the hospital needed it for their next surgeon. This was the only
home she had ever known, and she was sad to leave it. Every corner of
every room held a memory, good and sad - but mainly good. In her head
she could hear the voices of her parents and her sister, and she could hear
the laughter. With a deep sigh she wiped her eyes. She had to decide for
definite whether she was to live in Glasgow or not, but in herself she knew
that there was only one answer to that question. She had promised her
father she would move, and it was the right thing to do.

Her mind was made up but, being Agnes, she needed to run it past a few
trusted friends first. Agnes always needed to voice herself, always needed
to ask advice, even though she had already made up her mind. By voicing
it she was on the first stage to making it happen, also by claiming it in
public she couldn't turn back.

Two weeks after her father's death, Agnes walked a few streets to the
house of one of her closest friends. There were five of them there that
afternoon, drinking tea and gossiping. When Agnes entered she was given
the special seat near the fire, which was lit on this coolish day. After
joining in the laughter and gossip Agnes told them that she was moving to
Edinburgh. The women, all her childhood friends, were saddened but
understood her reasons. They all knew James MacLehose too well. His
reputation lay in ruins around him. Much water had run under the bridge
since 1774 and that coach ride to Edinburgh, and each of them thought
that it was just by pure chance that it was not one of them in this situation,
because James MacLehose was a catch then, despite his faults. It could
have been any one of them leaving Glasgow behind.

She asked them to keep her decision secret, not wanting him to hear about
her move. Heaven knows what he would have done. She would be leaving
within the next few days as soon as the furniture was sold. When in
Edinburgh she would be unaware of what was happening to her sons, so
she asked if they would keep her informed of them, even if it was just a
sight of them in the street. If they ever had the chance to talk to the
children, then they were to tell them she loved them and would never give

4529

up hope of getting them back. Her friends agreed to everything and
through a torrent of tears the women bade farewell to Agnes, some of
them had been in her life since babyhood.

Now to get the furniture dealt with, she thought. Gathering herself
together she descended the stairwell. Good friends are hard to find, and
harder to keep, she reflected, and here was she leaving all hers behind. But
she had to be resolute, this was the only answer. That afternoon the
furniture was sold and set for collection the next day.

Agnes spent her last night in Glasgow in an empty house sleeping on an
old broken chair. She called for a cart-man to come early to collect her
trunk and bags for the Edinburgh coach, just as her father had done for her
eight years and a sorry lifetime ago. Looking at her belongings she thought
it did not amount to very much for twenty-four years of life, yet she would
still have given all she had to see her boys standing beside her, but this
was no time for self-pity. The cart-man readied her luggage for taking to
the depot at the Black Bull on Argyle Street, on the way she dropped the
keys for the flat into the hospital. Now there was no turning back.

With her head held high, her blonde hair glinting in the morning’s watery
sun, she turned along into Argyle Street. Anyone seeing the young
confident woman striding along the road, cart-man and luggage in tow,
wiping at her face, would think it was because of dust that was blowing in
her eyes, not the tears that were pouring from her heart. Agnes knew that
she would return to Glasgow and that return would be to collect her
children and bring them back to her where they belonged and, God
Willing! it would be soon.

6403

‘’

4641

AGNES AND ROBERT
BURNS

Edinburgh Again...Capital Life...The Little Blue Book
Robert Burns...Agnes Meets Burns...The Letters...Post

Burns

6425

EDINBURGH AGAIN

1782

It was five o'clock on a muggy June evening when Agnes reached the end
of her journey at the White Hart Inn depot situated in the Grassmarket in
Edinburgh. Nine hours and a heartbreak away from Glasgow, her home
and her boys, she thought. She had already been in touch with her cousin,
William Craig, now a successful advocate in the Capital, and he was more
than willing to lend her a hand to get herself settled. John MacLaurin was
a different kettle of fish.

This was so different to her first visit to Edinburgh when she was sixteen.
Just eight short years, but it seemed as if she had lived through double
that. It was deja vu on arriving as she turned to see a good looking young
man kiss the hand of a young woman he had been escorting on the coach
from Glasgow. If only Agnes had known then what she knew now, but
there was no use in thinking that way, time could not be reclaimed nor
reset.

Well at least the weather was a little warmer this time, her last stay was
during a Scottish spring, meaning it was colder than winter. Nor did she
have as much space to spread herself as the last time, the coach was full,
inside and out, but her travelling companions were very pleasant. Mind
you it was necessary to travel with the windows open in this clammy
weather, particularly necessary after their stop for dinner.

As she watched the coachman manoeuvre down her trunk and cases, a
gust of wind caught her, and she was driven forward, Edinburgh was
quite a windy place. Agnes, always seeing hope in everything, took this to
be the winds of change propelling her into her new life. Catching the eye
of a cart-man she beckoned him to collect her belongings. Giving him
William Craig's address in George Square she followed the man, she was
sure she would not find it on her own, Edinburgh had changed so much in
the intervening eight years. The rise from the depot was steep but Agnes
didn't mind, she needed to stretch her legs from the cramped space she
had endured in the carriage. By the time she got to the top she was peched
out. Her heart was pounding, but it had certainly got her blood flowing
and her hopes were high for her future life.

Viewing Edinburgh on that summer evening in June 1782, Agnes

4663

wondered if this was to be her for the rest of her life or would she ever
return to live in Glasgow one day, to her friends and all that was familiar
to her, to what had made her, to what gave her her courage, to what
would always be in her? All she knew for sure was that she would return
at least once, to reclaim her sons, and after she had settled herself, and
found herself a permanent place to stay, that would be her prime concern.
She suddenly noticed that the distance had widened between her and the
cart-man. Hitching up her dress she ran to catch up with him. Not very
dignified or ladylike, but very liberating for a twenty-four-year old 'once
upon a time wild child'.

Edinburgh was a strange city. Small houses, or hovels, set next to six,
seven, eight storey tenements, known as Lands. These Lands were a
microcosm of society, early miniature skyscrapers. On the ground floor
there might be the family of an aristocrat, next up may have been a
trader’s family or a merchant’s family, next the self-employed weaver and
so on, until you reached the top flat where the poorest lived. Not only did
humans live in these houses, some contained animals, and not just dogs
and cats, there were pigs, goats, sheep, ducks, geese. Come market day the
larger animals were lowered from the windows by pulleys. In fact, Jane
Maxwell, the future Duchess of Gordon, who in 1760 lived in a second
floor flat in Hyndford's Close, one of these Lands, was seen riding on the
back of an escaped pig, hurtling down the street at a fast pace, well fast
pace for a pig.

The noise and stench from the houses was indescribable. As she followed
the cart-man, Agnes remembered to walk in the middle of the road,
anything might assail your person if you walked under the auspices of the
numerous windows above your head. Gardy Loo!!!

Arriving at William Craig's house in the almost recently built prestigious
George Square (laid out in 1766, an area lived in over time by Walter Scott,
Lord Braxfield and Henry Dundas), Agnes was welcomed in with open
arms. William still held a torch for his little cousin. Aged thirty-seven, he
was unmarried, and his career had taken over his life. William had not
seen Agnes since her marriage, but his Uncle Andrew had contacted him
as his illness was worsening, asking that if Agnes moved to Edinburgh,
which he hoped she would do, would William be kind enough to help her
and maybe find her a small apartment. She would have an amount of cash
to get herself settled in, but because of his medical expenses, her finances
would not be as robust as he would have wished.

6447

Andrew told William of her problems with MacLehose, a fellow advocate.
William knew all about those as the world of Scottish Justice was a very
small one full of gossip and speculation. He said that come hell or high
water, once settled in Edinburgh, Agnes intended to get her boys from the
MacLehose family the first opportunity open to her, no matter the cost.
William assured his uncle that he would do everything, both
professionally and privately to help her, and that he would do all in his
power to make Agnes' life in Edinburgh as easy as he could possibly make
it.

After the initial social verbal fencing of meeting after many years, the
cousins were recalling with delight family members and friends. Agnes
cried when she spoke of her father and his death, her grief still raw. She
smiled when she spoke of her children and showed grim determination to
reclaim them the first chance she could. She had a few tasteful things to
say about the Hodge Podge Club and asked him if it was he, a member of
the Club then, who had insisted her name be put on the Toast List for 1773
- the Top of the Toast List at that.

Though she didn't say it out loud, in her mind she considered that event
the start of her woes. Because of that she had been sent to Edinburgh,
which allowed James MacLehose free access to her on the carriage, thus
leading her very youthful heart astray. When she spoke or thought of
James MacLehose a coldness came over her. Not fear, not hatred, he was a
disease she had had to live with and, by making this move, she meant to
divest herself of him.

William could see that she was starting to tire, though she was too ladylike
to admit it, he had her luggage taken to a bedroom and insisted she retire
for the night. Agnes followed the maidservant. She sat on the edge of the
thick comfortable bed and felt the energy and tension that had built up
over the past few weeks, drain from her and her sinews lose their tautness.
For the first time in years, even including the time she had spent with her
father, she felt totally safe and free. She had put more than miles between
her and MacLehose, she had put her future and her hopes between them.
The bed was turned down in readiness for her and, quickly disrobing, she
slid under the covers. Hardly had she time to send goodnight wishes to
her sons as she did every night, before she fell into the deepest and
soundest sleep she had enjoyed in years.

Agnes slept half the clock round and awoke, a little disorientated, to the
sounds of an Edinburgh in full voice. The bed clothes did not seem to have

4685

been disturbed, she must have slept soundly, the sleep of the just and safe,
she told herself. Stretching herself to her full five-foot one inch, she studied
the exquisitely ornate bedroom ceiling, not many of those in the Trongate
tenements she mused, then, ceiling studied she rose and spread the bed
after her, which didn't take much spreading. After pouring water from the
ewer into the basin on the cabinet by the window, she washed and rinsed
her face and hands. The heavy curtains were still closed, keeping the day's
light from the room, she pulled them back a little.

