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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30721-8.txt b/30721-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8281c13 --- /dev/null +++ b/30721-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4559 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Burns, by Gabriel Setoun + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Robert Burns + Famous Scots Series + +Author: Gabriel Setoun + +Release Date: December 20, 2009 [EBook #30721] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + + + + +[Illustration: + +ROBERT +BURNS + +BY +GABRIEL +SETOUN + +FAMOUS +·SCOTS· +·SERIES· + +PUBLISHED BY +OLIPHANT ANDERSON +& FERRIER · EDINBURGH +AND LONDON + +] + + * * * * * + +The designs and ornaments of this volume are by Mr. Joseph Brown, and +the printing from the press of Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh. + + _June 1896._ + + * * * * * + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +CHAPTER I + +BIRTH AND EDUCATION 7 + + +CHAPTER II + +LOCHLEA AND MOSSGIEL 25 + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SERIES OF SATIRES 40 + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE KILMARNOCK EDITION 56 + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EDINBURGH EDITION 73 + + +CHAPTER VI + +BURNS'S TOURS 92 + + +CHAPTER VII + +ELLISLAND 111 + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DUMFRIES 128 + + +CHAPTER IX + +SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE 148 + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BIRTH AND EDUCATION + + +Of the many biographies of Robert Burns that have been written, most of +them laboriously and carefully, perhaps not one gives so luminous and +vivid a portrait, so lifelike and vigorous an impression of the +personality of the poet and the man, as the picture the author has given +of himself in his own writings. Burns's poems from first to last are, +almost without exception, the literary embodiment of his feelings at a +particular moment. He is for ever revealing himself to the reader, even +in poems that might with propriety be said to be purely objective. His +writings in a greater degree than the writings of any other author are +the direct expression of his own experiences; and in his poems and songs +he is so invariably true to himself, so dominated by the mood of the +moment, that every one of them gives us some glimpse into the heart and +soul of the writer. In his letters he is rarely so happy; frequently he +is writing up to certain models, and ceases to be natural. Consequently +we often miss in them the character and spirituality that is never +absent from his poetry. But his poems and songs, chronologically +arranged, might make in themselves, and without the aid of any running +commentary, a tolerably complete biography. Reading them, we note the +development of his character and the growth of his powers as a poet; we +can see at any particular time his attitude towards the world, and the +world's attitude towards him; we have, in fine, a picture of the man in +his relations to his fellow-man and in relation to circumstances, and +may learn if we will what mark he made on the society of his time, and +what effect that society had on him. And that surely is an important +essential of perfect biography. + +But otherwise the story of Burns's life has been told with such +minuteness of detail, that the internal evidence of his poetry would +seem only to be called in to verify or correct the verdict of tradition +and the garbled gossip of those wise after the fact of his fame. It is +so easy after a man has compelled the attention of the world to fill up +the empty years of his life when he was all unknown to fame, with +illustrative anecdotes and almost forgotten incidents, revealed and +coloured by the light of after events! This is a penalty of genius, and +it is sometimes called fame, as if fame were a gift given of the world +out of a boundless and unintelligent curiosity, and not the life-record +of work achieved. It is easier to collect ana and to make them into the +patchwork pattern of a life than to read the character of the man in his +writings; and patchwork, of necessity, has more of colour than the +homespun web of a peasant-poet. + +Burns has suffered sorely at the hands of the anecdote-monger. One great +feature of his poems is their perfect sincerity. He pours out his soul +in song; tells the tale of his loves, his joys and sorrows, of his +faults and failings, and the awful pangs of remorse. And if a man be +candid and sincere, he will be taken at his word when he makes the world +his confessional, and calls himself a sinner. There is pleasure to small +minds in discovering that the gods are only clay; that they who are +guides and leaders are men of like passions with themselves, subject to +the same temptations, and as liable to fall. This is the consolation of +mediocrity in the presence of genius; and if from the housetops the poet +proclaims his shortcomings, the world will hear him gladly and believe; +his faults will be remembered, and his genius forgiven. What more easy +than to bear out his testimony with the weight of collateral evidence, +and the charitable anecdotage of acquaintances who knew him not? +Information that is vile and valueless may ever be had for the seeking; +and it needs only to be whispered about for a season to find its way +ultimately into print, and to flourish. + +It might naturally be expected at this time of day that all that is +merely mythical and traditional might have been sifted from what is +accredited and attested fact, that the chaff might have been winnowed +from the grain in the life of Burns. In some of the most +recently-published biographies this has been most carefully and +conscientiously done; but through so many years wild and improbable +stories had been allowed to thrive and to go unchallenged, that fiction +has come to take the colour and character of fact, and to pass into +history. 'The general impression of the place,' that unfortunate phrase +on which the late George Gilfillan based an unpardonable attack on the +character of the poet, has grown by slow degrees, and gained credence by +the lapse of time, till it is accepted as the general impression of the +country. Those who would speak of the poet Robert Burns are expected to +speak apologetically, and to point a moral from the story of a wasted +life. For that has become a convention, and convention is always +respectable. But after all is said and done, the devil's advocate makes +a wretched biographer. It seems strange and unaccountable that men +should dare to become apologists for one who has sung himself into the +heart and conscience of his country, and taken the ear of the world. Yet +there have been apologists even for the poetry of Burns. We are told, +wofully, that he wrote only short poems and songs; was content with +occasional pieces; did not achieve any long and sustained effort--to be +preserved, it is to be expected, in a folio edition, and assigned a +fitting place among other musty and hide-bound immortals on the shelves +of libraries under lock and key. As well might we seek to apologise for +the fields and meadows, in so far as they bring forth neither corn nor +potatoes, but only grasses and flowers, to dance to the piping of the +wind, and nod in the sunshine of summer. + +It is a healthier sign, however, that the more recent biographers of +Burns snap their fingers in the face of convention, and, looking to the +legacy he has left the world, refuse to sit in sackcloth and ashes round +his grave, either in the character of moralising mourners or charitable +mutes. Whatever has to be said against them nowadays, the 'cant of +concealment'--to adopt another of Gilfillan's phrases--is not to be laid +to their charge. Rather have they rushed to the other extreme, and in +their eagerness to do justice to the memory of the poet, led the reader +astray in a wilderness of unnecessary detail. So much is now known of +Burns, so many minute and unimportant details of his life and the lives +of others have been unearthed, that the poet is, so to speak, buried in +biography; the character and the personality of the man lost in the +voluminous testimony of many witnesses. Reading, we note the care and +conscientiousness of the writer; we have but a confused and blurred +impression of the poet. Although a century has passed since his death, +we do not yet see the events of Burns's life in proper perspective. +Things trifling in themselves, and of little bearing on his character, +have been preserved, and are still recorded with painful elaboration; +while the sidelights from friends, companions, and acquaintances, male +and female, are many and bewildering. + +Would it not be possible out of this mass of material to tell the story +of Robert Burns's life simply and clearly, neither wandering away into +the family histories and genealogies of a crowd of uninteresting +contemporaries, nor wasting time in elaborating inconsequential trifles? +What is wanted is a picture of the man as he was, and an understanding +of all that tended to make him the name and the power he is in the world +to-day. + +William Burness, the father of the poet, was a native of +Kincardineshire, and 'was thrown by early misfortunes on the world at +large.' After many years' wanderings, he at last settled in Ayrshire, +where he worked at first as a gardener before taking a lease of some +seven acres of land near the Bridge of Doon, and beginning business as +a nurseryman. It was to a clay cottage which he built on this land that +he brought his wife, Agnes Broun, in December 1757; and here the poet +was born in 1759. The date of his birth is not likely to be forgotten. + + 'Our monarch's hindmost year but ane + Was five-and-twenty days begun, + 'Twas then a blast o' Jan'war' win' + Blew hansel in on Robin.' + +To his father Burns owed much; and if there be anything in heredity in +the matter of genius, it was from him that he inherited his marvellous +mental powers. His mother is spoken of as a shrewd and sagacious woman, +with education enough to enable her to read her Bible, but unable to +write her own name. She had a great love for old ballads, and Robert as +a boy must often have listened to her chanting the quaint old songs with +which her retentive memory was stored. The poet resembled his mother in +feature, although he had the swarthy complexion of his father. Attempts +have been made now and again to trace his ancestry on the father's side, +and to give to the world a kind of genealogy of genius. Writers have +demonstrated to their own satisfaction that it was perfectly natural +that Burns should have been the man he was. But the other children of +William Burness were not great poets. It has even been discovered that +his genius was Celtic, whatever that may mean! Excursions and +speculations of this kind are vain and unprofitable, hardly more +reputable than the profanities of the Dumfries craniologists who, in +1834, in the early hours of April 1st,--a day well chosen,--desecrated +the poet's dust. They fingered his skull, 'applied their compasses to +it, and satisfied themselves that Burns had capacity enough to write +_Tam o' Shanter_, _The Cotter's Saturday Night_, and _To Mary in +Heaven_.' Let us take the poet as he comes to us, a gift of the gods, +and be thankful. As La Bruyère puts it, 'Ces hommes n'ont ni ancêtres ni +postérités; ils forment eux seuls toute une descendance.' + +What Burns owed particularly to his father he has told us himself both +in prose and verse. The exquisite and beautiful picture of the father +and his family at their evening devotions is taken from life; and +William Burness is the sire who + + 'turns o'er with patriarchal grace + The big ha'-bible ance his father's pride'; + +and in his fragment of autobiography the poet remarks: 'My father picked +up a pretty large quantity of observation and experience, to which I am +indebted for most of my pretensions to wisdom. I have met with few men +who understood men, their manners and their ways, equal to him; but +stubborn, ungainly integrity and headlong, ungovernable irascibility are +disqualifying circumstances; consequently I was born a very poor man's +son.... It was his dearest wish and prayer to have it in his power to +keep his children under his own eye till they could discern between good +and evil; so with the assistance of his generous master, he ventured on +a small farm in that gentleman's estate.' + +This estimate of William Burness is endorsed and amplified by Mr. +Murdoch, who had been engaged by him to teach his children, and knew him +intimately. + +'I myself,' he says, 'have always considered William Burness as by far +the best of the human race that ever I had the pleasure of being +acquainted with. He was an excellent husband; a tender and affectionate +father. He had the art of gaining the esteem and goodwill of those that +were labourers under him. He carefully practised every known duty, and +avoided everything that was criminal; or, in the apostle's words, +_Herein did he exercise himself in living a life void of offence towards +God and man_.' + +Even in his manner of speech he was different from men in his own walk +in life. 'He spoke the English language with more propriety (both with +respect to diction and pronunciation) than any man I ever knew with no +greater advantages.' + +Truly was Burns blessed in his parents, especially in his father. +Naturally such a father wished his children to have the best education +his means could afford. It may be that he saw even in the infancy of his +firstborn the promise of intellectual greatness. Certain it is he +laboured, as few fathers even in Scotland have done, to have his +children grow up intelligent, thoughtful, and virtuous men and women. + +Robert Burns's first school was at Alloway Mill, about a mile from home, +whither he was sent when in his sixth year. He had not been long there, +however, when the father combined with a few of his neighbours to +establish a teacher in their own neighbourhood. That teacher was Mr. +Murdoch, a young man at that time in his nineteenth year. + +This is an important period in the poet's life, although he himself in +his autobiography only briefly touches on his schooling under Murdoch. +He has more to say of what he owed to an old maid of his mother's, +remarkable for her ignorance, credulity, and superstition. 'She had, I +suppose, the largest collection in the country of tales and songs +concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, +spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, +cantraips, enchanted towers, giants, dragons, and other trumpery. This +cultivated the latent seeds of Poesy; but had so strong an effect on my +imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes +keep a sharp lookout in suspicious places; and though nobody can be more +sceptical in these matters than I, yet it often takes an effort of +philosophy to shake off these idle terrors.' + +It ought not to be forgotten that Burns had a better education than most +lads of his time. Even in the present day many in better positions have +not the advantages that Robert and Gilbert Burns had, the sons of such a +father as William Burness, and under such an earnest and thoughtful +teacher as Mr. Murdoch. It is important to notice this, because Burns is +too often regarded merely as a _lusus naturæ_; a being gifted with song, +and endowed by nature with understanding from his birth. We hear too +much of the _ploughman_ poet. His genius and natural abilities are +unquestioned and unquestionable; but there is more than mere natural +genius in his writings. They are the work of a man of no mean education, +and bear the stamp--however spontaneously his songs sing themselves in +our ears--of culture and study. In a letter to Dr. Moore several years +later than now, Burns himself declared against the popular view. 'I have +not a doubt but the knack, the aptitude to learn the Muses' trade is a +gift bestowed by Him who forms the secret bias of the soul; but I as +firmly believe that _excellence_ in the profession is the fruit of +industry, attention, labour, and pains. At least I am resolved to try my +doctrine by the test of experience.' There is a class of people, +however, to whom this will sound heretical, forbidding them, as it were, +the right to babble with grovelling familiarity of Rab, Rob, Robbie, +Scotia's Bard, and the Ploughman Poet; and insisting on his name being +spoken with conscious pride of utterance, Robert Burns, Poet. + +Gilbert Burns, writing to Dr. Currie of the school-days under Mr. +Murdoch, says: 'We learnt to read English tolerably well, and to write a +little. He taught us, too, the English Grammar. I was too young to +profit much by his lessons in grammar, but Robert made some proficiency +in it--a circumstance of considerable weight in the unfolding of his +genius and character, as he soon became remarkable for the fluency and +correctness of his expression, and read the few books that came in his +way with much pleasure and improvement; for even then he was a reader +when he could get a book.' + +After the family removed to Mount Oliphant, the brothers attended Mr. +Murdoch's school for two years longer, until Mr. Murdoch was appointed +to a better situation, and the little school was broken up. Thereafter +the father looked after the education of his boys himself, not only +helping them with their reading at home after the labours of the day, +but 'conversing familiarly with them on all subjects, as if they had +been men, and being at great pains, as they accompanied him on the +labours of the farm, to lead conversation to such subjects as might tend +to increase their knowledge or confirm them in virtuous habits.' Among +the books he borrowed or bought for them at that period were Salmon's +_Geographical Grammar_, Derham's _Physico-Theology_, Ray's _Wisdom of +God in the Works of Creation_, and Stackhouse's _History of the Bible_. +It was about this time, too, that Robert became possessed of _The +Complete Letter-Writer_, a book which Gilbert declared was to Robert of +the greatest consequence, since it inspired him with a great desire to +excel in letter-writing, and furnished him with models by some of the +first writers in our language. Perhaps this book was a great gain. It is +questionable. What would Robert Burns's letters have been had he never +seen a Complete Letter-Writer, and never read 'those models by some of +the first writers in our language'? Easier and more natural, we are of +opinion; and he might have written fewer. Those in the Complete +Letter-Writer style we could easily have spared. His teacher, Mr. +Murdoch, furnishes some excellent examples of the stilted epistolary +style that was then fashionable. + +'But now the plains of Mount Oliphant began to whiten, and Robert was +summoned to relinquish the pleasing scenes that surrounded the grotto of +Calypso, and, armed with a sickle, to seek glory by signalising himself +in the fields of Ceres.' Though Robert Burns never perpetrated anything +like this, his models were not without their pernicious effect on his +prose compositions. + +When Robert was about fourteen years old, he and Gilbert were sent for a +time, week about, to a school at Dalrymple, and the year following +Robert was sent to Ayr to revise his English grammar under Mr. Murdoch. +While there he began the study of French, bringing with him, when he +returned home, a French Dictionary and Grammar and Fenelon's +_Telemaque_. In a little while he could read and understand any French +author in prose. He also gave some time to Latin; but finding it dry and +uninteresting work, he soon gave it up. Still he must have picked up a +little of that language, and we know that he returned to the rudiments +frequently, although 'the Latin seldom predominated, a day or two at a +time, or a week at most.' Under the heading of general reading might be +mentioned _The Life of Hannibal_, _The Life of Wallace_, _The +Spectator_, Pope's _Homer_, Locke's _Essay on the Human Understanding_, +_Allan Ramsay's Works_, and several _Plays of Shakspeare_. All this is +worth noting, even at some length, because it shows how Burns was being +educated, and what books went to form and improve his literary taste. + +Yet when we consider the circumstances of the family we see that there +was not much time for study. The work on the farm allowed Burns little +leisure, but every spare moment would seem to have been given to +reading. Father and sons, we are told by one who afterwards knew the +family at Lochlea, used to sit at their meals with books in their hands; +and the poet says that one book in particular, _A Select Collection of +English Songs_, was his _vade mecum_. He pored over them, driving his +cart or walking to labour, song by song, verse by verse, carefully +noting the true, tender, or sublime from affectation or fustian. 'I am +convinced,' he adds, 'I owe to this practice much of my critic craft, +such as it is.' + +The years of their stay at Mount Oliphant were years of unending toil +and of poverty bravely borne. The whole period was a long fight against +adverse circumstances. Looking back on his life at this time, Burns +speaks of it as 'the cheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing moil +of a galley slave'; and we can well believe that this is no exaggerated +statement. His brother Gilbert is even more emphatic. 'Mount Oliphant,' +he says, 'is almost the poorest soil I know of in a state of +cultivation.... My father, in consequence of this, soon came into +difficulties, which were increased by the loss of several of his cattle +by accident and disease. To the buffetings of misfortune we could only +oppose hard labour and the most rigid economy. We lived very sparingly. +For several years butcher's meat was a stranger in the house, while all +the members of the family exerted themselves to the utmost of their +strength, and rather beyond it, in the labours of the farm. My brother, +at the age of thirteen, assisted in thrashing the crop of corn, and at +fifteen was the principal labourer on the farm; for we had no hired +servant, male or female. The anguish of mind we felt at our tender years +under these straits and difficulties was very great. To think of our +father growing old (for he was now above fifty), broken down with the +long-continued fatigues of his life, with a wife and five other +children, and in a declining state of circumstances, these reflections +produced in my brother's mind and mine sensations of the deepest +distress. I doubt not but the hard labour and sorrow of this period of +his life was in a great measure the cause of that depression of spirits +with which Robert was so often afflicted through his whole life +afterwards. At this time he was almost constantly afflicted in the +evenings with a dull headache, which at a future period of his life was +exchanged for a palpitation of the heart and a threatening of fainting +and suffocation in his bed in the night-time.' + +This, we doubt not, is a true picture--melancholy, yet beautiful. But +not only did this increasing toil and worry to make both ends meet, +injure the bodily health of the poet, but it did harm to him in other +ways. It affected, to a certain extent, his moral nature. Those bursts +of bitterness which we find now and again in his poems, and more +frequently in his letters, are assuredly the natural outcome of these +unsocial and laborious years. Burns was a man of sturdy independence; +too often this independence became aggressive. He was a man of +marvellous keenness of perception; too frequently did this manifest +itself in a sulky suspicion, a harshness of judgment, and a bitterness +of speech. We say this in no spirit of fault-finding, but merely point +it out as a natural consequence of a wretched and leisureless existence. +This was the education of circumstances--hard enough in Burns's case; +and if it developed in him certain sterling qualities, gave him an +insight into and a sympathy with the lives of his struggling fellows, it +at the same time warped, to a certain extent, his moral nature. + +What was his outlook on the world at this time? He measured himself with +those he met, we may be sure, for Burns certainly (as he says of his +father) 'understood men, their manners and their ways,' as it is given +to very few to be able to do. Of the ploughmen, farmers, lairds, or +factors, he saw round about him there was none to compare with him in +natural ability, few his equal in field-work. 