The fonds contains thirty autograph letters written by James Drummond Burns (1823-1864) to his friend, James Maclean of Edinburgh, between 1849 and 1864.
The first letter dated, March 1849, begins with a poetic description of the view of the island and the sea from his window and concludes with the news that he has fallen in love, but that the object of his affection is a woman who is dying. Other letters from this time period describe his concerns with the practical issues of money and sending wine to his correspondent and other friend. His health is improving in the climate, but he is never symptom free. He is clearly enchanted with the climate and his surroundings, which he describes with a genuinely poetic spirit. Burns writes about the Catholicism of the island and the background of the church’s bells, which are different in tone, he thinks, from the bells of Edinburgh's St. Giles. He observes processions, apparently of a semi-pagan nature in the teeth of a drought which has struck the island. He writes about his trip to Italy, Rome, Florence, Palermo, and Naples, and his impressions of the places he visits including a visit to the mummified remains of monks held in a Capuchin monastery in Sicily, which rather horrifies him; the Presbyterian sensibility finding the Catholic Mediterranean particularly hard during this episode. A lack of money is a constant theme, and we learn that he has placed his financial affairs in the hands of his correspondent. Returning from Italy to Madeira proves troublesome and finding no direct ship to Madeira he is forced to divert to Marseille (a city he dislikes intensely), Barcelona, and Gibraltar to Lisbon. He mentions seeing almonds and raisins which puts him in mind of his correspondent, who appears to be an importer of these items. He speaks enigmatically of ‘experiences’ during his time on Madeira, which have been largely good and we have the impression his stay there has been generally good for his health, though at one point he mentions having nightmares. Various of their mutual friends are mentioned including a Mr. ‘Cuppies’ [likely George Cuppies (1822-1891), a prolific author and contributor to magazines including Blackwoods. On the whole he approves of Cuppies and recognizes his talent but decries his use of profane language, since Cuppies seems to have written about the maritime life].
The second batch of letters are from Brighton and Hampstead after Burns’ return from Madeira. Again, money issues are prominent and his obligation to Maclean are strongly felt. Much of his financial difficulties appear to be regarding paying for his brother Robert’s medical education. He writes that he is prepared to give McLean the proceeds of a publication which is coming out. For a previous work, ‘Heavenly Jerusalem’, he was paid 15 guineas, and he expects more for this one. Although much of what he writes concerns money, he moves between anxiety and good humour when writing about the subject. Clearly, he admires his correspondent’s business acumen, likening him to a 'Rosicrucian alchemist' and referring to himself as a 'neophyte' disciple causing mayhem in his mentor's laboratory. A few letters are from St. Helier, where he is visiting friends. He has decided to take up the position in Hampstead, which gives him a salary of £200 compared to the salary at Brighton of £300, “but the work would have killed me”. Writing about the Crystal Palace, he considers it a 'tumour' emanating from the 'pride of the 19th century'. Although a lack of money remains the predominant theme of these letters, Burns writes with wit and humour most of the time, and his friendship with his correspondent is clearly a warm one. There is occasional mention of his writing, lyrics being set to music, and dealings with publishers, but he is a man beset by debt, trying to help his younger brother through university and constantly mired in financial difficulties. He apologizes to Maclean all the time for bringing the subject up, but he is never, it seems, clear of the debts into which he has fallen. Throughout the letters, it is evident that Burns can write well, charmingly with an unaffected vividness, and often very amusingly. “It is warmer in Sussex at Christmas than in Scotland in midsummer,” he writes in one letter.