The street below was teeming with life. Carters, Merchants, Ministers,
Soldiers, Ladies of Fashion bustled and bumped together. She felt that
Edinburgh was different, but similar enough to Glasgow for her to fit in,
and she would soon learn to get in to the swing of things, though the
words ‘swing’ and Edinburgh did seem to be incompatible and not suited
to the staid middle-class lifestyle of the Capital. As she stood at the
window musing on her prospects, she observed that the sky was
cloudlessly blue, still, deep and very even. Like a golden orb the sun
followed its daily route across the sky, casting heat and light on its path
below, and the intensity of the heat was certainly bringing the smell of
Edinburgh alive.

She caught a glimpse of her cousin walking up the road towards his house.
Quickly she dressed herself and tamed her hair as best she could. William
had always been her favourite relative, not like her other cousin, or to be
more accurate her mother's cousin, John MacLaurin, another lawyer,
blessed with a face like a sack of angry and overexcited frogs, full of
bluster and bile and self-importance. She pitied his three female servants,
whom he paid the minimum wage to, £0-1-11 (£16) per week. She had
never been fond of her mother's family they were too straight laced, too
holier than thou, and took themselves far too seriously. They never
stopped retelling how they were once Chieftains of Tiree, centuries ago.
Now to make it worse she had heard that John had been made Clan Chief
of the MacLaurin's in 1781, due to some connection to some distant
ancestor. There would be no living with the man now.

The Craigs were different, softer people, more people people. She could
see why her mother, against her own father's wishes, chose to marry her
father. But to be fair, both sides had a noble streak in them when it came to
the poor. But she still loathed cousin John, the torn faced weasel, she
mentally fumed. Agnes would never ask 'frog face' for help because she
knew he would never assist her but would certainly enjoy watching her
beg.

6469

GENERAL'S ENTRY - THE POTTERROW

1782

She heard the front door open and William speak to the maid, asking if she
was up. Once he had gone into the parlour, she left her bedroom and
joined him there. He had some news for her. He had been to check out a
small two roomed apartment which was due to become vacant in the very
near future. It was not in a high-class district but was quite central and
was not in a bad area, plus it was very affordable. It had not been
advertised yet, and belonged to a friend of his, if Agnes wanted to see it,
she could have first refusal. Agnes trusted his judgement implicitly, and in
all honesty, it would have to be very bad before she would turn it down,
she thought to herself. So, after what was a quick bite of breakfast for
Agnes, and a quick bite of lunch for William, the cousins headed to the
Potterrow district in the Old Town for a viewing.

Several times William was spoken to by some well-dressed men, and on
each occasion, Agnes was introduced as his wee cousin just carriaged in
from that haven of sin that was his birthplace - Glasgow. Agnes preferred
this informal introduction to 'Society' rather than the official ordeal which
took place at soirees, dinners and lunches where you felt like a specimen
in a science class, poked, prodded, dissected and reassembled into a new
species, and you had to be on your best behaviour, and play the game.

On reaching the Potterrow, Agnes was pleased to see that the building was
of a short height, more genteel than noisy eight storey ones, she'd hate to
have pigs running about in an apartment above her, well wouldn't
everyone? The vacancy was on the first storey in one of the tenements,
*General's Entry, which was at the point where the Potterrow met the
Bristow Port.
*(Named after George Monk, a soldier in Oliver Cromwell's army in his invasion
of Scotland, who lost control of his soldiers at the Battle of Dunbar in 1650
allowing them free reign to run riot over the civilian population. For this good
work Cromwell made him Governor of Scotland).

Agnes had two views from the windows, and she liked that idea. Not only
that, but it was within a short distance of the new George Square where
many lawyers like her cousin, noblesse, and aristocrats were now moving
to. She had heard that Jane Maxwell, Duchess of Gordon, lived there. And
to think, eight years ago her thoughts were straying to living in George
Square in Glasgow, now well underway with plans for its modern

5607

transformation. And in a topsy-turvy time, it was odd to think that
Glasgow's George Square was named for King George III, whereas
Edinburgh's George Square, it is reported, was named for George, the
elder brother of James Brown the builder of the houses. It was a funny old
world.

As William said there were two rooms. The front had two eight paned
sash windows and the floor was made of old wooden beams, which Agnes
would need mats for, or maybe she'd get them sanded down. A chimney
breast sat between the windows in the living room with a built-in grate,
enabling the smoke to pass up to the chimneys. It had lots of potential and
could be easily furnished. She was already arguing with herself about
décor.

The backroom was a bit smaller than the front room but was a good size. It
would hold her sons with no problem. She would have her sleeping space
in the front room bed recess. She would buy one of those room dividers to
put in front of her bed when not in use. She would be 'tres avant-garde'.
Agnes felt that one storey up suited her social standing. Yes, this would do
very nicely. Agnes was not to know that she would spend nearly thirty
years of her life there, and in that time, it would bring her a fame and
renown she could never in ten lifetimes conceive of. That afternoon she left
General's Entry on the arm of her cousin full of hope, happiness for her
future and with numerous ideas as how to furnish her very first, own
home.

William felt like he was walking on air being this close to Agnes. He cared
for her very much, was it love? For him, yes! Maybe one day she might
just agree to divorce MacLehose, which admittedly she had never talked
about, and possibly might, if he played his cards right, consider marriage
to him. He knew he could make her happy, she would want for nothing
and her children would have the best of everything he could offer, and
who knows, he might even contribute a little Craig offspring of his own.
Slow down William, he thought.

He had to return to his chambers and as he bowed to take his leave, Agnes
gave him a kiss on the cheek. The poor man turned red, pleased and
embarrassed at this open show of affection, and from such an attractive
young woman, cousin or not. He could almost hear the nasal inhalation of
curtains and feel the wide eyes of the watchers behind them piercing his
back as he floated to his work. Agnes, unaware of these feelings, set off in
the opposite direction looking for furnishings for her new haven of peace.

6581

SAFE HAVEN

Agnes had a few days before she could move into her new abode and with
the stress of finding a home removed from her list, was thoroughly
enjoying the time she was spending with William. He took her out and
introduced her to 'Society' and wherever she went her charm, beauty,
humour and intelligence won over mostly everyone, male and female
alike. With no fear controlling her, Agnes was returning to the vivacious
woman she had been before marriage to MacLehose had dimmed its
flame, and she loved it.

Before quitting William's house, she looked through his library and asked
to borrow a few of his books, mainly poetry and literature, he could refuse
her nothing. He helped her out by donating some old furniture that he had
no need for and buying her odd presents of rugs and crockery - all of
which eventually turned the two-roomed flat into her own wee bastion of
safety and security. Soon Agnes' little apartment took on the warmth of
the home she had left behind in Glasgow, her father's home, her family
home.

Before she moved in any furniture and belongings she cleaned the walls,
ceilings and floor, not that they were particularly filthy, but it was
symbolic, next stage would be to whitewash. The windows were opened
wide and the warm Edinburgh summer dried out the rooms in double
quick time, and at night before returning to William's house, she would
wander round the new Squares sprouting up on the other side of the river.
How elegant and clean they looked, railed off from the passers-by and
with windows much larger than her own. But she was not envious. She
knew how lucky she was, she had a roof over her head, she was safe, she
was winning friends and she knew deep in her core that it would only be
time before she and her boys were reunited.

Agnes' moving in day was a joyous affair. She had her furniture and
curtains, which she had personally hemmed, at last the pain, scars and
blood loss from the sampler work she did as a child had come in useful,
and it had made her a good needlewoman. The evening before moving in
she had written a plan as to where each piece was going. William had tied
up a few piles of books for her to take to read to stave off boredom during
the winter nights, along with a very large box of candles and some oil for
the oil lamps. His donated furniture was in the street, ready to uplift and
take to the Potterrow.

5629

The stairs were very narrow so the larger pieces, the chest of drawers,
wardrobes, table, bed had to be hoisted up, sometimes dismantled, and
pulled through one of the open windows. Other packages and boxes
which contained glassware and clothing were put in the bedroom for
attending to later. After a few hours Agnes had stage one of her home
nearly as she wanted it. As she was paying the cart-men for their help,
William intervened and settled the bill for her. She objected, but he did it,
gladly.
Later that evening, on her own for the first time in her life, in her very own
home for the first time in her life, Agnes lit a fire. It was not cold, and she
did not need one, but she sat by the hearth with her memories. How it
reminded her of her father's house. Since arriving in Edinburgh, she was
sure that all would be well. She would have problems, she expected that,
but everything would work out. She even felt that the house liked her.
Everything that she now had belonged to her, she would only answer to
those she felt deserved it, others, well she would wait and see how they
treated her. William had given her a bottle of claret as a hanselling present,
he was such a lovely man, she rose and poured herself a glass, and
returned to the fire, warming her feet. Lifting her glass, she toasted herself,
her boys and her future, suddenly a small log slipped a little and a flame
burst out from under, as if the fire was toasting her in return.

7503

CAPITAL LIFE

1782

It was a new Agnes, or more precisely, a return of the Agnes of old, that
awoke the next morning. She lay in her bed like a little bird in its nest, and
let the day's noise wash over her, relishing the heat and comfort of the bed
clothes mummifying her. She did not need to rush to rise so she lay there
familiarising herself with the shape and personality of the room. Soon she
got bored with the lack of physical activity and flung the bedding aside,
ready to take on her new life in Edinburgh head on.

She washed and dressed and set out to explore her neighbourhood and get
acquainted with more neighbours, the ones she had already met seemed to
be fine. She recalled when she was last here, it was market day, and they
never change, so she headed uptown to see what was on offer. She needed
to buy fresh food. Her heart was as light as a feather as she left the
enclosure of the Entry and set her feet on an Edinburgh, hers for the next
59 years.