'At the plough, scythe, or +reap-hook,' he remarks, 'I feared no competitor.' Yet, conscious of easy +superiority, he saw himself a drudge, almost a slave, while those whom +nature had not blessed with brains were gifted with a goodly share of +this world's wealth. + + It's hardly in a body's power + To keep at times frae being sour, + To see how things are shar'd; + How best o' chiels are whiles in want, + While coofs on countless thousands rant, + An' ken na how to wair 't.' + +His father, his brother, and himself--all the members of the family +indeed--toiled unceasingly, yet were unable to better their position. +Matters, indeed, got worse, and worst of all when their landlord died, +and they were left to the tender mercies of a factor. The name of this +man we do not know, nor need we seek to know it. We know the man +himself, and he will live for ever a type of tyrannous, insolent +insignificance. + + 'I've noticed, on our Laird's court-day, + An' mony a time my heart's been wae, + Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, + How they maun thole a factor's snash: + He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an swear, + He'll apprehend them, poind their gear: + While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, + An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble.' + +Is it to be wondered at that Burns's blood boiled at times, or that he +should now and again look at those in easier circumstances with snarling +suspicion, and give vent to his feelings in words of rankling +bitterness? Robert Burns and his father were just such men as an +insolent factor would take a fiendish delight in torturing. 'My +indignation yet boils,' Burns wrote years afterwards, 'at the +recollection of the scoundrel factor's insolent, threatening letters, +which used to set us all in tears.' Had they 'boo'd and becked' at his +bidding, and grovelled at his feet, he might have had some glimmering +sense of justice, and thought it mercy. But the Burnses were men of a +different stamp. 'William Burness always treated superiors with a +becoming respect, but he never gave the smallest encouragement to +aristocratical arrogance'; and his son Robert was not less manly and +independent. He was too sound in judgment; too conscious of his own +worth, to sink into mean and abject servility. But this factor, perhaps +more than anyone else, did much to pervert, if he could not kill, the +poet's spirit of independence. + +Curiously enough, the opening sentences of his autobiographical sketch +have a suspicious ring of the pride that apes humility. There is +something harsh and aggressive in his unnecessary confidence. 'I have +not the most distant pretensions to assume the character which the +pye-coated guardians of escutcheons call a gentleman. When at Edinburgh +last winter I got acquainted at the Herald's office; and, looking +through that granary of honours, I there found almost every name in the +kingdom; but for me, + + "My ancient but ignoble blood + Had crept through scoundrels ever since the flood." + +Gules, Purpure, Argent, etc., quite disowned me.' All this is quite +gratuitous and hardly in good taste. + +Yet, in spite of untoward circumstances, ceaseless drudgery, and +insufficient diet, the family of Mount Oliphant was not utterly lost to +happiness. With such a shrewd mother and such a father as William +Burness--a man of whom Scotland may be justly proud--no home could be +altogether unhappy. In Burns's picture of the family circle in _The +Cotter's Saturday Night_ there is nothing of bitterness or gloom or +melancholy. + + 'With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, + An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers: + The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet; + Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears. + The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; + Anticipation forward points the view: + The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, + Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; + The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.' + +In the work of the farm, too, hard as it was, there was pleasure, and +the poet's first song, with the picture he gives of the partners in the +harvest field, breaks forth from this life of cheerless gloom and +unceasing moil like a blink of sunshine through a lowering sky. Burns's +description of how the song came to be made is worthy of quotation, +because it gives us a very clear and well-defined likeness of himself at +the time, a lad in years, but already counting himself among men. 'You +know our country custom of coupling a man and a woman together in the +labours of harvest. In my fifteenth autumn my partner was a bewitching +creature who just counted an autumn less. In short, she, unwittingly to +herself, initiated me into a certain delicious passion, which ... I hold +to be the first of human joys.... I did not well know myself why I liked +so much to loiter behind her when returning in the evening from our +labours; why the tones of her voice made my heart-strings thrill like an +Æolian harp; and particularly why my pulse beat such a furious rantann +when I looked and fingered over her hand to pick out the nettle-stings +and thistles. Among her other love-inspiring qualifications she sang +sweetly; and 'twas her favourite Scotch reel that I attempted to give an +embodied vehicle to in rhyme. I was not so presumptive as to imagine I +could make verses like printed ones composed by men who had Greek and +Latin; but my girl sung a song which was said to be composed by a small +country laird's son, on one of his father's maids with whom he was in +love; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he.' + +He had already measured himself with this moorland poet, and admits no +inferiority; and what a laird's son has done he too may do. Writing of +this song afterwards, Burns, who was always a keen critic, admits that +it is 'very puerile and silly.' Still, we think there is something of +beauty, and much of promise, in this early effusion. It has at least one +of the merits, and, in a sense, the peculiar characteristic of all +Burns's songs. It is sincere and natural; and that is the beginning of +all good writing. + +'Thus with me,' he says, 'began love and poetry, which at times have +been my only and ... my highest enjoyment.' This was the first-fruit of +his poetic genius, and we doubt not that in the composition, and after +the composition, life at Mount Oliphant was neither so cheerless nor so +hard as it had been. A new life was opened up to him with a thousand +nameless hopes and aspirations, though probably as yet he kept all these +things to himself, and pondered them in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +LOCHLEA AND MOSSGIEL + + +The farm at Mount Oliphant proved a ruinous failure, and after +weathering their last two years on it under the tyranny of the scoundrel +factor, it was with feelings of relief, we may be sure, that the family +removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton. This was a farm of 130 +acres of land rising from the right bank of the river Ayr. The farm +appeared to them more promising than the one they had left. The prospect +from its uplands was extensive and beautiful. It commanded a view of the +Carrick Hills, and the Firth of Clyde beyond; but where there are +extensive views to be had the land is necessarily exposed. The farm +itself was bleak and bare, and twenty shillings an acre was a high rent +for fields so situated. + +The younger members of the family, however, were now old enough to be of +some assistance in the house or in the fields, and for a few years life +was brighter than it had been before; not that labour was lighter to +them here, but simply because they had escaped the meshes and +machinations of a petty tyrant, and worked more cheerfully, looking to +the future with confidence. Father, mother, and children all worked as +hard as they were able, and none more ungrudgingly than the poet. + +We know little about those first few years of life at Lochlea, which +should be matter for special thanksgiving. Better we should know nothing +at all than that we should learn of misfortunes coming upon them, and +see the family again in tears and forced to thole a factor's snash; +better silence than the later unsavoury episodes, which have not yet +been allowed decent burial. Probably life went evenly and beautifully in +those days. The brothers accompanied their father to the fields; Agnes +milked the cows, reciting the while to her younger sisters, Annabella +and Isabella, snatches of song or psalm; and in the evening the whole +family would again gather round the ingle to raise their voices in +_Dundee_ or _Martyrs_ or _Elgin_, and then to hear the priest-like +father read the sacred page. + +The little that we do know is worth recording. 'Gilbert,' to quote from +Chambers's excellent edition of the poet's works, 'used to speak of his +brother as being at this period a more admirable being than at any +other. He recalled with delight the days when they had to go with one or +two companions to cut peats for the winter fuel, because Robert was sure +to enliven their toil with a rattling fire of witty remarks of men and +things, mingled with the expressions of a genial glowing heart, and the +whole perfectly free from the taint which he afterwards acquired from +his contact with the world. Not even in those volumes which afterwards +charmed his country from end to end, did Gilbert see his brother in so +interesting a light as in those conversations in the bog, with only two +or three noteless peasants for an audience.' + +This is a beautiful picture: the poet enlivening toil with talk, +lighting and illustrating all he said with his lively imagination; +Gilbert listening silently, and a group of noteless peasants dumb with +wonder. No artist has yet painted this picture of Burns, as his brother +saw him, at his best. Writers have glanced at the scene and passed it +by. It needed to be looked at with naked, appreciative eyes; they had +come with microscopes to the study of Burns. Far more interesting +material awaited them farther on: _The Poet's Welcome_, for example! +They could amplify that. Here, too, is the first hint of Burns's +brilliant powers as a talker; a glimpse on this lonely peat moss of the +man who, not many years afterwards, was to dazzle literary Edinburgh +with the sparkle and force of his graphic speech. + +Probably it was about this time that Burns went for a summer to a school +at Kirkoswald. In his autobiography he says it was his seventeenth year, +and, if so, it must have been before the family had left Mount Oliphant. +Gilbert's recollection was that the poet was then in his nineteenth +year, which would bring the incident into the Lochlea period. In the new +edition of Chambers's Burns, William Wallace accepts Robert's statement +as correct; yet we hardly think the poet would have spent a summer at +school at a time when the family was under the heel of that merciless +factor. Besides, although he speaks of his seventeenth year, he has just +made mention of the fact that he was in the secret of half the amours of +the parish; and it was in the parish of Tarbolton that we hear of him +acting 'as the second of night-hunting swains.' Probably also it would +be after the family had found comparative peace and quiet in their new +home that it would occur to Burns to resume his studies in a methodical +way. The point is a small one. The important thing is, that in his +seventeenth or nineteenth summer he went to a noted school on a +smuggling coast to learn mathematics, surveying, dialling, etc., in +which he made a pretty good progress. 'But,' he says, 'I made a greater +progress in the knowledge of mankind. The contraband trade was at this +time very successful; scenes of swaggering riot and roaring dissipation +were as yet new to me, and I was no enemy to social life. Here, though I +learnt to look unconcernedly on a large tavern bill and mix without fear +in a drunken squabble, yet I went on with a high hand in my geometry.' + +The glimpses we have of Burns during his stay here are all +characteristic of the man. We see a young man looking out on a world +that is new to him; moving in a society to which he had hitherto been a +stranger. His eyes are opened not only to the knowledge of mankind, but +to a better knowledge of himself. Thirsting for information and power, +we find him walking with Willie Niven, his companion from Maybole, away +from the village to where they might have peace and quiet, and converse +on subjects calculated to improve their minds. They sharpen their wits +in debate, taking sides on speculative questions, and arguing the matter +to their own satisfaction. No doubt in these conversations and debates +he was developing that gift of clear reasoning and lucid expression +which afterwards so confounded the literary and legal luminaries of +Edinburgh. They had made a study of logic, but here was a man from the +plough who held his own with them, discussing questions which in their +opinion demanded a special training. For an uncouth country ploughman +gifted with song they were prepared, but they did not expect one who +could meet them in conversation with the fence and foil of a skilled +logician. We may see also his burning desire for distinction in that +scene in school when he led the self-confident schoolmaster into debate +and left him humiliated in the eyes of the pupils. Even in his contests +with John Niven there was the same eagerness to excel. When he could not +beat him in wrestling or putting the stone, he was fain to content +himself with a display of his superiority in mental calisthenics. The +very fact that a charming _fillette_ overset his trigonometry, and set +him off at a tangent, is a characteristic ending to this summer of +study. Peggy Thomson in her kail-yard was too much for the fiery +imagination of a poet: 'it was in vain to think of doing more good at +school.' + +Too much stress is not to be laid on Burns's own mention of 'scenes of +swaggering riot and dissipation' at Kirkoswald. Such things were new to +him, and made a lasting impression on his mind. We know that he returned +home very considerably improved. His reading was enlarged with the very +important addition of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. He had seen human +nature in a new phasis, and now he engaged in literary correspondence +with several of his schoolfellows. + +It was not long after his return from Kirkoswald that the Bachelor's +Club was founded, and here could Burns again exercise his debating +powers and find play for his expanding intellect. The members met to +forget their cares in mirth and diversion, 'without transgressing the +bounds of innocent decorum'; and the chief diversion appears to have +been debate. + +If we are to believe Gilbert, the seven years of their stay in +Tarbolton parish were not marked by much literary improvement in Robert. +That may well have been Gilbert's opinion at the time; for the poet was +working hard on the farm, and often spending an evening at Tarbolton or +at one or other of the neighbouring farms. But he managed all the same +to get through a considerable amount of reading; and though, perhaps, he +did not devote himself so sedulously to books as he had been accustomed +to do in the seclusion of Mount Oliphant, he was storing his mind in +other ways. His keen observation was at work, and he was studying what +was of more interest and importance to him than books--'men, their +manners and their ways.' 'I seem to be one sent into the world,' he +remarks in a letter to Mr. Murdoch, 'to see and observe; and I very +easily compound with the knave who tricks me of my money, if there be +anything original about him, which shows me human nature in a different +light from anything I have seen before.' Partly it was this passion to +see and observe, partly it was another passion that made him the +assisting confidant of most of the country lads in their amours. 'I had +a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexterity in these matters which +recommended me as a proper second in duels of that kind.' His song, _My +Nannie, O_, which belongs to this period, is not only true as a lyric of +sweet and simple love, but is also true to the particular style of +love-making then in vogue. + + 'The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill; + The night's baith mirk and rainy, O: + But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal, + An' owre the hills to Nannie, O.' + +According to Gilbert, the poet himself was constantly the victim of some +fair enslaver, although, being jealous of those richer than himself, he +was not aspiring in his loves. But while there was hardly a comely +maiden in Tarbolton to whom he did not address a song, we are not to +imagine that he was frittering his heart away amongst them all. A poet +may sing lyrics of love to many while his heart is true to one. The one +at this time to Robert Burns was Ellison Begbie, to whom some of his +songs are addressed--notably _Mary Morrison_, one of the purest and most +beautiful love lyrics ever poet penned. Nothing is more striking than +the immense distance between this composition and any he had previously +written. In this song he for the first time stepped to the front rank as +a song-writer, and gave proof to himself, if to nobody else at the time, +of the genius that was in him. A few letters to Ellison Begbie are also +preserved, pure and honourable in sentiment, but somewhat artificial and +formal in expression. It was because of his love for her, and his desire +to be settled in life, that he took to the unfortunate flax-dressing +business in Irvine. That is something of an unlovely and mysterious +episode in Burns's life. Suffice it to say in his own words: 'This +turned out a sadly unlucky affair. My partner was a scoundrel of the +first water, and, to finish the whole business, while we were giving a +welcome carousal to the New Year, our shop, by the drunken carelessness +of my partner's wife, took fire and burned to ashes, and I was left, +like a true poet, not worth a sixpence.' + +His stay at Irvine was neither pleasant for him at the time nor happy in +its results. He met there 'acquaintances of a freer manner of thinking +and living than he had been used to'; and it needs something more than +the family misfortunes and the deathbed of his father to account for +that terrible fit of hypochondria when he returned to Lochlea. 'For +three months I was in a diseased state of body and mind, scarcely to be +envied by the hopeless wretches who have just got their sentence, +_Depart from me, ye cursed_.' + +Up to this time, the twenty-fifth year of his age, Burns had not written +much. Besides _Mary Morrison_ might be mentioned _The Death and Dying +Words of Poor Mailie_, and another bewitching song, _The Rigs o' +Barley_, which is surely an expression of the innocent abandon, the +delicious rapture of pure and trustful love. But what he had written was +work of promise, while at least one or two of his songs had the artistic +finish as well as the spontaneity of genuine poetry. In all that he had +done, 'puerile and silly,' to quote his own criticism of _Handsome +Nell_, or at times halting and crude, there was the ring of sincerity. +He was not merely an echo, as too many polished poetasters in their +first attempts have been. Such jinglers are usually as happy in their +juvenile effusions as in their later efforts. But Burns from the first +tried to express what was in him, what he himself felt, and in so far +had set his feet on the road to perfection. Being natural, he was bound +to improve by practice, and if there was genius in him to become in time +a great poet. That he was already conscious of his powers we know, and +the longing for fame, 'that last infirmity of noble mind,' was strong in +him and continually growing stronger. + + 'Then out into the world my course I did determine, + Though to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming; + My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education; + Resolved was I at least to try to mend my situation.' + +Before this he had thought of more ambitious things than songs, and had +sketched the outlines of a tragedy; but it was only after meeting with +Fergusson's _Scotch Poems_ that he 'struck his wildly resounding lyre +with rustic vigour.' In his commonplace book, begun in 1783, we have +ever-recurring hints of his devoting himself to poetry. 'For my own part +I never had the least thought or inclination of turning poet till I got +once heartily in love, and then Rhyme and Song were in a measure the +spontaneous language of my heart.' + +The story of Wallace from the poem by Blind Harry had years before fired +his imagination, and his heart had glowed with a wish to make a song on +that hero in some measure equal to his merits. + + 'E'en then, a wish, I mind its power-- + A wish that to my latest hour + Shall strongly heave my breast-- + That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake, + Some usefu' plan or beuk could make, + Or sing a sang at least.' + +This was written afterwards, but it is retrospective of the years of his +dawning ambition. + +For a time, however, all dreams of greatness are to be set aside as +vain. The family had again fallen on evil days, and when the father +died, his all went 'among the hell-hounds that grovel in the kennel of +justice.' This was no time for poetry, and Robert was too much of a man +to think merely of his own aims and ambitions in such a crisis. It was +only by ranking as creditors to their father's estate for arrears of +wages that the children of William Burness made a shift to scrape +together a little money, with which Robert and Gilbert were able to +stock the neighbouring farm of Mossgiel. Thither the family removed in +March 1784; and it is on this farm that the life of the poet becomes +most deeply interesting. The remains of the father were buried in +Alloway Kirkyard; and on a small tombstone over the grave the poet bears +record to the blameless life of the loving husband, the tender father, +and the friend of man. He had lived long enough to hear some of his +son's poems, and to express admiration for their beauty; but he had also +noted the passionate nature of his first-born. There was one of his +family, he said on his deathbed, for whose future he feared; and Robert +knew who that one was. He turned to the window, the tears streaming down +his cheeks. + +Mossgiel, to which the brothers now removed, taking with them their +widowed mother, was a farm of about one hundred and eighteen acres of +cold clayey soil, close to the village of Mauchline. The farm-house, +having been originally the country house of their landlord, Mr. Gavin +Hamilton, was more commodious and comfortable than the home they had +left. Here the brothers settled down, determined to do all in their +power to succeed. They made a fresh start in life, and if hard work and +rigid economy could have compelled success, they might now have looked +to the future with an assurance of comparative prosperity. Mr. Gavin +Hamilton was a kind and generous landlord, and the rent was only £90 a +year; considerably lower than they had paid at Lochlea. + +But misfortune seemed to pursue this family, and ruin to wait on their +every undertaking. Burns says: 'I entered on this farm with a full +resolution, "Come, go to, I will be wise." I read farming books; I +calculated crops; I attended markets; and, in short, in spite of the +devil, the world, and the flesh, I should have been a wise man; but the +first year, from unfortunately buying in bad seed; the second from a +late harvest, we lost half of both our crops. This overset all my +wisdom, and I returned like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was +washed to her wallowing in the mire.' + +That this resolution was not just taken in a repentant mood merely to be +forgotten again in a month's time, Gilbert bears convincing testimony. +'My brother's allowance and mine was £7 per annum each, and during the +whole time this family concern lasted, which was four years, as well as +during the preceding period at Lochlea, his expenses never in any one +year exceeded his slender income. His temperance and frugality were +everything that could be wished.' + +Honest, however, as Burns's resolution was, it was not to be expected +that he would--or, indeed, could--give up the practice of poetry, or +cease to indulge in dreams of after-greatness. Poetry, as he has already +told us, had become the spontaneous expression of his heart. It was his +natural speech. His thoughts appeared almost to demand poetry as their +proper vehicle of expression, and rhythmed into verse as inevitably as +in chemistry certain solutions solidify in crystals. Besides this, Burns +was conscious of his abilities. He had measured himself with his +fellows, and knew his superiority. More than likely he had been +measuring himself with the writers he had studied, and found himself not +inferior. The great misfortune of his life, as he confessed himself, was +never to have an aim. He had felt early some stirrings of ambition, but +they were like gropings of Homer's Cyclops round the walls of his cave. +Now, however, we have come to a period of his life when he certainly did +have an aim, but necessity compelled him to renounce it as soon as it +was recognised. It was not a question of ploughing or poetry. There was +no alternative. However insidiously inclination might whisper of poetry, +duty's voice called him to the fields, and that voice he determined to +obey. Reading farming books and calculating crops is not a likely road +to perfection in poetry. Yet, in spite of all noble resolution, the +voice of Poesy was sweet, and he could not shut his ears to it. He might +sing a song to himself, even though it were but to cheer him after the +labours of the day, and he sang of love in 'the genuine language of his +heart.' + + 'There's nought but care on every hand, + In every hour that passes, O: + What signifies the life o' man, + An' 'twere na for the lasses, O?' + +For song must come in spite of him. The caged lark sings, though its +field be but a withered sod, and the sky above it a square foot of green +baize. Nor was his commonplace book neglected; and in August we come +upon an entry which shows that poetical aspirations were again +possessing him; this time not to be cast forth, either at the timorous +voice of Prudence or the importunate bidding of Poverty. Burns has +calmly and critically taken stock--so to speak--of his literary +aptitudes and abilities, and recognised his fitness for a place in the +ranks of Scotland's poets. 