He was very conscious of difference of rank, and
never sought to ignore it, however little he thought it mattered in
comparison with intrinsic merit. But the very degree to which he was
aware of the social gap between him and many of his acquaintances put
him ever on the alert for slights; and when he perceived or imagined
that he had received them, his indignation was sometimes less than
dignified and often excessive. Though he knew that he possessed
uncommon gifts, he was essentially modest in fact as well as in
appearance, and on the whole underestimated his genius.
He had a warm heart, and in his relations with his equals he was
genial and friendly. His love of his kind manifested itself especially
in his delight in company, a delight naturally heightened by the
enjoyment of the sense of leadership which his superior wit and
brilliance gave him in almost any society. The customs of the time
associated to an unfortunate degree hard drinking with social
intercourse. But more than the whisky he enjoyed the loosening of
self-consciousness and the warmth of conviviality that it brought.
It's no I like to sit an' swallow, [not that]
Then like a swine to puke an' wallow;
But gie me just a true guid fellow [give]
Wi' right ingine, [wit]
And spunkie ance to mak us mellow, [liquor enough]
An' then we'll shine!
Burns was not a drunkard.
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