Being on a limited budget she could only buy the necessities - bread,
cheese, milk, eggs, sugar, potatoes, and being summer, the fruit was cheap.
Luckily William had gifted her some tea, and she had to admit that she
was becoming a little addicted to the stuff, it was expensive but we all
need a guilty pleasure. Every time she unlocked her little tea caddy the
aroma of the dry leaves assaulted her senses and set her brain tingling. She
was convinced that it helped her compose her poetry, she was hopeful of
getting involved in that literary pursuit. But she knew it would never
overtake her addiction to coffee, she blamed the Trongate coffee houses for
that.

She stopped at a vendor selling material and immersed herself in the silks
and satins, linens and cottons for a short while. Further along the road was
a weaver's stall, was it be the same man from eight years ago? No, it was a
young man running it, but he did look familiar. Agnes spoke to him and
found out that he was the old weaver's son. His father was dead, and he
now earned for the family. Agnes' eye caught a small rug with a very
intricate pattern. She knew she should not buy it, but it would sit in front
of the fire quite perjink, while she supped her chosen beverage. Counting
her remaining pennies, she decided that the purchase would make her
very happy. The young man rolled up the mat and tied it with a piece of
rag. She thanked him, and carpet under oxter, she moved on.

5741

Agnes was never aware of her attractiveness. She knew she was not ugly,
but she knew that good looks did not necessarily mean a good person.
Look at her estranged husband, he was considered quite handsome, but it
hid a demonic soul. Agnes was a Woman of Feeling who appreciated the
heart more than appearance, at least that is what she told herself, there
were times when she would rather have lived in the pages of the books she
read than in real life. Fantasy versus reality, unfortunately there was no
choice.

As she walked along the sunny street many heads turned as she passed.
The rays caught her blonde hair and at the right angle it appeared as if her
hair was sparking with hidden lights. If you were lucky enough to catch
her smile her teeth were so white they gleamed. But it was her eyes,
through which her soul gazed on her world that held you spellbound. In
the sunshine they looked more violet than blue, and when they locked
onto your eyes it made you feel as if you needed to confess all you had
ever done.

Having now gotten to know quite a few traders, Agnes headed home with
her purchases. In the back bedroom where it was less warm and darker,
there was a little cupboard where she could put her food, it was cool there
and would keep things fresh. She spread the little mat she bought along
the floor in front of the fire, and the redness and gold of the threads
brought warmth to the hearthside. She brought out the tea and sugar and
some favourite coffee she had carried with her from Glasgow and put
them on a little fireside table. She set the fire to heat the water for her
chosen drink.

While the fire drew, and she waited for the water in the hanging kettle to
boil, Agnes sat at the open window reading her latest piece of literature
from William Craig's library by the light of the afternoon sun. She was a
voracious reader and it would be a long time before she read books for
pleasure, she had too much learning to do before that. Books were food
and nourishment for her soul and a way she could show herself off to her
best in company. Her recall of information was incredible, she might have
been said to possess a photographic memory, but of course, at that time
cameras and photography had not been invented, though Camera Obscura
was quite popular worldwide, and that had been around for millennia and
had been used as an aid for drawing and painting.

As weeks went on, it became normal for her to accompany William to
soirees or parties, and she never let him down, she was a great social asset,

7525

but she was also beginning to receive invitations in her own right. Pretty
Miss Nancy was back again, and how her soul sang. Agnes was honest
about her circumstances, that she and her husband were estranged and
that he had taken her children and had tried to blacken her name, that she
had a limited income so could not ever keep up with the Joneses. Her
honesty gained her many friends, and the fact that she was still married,
though separated, gained her some protection, that and her cousin's
station in life.

One of the people she became friendly with was a Miss Erskine Ebenezer
Nimmo who was a resident of one of the homes in Alison Square where
she kept house for her nephew, William Nimmo, Supervisor in the Excise.
Erskine was born in 1731 and was the youngest of eight children. Though
William was based in Lanark, she and he lived in the first-floor apartment
in Edinburgh. Miss Nimmo was also a friend of Margaret Chalmers 'who
played the harpsichord so beautifully, my dear, at Dr Blacklock's' (The Blind
Poet), and who knew Robert Burns very well.

Soon Agnes was part of a small literary salon group which was sometimes
held in her little home in the Potterrow. She dispensed tea, information
and sympathy all at the same time. Looking back at her previous life, she
could never have foreseen this simple happiness. Everything was falling
into place, all she needed to complete it were her boys to be with her - and
as far as she was concerned they would be, come hell or high water.

She had not received much news of them, but whenever her Glasgow
friends heard anything they immediately sent the news to her. She was
made aware of her husband's shenanigans and misbehaviour and she was
alerted to the fact that his relatives were becoming tired of supporting his
children. He owed money everywhere and was not attempting to pay his
debts. Agnes' fear was that her sons would be put into the Poorhouse.
Now wouldn't that be ironic, her father had been the surgeon of the
Town's Hospital and Poorhouse, and her children could end up as inmates
of that same institution. By God, not if she could help it. The only thing
that was keeping the children from that degradation was the pride of the
MacLehose family. How polite society would gossip if that happened.

Agnes' best friend in Edinburgh became Mary Peacock. Mary, in looks and
personality, was the exact opposite of Agnes. As Agnes was outgoing and
had a strong personality, Mary was quiet and unassuming. Being very shy,
she tended to blush very easily, and that made her even more self-
conscious and bashful. But the two women got on like a house on fire, and

5763

Agnes could not have wished for a better companion, at that time, than
'Shy Mary'.

There were men in Agnes' circle. William Craig, James Gray whom Mary
Peacock would later marry, James Graham, the author of a book called
'The Sabbath', John Kemp, her minister and Thomas Campbell who had an
estate in Pencloe in Glen Afton.

One friend she did not make in Edinburgh was her mother's cousin John
MacLaurin, later Lord Dreghorn. Before coming to the capital, she
contacted him hoping, that like William Craig, he would help introduce
her to Edinburgh society. Not a chance. A widower and childless, with a
penchant for trawling the night for female company, MacLaurin
disapproved of women living on their own, especially those that had left
their husband and children and 'traipsed about the countryside'. He snubbed
her if ever they crossed paths. In a letter she wrote to Burns after seeing
the parade of judges in Parliament Square in their new robes, she said
'among whom was Lord Dreghorn...I looked steadfastly into his sour face; his eye
met mine. I was female, and therefore he stared; but when he knew who it was he
averted his eyes suddenly.'

RETURN OF HER CHILDREN

James MacLehose discovered Agnes' address in Edinburgh. It would not
have been hard as the Scottish Advocacy circle was very small and
incestuous, and one of his lawyer acquaintances from Edinburgh would
have been more than pleased to let him know all about his errant wife. He
wrote to her, possibly sometime in July 1782. From the wording of the
letter he may have been in Edinburgh, 'Early tomorrow morning I leave this
country for ever, and therefore wish much to pass one quarter of an hour with you.
Upon my word of honour, my dearest Nancy, it is the last night you probably will
ever have an opportunity of seeing me in this world...'

Agnes thought long and hard about this request, she hadn't seen him since
before the death of her father in May. She was not by nature a cold-hearted
person, but she had suffered so much abuse at his hands and it had taken
all her courage to leave everything she knew because of him. She could not
trust being in his company for even five minutes never mind fifteen. Being
Agnes, she needed to have her decisions counter stamped, so she showed
the letter to her new friends and asked their opinion. She wrote in her
journal 'I consulted my friends; they advised me against seeing him; and as I
thought it could be productive of no good, I declined the interview.'

7547

The thought of James MacLehose leaving Scotland, quite clearly leaving
his sons behind in Scotland, made the MacLehose family realise that the
best place for the children was back with their mother. He had not been
supporting them financially or emotionally anyway and at the end of the
day the children were not their responsibility. James was told to get his
children back to their mother and quick. He had no intention of putting
himself out and taking them through to her himself, so he wrote to Agnes
again, 'The sooner you return to Glasgow the better, and take under your care
and protection those endearing pledges of our once happier days, as none of my
friends will have anything to do with them...' Quite obviously he had not left
Scotland yet and had been touting his sons around his sundry
acquaintances to no avail. Agnes was his last option, she should have been
his first choice.

He then told Agnes that he would be travelling to Jamaica to start up a law
practice, and 'Yet still, however remote my residence may be from you and those
endearing infants, God forbid that I should be so destitute of natural affection for
them, as to permit you or them, in the smallest degree, to be burdensome to any of
your friends. On the contrary I shall at all times observe the strictest economy,
and exert myself to the uttermost, so that I may be enabled to contribute to your
ease and happiness...'

The man was ruthless and shameless and did not even send her the fare to
collect her children, though he knew she was existing on a sum of less than
ten shillings (£80), per week. Her income consisted of a small annuity
arranged by her father's lawyers after his property was sold after his
death. Later she was granted a £10 p.a. (£1578) maintenance grant from the
Glasgow Faculty of Procurators, as James MacLehose was considered a
'delinquent lawyer', and an £8 p.a. (£1261) subsidy from the Glasgow
Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons, as a daughter of a deceased surgeon.

But to Agnes it was worth spending every penny she had to get her
children back, as she was to write in her journal, 'The income being left me by
my father being barely sufficient to board myself, I was now distressed how to
support my three infants. With my spirits sunk in deep dejection, I went to
Glasgow to see them. I found arrears due for their board (owed to her in-laws?),
these I paid, and the goodness of some worthy gentlemen in Glasgow procured me
a small annuity from the Writers and one from the Surgeons. I again set out for
Edinburgh with them in August 1782 and by the strictest economy made my little
income go as far as possible. The deficiency was always supplied by some worthy
benevolent friends (Craig), whose kindness no time can erase from my heart.'