'However I am pleased with the works of our +Scotch poets, particularly the excellent Ramsay, and the still more +excellent Fergusson, yet I am hurt to see other places of Scotland, +their towns, rivers, woods, haughs, etc., immortalised in such +celebrated performances, whilst my dear native country, the ancient +Bailieries of Carrick, Kyle, and Cunningham, famous both in ancient and +modern times for a gallant and warlike race of inhabitants; a country +where civil and particularly religious liberty have ever found their +first support and their last asylum, a country the birthplace of many +famous philosophers, soldiers, and statesmen, and the scene of many +important events in Scottish history, particularly a great many of the +actions of the glorious Wallace, the saviour of his country; yet we have +never had one Scottish poet of any eminence to make the fertile banks of +Irvine, the romantic woodlands and sequestered scenes of Aire, and the +heathy mountainous source and winding sweep of Doon, emulate Tay, Forth, +Ettrick, Tweed, etc. This is a complaint I would gladly remedy; but, +alas! I am far unequal to the task, both in native genius and education. +Obscure I am, and obscure I must be, though no young poet nor young +soldier's heart ever beat more fondly for fame than mine.' The same +thoughts and aspirations are echoed later in his _Epistle to William +Simpson_-- + + 'Ramsay and famous Fergusson + Gied Forth and Tay a lift aboon; + Yarrow and Tweed, to mony a tune, + Owre Scotland rings, + While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon, + Naebody sings. + + * * * * * + + We'll gar our streams and burnies shine + Up wi' the best!' + +The dread of obscurity spoken of here was almost a weakness with Burns. +We hear it like an ever-recurring wail in his poems and letters. In the +very next entry in his commonplace book, after praising the old bards, +and drawing a parallel between their sources of inspiration and his own, +he shudders to think that his fate may be such as theirs. 'Oh mortifying +to a bard's vanity, their very names are buried in the wreck of things +that were!' + +Close on the heels of these entries came troubles on the head of the +luckless poet, troubles more serious than bad seed and late harvests. +During the summer of 1784, we know that he was in bad health, and again +subject to melancholy. His verses at this time are of a religious cast, +serious and sombre, the confession of fault, and the cry of repentance. + + 'Thou know'st that Thou hast formèd me + With passions wild and strong; + And listening to their witching voice + Has often led me wrong.' + +Perhaps this is only the prelude to his verses to Rankine, written +towards the close of the year, and his poem, _A Poet's Welcome_. They +must at least be all read together, if we are to have any clear +conception of the nature of Burns. It is not enough to select his +_Epistle to Rankine_, and speak of its unbecoming levity. This was the +time when Burns was first subjected to ecclesiastical discipline; and +some of his biographers have tried to trace the origin of that wonderful +series of satires, written shortly afterwards, to the vengeful feelings +engendered in the poet by this degradation. But Burns's attack on the +effete and corrupt ceremonials of the Church was not a burst of personal +rancour and bitterness. The attack came of something far deeper and +nobler, and was bound to be delivered sooner or later. His own personal +experience, and the experience of his worthy landlord, Gavin Hamilton, +may have given the occasion, but the cause of the attack was in the +Church itself, and in Burns's inborn loathing of humbug, hypocrisy, and +cant. + +Well was it the satires were written by so powerful a satirist, that the +Church purged itself of the evil thing and cleansed its ways. This, +however, is an episode of such importance in the life of Burns, and in +the religious history of Scotland, as to require to be taken up +carefully and considered by itself. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SERIES OF SATIRES + + +Before we can clearly see and understand Burns's attitude to the Church, +we must have studied the nature of the man himself, and we must know +something also of his religious training. It will not be enough to +select his series of satires, and, from a study of them alone, try to +make out the character of the man. His previous life must be known; the +natural bent of his mind apprehended, and once that is grasped, these +satires will appeal to the heart and understanding of the reader with a +sense of naturalness and expectedness. They are as inevitable as his +love lyrics, and are read with the conviction that his merciless +exposure of profanity masquerading in the habiliments of religion, was +part of the life-work and mission of this great poet. He had been born, +it is recognised, not only to sing the loves and joys and sorrows of his +fellow men and women, but to purge their lives of grossness, and their +religion of the filth of hypocrisy and cant. Let it be admitted, that he +himself went 'a kennin wrang.' What argument is there? We do not deny +the divine mission of Samson because of Delilah. Surely that giant's +life was a wasted one, yet in his very death he was true to his mission, +and fulfilled the purpose of his birth. In other lands and in other +times the satirist is recognised and his work appraised; the abuses he +scourged, the pretensions he ridiculed, are seen in all their +hideousness; but when a great satirist arises amongst ourselves to probe +the ulcers of pharisaism, he is banned as a profaner of holy things, +touching with impious hands the ark of the covenant. Why should the +_cloth_--as it is so ingenuously called--be touched with delicate hands, +unless it be that it is shoddy? Yet the man who would stand well in the +eyes of society must not whisper a word against pharisaism; for the +Pharisee is a highly respectable person, and observes the proprieties; +he typifies the conventional righteousness and religion of his time. + +Let us have done with all this timidity and coward tenderness. If the +Church is filthy, it must be cleansed; if there be money-changers within +its gates, let them be driven out with a whip of small cords. This awe +of the _cloth_, not yet stamped out in Scotland, is but the remains of a +pagan superstition, and has nothing to do with the manliness and courage +of true religion. But prophets have no honour in their own country, +rarely in their own time; they have ever been persecuted, and it is the +Church's martyrs that have handed down through the ages the light of the +world. + +The profanities and religious blasphemies Burns attacked were evils +insidious and poisonous, eating to the very heart of the religious life +of the country, and they required a desperate remedy. Let us be thankful +that the remedy was applied in time; and, looking to the righteousness +he wrought, let us bless the name of Burns. + +Burns's father, stern and severe moralist as he was, was not a strict +Calvinist. Anyone who takes the trouble to read 'The Manual of Religious +Belief in a Dialogue between Father and Son, compiled by William +Burness, Farmer, Mount Oliphant, and transcribed with Grammatical +Corrections by John Murdoch, Teacher,' will see that the man was of too +loving and kindly a nature to be strictly orthodox. What was rigid and +unlovely to him in the Calvinism of the Scottish Church of that day has +been here softened down into something not very far from Arminianism. He +had had a hard experience in the world himself, and that may have drawn +him nearer to his suffering fellow-men and into closer communion with +his God. He had learned that religion is a thing of the spirit, and not +a matter of creeds and catechisms. Of Robert Burns's own religion it +would be impertinent to inquire too curiously. The religion of a man is +not to be paraded before the public like the manifesto of a party +politician. After all, is there a single man who can sincerely, without +equivocation or mental reservation, label himself Calvinist, Arminian, +Socinian, or Pelagian? If there be, his mind must be a marvel of +mathematical nicety and nothing more. All that we need know of Burns is +that he was naturally and sincerely religious; that he worshipped an +all-loving Father, and believed in an ever-present God; that his charity +was boundless; that he loved what was good and true, and hated with an +indignant hatred whatever was loathsome and false. He loved greatly his +fellow-creatures, man and beast and flower; he could even find something +to pity in the fate of the devil himself. That he was not orthodox, in +the narrow interpretation of orthodoxy in his day, we are well enough +aware, else had he not been the poet we love and cherish. + +In his early days at Mount Oliphant there is a hint of these later +satires. 'Polemical divinity about this time was,' he says, 'putting the +country half-mad, and I, ambitious of shining on Sundays, between +sermons, in conversation parties, at funerals, etc., in a few years +more, used to puzzle Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion that I +raised a hue and cry of heresy against me, which has not ceased to this +hour.' And heresy is a terrible cry to raise against a man in Scotland. +In those days it was Anathema-maranatha; even now it is still the +war-slogan of the Assemblies. + +The polemical divinity which he refers to as putting the country +half-mad was the wordy war that was being carried on at that time +between the Auld Lights and the New Lights. These New Lights, as they +were called, were but a birth of the social and religious upheaval that +was going on in Scotland and elsewhere. The spirit of revolution was +abroad; in France it became acutely political; in Scotland there was a +desire for greater religious freedom. The Church, as reformed by Knox, +was requiring to be re-reformed. The yoke of papacy had been lifted +certainly, but the yoke of pseudo-Protestantism which had taken its +place was quite as heavy on the necks of the people. So long as it had +been new; so long as it had been of their own choosing, it had been +endured willingly. But a generation was springing up--stiff-necked they +might have been called, in that they fretted under the yoke of their +fathers--that sought to be delivered from the tyranny of their pastors +and the fossilised formalism of their creed. To the people in their +bondage a prophet was born, and that prophet was Robert Burns. + +It was natural that a man of Burns's temperament and clearness of +perception should be on the side of the 'common-sense' party. In one of +his letters to Mr. James Burness, Montrose, wherein he describes the +strange doings of a strange sect called the Buchanites,--surely in +itself a convincing proof of the degeneracy of the times in the matter +of religion,--we have an interesting reflection which gives us some +insight into the poet's mind. 'This, my dear Sir, is one of the many +instances of the folly in leaving the guidance of sound reason and +common sense in matters of religion. Whenever we neglect or despise +those sacred monitors, the whimsical notions of a perturbed brain are +taken for the immediate influences of the Deity, and the wildest +fanaticism and the most inconsistent absurdities will meet with abettors +and converts. Nay, I have often thought that the more out of the way and +ridiculous their fancies are, if once they are sanctified under the name +of religion, the unhappy, mistaken votaries are the more firmly glued to +them.' + +The man who wrote that was certainly not the man, when the day of battle +came, to join himself with the orthodox party, the party that stuck to +the pure, undiluted Puritanism of Covenanting times. Yet many +biographers have not seen the bearing that such a letter has on Burns's +attitude to the Church. Principal Shairp seems to say that Burns, had it +not been for the accident of ecclesiastical discipline to which he had +been subjected, would have joined the orthodox party. The notion is +absurd. Burns had attacked orthodox Calvinism even in his boyhood, and +was already tainted with heresy. 'These men,' the worthy Principal +informs us, 'were democratic in their ecclesiastical views, and stout +protesters against patronage. All Burns's instincts would naturally have +been on the side of those who wished to resist patronage and "cowe the +lairds" had not this, his natural tendency, been counteracted by a +stronger bias drawing him in an opposite direction.' This is a +narrowing--if not even a positive misconception--of the case with a +vengeance. The question was not of patronage at all, but of moral and +religious freedom; while the democracy of those ministers was a terribly +one-sided democracy. The lairds may have dubbed them democrats, but they +were aristocratic enough, despotic even, to their herds. But Principal +Shairp has been led altogether wrong by imagining that 'Burns, smarting +under the strict church discipline, naturally threw himself into the +arms of the opposite or New Light party, who were more easy in their +life and in their doctrine.' More charitable also, and Christ-like in +their judgments, I should fain hope; less blinded by a superstitious awe +of the Church. 'Nothing could have been more unfortunate,' he continues, +'than that in this crisis of his career he should have fallen into +intimacy with those hard-headed but coarse-minded men.' Surely this zeal +for the Church has carried him too far. Were these men all coarse +minded? Nobody believes it. The coarse-minded Dr. Dalrymple of Ayr, and +the coarse-minded Mr. Lawrie of Loudon! This is not argument. Besides, +it is perfectly gratuitous. The question, again, is not one of men--that +ecclesiastical discipline has been an offence and a +stumbling-block--either coarse minded or otherwise. It is a question of +principle, and Burns fought for it with keen-edged weapons. + +It would be altogether a mistake to identify Burns with the New Light +party, or with any other sect. He was a law unto himself in religion, +and would bind himself by no creed. Because he attacked rigid orthodoxy +as upheld by Auld Light doctrine, that does not at all mean that he was +espousing, through thick and thin, the cause of the New Light party. He +fought in his own name, with his own weapons, and for humanity. It ought +to be clearly understood that in his series of satires he was not +attacking the orthodoxy of the Auld Lights from the bulwarks of any +other creed. His criticism was altogether destructive. From his own +conception of a wise and loving God he satirised what he conceived to be +their irrational and inhuman conception of Deity, whose attitude towards +mankind was assuredly not that of a father to his children. Burns's God +was a God of love; the god they worshipped was the creation of their +creed, a god of election. It is quite true that Burns made many friends +amongst the New Lights, but we are certain he did not hold by all their +tenets or subscribe to their doctrine. In the _Dictionary of National +Biography_ we read: 'Burns represented the revolt of a virile and +imaginative nature against a system of belief and practice which, as he +judged, had degenerated into mere bigotry and pharisaism.... That Burns, +like Carlyle, who at once retained the sentiment and rejected the creed +of his race more decidedly than Burns, could sympathise with the higher +religious sentiments of his class is proved by _The Cotter's Saturday +Night_.' + +Principal Shairp, however, has not seen the matter in this broad light. +All he sees is a man of keen insight and vigorous powers of reasoning, +who 'has not only his own quarrel with the parish minister and the +stricter clergy to revenge, but the quarrel also of his friend and +landlord, Gavin Hamilton, a county lawyer who had fallen under church +censure for neglect of church ordinances,'--a question of new potatoes +in fact,--'and had been debarred from the communion.' + +It is pleasing to see that the academic spirit is not always so blinding +and blighting. Professor Blackie recognises that the abuses Burns +castigated were real abuses, and admits that the verdict of time has +been in his favour. 'In the case of _Holy Willie_ and _The Holy Fair_,' +he remarks, 'the lash was wisely and effectively wielded'; and on +another occasion he wrote, 'Though a sensitive pious mind will naturally +shrink from the bold exposure of devout abuses in holy things, in _The +Holy Fair_ and other similar satires, on a broad view of the matter we +cannot but think that the castigation was reasonable, and the man who +did it showed an amount of independence, frankness, and moral courage +that amply compensates for the rudeness of the assault.' + +Rude, the assault certainly was and overwhelming. Augean stables are not +to be cleansed with a spray of rose-water. + +Lockhart, whilst recognising the force and keenness of these satires, +has regretfully pointed out that the very things Burns satirised were +part of the same religious system which produced the scenes described in +_The Cotter's Saturday Night_. But is this not really the explanation of +the whole matter? It was just because Burns had seen the beauty of true +religion at home, that he was fired to fight to the death what was false +and rotten. It was the cause of true religion that he espoused. + + 'All hail religion! Maid divine, + Pardon a muse so mean as mine, + Who in her rough imperfect line + Thus dares to name thee. + To stigmatise false friends of thine + Can ne'er defame thee.' + +Compare the reading of the sacred page, when the family is gathered +round the ingle, and 'the sire turns o'er with patriarchal grace the big +ha'-bible' and 'wales a portion with judicious care,' with the reading +of _Peebles frae the Water fit_-- + + 'See, up he's got the word o' God, + And meek and mim has viewed it.' + +What a contrast! The two readings are as far apart as is heaven from +hell, as far as the true from the false. It is strange that both +Lockhart and Shairp should have stumbled on the explanation of Burns's +righteous satire in these poems; should have been so near it, and yet +have missed it. It was just because Burns could write _The Cotter's +Saturday Night_ that he could write _The Holy Tulzie_, _Holy Willie's +Prayer_, _The Ordination_, and _The Holy Fair_. Had he not felt the +beauty of that family worship at home; had he not seen the purity and +holiness of true religion, how could such scenes as those described in +_The Holy Fair_, or such hypocrisy as Holy Willie's, ever have moved him +to scathing satire? Where was the poet's indignation to come from? That +is not to be got by tricks of rhyme or manufactured by rules of metre; +but let it be alive and burning in the heart of the poet, and all else +will be added unto him for the perfect poem, as it was to Burns. That +Burns, though he wrote in humorous satire, was moved to the writing by +indignation, he tells us in his epistle to the Rev. John M'Math-- + + 'But I gae mad at their grimaces, + Their sighin', cantin', grace-prood faces, + Their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces, + Their raxin' conscience, + Whase greed, revenge, and pride disgraces + Waur nor their nonsense.' + +The first of Burns's satires, if we except his epistle to John Goudie, +wherein we have a hint of the acute differences of the time, is his poem +_The Twa Herds_, or _The Holy Tulzie_. The two herds were the Rev. John +Russell and the Rev. Alexander Moodie, both afterwards mentioned in _The +Holy Fair_. These reverend gentlemen, so long sworn friends, bound by a +common bond of enmity against a certain New Light minister of the name +of Lindsay, 'had a bitter black outcast,' and, in the words of Lockhart, +'abused each other _coram populo_ with a fiery virulence of personal +invective such as has long been banished from all popular assemblies.' +This degrading spectacle of two priests ordained to preach the gospel of +love, attacking each other with all the rancour of malice and +uncharitableness, and foaming with the passion of a pothouse, was too +flagrant an occasion for satire for Burns to miss. He held them up to +ridicule in _The Holy Tulzie_, and showed them themselves as others saw +them. It has been objected by some that Burns made use of humorous +satire; did not censure with the fiery fervour of a righteous +indignation. Burns used the weapon he could handle best; and a powerful +weapon it is in the hands of a master. We acknowledge Horace's satires +to be scathing enough, though they are light and delicate, almost +trifling and flippant at times. He has not the volcanic utterance of +Juvenal, but I doubt not his castigations were quite as effective. +'Quamquam ridentem dicere verum quid vetat?' Burns might have well +replied to his censors with the same question. Quick on the heels of +this poem came _Holy Willie's Prayer_, wherein he took up the cudgels +for his friend, Mr. Gavin Hamilton, and fought for him in his own +enthusiastic way. The satire here is so scathing and scarifying that we +can only read and wonder, shuddering the while for the wretched creature +so pitilessly flayed. Not a word is wasted; not a line without weight. +The character of the self-righteous, sensual, spiteful Pharisee is a +merciless exposure, and, hardest of all, the picture is convincing. For +Burns believed in his own mind that these men, Holy Willie and the crew +he typified, were thoroughly dishonest. They were not in his +judgment--and Burns had keen insight--mere bigots dehumanised by their +creed, but a pack of scheming, calculating scoundrels. + + 'They take religion in their mouth, + They talk o' mercy, grace, and truth, + For what? to gie their malice skouth + On some puir wight, + And hunt him down, o'er right and ruth + To ruin straight.' + +But it must be noted in _Holy Willie_ that the poet is not letting +himself out in a burst of personal spleen. He is again girding at the +rigidity of a lopped and maimed Calvinism, and attacking the creed +through the man. The poem is a living presentment of the undiluted, +puritanic doctrine of the Auld Light party, to whom Calvinism meant only +a belief in hell and an assurance of their own election. It is evident +that Burns was not sound on either essential. _The Address to the Unco +Guid_ is a natural sequel to this poem, and, in a sense, its +culmination. There is the same strength of satire, but now it is more +delicate and the language more dignified. There is the same condemnation +of pharisaism; but the poem rises to a higher level in its appeal for +charitable views of human frailty, and its kindly counsel to silence; +judgment is to be left to Him who + + 'Knows each cord, its various tone, + Each spring its various bias.' + +Of all the series of satires, however, _The Holy Fair_ is the most +remarkable. It is in a sense a summing up of all the others that +preceded it. The picture it gives of the mixed and motley multitude +fairing in the churchyard at Mauchline, with a relay of ministerial +mountebanks catering for their excitement, is true to the life. It is +begging the question to deplore that Burns was provoked to such an +attack. The scene was provocation sufficient to any right-thinking man +who associated the name of religion with all that was good and beautiful +and true. Such a state of things demanded reformation. The +churchyard--that holy ground on which the church was built and +sanctified by the dust of pious and saintly men--cried aloud against the +desecration to which it was subjected; and Burns, who alone had the +power to purify it from such profanities, would have been untrue to +himself and a traitor to the religion of his country had he merely +shrugged his shoulders and allowed things to go on as they were going. +And after all what was the result? For the poem is part and parcel of +the end it achieved. 