templating this sad end of Burns and how he sank unaided by any
real help, uncheered by any wise sympathy, generous minds have
sometimes figured to themselves, with a reproachful sorrow, that much
might have been done for him--that by counsel, true affection, and
friendly ministrations, he might have been saved to himself and the
world. We question whether there is not more tenderness of heart than
soundness of judgment in these suggestions. It seems dubious to us
whether the richest, wisest, most benevolent individual could have
lent Burns any effectual help. Counsel, which seldom profits any one,
he did not need: in his understanding he knew right from wrong as well
perhaps as any man ever did; but the persuasion, which would have
availed him, lies not so much in the head as in the heart, where no
argument or expostulation could have assisted much to implant it. As
to money, again, we do not really believe that this was his essential
want, or well see how any private man could, even presupposing Burns's
consent, have bestowed on him an independent fortune, with much
prospect of decisive advantage. It is a mortifying truth, that two men
in any rank of society could hardly be found virtuous enough to give
money, and to take it as a necessary gift, without injury to the moral
entireness of one or both. But so stands the fact: friendship, in the
old heroic sense of that term, no longer exists, except in the cases
of kindred or other legal affinity; it is in reality no longer
expected or recognized as a virtue among men. A close observer of
manners has pronounced "patronage," that is pecuniary or other
economic furtherance, to be "twice cursed," cursing him that gives and
him that takes! And thus in regard to outward matters also, it has
become the rule, as in regard to inward it always was and must be the
rule, that no one shall look for effectual help to another, but that
each shall rest contented with what help he can afford himself. Such,
we say, is the principle of modern honor--naturally enough growing out
of that sentiment of pride which we inculcate and encourage as the
basis of our whole social morality. Many a poet has been poorer than
Burns, but no one was ever prouder: we may question whether, without
great precautions, even a pension from royalty would not have galled
and encumbered more than actually assisted him.

Still less, therefore, are we disposed to join with another class of
Burns's admirers, who accu