5785

James MacLehose did not go straight to Jamaica. First, he spent a couple of
years in England which it is said were lived in debauchery, drunkenness
and dissipation. He borrowed and did not pay back monies and
eventually found himself in debtor's prison. This, though more than
probable, is unconfirmed. His grandson, William C. MacLehose, was to
write c1843 'after two years and a half thus spent in idleness, Mr. MacLehose
was thrown into *prison for debt; and his relatives, being once more appealed to,
consented to advance the funds necessary for his release and outfit, on condition
that he immediately went abroad...With this he complied and sailed for Jamaica in
November 1784. Before leaving London, and afterwards from Jamaica, where he
became most prosperous, he wrote to his mother and family most grateful letters
for their kindness, but never repaid the debt, though appealed to, when his
mother's income became inadequate to her support.'
*(The prison he was said to have been incarcerated in was Fleet Prison, there is
apparently no trace of him there, but it may have been another prison, or even
another county. William was writing in 1843, about sixty years after the event
and anyone who could corroborate it would by then probably be out of the picture).

On 13th September 1783 James, her youngest, died, she only had a year
with him in Edinburgh. Now she had just two children to care for, and one
of these, William, was a very sick little boy indeed. William suffered from
leg ulcers and she always had to lay aside an amount from her meagre
income for ointments and bandages for him. The child must have been in
immense pain. How long he had had these ulcers is not known, but the
likelihood is that he had them in Glasgow, which begs the question, did
the MacLehose family care for him as well as they ought?

The death of her son, aged 28 months, hit her very hard. She could not
help but blame James MacLehose for this, who knows what hardship this
small infant underwent due to his wickedness taking him from her,
tearing him from her arms out of sheer cruelty and brutality. She let the
MacLehose family know and told them to inform their son about his
child's passing. If they did tell him, MacLehose never acknowledged his
child's demise. Like his first born he put the death of the boy out of his
mind. MacLehose could have done more for Agnes after the child's death
as, though he might not be in Scotland, he was certainly within the bounds
of the United Kingdom, being at that time a resident of England. He was
heartless.

On hearing of James MacLehose's intention of quitting the U.K., Agnes
was torn between relief and realisation that there would never be any
hope of him ever supporting their children. Before his ship left in

7569

November 1784 MacLehose wrote to Agnes '...for my part, I am willing to
forget what is past, neither do I require an apology from you; for I am heartily
sorry for those instances of my behaviour to you which caused our separation.
Were it possible to recall them, they should never be repeated....' Wonderful
lawyer ‘speak’!

Agnes was furious at this letter. There was never any question of her
owing him an apology. This hypocrite had beaten her, humiliated her,
taken her children from her, had made her leave, nay flee, her home city
and the friends and few relatives she had left there. He had tried to
destroy her good name, and God knows what lasting effect he had
brought to their children, offering them to all and sundry when his family
refused to look after them anymore. He had never paid a single penny
towards their upkeep, not even towards feeding or buying medicine for
his son, William, a frail little boy.

Agnes did not reply.

James MacLehose arrived in Jamaica circa February 1785. He may have
had friends or contacts there, because very soon after arriving he founded
his Advocate's practice in Kingston. He lived in a large house plus
plantation in Kingston Gardens, Jamaica, with a spectacular view of the
Blue Mountains to greet him each morning when he arose. Within a few
short months he was earning more money than he could ever have
dreamed of, in the region of £1000 (£137,500) per annum. Personality wise
he never changed, just became wealthier and more disgusting in his
behaviour. His money and position could buy him out of any trouble he
found himself in, especially charges of brutality towards his slaves. As for
his family and children back in Scotland, well, they were out of sight, out
of mind.

1784-1785

On the self-improvement front, Agnes was becoming deeply involved in
poetry. She had a nice turn of phrase, though nothing spectacularly out of
the ordinary. Agnes was quite a talented woman, she wrote, she sketched,
she sang, all with a degree of success. Her literary teas were becoming
sought after, and her dissemination of the many books she read was quite
remarkable. She was lucky with her retentive memory, and could quote
exactly from a poem, book or periodical. This gift lasted into her eighties.

The earliest known poem she wrote, dated Morningside 1784, was

6707

'Address to a Blackbird'. She said inspiration struck her. Apparently, she
was walking outside the Old City of Edinburgh at Bruntsfield Links,
where St Margaret's Convent was later to be built. She was in distress over
the behaviour of her husband. In a letter to Burns she explains the poem
thus 'The poem had no poetic merit, but it bespeaks a sweet feminine mind such
as one I wish mine to be, but my vivacity deprives me of that softness which is, in
my opinion, the first female ornament. It was written to soothe an aching heart.'
Burns, on reading the poem, pruned 'its wings a little' and changed a
couple of things. Agnes' poem ran

Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care,
Thy cheerful notes will hush despair;

Thy tuneful warblings, void of art,
Thrill sweetly through my aching heart.

Now choose thy mate, and fondly love,
And all the charming transport prove;

Those sweet emotions all enjoy,
Let Love and Song thy hours employ;

Whilst I, a love-lorn exile, live,
And rapture nor receive nor give.
Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care
Thy cheerful notes will hush despair.

Agnes was making a successful single life for herself and her children,
even though William's health was always a great fear and worry to her.
For about forty years Agnes held a New Year's party, if it began as early as
her first New Year's Day spent in Edinburgh in 1783 is unlikely, but the
parties were well attended by old, young and all ages in between. She was
always able to look on the bright side, even if she knew she was just
kidding herself. I'm sure if she had thought of the phrase, 'turn that frown
upside down' she would have used it ad nauseam and driven everyone
mad. She was very lucky in that the true friends she made always stood by
her, and she always had someone to confide in. Mind you, others thought
that she was too open and forward a personality, but that said more about
them than it did of her.

Over the next couple of years Agnes' life in Edinburgh took on a normality
she hadn't experienced in years. It was not overly exciting, but it was nice,
and she felt that she was advancing in Edinburgh's genteel society. It
suited her, and she began to love the sameness of it, which surprised her
greatly. MacLehose was long gone and she was managing to deal with any

7681

financial obstacles that presented themselves to block her path. All in all,
she was pleased and proud of herself, and she often looked at her
reflection in the mirror above the fireplace in her little home and told
herself, Agnes be proud, you have done well despite all the difficulties.
As 1784 came and went, her remaining two boys thrived, though William
was always sickly and constantly in pain. But all in all, she had no
complaints and was happy with her lot. If her life carried on like this she
would be more than satisfied with it. She was filled with hope. 1785 was a
decent year for her, it came in with the knowledge that James MacLehose
was across the ocean waves in Jamaica and well out of her life, she had
high hopes for the incoming 1786.

6729

THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK

1786

Spring of 1786 passed without event, just the ever-present juggling of
finances and William's health. She had heard no more of MacLehose, nor
had she received one penny from him. She was pleased with her progress
in the Literature circles and, now and then, enjoyed her visits to St Cecilia's
Hall, built in 1763, the first purpose-built Concert Hall in Scotland. Even in
the short time Agnes had been there, Edinburgh had changed immensely.

There was talk of a new musical venue being considered too, the Assembly
Rooms in George Street which were set to open in January 1787. With new
buildings sprouting up, Edinburgh was beginning to take on the look and
feel of a real modern day European Capital city, and she was glad to be
alive and safe in it.

Agnes' windows in her little home were thrown open for what she classed
as her fourth actual anniversary in Edinburgh, August 1786, the fourth
anniversary of when she got her sons back. The familiar sounds came
slowly rolling up from the street as if too tired to move because of the heat.
The August air was still, and the cobalt sky seemed to be drawing towards
the earth compressing that heat, forcing it to pass through any opening it
could find. The sun was surrounded by a haze as if it was wrapped in a
fine gauze veil keeping some of its heat back for itself, thankfully.

The boys were at school, William had been quite well for these past few
weeks, and with no ointments to buy, Agnes had a few extra shillings to
spare. The boy was now six and despite his illness he was always cheerful
and very bright. Andrew, his older brother was eight, his birthday fell on
1st July a most unfortunate date for Agnes. She had had to celebrate her
son's birthday and try to forget that it was also her wedding anniversary,
her tenth wedding anniversary this year of Our Lord 1786 and her sixth
separated from her feckless, yet from what she had been hearing,
fortuitous husband. She was 28 years of age, in the prime of her life and
wouldn't let James MacLehose spoil her day, moving to Edinburgh was
the best thing she had ever done.

After quickly tidying up her living room Agnes took a wander up town.
The Potterrow was situated in the Old Town, it had once been part of the
hamlet of Easter Portsburgh but was now swallowed up in the expanding

8603

town and was full of personality and personalities, but it was very
confining. Nothing happened but your neighbours found out about it in
double quick time. Luckily Agnes had remained untouched by their gossip
and, overall, they were kind to her and seemed to be genuinely fond of her
sons.

Today Agnes felt like a stroll northward toward the new Princes Street,
named after the sons of George III, George and Frederick. Built c1770s, it
was to be originally named St Giles Street, St Giles being the patron saint
of Edinburgh, but being also the patron saint of lepers (and an area of
slum living and prostitution in London), the King rejected the name.

Agnes left her hair uncovered as she walked, the Autumn sun would
bleach it, it always darkened a little during the winter months. She could
have visited some of her friends in the New Town but was enjoying the
weather too much to be stuck indoors. Passing by a small group of men
she noticed that each was reading from a small blue book. As she walked
further on she caught a glimpse of this blue book again in the hands of
others. Curious Agnes wanted to know what this book was all about, she
was intrigued.