'There is a general feeling in Ayrshire,' says +Chambers, 'that _The Holy Fair_ was attended with a good effect; for +since its appearance the custom of resorting to the occasion in +neighbouring parishes for the sake of holiday-making has been much +abated and a great increase of decorous observance has taken place.' To +that nothing more need be added. + +In this series of satires _The Address to the Deil_ ought also to be +included. Burns had no belief at all in that Frankenstein creation. It +was too bad, he thought, to invent such a monster for the express +purpose of imputing to him all the wickedness of the world. If such a +creature existed, he was rather sorry for the maligned character, and +inclined to think that there might be mercy even for him. + + 'I'm wae to think upon yon den, + Even for your sake.' + +Speaking of this address, Auguste Angellier says: 'All at once in their +homely speech they heard the devil addressed not only without awe, but +with a spice of good-fellowship and friendly familiarity. They had never +heard the devil spoken of in this tone before. It was a charming +address, jocund, full of raillery and good-humour, with a dash of +friendliness, as if the two speakers had been cronies and companions +ready to jog along arm in arm to the nether regions. He simply laughs +Satan out of countenance, turns him to ridicule, pokes his fun at him, +scolds and defies him just as he might have treated a person from whom +he had nothing to fear. Nor is that all. He must admonish him, tell him +he has been naughty long enough, and wind up by giving him some good +advice, counselling him to mend his ways. This was certainly without +theological precedent. It was, however, a simple idea which would have +arranged matters splendidly.... Even to-day to speak well of the devil +is an abomination almost as serious as to speak evil of the Deity. There +was assuredly a great fortitude of mind as well as daring of conduct to +write such a piece as this.' + +The poem has done more than anything else to kill the devil of +superstition in Scotland. After his death he found, it is averred, a +quiet resting-place in Kirkcaldy, where pious people have built a church +on his grave. + +When Burns later in life made the witches and warlocks dance to the +piping of the devil in Alloway's auld haunted kirk, he was but +assembling them in their fit and proper house of meeting. Here had they +been called into being; here had they the still-born children of +superstition been thrashed into life and trained in unholiness. One can +imagine them oozing out from the walls that had echoed their names so +often through centuries of Sabbath days. The devil himself, by virtue of +his rank, takes his place in the east, rising we have no doubt from the +very spot on which the pulpit once had stood. In the church had +superstition exorcised this hellish legion out of the dead mass of +ignorance into the swarming maggots that batten on corruption; and it +was in accordance with the eternal fitness of things that here their +spirits should abide, and, when they took bodily shape, that they should +assume the form and feature in which their mother Superstition had +conceived them. + +Upon the holy table too lay 'twa span-lang wee unchristened bairns.' For +this hell the poet pictures is the creation of a creed that throngs it +with the souls of innocent babes. 'Suffer little children to come unto +me,' Christ had said; 'for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' 'But +unbaptized children must come unto me,' the devil of superstition said; +'for of such is the kingdom of hell.' + +What pathos is in this line of Burns! There is in its slow spondaic +movement an eternity of tears. Could satire or sermon have shown more +forcibly the revolting inhumanity of a doctrine upheld as divine? Yet +were there devout men, in other things gentle and loving and charitable, +who preached this as the law of a loving God. With one stroke of genius +they were brought face to face with the logical sequence of their +barbarous teaching, and that without a word of coarseness or a touch of +caricature. + +Only once again did Burns return to this attack on bigotry and +superstition, and that was when he was induced to fight for Dr. Macgill +in _The Kirk's Alarm_. But he had done his part in the series of satires +of this year to expose the loathsomeness of hypocrisy and to purge holy +places and the most solemn ceremonies of what was blasphemous and +grossly profane. That in this Burns was fulfilling a part of his mission +as a poet, we can hardly doubt; and that his work wrought for +righteousness, the purer religious life that followed amply proves. The +true poet is also a prophet; and Robert Burns was a prophet when he +spoke forth boldly and fearlessly the truth that was in him, and dared +to say that sensuality was foul even in an elder of the kirk, and that +profanities were abhorred of God even though sanctioned and sanctified +under the sacred name of religion. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE KILMARNOCK EDITION + + +_The Holy Tulzie_ had been written probably in April 1785, and the +greatest of the satires, _The Holy Fair_, is dated August of the same +year. It may, however, have been only drafted, and partly written, when +the recent celebration of the sacrament at Mauchline was fresh in the +poet's mind. At the very latest, it must have been taken up, completed, +and perfected, in the early months of 1786. That is a period of some ten +months between the first and the last of this series of satires; and +during that time he had composed _Holy Willie's Prayer_, _The Address to +the Deil_, _The Ordination_, and _The Address to the Unco Guid_. But +this represents a very small part of the poetry written by Burns during +this busy period. From the spring of 1785 on to the autumn of 1786 was a +time of great productiveness in his life, a productiveness unparalleled +in the life of any other poet. If, according to Gilbert, the seven years +of their stay at Lochlea were not marked by much literary improvement in +his brother, we take it that the poet had been 'lying fallow' all those +years; and what a rich harvest do we have now! Here, indeed, was a +reward worth waiting for. To read over the names of the poems, songs, +and epistles written within such a short space of time amazes us. And +there is hardly a poem in the whole collection without a claim to +literary excellence. A month or two previous to the composition of his +first satire he had written what Gilbert calls his first poem, _The +Epistle to Davie_, 'a brother poet, lover, ploughman, and fiddler.' It +is worthy of notice that, in the opening lines of this poem-- + + 'While winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw, + And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, + And hing us ower the ingle'-- + +we see the poet and his surroundings, as he sets himself down to write. +He plunges, as Horace advises, in _medias res_, and we have the +atmosphere of the poem in the first phrase. This is Burns's usual way of +beginning his poems and epistles, as well as a great many of his songs. +The metre of this poem Burns has evidently taken from _The Cherry and +the Slae_, by Alexander Montgomery, which he must have read in Ramsay's +_Evergreen_. The stanza is rather complicated, although Burns, with his +extraordinary command and pliancy of language, uses it from the first +with masterly ease. But there is much more than mere jugglery of words +in the poem. Indeed, such is this poet's seeming simplicity of speech +that his masterly manipulation of metres always comes as an +afterthought. It never disturbs us in our first reading of the poem. +Gilbert's opinion of this poem is worth recording, the more especially +as he expressly tells us that the first idea of Robert's becoming an +author was started on this occasion. 'I thought it,' he says, 'at least +equal to, if not superior, to many of Allan Ramsay's epistles, and that +the merit of these and much other Scottish poetry seemed to consist +principally in the knack of the expression; but here there was a strain +of interesting sentiment, and the Scotticism of the language scarcely +seemed affected, but appeared to be the natural language of the poet.' +It startles us to hear Gilbert talking thus of the Scotticism, after +having heard so much of Robert Burns writing naturally in the speech of +his home and county. In this poem we have, at least, the first proof of +that graphic power in which Burns has never been excelled, and in it we +have the earliest mention of his Bonnie Jean. In his next poem, _Death +and Dr. Hornbook_, his command of language and artistic phrasing are +more apparent, while pawky humour and genial satire sparkle and flash +from every line. The poem is written in that form of verse which Burns +has made particularly his own. He had become acquainted with it, it is +most likely, in the writings of Fergusson, Ramsay, and Gilbertfield, who +had used it chiefly for comic subjects; but Burns showed that, in his +hands at least, it could be made the vehicle of the most pensive and +tender feeling. In an interesting note to the _Centenary Burns_, edited +by Henley and Henderson, it is pointed out that 'the six-line stave in +rime couée built on two rhymes,' was used by the Troubadours in their +_Chansons de Gestes_, and that it dates at the very latest from the +eleventh century. Burns's happiest use of it was in those epistles which +about this time he began to dash off to some of his friends; and it is +with these epistles that the uninterrupted stream of poetry of this +season may be said properly to begin. Perhaps it was in the use of this +stanza that Burns first discovered his command of rhymes and his +felicity of phrasing. Certain it is, that after his first epistle to +Lapraik, we have epistles, poems, songs, satires flowing from his pen, +uninterrupted for a period, and apparently with marvellous ease. It has +to be remembered, too, that he was now inspired by the dream of becoming +an author--in print. When or where or how, had not been determined; but +the idea was delightful all the same; the hope was inspiration itself. +Some day his work would be published, and he would be read and talked +about! He would have done something for poor auld Scotland's sake. The +one thing now was to make the book, and to that he set himself +deliberately. Poetry was at last to have its chance. Farming had been +tried, with little success. The crops of 1784 had been a failure, and +this year they were hardly more promising. In these discouraging +circumstances the poet was naturally driven in upon himself. His eyes +were turned _ad intra_, and he sought consolation in his Muse. He was +conscious of some poetical ability, and he knew that his compositions +were not destitute of merit. Poetry, too, was to him, and particularly +so at this time, its own exceeding great reward. He rhymed 'for fun'; +and probably he was finding in the exercise that excitement his +passionate nature craved. Herein was his stimulant after the routine of +farm-work--spiritless work that was little better than slavery, +incessant and achieving nothing. We can imagine him in those days +returning from the fields, 'forjesket, sair, with weary legs,' and +becoming buoyant as soon as he has opened the drawer of that small deal +table in the garret. + + 'Leeze me on rhyme! it's aye a treasure, + My chief, amaist, my only pleasure; + At hame, afield, at wark or leisure, + The Muse, poor hizzie, + Though rough and raploch be her measure, + She's seldom lazy.' + +But, lazy or not, she becomes 'ramfeezled' with constant work, when he +vows if 'the thowless jad winna mak it clink,' to prose it,--a terrible +threat. For he must write, though it be but to keep despondency at arm's +length. Yet it had become more than a pleasure and a recreation to him; +and this he was beginning to understand. This, after all, was his real +work, not the drudgery of the fields; in it he must live his life, and +fulfil his mission. The more he wrote the more he accustomed himself +with the idea of being an author. He knew that the critic-folk, deep +read in books, might scoff at the very suggestion of a ploughman turning +poet, but he recognised also that they might be wrong. It was not by +dint of Greek that Parnassus was to be climbed. 'Ae spark o' Nature's +fire' was the one thing needful for poetry that was to touch the heart. + + 'The star that rules my luckless lot, + Has fated me the russet coat, + And damned my fortune to the groat; + But, in requit, + Has blest me with a random shot + O' countra wit. + + This while my notion's ta'en a sklent, + To try my fate in guid, black prent; + But still the mair I'm that way bent, + Something cries, "Hoolie! + I red you, honest man, tak tent! + Ye'll shaw your folly. + + "There's ither poets, much your betters, + Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, + Hae thought they had ensured their debtors, + A' future ages; + Now moths deform in shapeless tatters + Their unknown pages."' + +The works of such scholars enjoyed of the moths! There is gentle satire +here. They themselves had grubbed on Greek, and now is Time avenged. + +It is in his epistles that we see Burns most vividly and clearly, the +man in all his moods. They are just such letters as might be written to +intimate friends when one is not afraid of being himself, and can speak +freely. In sentiment they are candid and sincere, and in language +transparently unaffected. Whatever occurs to him as he writes goes down; +we have the thoughts of his heart at the time of writing, and see the +varying expressions of his face as he passes from grave to gay, from +lively to severe. Now he is tender, now indignant; now rattling along in +good-natured raillery without broadening into burlesque; now becoming +serious and pensively philosophic without a suggestion of mawkish +morality. For Burns, when he is himself, is always an artist; says his +say, and lets the moral take care of itself; and in his epistles he lets +himself go in a very revelry of artistic abandon. He does not think of +style--that fetich of barren minds--and style comes to him; for style is +a coquette that flies the suppliant wooer to kiss the feet of him who +worships a goddess; a submissive handmaiden, a wayward and moody +mistress. But along with delicacy of diction, force and felicity of +expression, pregnancy of phrase and pliancy of language, what knowledge +there is of men--the passions that sway, the impulses that prompt, the +motives that move them to action. Clearness of vision and accuracy of +observation are evidenced in their vividness of imagery; naturalness and +truthfulness--the first essential of all good writing--in their +convincing sincerity of sentiment. Wit and humour, play and sparkle of +fancy, satire genial or scathing, a boundless love of nature and all +created things, are harmoniously unified in the glowing imagination of +the poet, and welded into the perfect poem. Behind all is the +personality of the writer, captivating the reader as much by his +kindliness and sympathy as by his witchery of words. Others have +attempted poetic epistles, but none has touched familiar intercourse to +such fine issues; none has written with such natural grace or woven the +warp and woof of word and sentiment so cunningly into the web of poetry +as Robert Burns. Looseness of rhythm may be detected, excruciating +rhymes are not awanting, but all are forgiven and forgotten in the +enjoyment of the feast as a whole. + +Besides the satires and epistles we have during this fertile period +poems as different in subject, sentiment, and treatment as _The Cotter's +Saturday Night_ and _The Jolly Beggars_; _Hallowe'en_ and _The Mountain +Daisy_; _The Farmer's Address to his Auld Mare Maggie_ and _The Twa +Dogs_; _Address to a Mouse_, _Man was made to Mourn_, _The Vision_, _A +Winter's Night_, and _The Epistle to a Young Friend_. Perhaps of all +these poems _The Vision_ is the most important. It is an epoch-marking +poem in the poet's life. All that he had previously written had been +leading to this; the finer the poem the more surely was it bringing him +to this composition. The time was bound to come when he had to settle +for himself finally and firmly what his work in life was to be. Was +poetry to be merely a pastime; a recreation after the labours of the day +were done; a solace when harvests failed and ruin stared the family in +the face? That question Burns answered when he sat down by the +ingle-cheek, and, looking backward, mused on the years of youth that had +been spent 'in stringing blethers up in rhyme for fools to sing.' He saw +what he might have been; he knew too well what he was--'half-mad, +half-fed, half-sarket.' Yet the picture of what he might have been he +dismissed lightly, almost disdainfully; for he saw what he might be +yet--what he should be. Turning from the toilsome past and the +unpromising present, he looked to the future with a manly assurance of +better things. He should shine in his humble sphere, a rustic bard; his +to + + 'Preserve the dignity of Man, + With soul erect; + And trust, the Universal Plan + Will all protect.' + +The poem is pitched on a high key; the keynote is struck in the opening +lines, and the verses move to the end with stateliness and dignity. It +is calm, contemplative, with that artistic restraint that comes of +conscious power. Burns took himself seriously, and knew that if he were +true to his genius he would become the poet and prophet of his +fellow-men. + +It is worth while dwelling a little on this particular poem, because it +marks a crisis in Burns's life. At this point he shook himself free from +the tyranny of the soil. He had considered all things, and his +resolution for authorship was taken. Some of the other poems will be +mentioned afterwards; meantime we have to consider another crisis in his +life--some aspects of his nature less pleasing, some episodes in his +career dark and unlovely. + +Speaking of the effect _Holy Willie's Prayer_ had on the kirk-session, +he says that they actually held three meetings to see if their holy +artillery could be pointed against profane rhymers. 'Unluckily for me,' +he adds, 'my idle wanderings led me on another side, point-blank within +reach of their heaviest metal. This is the unfortunate story alluded to +in my printed poem _The Lament_. 'Twas a shocking affair, which I cannot +yet bear to recollect, and it had very nearly given me one or two of the +principal qualifications for a place with those who have lost the chart +and mistaken the reckoning of rationality.' + +Throughout the year 1785 Burns had been acquainted with Jean Armour, the +daughter of a master mason in Mauchline. Her name, besides being +mentioned in his _Epistle to Davie_, is mentioned in _The Vision_, and +we know from a verse on the six belles of Mauchline that 'Armour was the +jewel o' them a'.' From the depressing cares and anxieties of that +gloomy season the poet had turned to seek solace in song, but he had +also found comfort and consolation in love. + + 'When heart-corroding care and grief + Deprive my soul of rest, + Her dear idea brings relief + And solace to my breast.' + +Now in the spring of 1786 Burns as a man of honour must acknowledge Jean +as his wife. The lovers had imprudently anticipated the Church's +sanction to marriage, and it was his duty, speaking in the homely phrase +of the Scottish peasantry, to make an honest woman of his Bonnie Jean. +But, unfortunately, matters had been going from bad to worse on the farm +of Mossgiel, and about this time the brothers had come to a final +decision to quit the farm. Robert, as Gilbert informs us, durst not then +engage with a family in his poor, unsettled state, but was anxious to +shield his partner by every means in his power from the consequences of +their imprudence. It was agreed, therefore, between them, that they +should make a legal acknowledgment of marriage, that he should go to +Jamaica to push his fortune, and that she should remain with her father +till it should please Providence to put the means of supporting a family +in his power. He was willing even to work as a common labourer so that +he might do his duty by the woman he had already made his wife. But +Jean's father, whatever were his reasons, would allow her to have +nothing whatever to do with a man like Burns. A husband in Jamaica was, +in his judgment, no husband at all. What inducement he held out, or what +arguments he used, we may not know, but he prevailed on Jean to +surrender to him the paper acknowledging the irregular marriage. This he +deposited with Mr. Aitken of Ayr, who, as Burns heard, deleted the +names, thus rendering the marriage null and void. This was the +circumstance, what he regarded as Jean's desertion, which brought Burns, +as he has said, to the verge of insanity. + +Now it was that he finally resolved to leave the country. It was not the +first time he had thought of America. Poverty, before this, had led him +to think of emigrating; the success of others who had gone out as +settlers tempted him to try his fortune beyond the seas, even though he +'should herd the buckskin kye in Virginia.' Now, imprudence as well as +poverty urged him, while, wounded so sorely by the action of the +Armours both in his love and his vanity, he had little desire to remain +at home. There is no doubt that, prior to the birth of his twin children +and the publication of his poems, he would have quitted Scotland with +little reluctance. But he was so poor that, even after accepting a +situation in Jamaica, he had not money to pay his passage; and it was at +the suggestion of Gavin Hamilton that he began seriously to prepare for +the publication of his poems by subscription, in order to raise a sum +sufficient to buy his banishment. Accordingly we find him under the date +April 3, 1786, writing to Mr. Aitken, 'My proposals for publishing I am +just going to send to press.' + +But what a time this was in the poet's life! It was a long tumult of +hope and despair, exultation and despondency, poetry and love; revelry, +rebellion, and remorse. Everything was excitement; calmness itself a +fever. Yet through it all inspiration was ever with him, and poem +followed poem with miraculous, one might almost say, unnatural rapidity. +Now he is apostrophising Ruin; now he is wallowing in the mire of +village scandal; now he is addressing a mountain daisy in words of +tenderness and purity; now he is scarifying a garrulous tailor, and +ranting with an alien flippancy; now it is Beelzebub he addresses, now +the King; now he is waxing eloquent on the virtues of Scotch whisky, +anon writing to a young friend in words of wisdom that might well be +written on the fly-leaf of his Bible. + +This was certainly a period of ageing activity in Burns's life. It +seemed as if there had been a conspiracy of fate and circumstance to +herald the birth of his poems with the wildest convulsions of labour and +travail. The parish of Tarbolton became the stage of a play that had all +the makings of a farce and all the elements of a tragedy. There were +endless complications and daily developments, all deepening the dramatic +intensity without disturbing the unity. We watch with breathless +interest, dumbly wondering what the end will be. It is tragedy, comedy, +melodrama, and burlesque all in one. + +Driven almost to madness by the faithlessness of Jean Armour, he rends +himself in a whirlwind of passion, and seeks sympathy and solace in the +love of Mary Campbell. What a situation for a novelist! This is just how +the story-teller would have made his jilted hero act; sent him with +bleeding heart to seek consolation in a new love. For novelists make a +study of the vagaries of love, and know that hearts are caught in the +rebound. + +Most of the biographers of Burns are agreed that this Highland lassie +was the object of by far the deepest passion he ever knew. They may be +right. Death stepped in before disillusion, and she was never other than +the adored Mary of that rapturous meeting when the white +hawthorn-blossom no purer was than their love. Thus was his love for +Mary Campbell ever a holy and spiritual devotion. Auguste Angellier +says: 'This was the purest, the most lasting, and by far the noblest of +his loves. Above all the others, many of which were more passionate, +this one stands out with the chasteness of a lily. There is a complete +contrast between his love for Jean and his love for Mary. In the one +case all the epithets are material; here they are all moral. The praises +are borrowed, not from the graces of the body, but from the features of +the soul. The words which occur again and again are those of honour, of +purity, of goodness. The idea of seeing her again some day was never +absent from his mind. Every time he thought of eternity, of a future +life, of reunions in some unknown state, it was to her that his heart +went out. The love of that second Sunday of May was ever present. It was +the love which led Burns to the most elevated sphere to which he ever +attained; it was the inspiration of his most spiritual efforts. This +sweet, blue-eyed Highland lassie was his Beatrice, and waved to him from +the gates of heaven.' + +We know little about Mary Campbell from the poet himself; and though +much has been ferreted out about her by a host of snappers-up of +unconsidered trifles, this episode in his life is still involved in +mystery. It is pleasant to reflect that his reticence here has kept at +least one love passage in his life sacred and holy. Is not mystery half +the charm and beauty of love? Yet, in spite of his silence, or probably +because of it, details have been raked up from time to time, some grey +and colourless fossil-remains of what was once fresh and living fact. +From Burns himself we know that the lovers took a tender farewell in a +sequestered spot by the banks of the Ayr, and parted never to meet +again. All the romance and tragedy are there, and what need we more? We +are not even certain as to either the place or the date of her death. +Mrs. Begg, the poet's sister, knew little or nothing about Mary +Campbell. She remembered, however, a letter being handed in to him +after the work of the season was over. 