hat one of the most considerable Saxon men of
the Eighteenth century was an Ayrshire Peasant named Robert Burns.
Yes, I will say, here too was a piece of the right Saxon stuff: strong
as the Harz-rock, rooted in the depths of the world;--rock, yet with
wells of living softness in it! A wild impetuous whirlwind of passion
and faculty slumbered quiet there; such heavenly _melody_ dwelling in
the heart of it. A noble rough genuineness; homely, rustic, honest;
true simplicity of strength: with its lightning-fire, with its soft
dewy pity;--like the old Norse Thor, the Peasant-god!--

Burns's Brother Gilbert, a man of much sense and worth, has told me
that Robert, in his young days, in spite of their hardship, was
usually the gayest of speech; a fellow of infinite frolic, laughter,
sense and heart; far pleasanter to hear there, stript cutting peats in
the bog, or suchlike, than he ever afterwards knew him. I can well
believe it. This basis of mirth ('_fond gaillard_,' as old Marquis
Mirabeau calls it), a primal-element of sunshine and joyfulness,
coupled with his other deep and earnest qualities, is one of the most
attractive characteristics of Burns. A large fund of Hope dwells in
him; spite of his tragical history, he is not a mourning man. He
shakes his sorrows gallantly aside; bounds forth victorious over them.
It is as the lion shaking 'dew-drops from his mane;' as the
swift-bounding horse, that _laughs_ at the shaking of the spear.--But
indeed, Hope, Mirth, of the sort like Burns's, are they not the
outcome properly of warm generous affection,--such as is the beginning
of all to every man?

You would think it strange if I called Burns the most gifted British
soul we had in all that century of his: and yet I believe the day is
coming when there will be little danger in saying so. His writings,
all that he _did_ under such obstructions, are only a poor fragment of
him. Professor Stewart remarked very justly, what indeed is true of
all Poets good for much, that his poetry was not any particular
faculty; but the general result of a naturally vigorous original mind
expressing itself in that way. Burns's gifts, expressed in
conversation, are the theme of all that ever heard him. All kinds of
gifts: from the gracefulest utterances of courtesy, to the highest
fire of passionate speech; loud floods of mirth, soft wailings of
affection, laconic emphasis, clear piercing insight; all was in him.
Witty duchesses celebrate him as a