She decided that the only person who would know for sure was Miss
Nimmo, an acquaintance. Turning in to Alison Square, Agnes again
caught a glimpse of this little blue enigma. Reaching Miss Nimmo's house
she knocked at the door, the maidservant answered. Agnes was shown in
to the delight of the middle-aged lady. There was a little blue book
seemingly appearing all over Edinburgh today, did Miss Nimmo know
anything about it, asked Agnes? She most certainly did, not only that, she
possessed a copy. Taking the book up from the table she handed it to
Agnes. Agnes inspected the binding, the blue cloth cover felt very warm to
the touch. The title was 'Poems Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect' and it was
printed in Kilmarnock. The author was an Ayrshire Farmer, Robert Burns.
Agnes turned the pages and began to read the poet's own personal words
in his preface.

Much in the preface rung true in Agnes' heart, his reasons for rhyming 'to
amuse himself with the little creations of his own fancy, amid the toil and fatigues
of a laborious life', his gratitude to friends 'not the mercenary bow over a
counter, but the heart-throbbing gratitude of the Bard, conscious how much he is
indebted to Benevolence and Friendship, for gratifying him if he deserves it' and
his final remarks 'but if after a fair, candid and impartial criticism, he shall
stand convicted of Dullness and Nonsense, let him be done by, as he would in that

6841

case do by others - let him be condemned, without mercy, to contempt and
oblivion.'

All the time she was reading it, Miss Nimmo was telling Agnes of Burns.
She knew a little of him through Margaret Chalmers, who played the
harpsichord for Dr Blacklock, and Margaret thought him a wonderful,
though exasperating man. He was very attractive, very rustic, very manly,
not your usual man about town, and his brusque honesty could and
usually did work against him. He had had a shaky past, but hopefully this
publication would catapult him into his firmer future.

While Agnes was flicking through the pages, many verses leapt out at her
as if they had been written for her alone. She was flash reading through
the 'Epistle to Davie' when as if she had been struck by lightning, she read

It’s no in titles nor in rank;
It’s no in wealth like Lon’on bank,

To purchase peace and rest;
It’s no in makin muckle, mair:
It’s no in books; it’s no in Lear,

To make us truly blest;
If Happiness hae not her seat

And center in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,

But never can be blest:
Nae treasures, nor pleasures
Could make us happy lang;

The heart ay’s the part ay,
That makes us right or wrang.

This man whom she had never heard of before fifteen minutes ago wrote
of everything that she believed. Suddenly her eye was drawn to the last
verse of the poem, 'To a Mouse'

Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

She had to meet this man. She had to tell him that he seemed to be writing
just for her. Mrs. MacLehose was smitten.

8625

Miss Nimmo was still talking in the background. Didn't she say she knew
him slightly, she did, didn't she? Well maybe Agnes could convince her to
invite him to Edinburgh. If she wouldn't maybe her cousin William
would? No matter what, she would meet this man! First, she had to get a
copy of the poems, though three shillings (£21.60) was a lot out of her
weekly allowance. Still she had something left by because of William's
improved health, and maybe she should treat herself, just this once.
Unfortunately, she found that the book was sold out.

For all she was desperate to meet with this new poet, she had a long wait.
It was not until the December, December of 1787, sixteen months later, that
Agnes was to meet Robert and that meeting was to change her life forever,
and though she could never ever guess at it, it would make her name, to
date, immortal.

ALMOST THERE

1787

By 1787 word began to travel back to Glasgow of James MacLehose's
success and both the Societies that Agnes had been receiving annuities
from, Lawyers and Surgeons, got to hear about it. They stopped her
meagre money. As far as they were concerned MacLehose, even though he
was quite clearly living apart from her on another Continent with no
intention of returning, must be the one to support Agnes and her children.
William Craig took up the support of Agnes and her children. William was
still an advocate and was not yet Lord Craig, that title he received c1792.

When her son William's health began to again deteriorate, Agnes wrote to
James MacLehose in Jamaica informing him of this and letting him know
that her subsidies from the Surgeons and Lawyers had been withdrawn
because it was considered that as he was now so successful financially, he
should be supporting his family. 'I wrote (more than once) giving him an
account of his children, particularly of William's helpless situation and also my
reduced circumstances, warmly expostulating with him on the duty and necessity
of remitting for their support and education. I anxiously awaited for an answer,
but received none.'

With no reply forthcoming from MacLehose, in 1787 her cousin William
Craig deemed it necessary to write to MacLehose, one lawyer to another,
to get him to accept his responsibilities.

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Edinburgh 1787
I write you this letter to represent to you the situation of your family
here. Your wife's father left some property in Glasgow, the interest of
which your wife draws for the support of herself and children; but this not
being sufficient, by the solicitation of some of your friends £8 a year was
obtained from the Surgeons, and £10 a year from the Writers in Glasgow.
Even this, however, did not do, owing to the great rise in the expense of
housekeeping, and the necessary outlay for your children, and their
education; so that I advanced money to Mrs. MacLehose, even while she
got the above sums. Accounts, I am informed, have lately arrived from
Jamaica, which I am very glad of, representing you to be in a very good
situation and as having got into a very profitable business.

The Surgeons and Writers have withdrawn their allowance; and I have
been told their principal reason for doing so, is the accounts they have
heard of the goodness of your situation. No remittance, however, has, as
yet come from you, and in this last year, owing to the withdrawal of the
Writers and Surgeons, I have paid Mrs. MacLehose upwards of £30 (£4298)
above what I have received. No person, except my brother (James/John), is
willing to contribute anything; and all your own relatives have positively
refused, from the beginning, to contribute a single farthing. In this
situation I am resolved to advance no more money out of my funds on the
account of your family. What I have already given, I have never laid my
account in being reimbursed, and it shall never more be thought of; but for
the future, every consideration demands that you should yourself
contribute for the support of your own children. I expect, therefore, that
you will, by the first opportunity, write to some of your correspondents in
this country, giving what direction you think proper about your children
and making some proper remittance on their account, as I repeat I am
determined not to continue to pay money on their account...

His letter was ignored by MacLehose who, rightly, considered himself safe
and untouchable due to being thousands of miles away.

Agnes held great feelings of warmth and gratitude towards her cousin, but
she was also aware that his feelings for her were not always those of a
cousin. It would have been easy for her to take advantage of the man, but
that was not Agnes, she supported herself as best she could, and it was
only when needs arose, especially the needs of her children, who always
came first, that she turned to him for financial help.

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ROBERT BURNS

1786-1787

In Mossgiel, Robert Burns was louping with consternation on the horns of
a dilemma. For years he had been considering, with support from his
family and friends, setting his poems in print, c1785 he had included this
hoped-for intention in his Epistle to James Smith 'This while my notion's
taen a sklent To try my fate in guid, black prent;' He put his plans in motion in
March/April 1786 to print his poems by subscription, he could then hold
on to his copyright. c13th June his poems went to Press. His dreamed of
plans had come to fruition.

He had no idea if the trembling he felt was of excitement or trepidation.
His poems, released to the public on 31st July 1786 were proving to be
more successful than he could ever have hoped, but would he be a one
poet wonder, and would it matter anyway? He was soon to be settled in
warmer climes, earning a new living on foreign soil. He wrote to Dr.
Moore in his biographical letter, 'I was pretty sure my Poems would meet with
some applause; but at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would deafen the voice of
Censure, and the novelty of west-Indian scenes make me forget Neglect.'

Jamaica was calling him, he was ready to leave Scotland and try his luck
abroad and what he had earned so far from his book would pay his ticket.
But there was Jean Armour. Since she had come back into his life he was
all a tizzy. Unfortunately, she was pregnant, and he was the father. His
mother was already looking after his first illegitimate daughter Bess,
whose mother, Elizabeth Paton, had helped the Burness family out during
the father, William's, final illness. What was going to happen with this
next birth?

He was also a bundle of nerves mainly caused by the attitude of Jean's
family, as far as they were concerned hanging would be too good for him,
so cutting and running seemed like the sensible option. Decisions!
Decisions! He could not for sure say what side he would fall on - if he
stayed he might be physically hurt, would be denounced as a cad, have
legal proceedings taken out against him, and/or turn out to be a literary
failure. If he went he would most definitely be a cowardly rat, as far as
Jean Armour was concerned.

John Wilson in Kilmarnock had printed 612 copies of his poems and more
than he expected had sold. Burns received payment from 428 pre-bought

6885

copies, leaving him 184 copies to sell personally. Before the end of August
all copies had gone. Robert received his first copy on the 3rd August and
another on the 4th and 5th. He gave these to Richard Brown, Peggy
Thomson and James Burness. Burns did not keep a copy for himself or his
family. According to Burns he made £20 (£2,865) from the venture, but in
James McKay's Burns biography, he works it out to nearer £54 (£7,737).

As soon as Burns had collected nine guineas (£1,361) he paid shipping
agent James Allen of Irvine to book him one ticket on the next ship for
Jamaica, leaving in August 1786. This refutes the fact that he was intending
to leave Scotland with 'Highland Mary', or maybe he was expecting her to
come up with her own nine guineas, nigh impossible for a domestic
working-class girl then. As it was Mary/Margaret Campbell died of
typhoid c20th October 1786 in Greenock, while Burns was still dithering
about leaving Scotland.

In August 1786 the Rev. George Lawrie, the 'New Licht' minister of
Loudoun Parish sent a copy of Burns' Poems to the Rev. Dr. Thomas
Blacklock in Edinburgh asking his opinion of the content. On the 4th
September 1786 Dr. Blacklock replied recommending that Burns be
encouraged to have a larger second edition printed. Lawrie gave the letter
to Gavin Hamilton who passed it on to Burns round about the last week in
September 1786, Robert not having left the country yet.