'He went to the window to open +and read it, and she was struck by the look of agony which was the +consequence. He went out without uttering a word.' What he felt he +expressed afterwards in song--song that has become the language of +bereaved and broken hearts for all time. The widowed lover knows 'the +dear departed shade,' but he may not have heard of Mary Campbell. + +It was in May that Burns and Highland Mary had parted; in June he wrote +to a friend about ungrateful Armour, confessing that he still loved her +to distraction, though he would not tell her so. But all his letters +about this time are wild and rebellious. He raves in a tempest of +passion, and cools himself again, perhaps in the composition of a song +or poem. Just about the time this letter was written, his poems were +already in the press. His proposal for publishing had met with so hearty +a reception, that success financially was to a certain extent assured, +and the printing had been put into the hand of John Wilson, Kilmarnock. +Even yet his pen was busy. He wrote often in a gay and lively style, +almost, it would seem, in a struggle to keep himself from sinking into +melancholy, 'singing to keep his courage up.' His gaiety was 'the +madness of an intoxicated criminal under the hands of the executioner.' +_A Bard's Epitaph_, however, among the many pieces of this season, is +earnest and serious enough to disarm hostile criticism; and his loose +and flippant productions are read leniently in the light of this +pathetic confession. It is a self-revelation truly, but it is honest, +straightforward, and manly. There is nothing plaintive or mawkish about +it. + +We next find Burns flying from home to escape legal measures that Jean +Armour's father was instituting against him. He was in hiding at +Kilmarnock to be out of the way of legal diligence, and it was in such +circumstances that he saw his poems through the press. Surely never +before in the history of literature had book burst from such a medley of +misfortunes into so sudden and certain fame. Born in tumult, it +vindicated its volcanic birth, and took the hearts of men by storm. +Burns says little about those months of labour and bitterness. We know +that he had then nearly as high an idea of himself and his works as he +had in later life; he had watched every means of information as to how +much ground he occupied as a man and a poet, and was sure his poems +would meet with some applause. He had subscriptions for about three +hundred and fifty, and he got six hundred copies printed, pocketing, +after all expenses were paid, nearly twenty pounds. With nine guineas of +this sum he bespoke a passage in the first ship that was to sail for the +West Indies. 'I had for some time,' he says, 'been skulking from covert +to covert under all the terrors of a jail, as some ill-advised, +ungrateful people had uncoupled the merciless, legal pack at my heels. I +had taken the last farewell of my friends; my chest was on the road to +Greenock; I had composed the song _The Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast_, +which was to be the last effort of my muse in Caledonia, when a letter +from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by +rousing my poetic ambition. The doctor belonged to a class of critics, +for whose applause I had not even dared to hope. His idea that I would +meet with every encouragement for a second edition fired me so much, +that away I posted to Edinburgh, without a single acquaintance in town, +or a single letter of recommendation in my pocket.' + +It was towards the end of July that the poems were published, and they +met with a success that must have been gratifying to those friends who +had stood by the poet in his hour of adversity, and done what they could +to ensure subscriptions. In spite of the fact that Burns certainly +looked upon himself as possessed of some poetic abilities, the reception +the little volume met with, and the impression it at once made, must +have exceeded his wildest anticipations. Even yet, however, he did not +relinquish the idea of going to America. On the other hand, as we have +seen, the first use he made of the money which publication had brought +him, was to secure a berth in a vessel bound for Jamaica. But he was +still compelled by the dramatic uncertainty of circumstance. The day of +sailing was postponed, else had he certainly left his native land. It +was only after Jean Armour had become the mother of twin children that +there was any hint of diffidence about sailing. In a letter to Robert +Aitken, written in October, he says: 'All these reasons urge me to go +abroad, and to all these reasons I have one answer--the feelings of a +father. That in the present mood I am in overbalances everything that +can be laid in the scale against it.' + +His friends, too, after the success of his poems, were beginning to be +doubtful about the wisdom of his going abroad, and were doing what they +could to secure for him a place in the Excise. For his fame had gone +beyond the bounds of his native county, and others than people in his +own station had recognised his genius. Mrs. Dunlop of Dunlop was one of +the first to seek the poet's acquaintance, and she became an almost +lifelong friend; through his poems he renewed acquaintance with Mrs. +Stewart of Stair. He was 'roosed' by Craigen-Gillan; Dugald Stewart, the +celebrated metaphysician, and one of the best-known names in the learned +and literary circles of Edinburgh, who happened to be spending his +vacation at Catrine, not very far from Mossgiel, invited the poet to +dine with him, and on that occasion he 'dinnered wi' a laird'--Lord +Daer. Then came the appreciative letter from Dr. Blacklock to the Rev. +George Lawrie of Loudon, already mentioned. Even this letter might not +have proved strong enough to detain him in Scotland, had it not been +that he was disappointed of a second edition of his poems in Kilmarnock. +Other encouragement came from Edinburgh in a very favourable criticism +of his poems in the _Edinburgh Magazine_. This, taken along with Dr. +Blacklock's suggestion about 'a second edition more numerous than the +former,' led the poet to believe that his work would be taken up by any +of the Edinburgh publishers. The feelings of a father also urged him to +remain in Scotland; and at length--probably in November--the thought of +exile was abandoned. It was with very different feelings, we may be +sure, that he contemplated setting out from Mossgiel to sojourn for a +season in Edinburgh--a name that had ever been associated in his mind +with the best traditions of learning and literature in Scotland. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EDINBURGH EDITION + + +Edinburgh towards the close of last century was a very different place +from Edinburgh of the present day. It was then to a certain extent the +hub of Scottish society; the centre of learning and literature; the +winter rendezvous of not a few of the nobility and gentry of Scotland. +For in those days it had its society and its season; county families had +not altogether abandoned the custom of keeping their houses in town. All +roads did not then lead to London as they do now, when Edinburgh is a +capital in little more than name, and its prestige has become a +tradition. A century ago Edinburgh had all the glamour and fascination +of the capital of a no mean country; to-day it is but the historical +capital invested with the glamour and fascination of a departed glory. +The very names of those whom Burns met on his first visit to Edinburgh +are part of the history of the nation. In the University there were at +that time, representative of the learning of the age, Dugald Stewart, +Dr. Blair, and Dr. Robertson. David Hume was but recently dead, and the +lustre of his name remained. His great friend, Adam Smith, author of +_The Wealth of Nations_, was still living; while Henry Mackenzie, _The +Man of Feeling_, the most popular writer of his day, was editing _The +Lounger_; and Dr. Blacklock, the blind poet, was also a name of +authority in the world of letters. Nor was the Bar, whose magnates have +ever figured in the front rank of Edinburgh society, eclipsed by the +literary luminaries of the University. Lord Monboddo has left a name, +which his countrymen are not likely to forget. He was an accomplished, +though eccentric character, whose classical bent was in the direction of +Epicurean parties. His great desire was to revive the traditions of the +elegant suppers of classical times. Not only were music and painting +employed to this end, but the tables were wreathed with flowers, the +odour of incense pervaded the room; the wines were of the choicest, +served from decanters of Grecian design. But, perhaps, the chief +attraction to Burns in the midst of all this super-refinement was the +presence of 'the heavenly Miss Burnet,' daughter of Lord Monboddo. +'There has not been anything nearly like her,' he wrote to his friend +Chalmers, 'in all the combinations of beauty and grace and goodness the +great Creator has formed since Milton's Eve in the first day of her +existence.' The Hon. Henry Erskine was another well-known name, not only +in legal circles, but as well in fashionable society. His genial and +sunny nature made him so great a favourite in his profession, that +having been elected Dean of the Faculty of Advocates in 1786, he was +unanimously re-elected every year till 1796, when he was victorious over +Dundas of Arniston, who had been brought forward in opposition to him. +The leader of fashion was the celebrated Duchess of Gordon, who was +never absent from a public place, and 'the later the hour so much the +better.' Her amusements--her life, we might say--were dancing, cards, +and company. With such a leader, the season to the very select and +elegant society of Edinburgh was certain to be a time of brilliance and +gaiety; while its very exclusiveness, and the fact that it affected or +reflected the literary life of the University and the Bar, would make it +all the more ready to lionise a man like Burns when the opportunity +came. + +The members of the middle class caught their tone from the upper ranks, +and took their nightly sederunts and morning headaches as privileges +they dared aristocratic exclusiveness to deny them. Douce citizens, +merchants, respectable tradesmen, well-to-do lawyers, forgathered when +the labours of the day were done to spend a few hours in some snug +back-parlour, where mine host granted them the privileges and privacy of +a club. Such social beings as these, met to discuss punch, law, and +literature, were no less likely than their aristocratic neighbours to +receive Burns with open arms, and once he was in their midst to prolong +their sittings in his honour. Nor was Burns, if he found them honest and +hearty fellows, the man to say them nay. He was eminently a social and +sociable being, and in company such as theirs he could unbend himself as +he might not do in the houses of punctilious society. The etiquette of +that howff of the Crochallan Fencibles in the Anchor Close or of Johnnie +Dowie's tavern in Libberton's Wynd was not the etiquette of +drawing-rooms; and the poet was free to enliven the hours with a +rattling fire of witty remarks on men and things as he had been wont to +do on the bog at Lochlea, with only a few noteless peasants for +audience. + +Burns entered Edinburgh on November 28, 1786. He had spent the night +after leaving Mossgiel at the farm of Covington Mains, where the +kind-hearted host, Mr. Prentice, had all the farmers of the parish +gathered to meet him. This is of interest as showing the popularity +Burns's poems had already won; while the eagerness of those farmers to +see and know the man after they had read his poems proves most +strikingly how straight the poet had gone to the hearts of his readers. +They had recognised the voice of a human being, and heard it gladly. +This gathering was convincing testimony, if such were needed, of the +truthfulness and sincerity of his writings. No doubt Burns, with his +great force of understanding, appreciated the welcome of those +brother-farmers, and valued it above the adulation he afterwards +received in Edinburgh. The Kilmarnock Edition was but a few months old, +yet here was a gathering of hard-working men, who had read his poems, we +may be sure, from cover to cover, and now they were eager to thank him +who had sung the joys and sorrows of their workaday lives. Of course +there was a great banquet, and night wore into morning before the +company dispersed. They had seen the poet face to face, and the man was +greater than his poems. + +Next morning he resumed his journey, breakfasting at Carnwath, and +reaching Edinburgh in the evening. He had come, as he tells us, without +a letter of introduction in his pocket, and he took up his abode with +John Richmond in Baxter's Close, off the Lawnmarket. He had known +Richmond when he was a clerk with Gavin Hamilton, and had kept up a +correspondence with him ever since he had left Mauchline. The lodging +was a humble enough one, the rent being only three shillings a week; +but here Burns lodged all the time he was in Edinburgh, and it was +hither he returned from visiting the houses of the rich and great, to +share a bed with his friend and companion of many a merry meeting at +Mauchline. + +It would be vain to attempt to describe Burns's feelings during those +first few days in Edinburgh. He had never before been in a larger town +than Kilmarnock or Ayr; and now he walked the streets of Scotland's +capital, to him full of history and instinct with the associations of +centuries. This was really the heart of Scotland, the home of heroes who +fought and fell for their country, 'the abode of kings of other years.' +His sentimental attachment to Jacobitism became more pronounced as he +looked on Holyrood. For Burns, a representative of the strength and +weakness of his countrymen, was no less representative of Scotland's +sons in his chivalrous pity for the fate of Queen Mary and his romantic +loyalty to the gallant Prince Charlie. His poetical espousal of the +cause of the luckless Stuarts was purely a matter of sentiment, a kind +of pious pity that had little to do with reason; and in this he was +typical of his countrymen even of the present day, who are loyal to the +house of Stuart in song, and in life are loyal subjects of their Queen. + +We are told, and we can well believe that for the first few days of his +stay he wandered about, looking down from Arthur's Seat, gazing at the +Castle, or contemplating the windows of the booksellers' shops. We know +that he made a special pilgrimage to the grave of Fergusson, and that in +a letter, dated February 6, 1787, he applied to the honourable bailies +of Canongate, Edinburgh, for permission 'to lay a simple stone over his +revered ashes'; which petition was duly considered and graciously +granted. The stone was afterwards erected, with the simple inscription, +'Here lies Robert Fergusson, Poet. Born September 5th, 1751; died 16th +October, 1774. + + No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, + "No storied urn nor animated bust"; + This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way + To pour her sorrow o'er her poet's dust.' + +On the reverse side is recorded the fact that the stone was erected by +Robert Burns, and that the ground was to remain for ever sacred to the +memory of Robert Fergusson. + +It is related, too, that he visited Ramsay's house, and that he bared +his head when he entered. Burns over and over again, both in prose and +verse, turned to these two names with a kind of fetich worship, that it +is difficult to understand. He must have known that, as a poet, he was +immeasurably superior to both. It may have been that their writings +first opened his eyes to the possibilities of the Scots tongue in +lyrical and descriptive poetry; and there was something also which +appealed to him in the wretched life of Fergusson. + + 'O thou, my elder brother in misfortune, + By far my elder brother in the Muses.' + +His elder brother indeed by some six years! But there is more of +reverence than sound judgment in his estimate of either Ramsay or +Fergusson. + +Burns, however, had come to Edinburgh with a fixed purpose in view, and +it would not do to waste his time mooning about the streets. On December +7 we find him writing to Gavin Hamilton, half seriously, half jokingly: +'I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as Thomas à Kempis or John +Bunyan, and you may expect henceforth to see my birthday inserted among +the wonderful events in the Poor Robins' and Aberdeen Almanacs along +with the Black Monday and the Battle of Bothwell Bridge. My Lord +Glencairn and the Dean of Faculty, Mr. H. Erskine, have taken me under +their wing, and by all probability I shall soon be the tenth worthy and +the eighth wise man of the world. Through my lord's influence it is +inserted in the records of the Caledonian Hunt that they universally one +and all subscribe for the second edition.' + +This letter shows that Burns had already been taken up, as the phrase +goes, by the élite of Edinburgh; and it shows also and quite as clearly +in the tone of quiet banter, that he was little likely to lose his head +by the notice taken of him. To the Earl of Glencairn, mentioned in it, +he had been introduced probably by Mr. Dalrymple of Orangefield, whom he +knew both as a brother-mason and a brother-poet. The Earl had already +seen the Kilmarnock Edition of the poems, and now he not only introduced +Burns to William Creech, the leading publisher in Edinburgh, but he got +the members of the Caledonian Hunt to become subscribers for a second +edition of the poems. To Erskine he had been introduced at a meeting of +the Canongate Kilwinning Lodge of Freemasons; and assuredly there was no +man living more likely to exert himself in the interests of a genius +like Burns. + +Two days after this letter to Gavin Hamilton there appeared in _The +Lounger_ Mackenzie's appreciative notice of the Kilmarnock Edition. This +notice has become historical, and at the time of its appearance it must +have been peculiarly gratifying to Burns. He had remarked before, in +reference to the letter from Dr. Blacklock, that the doctor belonged to +a class of critics for whose applause he had not even dared to hope. Now +his work was criticised most favourably by the one who was regarded as +the highest authority on literature in Scotland. If a writer was praised +in _The Lounger_, his fame was assured. He went into the world with the +hall-mark of Henry Mackenzie; and what more was needed? The oracle had +spoken, and his decision was final. His pronouncement would be echoed +and re-echoed from end to end of the country. And this great critic +claimed no special indulgence for Burns on the plea of his mean birth or +poor education. He saw in this heaven-taught ploughman a genius of no +ordinary rank, a man who possessed the spirit as well as the fancy of a +great poet. He was a poet, and it mattered not whether he had been born +a peasant or a peer. 'His poetry, considered abstractedly and without +the apologies arising from his situation, seems to me fully entitled to +command our feelings and obtain our applause.... The power of genius is +not less admirable in tracing the manners, than in painting the passions +or in drawing the scenery of nature. That intuitive glance with which a +writer like Shakspeare discerns the character of men, with which he +catches the many changing hues of life, forms a sort of problem in the +science of mind, of which it is easier to see the truth than assign the +cause.' + +But Mackenzie did more than praise. He pointed out the fact that the +author had had a terrible struggle with poverty all the days of his +life, and made an appeal to his country 'to stretch out her hand and +retain the native poet whose wood-notes wild possessed so much +excellence.' There seems little doubt that the concluding words of this +notice led Burns for the first time to hope and believe that, through +some influential patron, he might be placed in a position to face the +future without a fear, and to cultivate poetry at his leisure. There is +no mistaking the meaning of Mackenzie's words, and he had evidently used +them with the conviction that something would be done for Burns. +Unfortunately, he was mistaken; the poet, at first misled, was slowly +disillusioned and somewhat embittered. 'To repair the wrongs of +suffering or neglected merit; to call forth genius from the obscurity +where it had pined indignant, and place it where it may profit or +delight the world--these are exertions which give to wealth an enviable +superiority, to greatness and to patronage a laudable pride.' + +To Burns, at the time, such a criticism as this must have been all the +more pleasing, inasmuch as it was the verdict of a man whose best-known +work had been one of the poet's favourite books. We can easily imagine +that, under the patronage of Lord Glencairn and Henry Erskine, and after +Mackenzie's generous recognition of his genius, the doors of the best +houses in Edinburgh would be open to him. His letter to John Ballantine, +Ayr, written a few days after this criticism appeared, shows in what +circles the poet was then moving. 'I have been introduced to a good many +of the _noblesse_, but my avowed patrons and patronesses are, the +Duchess of Gordon, the Countess of Glencairn with my Lord and Lady +Betty, the Dean of Faculty, Sir John Whitefoord. I have likewise warm +friends among the _literati_; Professors Stewart, Blair, and Mr. +Mackenzie, _The Man of Feeling_.... I am nearly agreed with Creech to +print my book, and I suppose I will begin on Monday.... Dugald Stewart +and some of my learned friends put me in a periodical called _The +Lounger_, a copy of which I here enclose you. I was, Sir, when I was +first honoured with your notice, too obscure; now I tremble lest I +should be ruined by being dragged too suddenly into the glare of learned +and polite observation.' + +Burns was now indeed the lion of Edinburgh. It must have been a great +change for a man to have come straight from the stilts of the plough to +be dined and toasted by such men as Lord Glencairn, Lord Monboddo, and +the Hon. Henry Erskine; to be fêted and flattered by the Duchess of +Gordon, the Countess of Glencairn, and Lady Betty Cunningham; to count +amongst his friends Mr. Mackenzie and Professors Stewart and Blair. It +would have been little wonder if his head had been turned by the +patronage of the nobility, the deference and attention of the literary +and learned coteries of Edinburgh. But Burns was too sensible to be +carried away by the adulation of a season. A man of his keenness of +penetration and clearness of insight would appreciate the praise of the +world at its proper value. He bore himself with becoming dignity, taking +his place in refined society as one who had a right there, without +showing himself either conceitedly aggressive or meanly servile. He took +his part in conversation, but no more than his part, and expressed +himself with freedom and decision. His conversation, in fact, astonished +the _literati_ even more than his poems had done. Perhaps they had +expected some uncouth individual who would stammer crop-and-weather +commonplaces in a rugged vernacular, or, worse still, in ungrammatical +English; but here was one who held his own with them in speculative +discussion, speaking not only with the eloquence of a poet, but with the +readiness, clearness, and fluency of a man of letters. His pure English +diction astonished them, but his acuteness of reasoning, his intuitive +knowledge of men and the world, was altogether beyond their +comprehension. All they had got by years of laborious study this man +appeared to have as a natural gift. In repartee, even, he could more +than hold his own with them, and in the presence of ladies could turn a +compliment with the best. 