Burns went back to Wilson to discuss a second edition of 1000 copies, but
Wilson was only willing if Burns would advance the payment for the
paper, about £27 (£3,868) while Wilson paid for the printing, about
£15/£16 (£2,149/£2,292). Burns did not have the cash left to put into the
venture, likely due to family responsibilities, a failing farm, travelling to
promote his book and the odd social occasion and drinks buying he had to
do to support this promotion.

Robert was booked to sail to Jamaica from Greenock in late August on the
brigantine 'The Nancy', under the ship's master Andrew Smith, but the
date had been delayed until 5th September. On that day Jean Armour gave
birth to twins, Robert and Jean, and Burns' paternal heart overwhelmed
him. He would not be travelling to Jamaica either soon or as it turned out,
ever at all. This was the first 'Nancy' put on hold by Burns, and he is
thought to have changed the date on two further occasions, on 'The Bell'
then 'The Roselle'.

All September and October Robert had no idea what to do with himself or

8669

where to plan his future. One day it was Scotland, the next, Jamaica. He
swithered and dithered until his head span like a top. There was a sailing
in October, but by then he had really-nearly-quite-almost made up his
mind that Jamaica was not on the cards, but he still held on to the ticket, in
case of unforeseen occurrences.

By mid-November he was at his wits end and he knew that he had to
make a firm decision soon, if not immediately. On 15th November 1786
Robert received his first letter from Mrs. Dunlop of Dunlop asking him to
forward her six copies of his poems, this swung the decision in Scotland's
favour.

This order, plus the up-beat news from the Revs. Lawrie and Blacklock
about the reception of his poetry in the Capital made him decide that his
adventure would be downtown Edinburgh, not Kingston, Jamaica. Burns
was now a man on the make intent on getting a second edition by hook,
crook, stealth, flattery or any other means, fair or foul. So, it was off to the
Capital to garner some new and wealthier subscribers for his plan.

Burns set off for Edinburgh on Monday 27th November 1786 mounted on a
borrowed 'pownie' owned by George Reid of Barquharie. He was quite
buoyed up as he had three options.
Option 1 - his bid to get a second edition published would be successful.
Option 2 - he had a ticket for Jamaica and 'The Roselle' was leaving Leith
in December.
Option 3 - he had decided he would like to become an Exciseman.
He had been considering the Excise since October and wrote to Sir John
Whitefoord regarding such on 1st December 1786. Edinburgh was the place
to make contacts for that line of work.

After stopping overnight to socialise at Covington Mains Farm,
Thankerton, at the home of Archibald Prentice, and having breakfasted the
next day with James Stodart, farmer at Alleyhead followed by lunch with
John Stodart, Burns reached Edinburgh on the evening of Tuesday 28th
November 1786. Apparently, this was also the same day that the John
Palmer London Mail Coach arrived, for the time first taking only sixty
hours to deliver mail from London to Edinburgh. And that was fast when
you consider it took ten hours for a coach to travel from Glasgow to
Edinburgh, longer if you tried to circumnavigate all the holes in the road,
(no change there).

On arriving in Edinburgh, Robert lodged with his friend John Richmond at

7807

Baxter's Close in the Lawnmarket (Linen market), which was situated
below a brothel. Richmond's rent was two and six a week (£17.80) but
when his landlady, *Mrs Carfrae found he was subletting a portion of his
bed, she upped the rent to three shillings (£21.60). Burns was there until 5th
May 1787.
*(‘I have just now had a visit from my Landlady who is a staid, sober, piously
disposed, sculdudery-abhorring, widow, coming on her grand climacterick. -She is
at present in sore tribulation respecting some ‘Daughters of Belial’ who are on the
floor immediately above - and as our floors are low and ill-plaistered we can easily
distinguish our laughter-loving, night-rejoicing neighbours - when they are
eating, when they are drinking, when they are singing, when they are etc, my
worthy Landlady tosses sleepless and unquiet, ‘looking for rest but finding none,
the whole night’). (Burns Chronicle 1992).

Burns spent the 29th November 1786 in bed, recovering from his Masonic
social 'wetting' night on the 28th and his horse riding to get to Edinburgh.
When he finally emerged into the streets of Edinburgh, this country swain
must have come face to face with the biggest culture shock of his life. Now
he was to understand how his rural father felt when he came here from
Clochnahill farm, Dunnottar, to work on the construction of the Meadows
in the 1750s.

Burns met up with people he knew from Mauchline, especially members
of the Masons. Sir John Whitefoord, master of the Tarbolton Masonic
Lodge, who once owned Ballochmyle Estate, was now living in Anchor
Close in Edinburgh and agreed to give as much help to Burns as he could.
At the foot of Anchor Close was William Smellie's Printing Works. On the
6th December Burns wrote 'I have now been a week in Edinburgh and have been
introduced to a great number of the Noblesse...' he then went on to list people
he had met, which included Jane Maxwell, the Duchess of Gordon, where
it is said at her home he gave his first public reading.

There was a review of Burns' Poems in the 'Lounger' on 9th December
though an earlier review had been placed in October in the 'Edinburgh
Magazine' for its November-December issue. On the 13th December 1786
Burns found out that the second edition was going to happen, on the 14th
William Creech, who was to be the publisher, had advertised information
that the second edition was 'to be published by subscription for the sole benefit
of the Author.'

It was during his time in Edinburgh that Burns polished and recited the
famous poem 'To the Haggis'. The 'Caledonian Mercury' published it on

8781

20th December 1786. This was the first time that any poem of Burns' was
published in a newspaper. 'Rantin' Rovin' Robin'' was said to have been
written to celebrate his 28th birthday. In January 1787 he met Robert
Ainslie who became a friend (questionable) of both Burns and Agnes
MacLehose.

Robert Burns was lionised in this first visit to Edinburgh, many doors were
thrown open to him. What irked Burns, what he now discovered, was that
the powerful, the rich, the influential, the politicians gathered together in
their own lair, were stupid, self-absorbed, self-centred and boring, but
because of money and titles they were deferred to. These were the law
makers - the corrupt, the greedy, the bullies, the perverse.

In January 1787 Burns met with Dr. Blacklock on several occasions, as well
as reacquainting himself with Margaret Chalmers, his friend from
Ayrshire. The six months Robert spent in this first Edinburgh visit were
not filled with composing great poetry. He was too busy becoming known
and taking part in the essential carousing, eighteenth century version of
networking. In April he wrote a prologue for the actor William Woods for
his benefit night at the Theatre Royal. Woods had been the leading actor in
Edinburgh for over thirty years and was called the Scottish Roscius. The
play for the evening was Shakespeare's 'Merry Wives of Windsor'.

On the 6th February 1787 Burns wrote to the Bailies of the Canongate
Cemetery asking for permission to erect a memorial stone over the
unmarked grave of the poet Robert Fergusson 'my elder brother in
misfortune.' He was granted permission, though it took the architect two
years to put the headstone in place.

Now nearing thirty Burns was thinking of settling down and looking
towards stable employment. Being realistic, as he knew that poetry would
not sustain him or a future family, the choice came down to farming or the
Excise, but he still had a little time to think on it, though Mrs. Dunlop
thought an army career to be more suitable. In March Burns wrote to Mrs.
Dunlop regarding his book 'I have both a second and a third Edition, as the
second was begun with too small a number of copies. - The whole I have printed is
three thousand. - Would the profits of that afford it, with rapture I would take
your hint of a military life, as the most congenial to my feelings and situation of
any other, but 'what is wanting cannot be numbered.''

On 17th April 1787 the Edinburgh Edition of his poems was published and,
like the Kilmarnock Edition was a resounding success. Burns had his

7829

likeness painted by Naysmith. Creech agreed to pay Burns 100 guineas
(£15,760) for the copyright to his poems. He did not receive this payment
until 30th May 1788. With subscription money it was estimated that Creech
finally paid Robert Burns £1,100 (Mackay) equivalent in 2017 to c£157.596.

Before the end of 1787 Burns' words burst on to the global scene with The
London Edition, The Dublin Edition, The Belfast Edition, to be followed in
1788 by The Philadelphia Edition c7th/16th July 1788 and the New York
Edition c11th July 1788 (both pirated). (Burns Chronicle 1927).

On Saturday 5th May 1787 Burns and Ainslie left Edinburgh to set out on
the 'Border Tour'. On the 4th Burns had dropped a letter into James
Johnson, publisher and printer of the Scots Musical Museum, which
included a song by an unknown composer saying, 'keep the original of this
song till we meet again, whenever that may be.' Burns had made his first
contribution to the 'The Scots Musical Museum' collection. A couple of
weeks later, on 22nd May, the first volume of the Scots Musical Museum
was published.

In the first six months that Burns was in Edinburgh he and Agnes never
crossed paths, which is very strange as they had many people in common.
Agnes was desperate to meet the man, but no one was taking her on about
inviting him to their soirees, and as a young separated woman, it was not
appropriate for her to take the initiative.

William Craig did not like the upstart. Craig's poetic soul lay in the works
of Michael Bruce. William may also have been more than a little jealous of
Burns who was of a very manly build, whereas Craig was a more delicate
flower, and Agnes probably went on and on about meeting him, especially
as she felt she was the only person in Edinburgh who hadn't been in his
company. It is not known if Craig ever met Burns before Burns met
Agnes, or ever at all, but if not, he would certainly have met him by
reputation, and that reputation was not a good one. Agnes thought her
chance of being in his presence had passed the day she heard he had left
Edinburgh.

From May to September 1787 Robert Burns travelled over as much of
Scotland as he could. On Monday 7th May he and Ainslie ventured into
England at Coldstream. On Sunday the 27th May, Ainslie returned home.
Robert again crossed into England with Thomas Hood and Robert Kerr
visiting Alnwick, Warkworth, Morpeth ending at Newcastle on the 29th.
The party set off for Hexham the next day then Wardrew then Longtown

9703

where the threesome parted company. Afterwards Burns rode alone back
to Scotland via Carlisle crossing the Sark on 1st June.

Burns made four 'Tours' in 1787 -
Border Tour - 5th May-1st June from Edinburgh, getting as far south as
Newcastle.
West Highland Tour - c22nd June-c30th June, from Mossgiel via Glasgow
up to Inveraray then back to Mossgiel. On returning to Edinburgh c7th
August it is thought that he lodged with Willie Nicol at Buccleuch Pend.
Highland Tour - 24th August-15th September with Nicol, reaching
Inverness. This was the longest, 22 days, covering nearly 600 miles and
was in relative comfort in a chaise as opposed to on horseback.

During these 'Tours' Burns developed and polished his natural bent for
song writing and collecting. On 16th September Burns came back to
Edinburgh, where he lodged again for a short while at the Nicol’s.

As soon as possible Robert kept his earlier promise and contacted James
Johnson regarding contributing to his Musical Museum. From then until
his death nine years later Robert was the unspoken and unpaid editor of
the Museum. Of the six volumes, he oversaw five and contributed post
mortem to number six. The last song printed for the Museum was one by
Burns to the old air, 'Good Night An' Joy Be Wi' Ye A' - 'Adieu! a heart-
warm, fond adieu'! (no. 600), words which were written c24th June 1786
when he was contemplating emigrating to the Indies, and dedicated to the
St James Masonic Lodge, Tarbolton, and included in the Kilmarnock
Edition.

On the 4th October Robert began a fourth Tour, his Autumn Tour, this time
with his friend Dr. James Adair, a better travelling companion than Nicol.
They saw Stirling, Dunfermline and Harvieston, home of Peggy Chalmers.
It is said that he proposed to Peggy Chalmers on this trip, unsuccessfully.
They spent about eight days there then went on to visit Crieff, Ochtertyre
and several other places. At Clackmannan he was knighted by an old
Jacobite lady, Mrs. Catherine Bruce, with a sword said to have belonged to
‘The Bruce’. On returning to Edinburgh on 20th October his aim was to get
his money from Creech, look at leasing a small farm and find a way into
the Excise service. Agnes was just six weeks away from meeting the man
whose name she would be tied with for eternity.

Now back in Edinburgh his first thought was a different roof over his
head, the Nicols had been had work. William Cruikshank, whom he had

7941

met earlier in Edinburgh and who was a friend of Willie Nicol, offered him
lodgings. The Cruikshank family occupied the two top floors in a
relatively new building at 2 (later 30) St. James' Square in the New Town.
Burns gratefully rented the two attic rooms. William and his wife had a
young daughter who, for her age, was very proficient on the harpsichord.
Burns became very fond of twelve-year old Jean Cruikshank and
composed 'A Rosebud By My Early Walk' for her. His nearby neighbour
was Robert Ainslie who had rooms on the north side of St. James Square.

Soon after returning, Robert received the news that one of his twins, his
daughter Jean, aged just over thirteen months, had died on 20th October 'by
careless, murdering mischance.' The little girl had been fragile since birth and
it was just time before she would die. Robert had last seen his twins in the
summer when he had returned to Mossgiel in June from England. The boy
was with the Burns family and the girl was with the Armours. Burns was
not at Mauchline for long but long enough for Jean to be pregnant again.

Burns was in and out of Edinburgh several times during November 1787
and had intended leaving for good at the beginning of December. He was
sick of chasing after Creech for his money and needed to be away to get
his life and responsibilities in order. On the 23rd October Burns received a
signed agreement stating that Creech, a very mean tight-fisted individual,
would pay him 100 guineas for the copyright (£157,596), but Creech had
no intention of paying out until he was forced to at the very last minute.
The amount was eventually paid on 30th May 1788, over a year after the
Edinburgh Edition had been published. It must be remembered that what
Burns was due from Creech was not royalties which were usually paid out
at a certain given time, but subscriptions which should have been handed
to Burns as soon as Creech received them. Creech was playing fast and
loose with Burns' money.

Burns wrote to a Miss Isabella Mabane c1st December 1787 informing her
that he would be leaving Edinburgh in three or four days and promised
that he would try to get a small object belonging to her repaired. He was
still swithering between farming, where he could continue to play the
'Ploughman Poet', and the Excise. He reacquainted himself with Miss
Erskine Ebenezer Nimmo whom he had met, through Margaret Chalmers,
during that first winter of 1786-87 in Edinburgh, he had even asked Miss
Nimmo to accompany him to Harvieston when he was visiting Margaret
and her cousin Charlotte Hamilton, Miss Nimmo declined the invitation,
one notch he could not be accused of nabbing, aged matron or not.

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Miss Nimmo informed him that she would be hosting a soiree, on the late
afternoon of Tuesday the 4th December at her home in Alison Square and
that she would be delighted if he would agree to come as her V.I.P. guest.
The 4th was the day that Burns had intended to return to Mossgiel, but he
liked Miss Nimmo and decided that he could easily wait another day
before leaving, so he agreed to attend the party. Robert Burns would never
realise how much pleading, promising, buttering up and manipulation by
Agnes MacLehose went on to get Miss Nimmo to organise a soiree just for
the intention of the said Agnes to meet the poet of her dreams.

7963

AGNES MEETS ROBERT

December 1787

Agnes had also been pestering William Craig to invite Burns to a soiree,
but William would have no truck with 'that ploughman with pretentions to
poetry.' He had heard stories of 'that man', already he had fathered at least
three illegitimate children, and from what he had heard in the gossip of
the masonic lodges and inns, there would be quite a few bairns bearing
Burns' profile wandering the streets of Edinburgh. He was also an
inveterate drinker, not what Agnes had heard, coarse and rude as would
be expected of one of his class, not what Agnes had heard, irreligious and
with no respect for politicians or his betters, she had heard that.

Edinburgh was not a London or Paris, so Agnes could not understand
how she could fail to bump into the man when she was prowling the
streets and scanning the crowds just for a little glimpse. She had even been
skulking, in a decent ladylike manner, near his lodgings, to no avail. All
she wanted was just to see what he looked like. She couldn't talk to him,
she knew that, but if she dropped something as he passed her, being a
gentleman, he might pick it up and hand it to her. There were ways and
means of meeting which did not always have to be precluded by an official
introduction. Maybe he only ever came out after dark, maybe he didn't
exist at all. No, he existed, William Craig loathed him, and the wild child
at Agnes' core, agreed that it was right for her to do everything she could
to gain Burns' acquaintance.

In 1787 Agnes was described as 'short in stature, her form graceful, her hands
and feet small and delicate. Her features were regular and pleasing, her eyes
lustrous, her complexion fair, her cheeks ruddy, and a well-formed mouth
displayed teeth beautifully white'. Another described her as being 'of a
somewhat voluptuous style of beauty, of lively and easy manners, of a poetical cast
of mind, with some wit, and not too high a degree of refinement or delicacy,' well
she was a Glaswegian after all. Not forgetting that she was blonde, and
according to Burns, 'golden locks were a sign of amorousness' which he noted
in the margin of his copy of 'Koran' by Sterne.

When William Craig heard about Burns' invitation to Miss Nimmo's, he
was not at all pleased. He would certainly not be going. As far as he was
concerned Burns had no place in polite society, and certainly not within a
mile of his attractive and very sociable younger cousin. Agnes was very
vulnerable these days, he had decided. She had changed in the five years

9747

since coming to Edinburgh, had become more open, more vibrant and
therefore William believed that she needed to be protected by him, from
herself. He felt, no knew, she was seeking something, hopefully she would
not find it in that uncouth artisan.

Tuesday 4th December 1787
Nae treasures nor pleasures
Could make us happy lang;

The heart ay's the part ay,
That makes us right or wrang.
(Epistle to Davie (Sillar), a Brother Poet - 1785)

Meanwhile back at the Potterrow, Agnes had dressed in her best for the
party and had engaged Jenny Clow to look after her boys for a few hours.
Huddling into her warm hooded cape she battled the gale force breeze to
Miss Nimmo's residence. She arrived long before anyone else, to find a
suitable place to stand to catch a glimpse of Burns for the first time. She
also needed a backdrop to imprint her first appearance on his memory.
Her heart was beating so fast she thought she was going to have to resort
to smelling salts to keep from fainting. Miss Nimmo kept asking her if she
was well, as she seemed to be a little flushed. Miss Nimmo would open a
window, she offered, if Agnes was too warm, but it was the beginning of
December and a bit chilly outside due to the gales gusting in from the
North Sea, and it might blow all the candles out. Agnes moved a little to
the left and settled herself at the window by a soft draught at the side of
the sash. Cooled by this light zephyr, she felt a little better and less
noticeably red.

The room began to fill up, like a petulant child, Agnes hated anyone who
stood in front of her and blocked her line of sight to the door. She was a
predator on the trail of her prey. Her eyes were focused on the place where
it would appear, while her ears took in every sound that was oscillating
around her. She even held sensible, quickly forgettable, conversations with
the odd person who disturbed her watch. Some thought that she was not
her usual gregarious self, a little distracted, and it had to be said, quite
ruddy in patches.

Tea cup in hand she was discussing the merits of romantic literature with
a friend when she became aware of a ripple of silence spreading across the
room. Her head was a split second behind her eyes as she caught the first
glimpse of the man she had waited for so long to meet. Robert Burns stood
out from all the other men in the room. He was just so......manly! From the

7985

safe distance of the window recess she had claimed, her eyes took in all of
him, from top to toe, when he arrived. She could hardly keep her eyes off
his tight boots encasing his muscular legs straining in his buckskin
trousers, not to mention...no she had to get her mind on more cerebral
things before she really did need the smelling salts.