'It needs no effort of imagination,' says +Lockhart, 'to conceive what the sensations of an isolated set of +scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) must have been in +the presence of this big-boned, black-browed, brawny stranger, who, +having forced his way among them from the plough-tail at a single +stride, manifested in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation a +most thorough conviction that in the society of the most eminent men of +his nation he was exactly where he was entitled to be.' It was a new +world to Burns, yet he walked about as if he were of old familiar with +its ways; he conducted himself in society like one to the manner born. + +All who have left written evidence of Burns's visit to Edinburgh are +agreed that he conducted himself with manliness and dignity, and all +have left record of the powerful impression his conversation made on +them. His poems were wonderful; himself was greater than his poems, a +giant in intellect. A ploughman who actually dared to have formed a +distinct conception of the doctrine of _association_ was a miracle +before which schools and scholars were dumb. 'Nothing, perhaps,' Dugald +Stewart wrote, 'was more remarkable among his various attainments than +the fluency, precision, and originality of his language when he spoke in +company; more particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of +expression, and avoided more successfully than most Scotchmen the +peculiarities of Scottish phraseology.' + +And Professor Stewart goes further than this when he speaks of the +soundness and sanity of Burns's nature. 'The attentions he received +during his stay in town from all ranks and descriptions of persons, were +such as would have turned any head but his own. He retained the same +simplicity of manner and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when +I first saw him in the country; nor did he seem to feel any additional +self-importance from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. His +dress was perfectly suited to his station, plain and unpretentious, with +a sufficient attention to neatness.' Principal Robertson has left it on +record, that he had scarcely ever met with any man whose conversation +displayed greater vigour than that of Burns. Walter Scott, a youth of +some sixteen years at the time, met Burns at the house of Dr. Adam +Ferguson, and was particularly struck with his poetic eye, 'which +literally glowed when he spoke with feeling or interest,' and with his +forcible conversation. 'Among the men who were the most learned of their +time and country, he expressed himself with perfect firmness, but +without the least intrusive forwardness; and when he differed in +opinion, he did not hesitate to express it firmly, and at the same time +with modesty.... I never saw a man in company more perfectly free from +either the reality or the affectation of embarrassment.' To these may be +added the testimony of Dr. Walker, who gives, perhaps, the most complete +and convincing picture of the man at this time. He insists on the same +outstanding characteristics in Burns, his innate dignity, his unaffected +demeanour in company, and brilliancy in conversation. In no part of his +manner, we read, was there the slightest degree of affectation, and no +one could have guessed from his behaviour or conversation, that he had +been for some months the favourite of all the fashionable circles of a +metropolis. 'In conversation he was powerful. His conceptions and +expression were of corresponding vigour, and on all subjects were as +remote as possible from commonplace.' + +But whilst ladies of rank and fashion were deluging this Ayrshire +ploughman with invitations, and vying one with another in their +patronage and worship, the mind of the poet was no less busy registering +impressions of every new experience. If the learned men of Edinburgh set +themselves to study the character of a genius who upset all their +cherished theories of birth and education, and to chronicle his sayings +and doings, Burns at the same time was studying them, gauging their +powers intuitively, telling their limitations at a glance. For he must +measure every man he met, and himself with him. His standard was always +the same; every brain was weighed against his own; but with Burns this +was never more than a comparison of capacities. He took his stand, not +by what work he had done, but by what he felt he was capable of doing. +And that is not, and cannot be, the way of the world. In all his letters +at this time we see him studying himself in the circles of fashion and +learning. He could look on Robert Burns, as he were another person, +brought from the plough and set down in a world of wealth and +refinement, of learning and wit and beauty. He saw the dangers that +beset him, and the temptations to which he was exposed; he recognised +that something more than his poetic abilities was needed to explain his +sudden popularity. He was the vogue, the favourite of a season; but +public favour was capricious, and next year the doors of the great might +be closed against him; while patrician dames who had schemed for his +smiles might glance at him with indifferent eyes as at a dismissed +servant once high in favour. His letter to Mrs. Dunlop, dated January +15, may be taken as a just, deliberate, and clear expression of his +views of himself and society at this time. The letter is so quietly +dignified that we may quote at some length. 'You are afraid I shall grow +intoxicated with my prosperity as a poet. Alas! madam, I know myself and +the world too well. I do not mean any airs of affected modesty; I am +willing to believe that my abilities deserve some notice, but in a most +enlightened, informed age and nation, where poetry is and has been the +study of men of the first natural genius, aided with all the powers of +polite learning, polite books, and polite company--to be dragged forth +to the full glare of learned and polite observation, with all my +imperfections of awkward rusticity and crude and unpolished ideas on my +head--I assure you, madam, I do not dissemble when I tell you I tremble +for the consequences. The novelty of a poet in my obscure situation, +without any of those advantages that are reckoned necessary for that +character, at least at this time of day, has raised a partial tide of +public notice which has borne me to a height where I am absolutely, +feelingly certain my abilities are inadequate to support me; and too +surely do I see that time when the same tide will leave me and recede, +perhaps as far below the mark of truth. I do not say this in the +ridiculous affectation of self-abasement and modesty. I have studied +myself, and know what ground I occupy; and however a friend or the world +may differ from me in that particular, I stand for my own opinion in +silent resolve, with all the tenaciousness of property. I mention this +to you once for all to disburden my mind, and I do not wish to hear or +say more about it. But-- + + "When proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes," + +you will bear me witness that when my bubble of fame was at the highest, +I stood unintoxicated with the inebriating cup in my hand, looking +forward with rueful resolve to the hastening time when the blow of +calamity should dash it to the ground with all the eagerness of vengeful +triumph.' + +In a letter to Dr. Moore he harps on the same string, for he sees +clearly enough that though his abilities as a poet are worthy of +recognition, it is the novelty of his position and the strangeness of +the life he has pictured in his poems that have brought him into polite +notice. The field of his poetry, rather than the poetry itself, is the +wonder in the eyes of stately society. To the Rev. Mr. Lawrie of Loudon +he writes in a similar strain, and speaks even more emphatically. From +all his letters, indeed, at this time we gather that he saw that +novelty had much to do with his present éclat; that the tide of +popularity would recede, and leave him at his leisure to descend to his +former situation; and, above all, that he was prepared for this, come +when it would. + +All this time he had been busy correcting the proofs of his poems; and +now that he was already assured the edition would be a success, he began +to think seriously of the future and of settling down again as farmer. +The appellation of Scottish Bard, he confessed to Mrs. Dunlop, was his +highest pride; to continue to deserve it, his most exalted ambition. He +had no dearer aim than to be able to make 'leisurely pilgrimages through +Caledonia, to sit on the fields of her battles, to wander on the +romantic banks of her rivers, and to muse by the stately towers or +venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes.' But that was a +Utopian dream; he had dallied long enough with life, and now it was time +he should be in earnest. 'I have a fond, an aged mother to care for; and +some other bosom ties perhaps equally tender.' + +Perhaps, had Burns received before he left Edinburgh the £500 which +Creech ultimately paid him for the Edinburgh Edition, he might have gone +straight to a farm in the south country, and taken up what he considered +the serious business of life. He himself, about this time, estimated +that he would clear nearly £300 by authorship, and with that sum he +intended to return to farming. Mr. Miller of Dalswinton had expressed a +wish to have Burns as tenant of one of his farms, and the poet had been +already approached on the subject. We also gather from almost every +letter written just before the publication of his poems, that he +contemplated an immediate return 'to his shades.' However, when the +Edinburgh Edition came out, April 21, 1787, the poet found that it would +be a considerable time before the whole profits accruing from +publication could be paid over to him. Indeed, there was certainly an +unnecessary delay on Creech's part in making a settlement. The first +instalment of profits was not sufficient for leasing and stocking a +farm; and during the months that elapsed before the whole profits were +in his hands, Burns made several tours through the Borders and Highlands +of Scotland. This was certainly one of his dearest aims; but these tours +were undertaken somewhat under compulsion, and we doubt not he would +much more gladly have gone straight back to farm-life, and kept these +leisurely pilgrimages to a more convenient season. One is not in a mood +for dreaming on battlefields, or wandering in a reverie by romantic +rivers, when the future is unsettled and life is for the time being +without an aim. There is something of mystery and melancholy hanging +about these peregrinations, and the cause, it seems to us, is not far to +seek. These months are months of waiting and wearying; he is unsettled, +oftentimes moody and despondent; his bursts of gaiety appear forced, and +his muse is well-nigh barren. In the circumstances, no doubt it was the +best thing he could do, to gratify his long-cherished desire of seeing +these places in his native country, whose names were enshrined in song +or story. But how much more pleasant--and more profitable both to the +poet himself and the country he loved--had these journeys been made +under more favourable conditions! + +The past also as much as the future weighed on the poet's mind. His +days had been so fully occupied in Edinburgh that he had little leisure +to think on some dark and dramatic episodes of Mauchline and Kilmarnock; +but now in his wanderings he has time not only to think but to brood; +and we may be sure the face of Bonnie Jean haunted him in dreams, and +that his heart heard again and again the plaintive voices of little +children. In several of his letters now we detect a tone of bitterness, +in which we suspect there is more of remorse than of resentment with the +world. He certainly was disappointed that Creech could not pay him in +full, but he must have been gratified with the reception his poems had +got. The list of subscribers ran to thirty-eight pages, and was +representative of every class in Scotland. In the words of Cunningham: +'All that coterie influence and individual exertion--all that the +noblest and humblest could do, was done to aid in giving it a kind +reception. Creech, too, had announced it through the booksellers of the +land, and it was soon diffused over the country, over the colonies, and +wherever the language was spoken. The literary men of the South seemed +even to fly to a height beyond those of the North. Some hesitated not to +call him the Northern Shakspeare.' + +This surely was a great achievement for one who, a few months +previously, had been skulking from covert to covert to escape the +terrors of a jail. He had hardly dared to hope for the commendation of +the Edinburgh critics, yet he had been received by the best society of +the capital; his genius had been recognised by the highest literary +authorities of Scotland; and now the second edition of his poems was +published under auspices that gave it the character of a national book. + +If the poems this volume contained established fully and finally the +reputation of the poet, the subscription list was a no less substantial +proof of a generous and enthusiastic appreciation of his genius on the +part of his countrymen. And that Burns must have recognised. A man of +his sound common sense could not have expected more. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BURNS'S TOURS + + +The Edinburgh Edition having now been published, there was no reason for +the poet to prolong his stay in the city. It was only after being +disappointed of a second Kilmarnock Edition of his poems that he had +come to try his fortunes in the capital; and now that his hopes of a +fuller edition and a wider field had been realised, the purpose of his +visit was accomplished, and there was no need to fritter his time away +in idleness. + +In a letter to Lord Buchan, Burns had doubted the prudence of a +penniless poet faring forth to see the sights of his native land. But +circumstances have changed. With the assured prospect of the financial +success of his second venture, he felt himself in a position to gratify +the dearest wish of his heart and to fire his muse at Scottish story and +Scottish scenes. Moreover, as has been said, it would be some time +before Creech could come to a final settlement of accounts with the +poet, and he may have deemed that the interval would be profitably spent +in travel. His travelling companion on his first tour was a Mr. Robert +Ainslie, a young gentleman of good education and some natural ability, +with whom he left Edinburgh on the 5th May, a fortnight after the +publication of his poems. We are told that the poet, just before he +mounted his horse, received a letter from Dr. Blair, which, having +partly read, he crumpled up and angrily thrust into his pocket. A +perusal of the letter will explain, if it does not go far to justify, +the poet's irritation. It is a sleek, superior production, with the tone +of a temperance tract, and the stilted diction of a dominie. The doctor +is in it one of those well-meaning, meddlesome men, lavish of academic +advice. Burns resented moral prescriptions at all times--more especially +from one whose knowledge of men was severely scholastic; and we can well +imagine that he quitted Edinburgh in no amiable mood. + +From Edinburgh the two journeyed by the Lammermuirs to Berrywell, near +Duns, where the Ainslie family lived. On the Sunday he attended church +with the Ainslies, where the minister, Dr. Bowmaker, preached a sermon +against obstinate sinners. 'I am found out,' the poet remarked, +'wherever I go.' From Duns they proceeded to Coldstream, where, having +crossed the Tweed, Burns first set foot on English ground. Here it was +that, with bared head, he knelt and prayed for a blessing on Scotland, +reciting with the deepest devotion the two concluding verses of _The +Cotter's Saturday Night_. + +The next place visited was Kelso, where they admired the old abbey, and +went to see Roxburgh Castle, thence to Jedburgh, where he met a Miss +Hope and a Miss Lindsay, the latter of whom 'thawed his heart into +melting pleasure after being so long frozen up in the Greenland Bay of +indifference amid the noise and nonsense of Edinburgh.' When he left +this romantic city his thoughts were not of the honour its citizens had +done him, but of Jed's crystal stream and sylvan banks, and, above all, +of Miss Lindsay, who brings him to the verge of verse. Thereafter he +visited Kelso, Melrose, and Selkirk, and after spending about three +weeks seeing all that was to be seen in this beautiful country-side, he +set off with a Mr. Ker and a Mr. Hood on a visit to England. In this +visit he went as far as Newcastle, returning by way of Hexham and +Carlisle. After spending a day here he proceeded to Annan, and thence to +Dumfries. Whilst in the Nithsdale district he took the opportunity of +visiting Dalswinton and inspecting the unoccupied farms; but he did not +immediately close with Mr. Miller's generous offer of a four-nineteen +years' lease on his own terms. From Nithsdale he turned again to his +native Ayrshire, arriving at Mossgiel in the beginning of June, after an +absence from home of six eventful months. + +We can hardly imagine what this home-coming would be like. The Burnses +were typical Scots in their undemonstrative ways; but this was a great +occasion, and tradition has it that his mother allowed her feeling so +far to overcome her natural reticence that she met him at the threshold +with the exclamation, 'O Robert!' He had left home almost unknown, and +had returned with a name that was known and honoured from end to end of +his native land. He had left in the direst poverty, and haunted with the +terrors of a jail, now he came back with his fortune assured; if not +actually rich, at least with more money due to him than the family had +ever dreamed of possessing. The mother's excess of feeling on such an +occasion as this may be easily understood and excused. + +Of this Border tour Burns kept a scrappy journal, but he was more +concerned in jotting down the names and characteristics of those with +whom he forgathered than of letting himself out in snatches of song. He +makes shrewd remarks by the way on farms and farming, on the washing and +shearing of sheep, but the only verse he attempted was his _Epistle to +Creech_. He who had longed to sit and muse on 'those once hard-contested +fields' did not go out of his way to look on Ancrum Moor or Philiphaugh, +nor do we read of him musing pensive in Yarrow. + +However, we are not to regard these days as altogether barren. The poet +was gathering impressions which would come forth in song at some future +time. 'Neither the fine scenery nor the lovely women,' Cunningham +regrets, 'produced any serious effect on his muse.' This is a rash +statement. Poets do not sow and reap at the same time--not even Burns. +If his friends were disappointed at what they considered the sterility +of his muse on this occasion, the fault did not lie with the poet, but +with their absurd expectations. It may be as well to point out here that +the greatest harm Edinburgh did to Burns was that it gathered round him +a number of impatient and injudicious admirers who could not understand +that poetry was not to be forced. The burst of poetry that practically +filled the Kilmarnock Edition came after a seven years' growth of +inspiration; but after his first visit to Edinburgh he was never allowed +to rest. It was expected that he should write whenever a subject was +suggested, or burst into verse at the first glimpse of a lovely +landscape. Every friend was ready with advice as to how and what he +should write, and quite as ready, the poet unfortunately knew, to +criticise afterwards. The poetry of the Mossgiel period had come from +him spontaneously. He had flung off impressions in verse fearlessly, +without pausing to consider how his work would be appreciated by this +one or denounced by that; and was true to himself. Now he knew that +every verse he wrote would be read by many eyes, studied by many minds; +some would scent heresy, others would spot Jacobitism, or worse, +freedom; some would suspect his morality, others would deplore his Scots +tongue; all would criticise favourably or adversely his poetic +expression. It has to be kept in mind, too, that Burns at this time was +in no mood for writing poetry. His mind was not at ease; and after his +long spell of inspiration and the fatiguing distractions of Edinburgh, +it was hardly to be wondered at that brain and body were alike in need +of rest. The most natural rest would have been a return direct to the +labours of the farm. That, however, was denied him, and the period of +his journeyings was little else than a season of unsettlement and +suspense. + +Burns only stayed a few days at home, and then set off on a tour to the +West Highlands, a tour of which we know little or nothing. Perhaps this +was merely a pilgrimage to the grave of Highland Mary. We do not know, +and need not curiously inquire. Burns, as has been already remarked, +kept sacred his love for this generous-hearted maiden, hidden away in +his own heart, and the whole story is a beautiful mystery. We do know +that before he left he visited the Armours, and was disgusted with the +changed attitude of the family towards himself. 'If anything had been +wanting,' he wrote to Mr. James Smith, 'to disgust me completely at +Armour's family, their mean, servile compliance would have done it.' To +his friend, William Nicol, he wrote in the same strain. 'I never, my +friend, thought mankind very capable of anything generous; but the +stateliness of the patricians in Edinburgh, and the servility of my +plebeian brethren (who perhaps formerly eyed me askance) since I +returned home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with my +species.' + +This shows Burns in no very enviable frame of mind; but the cause is +obvious. He is as yet unsettled in life, and now that he has met again +his Bonnie Jean, and seen his children, he is more than ever +dissatisfied with aimless roving. 'I have yet fixed on nothing with +respect to the serious business of life. I am just as usual a rhyming, +mason-making, raking, aimless, idle fellow. However, I shall somewhere +have a farm soon. I was going to say a wife too, but that must never be +my blessed lot.' + +To his own folks he was nothing but kindness, ready to share with them +his uttermost farthing, and to have them share in the glory that was +his; but he was at enmity with himself, and at war with the world. Like +Hamlet, who felt keenly, but was incapable of action, he saw that 'the +times were out of joint'; circumstances were too strong for him. Almost +the only record we have of this tour is a vicious epigram on what he +considered the flunkeyism of Inveraray. Nor are we in the least +astonished to hear that on the homeward route he spent a night in +dancing and boisterous revel, ushering in the day with a kind of +burlesque of pagan sun-worship. This was simply a reaction from his +gloom and despondency; he sought to forget himself in reckless +conviviality. + +About the end of July we find him back again in Mauchline, and on the +25th May he set out on a Highland tour along with his friend William +Nicol, one of the masters of the High School. Of this man Dr. Currie +remarks that he rose by the strength of his talents, and fell by the +strength of his passions. Burns was perfectly well aware of the +passionate and quarrelsome nature of the man. He compared himself with +such a companion to one travelling with a loaded blunderbuss at +full-cock; and in his epigrammatic way he said of him to Mr. Walker, +'His mind is like his body; he has a confounded, strong, in-kneed sort +of a soul.' The man, however, had some good qualities. He had a warm +heart; never forgot the friends of his early years, and he hated +vehemently low jealousy and cunning. These were qualities that would +appeal strongly to Burns, and on account of which much would be +forgiven. Still we cannot think that the poet was happy in his +companion; nor was he yet happy in himself. Otherwise the Highland tour +might have been more interesting, certainly much more profitable to the +poet in its results, than it actually proved. + +In his diary of this tour, as in his diary of the Border tour, there is +much more of shrewd remark on men and things than of poetical jottings. +The fact is, poetry is not to be collected in jottings, nor is +inspiration to be culled in catalogue cuttings; and if many of his +friends were again disappointed in the immediate poetical results of +this holiday, it only shows how little they understood the comings and +goings of inspiration. Those, however, who read his notes and +reflections carefully and intelligently are bound to notice how much +more than a mere verse-maker Burns was. This was the journal of a man of +strong, sound sense and keen observation. It has also to be recognised +that Burns was at his weakest when he attempted to describe scenery for +mere scenery's sake. His gift did not lie that way. His landscapes, rich +in colour and deftly drawn though they be, are always the mere +backgrounds of his pictures. They are impressionistic sketches, the +setting and the complement of something of human interest in incident or +feeling. + +The poet and his companion set out in a postchaise, journeying by +Linlithgow and Falkirk to Stirling. They visited 'a dirty, ugly place +called Borrowstounness,' where he turned from the town to look across +the Forth to Dunfermline and the fertile coast of Fife; Carron Iron +Works, and the field of Bannockburn. They were shown the hole where +Bruce set his standard, and the sight fired the patriotic ardour of the +poet till he saw in imagination the two armies again in the thick of +battle. After visiting the castle at Stirling, he left Nicol for a day, +and paid a visit to Mrs. Chalmers of Harvieston. 'Go to see Caudron Linn +and Rumbling Brig and Deil's Mill.' That is all he has to say of the +scenery; but in a letter to Gavin Hamilton he has much more to tell of +Grace Chalmers and Charlotte, 'who is not only beautiful but lovely.' + +From Stirling the tourists proceeded northwards by Crieff and Glenalmond +to Taymouth; thence, keeping by the banks of the river, to Aberfeldy, +whose birks he immortalised in song. Here he had the good fortune to +meet Niel Gow and to hear him playing. 'A short, stout-built, honest, +Highland figure,' the poet describes him, 'with his greyish hair shed on +his honest, social brow--an interesting face, marking strong sense, kind +open-heartedness mixed with unmistaking simplicity.' + +By the Tummel they rode to Blair, going by Fascally and visiting--both +those sentimental Jacobites--'the gallant Lord Dundee's stone,' in the +Pass of Killiecrankie. At Blair he met his friend Mr. Walker, who has +left an account of the poet's visit; while the two days which Burns +spent here, he has declared, were among the happiest days of his life. + +'My curiosity,' Walker wrote, 'was great to see how he would conduct +himself in company so different from what he had been accustomed to. His +manner was unembarrassed, plain, and firm. He appeared to have complete +reliance on his own native good sense for directing his behaviour. He +seemed at once to perceive and appreciate what was due to the company +and to himself, and never to forget a proper respect for the separate +species of dignity belonging to each. He did not arrogate conversation, +but when led into it he spoke with ease, propriety, and manliness. He +tried to exert his abilities, because he knew it was ability alone gave +him a title to be there.' + +Burns certainly enjoyed his stay, and would, at the family's earnest +solicitation, have stayed longer, had the irascible and unreasonable +Nicol allowed it. Here it was he met Mr. Graham of Fintry, and if he had +stayed a day or two longer he would have met Dundas, a man whose +patronage might have done much to help the future fortunes of the poet. +After leaving Blair, he visited, at the Duke's advice, the Falls of +Bruar, and a few days afterwards he wrote from Inverness to Mr. Walker +enclosing his verses, _The Humble Petition of Bruar Water to the Noble +Duke of Athole_. + +Leaving Blair, they continued their journey northwards towards +Inverness, viewing on the way the Falls of Foyers,--soon to be lost to +Scotland,--which the poet celebrated in a fragment of verse. Of course +two such Jacobites had to see Culloden Moor; then they came through +Nairn and Elgin, crossed the Spey at Fochabers, and Burns dined at +Gordon Castle, the seat of the lively Duchess of Gordon, whom he had met +in Edinburgh. Here again he was received with marked respect, and +treated with the same Highland hospitality that had so charmed him at +Blair; and here also the pleasure of the whole party was spoilt by the +ill-natured jealousy of Nicol. That fiery dominie, imagining that he was +slighted by Burns, who seemed to prefer the fine society of the Duchess +and her friends to his amiable companionship, ordered the horses to be +put to the carriage, and determined to set off alone. As the spiteful +fellow would listen to no reason, Burns had e'en to accompany him, +though much against his will. He sent his apologies to Her Grace in a +song in praise of Castle Gordon. + +From Fochabers they drove to Banff, and thence to Aberdeen. In this city +he was introduced to the Rev. John Skinner, a son of the author of +_Tullochgorum_, and was exceedingly disappointed when he learned that on +his journey he had been quite near to the father's parsonage, and had +not called on the old man. Mr. Skinner himself regretted this, when he +learned the fact from his son, as keenly as Burns did; but the incident +led to a correspondence between the two poets. From Aberdeen he came +south by Stonehaven, where he 'met his relations,' and Montrose to +Dundee. Hence the journey was continued through Perth, Kinross, and +Queensferry, and so back to Edinburgh, 16th September 1787. + +His letter to his brother from Edinburgh is more meagre even than his +journal, being simply a catalogue of the places visited. 'Warm as I was +from Ossian's country,' he remarks, 'what cared I for fishing towns or +fertile carses?' Yet although the journal reads now and again like a +railway time-table, we come across references which give proof of the +poet's abounding interest in the locality of Scottish Song; and it was +probably the case, as Professor Blackie writes, that 'such a lover of +the pure Scottish Muse could not fail when wandering from glen to glen +to pick up fragments of traditional song, which, without his sympathetic +touch, would probably have been lost.' + +Burns's wanderings were not yet, however, at an end. Probably he had +expected on his return to Edinburgh some settlement with Creech, and was +disappointed. Perhaps he was eager to revisit some places or +people--Peggy Chalmers, no doubt--without being hampered in his +movements by such a companion as Nicol. Anyhow, we find him setting out +again on a tour through Clackmannan and Perthshire with his friend Dr. +Adair, a warm but somewhat injudicious admirer of the poet's genius. It +was probably about the beginning of October that the two left +Edinburgh, going round by Stirling to Harvieston, where they remained +about ten days, and made excursions to the various parts of the +surrounding scenery. The Caldron Linn and Rumbling Bridge were +revisited, and they went to see Castle Campbell, the ancient seat of the +family of Argyle. 'I am surprised,' the doctor ingenuously remarks, +'that none of these scenes should have called forth an exertion of +Burns's muse. But I doubt if he had much taste for the picturesque.' One +wonders whether Dr. Adair had actually read the published poems. What a +picture it must have been to see the party dragging Burns about, +pointing out the best views, and then breathlessly waiting for a torrent +of verse. The verses came afterwards, but they were addressed, not to +the Ochils or the Devon, but to Peggy Chalmers. + +From Harvieston he went to Ochtertyre on the Teith to visit Mr. Ramsay, +a reputed lover of Scottish literature; and thence he proceeded to +Ochtertyre in Strathearn, in order to visit Sir William Murray. + +In a letter to Dr. Currie, Mr. Ramsay speaks thus of Burns on this +visit: 'I have been in the company of many men of genius, some of them +poets, but never witnessed such flashes of intellectual brightness, the +impulse of the moment, sparks of celestial fire! I never was more +delighted, therefore, than with his company for two days' +_tête-à-tête_.' Of his residence with Sir William Murray he has left two +poetical souvenirs, one _On Scaring some Water Fowl in Loch Turit_, and +the other, a love song, _Blithe, Blithe, and Merry was She_, in honour +of Miss Euphemia Murray, the flower of Strathearn. + +Returning to Harvieston, he went back with Dr. Adair to Edinburgh, by +Kinross and Queensferry. At Dunfermline he visited the ruined abbey, +where, kneeling, he kissed the stone above Bruce's grave. + +It was on this tour, too, that he visited at Clackmannan an old Scottish +lady, who claimed to be a lineal descendant of the family of Robert the +Bruce. She conferred knighthood on the poet with the great double-handed +sword of that monarch, and is said to have delighted him with the toast +she gave after dinner, 'Hooi Uncos,' which means literally, 'Away +Strangers,' and politically much more. + +The year 1787 was now drawing to a close, and Burns was still waiting +for a settlement with Creech. He could not understand why he was kept +hanging on from month to month. This was a way of doing business quite +new to him, and after being put off again and again he at last began to +suspect that there was something wrong. He doubted Creech's solvency; +doubted even his honesty. More than ever was he eager to be settled in +life, and he fretted under commercial delays he could not understand. On +the first day of his return to Edinburgh he had written to Mr. Miller of +Dalswinton, telling him of his ambitions, and making an offer to rent +one of his farms. We know that he visited Dalswinton once or twice, but +returned to Edinburgh. His only comfort at this time was the work he had +begun in collecting Scottish songs for Johnson's Museum; touching up old +ones and writing new ones to old airs. This with Burns was altogether a +labour of love. The idea of writing a song with a view to money-making +was abhorrent to him. 'He entered into the views of Johnson,' writes +Chambers, 'with an industry and earnestness which despised all money +considerations, and which money could not have purchased'; while Allan +Cunningham marvels at the number of songs Burns was able to write at a +time when a sort of civil war was going on between him and Creech. +Another reason for staying through the winter in Edinburgh Burns may +have had in the hope that through the influence of his aristocratic +friends some office of profit, and not unworthy his genius, might have +been found for him. Places of profit and honour were at the disposal of +many who might have helped him had they so wished. But Burns was not now +the favourite he had been when he first came to Edinburgh. The +ploughman-poet was no longer a novelty; and, moreover, Burns had the +pride of his class, and clung to his early friends. It is not possible +for a man to be the boon-companion of peasants and the associate of +peers. Had he dissociated himself altogether from his past life, the +doors of the nobility might have been still held open to him; and no +doubt the cushioned ease of a sinecure's office would have been had for +the asking. But in that case he would have lost his manhood, and we +should have lost a poet. Burns would not have turned his back on his +fellows for the most lucrative office in the kingdom; that, he would +have considered as selling his soul to the devil. Yet, on the other +hand, what could any of these men do for a poet who was 'owre blate to +seek, owre proud to snool'? Burns waited on in the expectation that +those who had the power would take it upon themselves to do something +for him. Perhaps he credited them with a sense and a generosity they +could not lay claim to; though had one of them taken the initiative in +this matter, he would have honoured himself in honouring Burns, and +endeared his name to the hearts of his countrymen for all time. But such +offices are created and kept open for political sycophants, who can +importune with years of prostituted service. They are for those who +advocate the opinions of others; certainly not for the man who dares to +speak fearlessly his own mind, and to assert the privileges and +prerogatives of his manhood. The children's bread is not to be thrown to +the dogs. Burns asked for nothing, and got nothing. The Excise +commission which he applied for, and graduated for, was granted. The +work was laborious, the remuneration small, and _gauger_ was a name of +contempt. + +But whilst waiting on in the hope of something 'turning up,' he was +still working busily for Johnson's Museum, and still trying to bring +Creech to make a settlement. At last, however, out of all patience with +his publisher, and recognising the futility of his hopes of preferment, +he had resolved early in December to leave Edinburgh, when he was +compelled to stay against his will. A double accident befell him; he was +introduced to a Mrs. Maclehose, and three days afterwards, through the +carelessness of a drunken coachman, he was thrown from a carriage, and +had his knee severely bruised. The latter was an accident that kept him +confined to his room for a time, and from which he quickly recovered; +but the meeting with Mrs. Maclehose was a serious matter, and for both, +most unfortunate in its results. + +It was while he was 'on the rack of his present agony' that the +Sylvander-Clarinda correspondence was begun and continued. That much +may be said in excuse for Burns. A man, especially one with the passion +and sensitiveness of a poet, cannot be expected to write in all sanity +when he is racked by the pain of an injured limb. Certainly the poet +does not show up in a pleasant light in this absurd interchange of +gasping epistles; nor does Mrs. Maclehose. 'I like the idea of Arcadian +names in a commerce of this kind,' he unguardedly admits. The most +obvious comment that occurs to the mind of the reader is that they ought +never to have been written. It is a pity they were written; more than a +pity they were ever published. It seems a terrible thing that, merely to +gratify the morbid curiosity of the world, the very love-letters of a +man of genius should be made public. Is there nothing sacred in the +lives of our great men? 'Did I imagine,' Burns remarked to Mrs. Basil +Montagu in Dumfries, 'that one half of the letters which I have written +would be published when I die, I would this moment recall them and burn +them without redemption.' + +After all, what was gained by publishing this correspondence? It adds +literally nothing to our knowledge of the poet. He could have, and has, +given more of himself in a verse than he gives in the whole series of +letters signed Sylvander. Occasionally he is natural in them, but +rarely. 'I shall certainly be ashamed of scrawling whole sheets of +incoherence.' We trust he was. The letters are false in sentiment, +stilted in diction, artificial in morality. We have a picture of the +poet all through trying to batter himself into a passion he does not +feel, into love of an accomplished and intellectual woman; while in his +heart's core is registered the image of Jean Armour, the mother of his +children. He shows his paces before Clarinda and tears passion to +tatters in inflated prose; he poses as a stylist, a moralist, a +religious enthusiast, a poet, a man of the world, and now and again +accidentally he assumes the face and figure of Robert Burns. We read and +wonder if this be really the same man who wrote in his journal, 'The +whining cant of love, except in real passion and by a masterly hand, is +to me as insufferable as the preaching cant of old father Smeaton, Whig +minister at Kilmaurs. Darts, flames, cupids, love graces and all that +farrago are just ... a senseless rabble.' + +Clarinda comes out of the correspondence better than Sylvander. Her +letters are more natural and vastly more clever. She grieves to hear of +his accident, and sympathises with him in his suffering; were she his +sister she would call and see him. He is too romantic in his style of +address, and must remember she is a married woman. Would he wait like +Jacob seven years for a wife? And perhaps be disappointed! She is not +unhappy: religion has been her balm for every woe. She had read his +autobiography as Desdemona listened to the narration of Othello, but she +was pained because of his hatred of Calvinism; he must study it +seriously. She could well believe him when he said that no woman could +love as ardently as himself. The only woman for him would be one +qualified for the companion, the friend, and the mistress. The last +might gain Sylvander, but the others alone could keep him. She admires +him for his continued fondness for Jean, who perhaps does not possess +his tenderest, faithfulest friendship. How could that bonnie lassie +refuse him after such proofs of love? But he must not rave; he must +limit himself to friendship. The evening of their third meeting was one +of the most exquisite she had ever experienced. Only he must now know +she has faults. She means well, but is liable to become the victim of +her sensibility. She too now prefers the religion of the bosom. She +cannot deny his power over her: would he pay another evening visit on +Saturday? + +When the poet is leaving Edinburgh, Clarinda is heartbroken. 'Oh, let +the scenes of nature remind you of Clarinda! In winter, remember the +dark shades of her fate; in summer, the warmth of her friendship; in +autumn, her glowing wishes to bestow plenty on all; and let spring +animate you with hopes that your friend may yet surmount the wintry +blasts of life, and revive to taste a spring-time of happiness. At all +events, Sylvander, the storms of life will quickly pass, and one +unbounded spring encircle all. Love, there, is not a crime. I charge you +to meet me there, O God! I must lay down my pen.' + +Poor Clarinda! Well for her peace of mind that the poet was leaving her; +well for Burns, also, that he was leaving Clarinda and Edinburgh. Only +one thing remained for both to do, and it had been wise, to burn their +letters. Would that Clarinda had been as much alive to her own good +name, and the poet's fair fame, as Peggy Chalmers, who did not preserve +her letters from Burns! + +It was February 1788 before Burns could settle with Creech; and, after +discharging all expenses, he found a balance in his favour of about five +hundred pounds. To Gilbert, who was in sore need of the money, he +advanced one hundred and eighty pounds, as his contribution to the +support of their mother. With what remained of the money he leased from +Mr. Miller of Dalswinton the farm of Ellisland, on which he entered at +Whitsunday 1788. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ELLISLAND + + +When Burns turned his back on Edinburgh in February 1788, and set his +face resolutely towards his native county and the work that awaited him, +he left the city a happier and healthier man than he had been all the +months of his sojourn in it. The times of aimless roving, and of still +more demoralising hanging on in the hope of something being done for +him, were at an end; he looked to the future with self-reliance. His +vain hopes of preferment were already 'thrown behind and far away,' and +he saw clearly that by the labour of his own hands he had to live, +independent of the dispensations of patronage, and trusting no longer to +the accidents of fortune. 'The thoughts of a home,' to quote +Cunningham's words, 'of a settled purpose in life, gave him a silent +gladness of heart such as he had never before known.' + +Burns, though he had hoped and was disappointed, left the city not so +much with bitterness as with contempt. If he had been received on this +second visit with punctilious politeness, more ceremoniously than +cordially, it was just as he had himself expected. Gossip, too, had been +busy while he was absent, and his sayings and doings had been bruited +abroad. His worst fault was that he was a shrewd observer of men, and +drew, in a memorandum book he kept, pen-portraits of the people he met. +'Dr Blair is merely an astonishing proof of what industry and +application can do. Natural parts like his are frequently to be met +with; his vanity is proverbially known among his acquaintance.' The Lord +Advocate he pictured in a verse: + + 'He clenched his pamphlets in his fist, + He quoted and he hinted, + Till in a declamation-mist, + His argument he tint it. + He gap'd for't, he grap'd for't, + He fand it was awa, man; + But what his common sense came short, + He eked it out wi' law, man.' + +Had pen-portraits, such as these, been merely caricatures, they might +have been forgiven; but, unfortunately, they were convincing likenesses, +therefore libels. We doubt not, as Cunningham tells us, that the +_literati_ of Edinburgh were not displeased when such a man left them; +they could never feel at their ease so long as he was in their midst. +'Nor were the titled part of the community without their share in this +silent rejoicing; his presence was a reproach to them. The illustrious +of his native land, from whom he had looked for patronage, had proved +that they had the carcass of greatness, but wanted the soul; they +subscribed for his poems, and looked on their generosity "as an alms +could keep a god alive." He turned his back on Edinburgh, and from that +time forward scarcely counted that man his friend who spoke of titled +persons in his presence.' + +It was with feelings of relief, also, that Burns left the +super-scholarly litterateurs; 'white curd of asses' milk,' he called +them; gentlemen who reminded him of some spinsters in his country who +'spin their thread so fine that it is neither fit for weft nor woof.' To +such men, recognising only the culture of schools, a genius like Burns +was a puzzle, easier dismissed than solved. Burns saw them, in all their +tinsel of academic tradition, through and through. + +Coming from Edinburgh to the quiet home-life of Mossgiel was like coming +out of the vitiated atmosphere of a ballroom into the pure and bracing +air of early morning. Away from the fever of city life, he only +gradually comes back to sanity and health. The artificialities and +affectations of polite society are not to be thrown off in a day's time. +Hardly had he arrived at Mauchline before he penned a letter to +Clarinda, that simply staggers the reader with the shameless and +heartless way in which it speaks of Jean Armour. 'I am dissatisfied with +her--I cannot endure her! I, while my heart smote me for the profanity, +tried to compare her with my Clarinda. 'Twas setting the expiring +glimmer of a farthing taper beside the cloudless glory of the meridian +sun. _Here_ was tasteless insipidity, vulgarity of soul, and mercenary +fawning; _there_, polished good sense, heaven-born genius, and the most +generous, the most delicate, the most tender passion. I have done with +her, and she with me.' + +Poor Jean! Think of her too confiding and trustful love written down +_mercenary fawning_! But this was not Burns. The whole letter is false +and vulgar. Perhaps he thought to please his Clarinda by the comparison; +she had little womanly feeling if she felt flattered. Let us believe, +for her own sake, that she was disgusted. His letter to Ainslie, ten +days later, is something very different, though even yet he gives no +hint of acknowledging Jean as his wife. 'Jean I found banished like a +martyr--forlorn, destitute, and friendless--all for the good old cause. +I have reconciled her to her fate; I have reconciled her to her mother; +I have taken her a room; I have taken her to my arms; I have given her a +guinea, and I have embraced her till she rejoiced with joy unspeakable +and full of glory.' + +This is flippant in tone, but something more manly in sentiment; Burns +was coming to his senses. On 13th June, twin girls were born to Jean, +but they only lived a few days. On the same day their father wrote from +Ellisland to Mrs. Dunlop a letter, in which we see the real Burns, true +to the best feelings of his nature, and true to his sorely-tried and +long-suffering wife. 'This is the second day, my honoured friend, that I +have been on my farm. A solitary inmate of an old smoky spence, far from +every object I love, or by whom I am beloved; nor any acquaintance older +than yesterday, except Jenny Geddes, the old mare I ride on; while +uncouth cares and novel plans hourly insult my awkward ignorance and +bashful inexperience.... Your surmise, madam, is just; I am, indeed, a +husband.... You are right that a bachelor state would have ensured me +more friends; but, from a cause you will easily guess, conscious peace +in the enjoyment of my own mind, and unmistrusting confidence in +approaching my God, would seldom have been of the number. I found a once +much-loved and still much-loved female, literally and truly cast out to +the mercy of the naked elements; but I enabled her to _purchase_ a +shelter,--there is no sporting with a fellow-creature's happiness or +misery.' + +It was not till August that the marriage was ratified by the Church, +when Robert Burns and Jean Armour were rebuked for their acknowledged +irregularity, and admonished 'to adhere faithfully to one another, as +man and wife, all the days of their life.' + +This was the only fit and proper ending of Burns's acquaintance with +Jean Armour. As an honourable man, he could not have done otherwise than +he did. To have deserted her now, and married another, even admitting he +was legally free to do so, which is doubtful, would have been the act of +an abandoned wretch, and certainly have wrought ruin in the moral and +spiritual life of the poet. In taking Jean as his wedded wife, he acted +not only honourably, but wisely; and wisdom and prudence were not always +distinguishing qualities of Robert Burns. + +Some months had to elapse, however, before the wife could join her +husband at Ellisland. The first thing he had to do when he entered on +his lease was to rebuild the dwelling-house, he himself lodging in the +meanwhile in the smoky spence which he mentions in his letter to Mrs. +Dunlop. In the progress of the building he not only took a lively +interest, but actually worked with his own hands as a labourer, and +gloried in his strength: 'he beat all for a dour lift.' But it was some +time before he could settle down to the necessarily monotonous work of +farming. 