Coming in from the cold and the afternoon darkness, it took a few seconds
before Burns' eyes adjusted to the light in the room. There appeared to be
quite a few people there that he knew, some had a copy of his poems,
obviously he would have to sign these before leaving. He mason-like
shook hands with the men and kissed a few female hands, then bursting
from another room rushed Miss Nimmo, she had been organising the food
for the evening. She now took charge of her legendary guest. Agnes had
not moved from her position at the window, she would wait to be
discovered.

Miss Nimmo was introducing Burns to those he did not know. The Bard
was oozing charm from every pore and was very aware of a more than
slight frisson from the men in the company as a smitten lady, age did not
seem to matter, ventured into his magnetic orbit. Still that was their
problem. He enjoyed the company of women, enjoyed watching their
reaction to him. His low hypnotic voice made each female believe that for
just one moment, only she and he existed in the room. Old or young, he
could cast the glamour on them, as he wrote in his Epistle to John Lapraik
in 1785 'There's ae wee fau't they whiles lay to me, I like the lasses - Gude forgi'e
me!'

In female company he could be civilized, for a start he did not have to
drink anything stronger than tea if he chose, whereas in male company as
soon as a bottle of spirits, or worse a crate of spirits, was opened it had to
be finished, and he suffered. It was always worse than just a hangover,
rough and ready though people took him to be, he had a delicate internal
system and an undiagnosed heart problem, and he knew that bouts of
heavy drinking had a horrendous effect on him. Tonight's tea taking was
something he was looking forward to. Rubbing the back of his neck he felt
a sensation of someone peering into his soul. He would not turn around,
he would reach her, he assumed and hoped it was a her, eventually.

Agnes was still holding her ground at the window, but, sniper like, her
eyes were sending out icy stilettos towards Burns' back. She saw him
rubbing his neck, he would know her when he saw her. Not for Agnes the
giggles and coyness of some of the other ladies. Though her heart was

9769

beating so fast, she was sure she had used up at least three months of her
life with the speed it was going. She would remain composed, Burns
would be her equal not her better. Miss Nimmo drew Burns away from a
matronly lady and led him by the hand towards Agnes, such a manly
hand too, the hand of an artisan which could transcribe the thoughts of a
heaven blessed poet.

As he came towards Agnes his head was bent, listening intently to what
Miss Nimmo was saying about his next introduction, her friend, how she
had been dying to meet him and was continually reading his poetry. Burns
prepared himself for the usual effusions from an elderly lady. As he lifted
his eyes he was certainly not prepared for what he saw. Standing in front
of him, mirrored in a frame of candlelight against the darkness of the
window was, what he could only describe as......a goddess. The poet in
him rushed to find words to express this sight, the man in him had to be
slapped down for what he was thinking. How could he have not met this
beauty the last time he had been in Edinburgh? He gazed at her just a little
longer than polite society decreed.

Agnes was very composed as Miss Nimmo walked Robert towards her.
She would let him speak first, she had less chance of saying something
totally inane like 'oh I do so like your poetry, Mr. Burns'. Everybody said
that. Hoping the candles were casting the correct amount of allure on her
she, outwardly calm, waited for the poet to raise his head and notice her.
Time seemed to slow as he neared her. Then resting his eyes on her, she
knew immediately he was beguiled by her. She offered her hand to him
which he gently held and lifted to his lips, all the time both held their gaze
of each other.

As Burns’ eyes met Agnes' eyes, as violet as a field of lavender, it felt like
he was gazing into a multi-faceted rare azure diamond. Her eyes sparkled
in the light, and once he caught a candle flame reflected in her iris. If this
was not temptation nothing was. Agnes returned his gaze, staring into
dark eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of time. She had never seen such
blackness before and as she looked she watched them soften towards her,
they melted at the sight of her and she knew she would never be the same
again. Then he spoke, his voice was as dark as his eyes, a deep, warm,
manly voice.

After passing a few remarks about how much she liked his poetry, well it
was all she could think of to say that wouldn't incriminate her in decent
society, she said she hoped he would read some of his work for them, with

8907

a nod of assent he passed on to the next recipient of his time. Agnes felt a
little irritated at Miss Nimmo for shooing him away so quickly, but when
Burns turned mid-sentence from the other woman, and smiled at her,
Agnes knew that all would be right with the world and she was sure they
would meet again during the evening.

Robert was doing the rounds meeting his admirers, but out the corner of
his eye he was always able to catch a glimpse of Agnes. Agnes was a little
subtler and always situated herself somewhere she could watch Burns'
reflection, be it in the window or a mirror or a glass panel. Like two
swordsmen, they circled the room teasingly dancing round each other,
with each round, their orbit shrinking, now they were next to each other
and all that was to be done was for them to turn and touch.

Agnes instigated the situation, she stepped back into the Poet, meaning
she had to apologise to him for her clumsiness. Like a gentleman he took
all the blame and looking at Agnes that was not all he wanted to take. He
began speaking of Edinburgh, then he mentioned that she did not seem to
have an Edinburgh accent. She told him she was from Glasgow, and this
encouraged Agnes to give him the extremely shortened version of her
recent life story, shortened but none the less interesting - sad and amusing
at the same time, from a woman who had a way with words.

Burns, whose heart always went out to those who had suffered
misfortunes, genuinely felt for the woman, especially the loss of her two
children, as he had lost a child himself the October just past. In fact, he
surprised himself by telling this total stranger about this loss. She would
be aware that he was not married to the child's mother, so he wondered if
he had set himself up for a fall, but no, Mrs. MacLehose looked near to
tears when he told her of his late daughter's fight for life, she did not judge
him.

They talked for longer than was considered acceptable by the salubrious
soiree guests. When Agnes said that she had to return to her two boys, he
escorted her to collect her heavy cape for the cold, wet and windy
December evening's walk back. Lifting the cape over her shoulders, Burns
said that he felt ungallant not seeing her home, but as he was the guest of
honour it would insult Miss Nimmo if he left. Agnes understood. Feeling
quite forward, she asked if he would like to sup with her at her home
sometime.

For all that Burns' eyes were as black as charcoal, at that question they

9881

blazed into life. Of course, he would. He could not manage the next day,
Wednesday 5th but Thursday 6th seemed to be free, would that suit Agnes.
Agnes was well and truly suited and eight o'clock at night was the time
agreed for their encounter.

They returned to the salon where Agnes made her adieus. Miss Nimmo
saw her to the door, asking if she was now happy and satisfied that she
had met the poet. Agnes kissed Miss Nimmo on the cheek saying that it
had been years since she had been happier, and that Miss Nimmo was the
instigator of that happiness. The old woman waggled a warning finger at
her. Pulling the cape hood over her hair Agnes stepped out into bitter
night. This was not a night to walk home, to hang with the cost she waved
down a passing carriage and climbed in, she had things to consider for
Thursday.

As the carriage moved off, she saw Burns looking down at her. Telling the
driver to stop, the couple stared at each other, each forming their personal
vignette, Agnes' face and shoulders framed in the carriage window, and
Burns depicted in the frame of Miss Nimmo's living room window. Agnes
smiled at the handsome poet and he in turn bowed his head in her
direction just before an unknown hand drew his attention away as her
carriage moved off. Agnes knew she was playing with fire, knew she
could lose the reputation she had taken so long to build up, but she
couldn't or wouldn't help herself. She had left her husband in December
1780, it was now December 1787. Maybe it was the the seven-year itch?

Her two boys had been looked after by their servant, Jenny Clow. When
Agnes arrived home, she saw that it was much later than she realised. She
paid Jenny for her time and let her return to her lodgings.

The boys were bedded, and she looked in on them and kissed each warm
cheek, neither stirred. She returned to her sitting room, rattled the fire into
life, then pulled her chair over to the table where her writing slope was
placed. Carefully she sharpened her quill and drawing her ink towards her
she put in 'guid black prent' the verbal invitation she had offered Burns.

That short note written on a bitterly cold Tuesday evening on 4th
December 1787 fired the first shot of the volley that became the Clarinda-
Sylvander correspondence. She had it delivered by the Penny Post to St
James Square for him to receive when he returned home later that evening.

8929

THE LETTERS

Note - unavailable
Tuesday evening - 4 December 1787
Agnes to Robert
Inviting him to have tea with her on Thursday 6th December.

Burns had every intention of keeping his appointment with Agnes but
unfortunately on the Thursday as it was nearing their meeting time, due to
business he was unavoidably detained. He immediately sent an apologetic
note to Agnes via the Penny Post courier.

Agnes was devastated, she had been planning this evening since the
Tuesday, her best china had been washed and correctly placed on the table
and she had bought some small treats to impress Burns with. He was not
going to get away. She made the courier hold on while she quickly drafted
another letter inviting Burns to visit on Saturday night, 8th December,
instead. Burns then detained the courier while he replied to Agnes.

Note - unavailable
Thursday - 6 December 1787
Robert to Agnes
Apologising for being unable to meet her that night due to business.

Note - unavailable
Thursday - 6 December 1787
Agnes to Robert
Accepting his apology and inviting him for tea on Saturday 8th December.

Letter 1
Thursday even - 6 December 1787
Robert to Agnes
Madam,
I had set no small store by my tea-drinking tonight and have not often
been so disappointed. -Saturday evening, I shall embrace the opportunity
with the greatest pleasure. -I leave this town this day se'ennight (13th), and
probably for a couple of twelvemonth but must ever regret that I so lately
gott an acquaintance I shall ever highly esteem, and in whose welfare, I
shall ever be warmly interested.
Our worthy common friend (Miss Nimmo), in her usual pleasant way,
rallied me a good deal on my new acquaintance, and in the humour of her
ideas I wrote some lines which I enclose you, as I think they have a good

18030