'My late scenes of idleness and dissipation,' he confessed to +Dunbar, 'have enervated my mind to a considerable degree.' He was +restless and rebellious at times, and we are not surprised to find the +sudden settling down from gaiety and travel to the home-life of a farmer +marked by bursts of impatience, irritation, and discontent. The only +steadying influence was the thought of his wife and children, and the +responsibility of a husband and a father. He grew despondent +occasionally, and would gladly have been at rest, but a wife and +children bound him to struggle with the stream. His melancholy blinded +him even to the good qualities of his neighbours. The only things he saw +in perfection were stupidity and canting. 'Prose they only know in +graces, prayers, etc., and the value of these they estimate, as they do +their plaiding webs, by the ell. As for the Muses, they have as much an +idea of a rhinoceros as of a poet.' He was, in fact, ungracious towards +his neighbours, not that they were boorish or uninformed folk, but +simply because, though living at Ellisland in body, his mind was in +Ayrshire with his darling Jean, and he was looking to the future when he +should have a home and a wife of his own. His eyes would ever wander to +the west, and he sang, to cheer him in his loneliness, a song of love to +his Bonnie Jean: + + 'Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, + I dearly lo'e the west; + For there the bonnie lassie lives, + The lassie I lo'e best.' + +It was not till the beginning of December that he was in a position to +bring his wife and children to Ellisland; and this event brought him +into kindlier relations with his fellow-farmers. His neighbours gathered +to bid his wife welcome; and drank to the roof-tree of the house of +Burns. The poet, now that he had made his home amongst them, was +regarded as one of themselves; while Burns, on his part, having at last +got his wife and children beside him, was in a healthier frame of mind +and more charitably disposed towards those who had come to give them a +welcome. That he was now as one settled in life with something worthy to +live for, we have ample proof in his letter written to Mrs. Dunlop on +the first day of the New Year. It is discursive, yet philosophical and +reflective, and its whole tone is that of a man who looks on the world +round about him with a kindly charity, and looks to the future with +faith and trust. Life passed very sweetly and peacefully with the poet +and his family for a time here. The farm, it would appear, was none of +the best,--Mr. Cunningham told him he had made a poet's not a farmer's +choice,--but Burns was hopeful and worked hard. Yet the labour of the +farm was not to be his life-work. Even while waiting impatiently the +coming of his wife, he had been contributing to Johnson's Museum, and he +fondly imagined that he was going to be farmer, poet, and exciseman all +in one. Some have regretted his appointment to the Excise at this time, +and attributed to his frequent absences from home his failure as a +farmer. They may be right. But what was the poet to do? He knew by +bitter experience how precarious the business of farming was, and +thought that a certain salary, even though small, would always stand +between his family and absolute want. 'I know not,' he wrote to Ainslie, +'how the word exciseman, or, still more opprobrious, gauger, will sound +in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory nerves would have +felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife and children have a +wonderful power in blunting these kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a +year for life and a pension for widows and orphans, you will allow, is +no bad settlement for a _poet_.' And to Blacklock he wrote in verse: + + 'But what d'ye think, my trusty fier, + I'm turned a gauger--Peace be here! + Parnassian queans, I fear, I fear, + Ye'll now disdain me! + And then my fifty pounds a year + Will little gain me. + + I hae a wife and twa wee laddies, + They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies; + Ye ken yoursel's my heart right proud is-- + I needna vaunt, + But I'll sned besoms--thraw saugh woodies, + Before they want. + + But to conclude my silly rhyme + (I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time), + To make a happy fireside clime + To weans and wife, + That's the true pathos and sublime + Of human life.' + +This was nobly said; and the poet spoke from the heart. + +Not content with being gauger, farmer, and poet, Burns took a lively +interest in everything affecting the welfare of the parish and the +well-being of its inhabitants. For this was no poet of the study, +holding himself aloof from the affairs of the world, and fearing the +contamination of his kind. Burns was alive all-round, and always acted +his part in the world as a husband and father; as a citizen and a man. +He made himself the poet of humanity, because he himself was so +intensely human, and joyed and sorrowed with his fellows. At this time +he established a library in Dunscore, and himself undertook the whole +management,--drawing out rules, purchasing books, acting for a time as +secretary, treasurer, and committee all in one. Among the volumes he +ordered were several of his old favourites, _The Spectator_, _The Man of +Feeling_, and _The Lounger_; and we know that there was on the shelves +even a folio Hebrew Concordance. + +A favourite walk of the poet's while he stayed here was along Nithside, +where he often wandered to take a 'gloamin' shot at the Muses.' Here, +after a fall of rain, Cunningham records, the poet loved to walk, +listening to the roar of the river, or watching it bursting impetuously +from the groves of Friar's Carse. 'Thither he walked in his sterner +moods, when the world and its ways touched his spirit; and the elder +peasants of the vale still show the point at which he used to pause and +look on the red and agitated stream.' + +In spite of his multifarious duties, he was now more than ever +determined to make his name as a poet. To Dr. Moore he wrote (4th +January 1789): 'The character and employment of a poet were formerly my +pleasure, but now my pride.... Poesy I am determined to prosecute with +all my vigour. Nature has given very few, if any, of the profession the +talents of shining in every species of composition. I shall try (for +until trial it is impossible to know) whether she has qualified me to +shine in any one.' + +It was inevitable that one whose district as an exciseman reached far +and wide could not regularly attend to ploughing, sowing, and reaping, +and the farm was very often left to the care of servants. Dr. Currie +appears to count it as a reproach that his farm no longer occupied the +principal part of his care or his thoughts. Yet it could not have been +otherwise. Burns after having undertaken a duty would attend to it +religiously, and we know that he pursued his work throughout his ten +parishes diligently, faithfully, and with unvarying punctuality. Others +have bemoaned that those frequent Excise excursions led the poet into +temptation, that he was being continually assailed by the sin that so +easily beset him. Let it be admitted frankly that the temptations to +social excess were great; is it not all the more creditable to Burns +that he did not sink under those temptations and become the besotted +wreck conventional biography has attempted to make him? If those who +raise this plaint mean to insinuate that Burns became a confirmed toper, +then they are assuredly wrong; if they be only drawing attention to the +fact that drinking was too common in Scotland at that time, then they +are attacking not the poet but the social customs of his day. It would +be easy if we were to accept 'the general impression of the place,' and +go by the tale of gossip, to show that Burns was demoralised by his +duties as a gauger, and sank into a state of maudlin intemperance. But +ascertained fact and the testimony of unimpeachable authority are at +variance with the voice of gossip. 'So much the worse for fact,' +biography would seem to have said, and gaily sped on the work of +defamation. We only require to forget Allan Cunningham's _Personal +Sketch of the Poet_, the letters from Mr. Findlater and Mr. Gray, and to +close our eyes to the excellence of the poetry of this period, in order +to see Burns on the downgrade, and to preach grand moral lessons from +the text of a wasted life. + +But, after all, 'facts are chiels that winna ding,' and we must take +them into account, however they may baulk us of grand opportunities of +plashing in watery sentiment. Speaking of the poet's biographers, Mr. +Findlater remarks that they have tried to outdo one another in heaping +obloquy on his name; they have made his convivial habits, habitual +drunkenness; his wit and humour, impiety; his social talents, neglect of +duty; and have accused him of every vice. Then he gives his testimony: +'My connection with Robert Burns commenced immediately after his +admission into the Excise, and continued to the hour of his death. In +all that time the superintendence of his behaviour as an officer of the +revenue was a branch of my especial province; and it may be supposed I +would not be an inattentive observer of the general conduct of a man and +a poet so celebrated by his countrymen. In the former capacity, so far +from its being impossible for him to discharge the duties of his office +with that regularity which is almost indispensable, as is palpably +assumed by one of his biographers, and insinuated, not very obscurely +even, by Dr. Currie, he was exemplary in his attention as an Excise +officer, and was even jealous of the least imputation on his vigilance.' + +But a glance at the poems and songs of this period would be a sufficient +vindication of the poet's good name. There are considerably over a +hundred songs and poems written during his stay at Ellisland, many of +them of his finest. The third volume of Johnson's Museum, published in +February 1790, contained no fewer than forty songs by Burns. Among the +Ellisland songs were such as, _Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon_, +_Auld Lang Syne_, _Willie brewed a Peck o' Maut_, _To Mary in Heaven_, +_Of a' the Airts the Wind can blaw_, _My Love she's but a Lassie yet_, +_Tam Glen_, _John Anderson my Jo_, songs that have become the property +of the world. Of the last-named song, Angellier remarks that the +imagination of the poet must have indeed explored every situation of +love to have led him to that which he in his own experience could not +have known. Even the song _Willie brewed a Peck o' Maut_, the first of +bacchanalian ditties, is the work of a man of sane mind and healthy +appetite. It is not of the diseased imagination of drunken genius. But +the greatest poem of this period, and one of Burns's biggest +achievements, is _Tam o' Shanter_. This poem was written in answer to a +request of Captain Grose that the poet would provide a witch story to be +printed along with a drawing of Alloway Kirk, and was first published in +Grose's _Antiquities of Scotland_. We have been treated by several +biographers to a private view of the poet, with wild gesticulations, +agonising in the composition of this poem; but where his wife did not +venture to intrude, we surely need not seek to desecrate. 'I stept aside +with the bairns among the broom,' says Bonnie Jean; not, we should +imagine, to leave room for aliens and strangers. He has been again +burlesqued for us rending himself in rhyme, and stretched on straw +groaning elegiacs to Mary in heaven. All this is mere sensationalism +provided for illiterate readers. We have the poem, and its excellence +sufficeth. + +It is worthy of note that in _Tam o' Shanter_, as well as in _To Mary in +Heaven_, the poet goes back to his earlier years in Ayrshire. They are +posthumous products of the inspiration which gave us the Kilmarnock +Edition. I am not inclined to agree with Carlyle in his estimate of _Tam +o' Shanter_. It is not the composition of a man of great talent, but of +a man of transcendent poetical genius. The story itself is a conception +of genius, and in the narration the genius is unquestionable. It is a +panorama of pictures so vivid and powerful that the characters and +scenes are fixed indelibly on the mind, and abide with us a cherished +literary possession. After reading the poem, the words are recalled +without conscious effort of memory, but as the only possible embodiment +of the mental impressions retained. Short as the poem is, there is in it +character, humour, pathos, satire, indignation, tenderness, fun, frolic, +diablerie, almost every human feeling. I have heard Burns in the writing +of this poem likened to a composer at an organ improvising a piece of +music in which, before he has done, he has used every stop and touched +every note on the keyboard. Even the weakest lines of the piece, which +mark a dramatic pause in the rapid narration, have a distinctive beauty +and are the most frequently quoted lines of the poem. In artistic +word-painting and graphic phrasing Burns is here at his best. His +description of the horrible is worthy of Shakspeare; and it is +questionable if even the imagination of that master ever conceived +anything more awful than the scene and circumstance of the infernal +orgies of those witches and warlocks. What Zolaesque realism there is! +In the line, 'The grey hairs yet stack to the heft,' all the +gruesomeness of murder is compressed into a distich. Yet the horrible +details are controlled and unified in the powerful imagination of the +poet. We believe Dr. Blacklock was right in thinking that this poem, +though Burns had never written another syllable, would have made him a +high reputation. Certainly it was not the work of a man daily dazing his +faculties with drink; no more was that exquisite lyric _To Mary in +Heaven_. Another poem of this period deserving special mention is _The +Whistle_, not merely because of its dramatic force and lyrical beauty, +but because it gives a true picture of the drinking customs of the time. +And again I dare assert that this is not the work of a mind enfeebled or +debased by drink. It is a bit of simple, direct, sincere narration, +humanly healthy in tone; the ideas are clear and consecutive, and the +language fitting. It is not so that drunken genius expresses itself. The +language of a poetical mind enfeebled by alcohol or opium is frequently +mystic and musical; it never deals with the realities and +responsibilities of life, but in a witchery of words winds and meanders +through the realms of reverie and dream. It may be sweet and sensuous; +it is rarely narrative or simple; never direct nor forcible. + +In the _Kirk's Alarm_, wherein he again reverted to his Mossgiel period, +he displayed all his former force of satire, as well as his sympathy +with those who advocated rational views in religion. Dr. Macgill had +written a book which the Kirk declared to be heretical, and Burns, at +the request of some friends, fought for the doctor in his usual way, +though with little hope of doing him any good. 'Ajax's shield consisted, +I think, of seven bull-hides and a plate of brass, which altogether set +Hector's utmost force at defiance. Alas! I am not a Hector, and the +worthy doctor's foes are as securely armed as Ajax was. Ignorance, +superstition, bigotry, stupidity, malevolence, self-conceit, envy--all +strongly bound in a massy frame of brazen impudence; to such a shield +humour is the peck of a sparrow and satire the pop-gun of a schoolboy. +Creation-disgracing scélérats such as they, God only can mend, and the +devil only can punish.' The doctor yielded, Cunningham tells us, and was +forgiven, but not the poet; pertinently adding, 'so much more venial is +it in devout men's eyes to be guilty of heresy than of satire.' + +Into political as well as theological matters Burns also entered with +all his wonted enthusiasm. Of his election ballads, the best, perhaps, +are _The Five Carlins_ and the _Epistle to Mr. Graham of Fintry_. But +these ballads are not to be taken as a serious addition to the poet's +works; he did not wish them to be so taken. He was a man as well as a +poet; was interested with his neighbours in political affairs, and in +the day of battle fought with the weapons he could wield with effect. +Nor are his ballads always to be taken as representing his political +principles; these he expressed in song that did not owe its inspiration +to the excitement of elections. Burns was not a party man; he had in +politics, as in religion, some broad general principles, but he had 'the +warmest veneration for individuals of both parties.' The most important +verse in his _Epistle to Graham of Fintry_ is the last: + + 'For your poor friend, the Bard, afar + He hears and only hears the war, + A cool spectator purely: + So, when the storm the forest rends, + The robin in the hedge descends, + And sober chirps securely.' + +Burns's life was, therefore, quite full at Ellisland, too full indeed; +for, towards the end of 1791, we find him disposing of the farm, and +looking to the Excise alone for a livelihood. In the farm he had sunk +the greater part of the profits of his Edinburgh Edition; and now it was +painfully evident that the money was lost. He had worked hard enough, +but he was frequently absent, and a farm thrives only under the eye of a +master. On Excise business he was accustomed to ride at least two +hundred miles every week, and so could have little time to give to his +fields. Besides this, the soil of Ellisland had been utterly exhausted +before he entered on his lease, and consequently made a miserable return +for the labour expended on it. The friendly relations that had existed +between him and his landlord were broken off before now; and towards the +close of his stay at Ellisland Burns spoke rather bitterly of Mr. +Miller's selfish kindness. Miller was, in fact, too much of a lord and +master, exacting submission as well as rent from his tenants; while +Burns was of too haughty a spirit to beck and bow to any man. 'The life +of a farmer is,' he wrote to Mrs. Dunlop, 'as a farmer paying a dear, +unconscionable rent, a cursed life.... Devil take the life of reaping +the fruits that others must eat!' + +The poet, too, had been overworking himself, and was again subject to +his attacks of hypochondria. 'I feel that horrid hypochondria pervading +every atom of both body and soul. This farm has undone my enjoyment of +myself. It is a ruinous affair on all hands.' In the midst of his +troubles and vexations with his farm, he began to look more hopefully to +the Excise, and to see in the future a life of literary ease, when he +could devote himself wholly to the Muses. He had already got ranked on +the list as supervisor, an appointment that he reckoned might be worth +one hundred or two hundred pounds a year; and this determined him to +quit the farm entirely, and to try to make a living by one profession. +As farmer, exciseman, and poet he had tried too much, and even a man of +his great capacity for work was bound to have succumbed under the +strain. Even had the farm not proved the ruinous bargain it did, we +imagine that he must have been compelled sooner or later to relinquish +one of the two, either his farm or his Excise commission. Circumstances +decided for him, and in December 1791 he sold by auction his stock and +implements, and removed to Dumfries, 'leaving nothing at Ellisland but a +putting-stone, with which he loved to exercise his strength; a memory of +his musings, which can never die; and three hundred pounds of his money, +sunk beyond redemption in a speculation from which all augured +happiness.' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DUMFRIES + + +When Burns removed from Ellisland to Dumfries, he took up his abode in a +small house of three apartments in the Wee Vennel. Here he stayed till +Whitsunday 1793, when the family removed to a detached house of two +storeys in the Mill Vennel. A mere closet nine feet square was the +poet's writing-room in this house, and it was in the bedroom adjoining +that he died. + +The few years of his residence in Dumfries have been commonly regarded +as a period of poverty and intemperance. But his intemperance has always +been most religiously exaggerated, and we doubt not also that the +poverty of the family at this time has been made to appear worse than it +was. Burns had not a salary worthy of his great abilities, it is true, +but there is good reason to believe that the family lived in comparative +ease and comfort, and that there were luxuries in their home, which +neither father nor mother had known in their younger days. Burns liked +to see his Bonnie Jean neat and trim, and she went as braw as any wife +of the town. Though we know that he wrote painfully, towards the end of +his life, for the loan of paltry sums, we are to regard this as a sign +more of temporary embarrassment than of a continual struggle to make +ends meet. The word debt grated so harshly on Burns's ears that he +could not be at peace with himself so long as the pettiest account +remained unpaid; and if he had no ready money in his hands to meet it, +he must e'en borrow from a friend. His income, when he settled in +Dumfries, was 'down money £70 per annum,' and there were perquisites +which must have raised it to eighty or ninety. Though his hopes of +preferment were never realised, he tried his best on this slender income +'to make a happy fireside clime to weans and wife,' and in a sense +succeeded. + +What he must have felt more keenly than anything else in leaving +Ellisland was, that in giving up farming he was making an open +confession of failure in his ideal of combining in himself the farmer, +the poet, and the exciseman. There was a stigma also attaching to the +name of gauger, that must often have been galling to the spirit of +Burns. The ordinary labourer utters the word with dry contempt, as if he +were speaking of a spy. But the thoughts of a wife and bairns had +already prevailed over prejudice; he realised the responsibilities of a +husband and father, and pocketed his pride. A great change it must have +been to come from the quiet and seclusion of Ellisland to settle down in +the midst of the busy life of an important burgh. + +Life in provincial towns in Scotland in those days was simply frittered +away in the tittle-tattle of cross and causeway, and the insipid talk of +taverns. The most trifling incidents of everyday life were dissected and +discussed, and magnified into events of the first importance. Many +residents had no trade or profession whatever. Annuitants and retired +merchants built themselves houses, had their portraits painted in oil, +and thereafter strutted into an aristocracy. Without work, without +hobby, without healthy recreation, and cursed with inglorious leisure, +they simply dissipated time until they should pass into eternity. The +only amusement such lumpish creatures could have was to meet in some inn +or tavern, and swill themselves into a debauched joy of life. Dumfries, +when Burns came to it in 1791, was no better and no worse than its +neighbours; and we can readily imagine how eagerly such a man would be +welcomed by its pompously dull and leisured topers. Now might their +meetings be lightened with flashes of genius, and the lazy hours of +their long nights go fleeting by on the wings of wit and eloquence. Too +often in Dumfries was Burns wiled into the howffs and haunts of these +seasoned casks. They could stand heavy drinking; the poet could not. He +was too highly strung, and if he had consulted his own inclination would +rather have shunned than sought the company of men who met to quaff +their quantum of wine and sink into sottish sleep. For Burns was never a +drunkard, not even in Dumfries; though the contrary has been asserted so +often that it has all the honour that age and the respectability of +authority can give it. There was with him no animal craving for drink, +nor has he been convicted of solitary drinking; but he was intensely +convivial, and drank, as Professor Blackie put it, 'only as the carnal +seasoning of a rampant intellectuality.' There is no doubt that he came +to Dumfries a comparatively pure and sober man; and if he now began to +frequent the Globe Tavern, often to cast his pearls before swine, let it +be remembered that he was compelled frequently to meet there strangers +and tourists who had journeyed for the express purpose of meeting the +poet. Nowadays writers and professional men have their clubs, and in +general frequent them more regularly than Burns ever haunted the howffs +of Dumfries. But we have heard too much about 'the poet's moral course +after he settled in Dumfries being downward.' 'From the time of his +migration to Dumfries,' Principal Shairp soberly informs us, 'it would +appear that he was gradually dropped out of acquaintance by most of the +Dumfriesshire lairds, as he had long been by the parochial and other +ministers.' Poor lairds! Poor ministers! If they preferred their own +talk of crops and cattle and meaner things to the undoubted brilliancy +of Burns's conversation, surely their dulness and want of appreciation +is not to be laid to the charge of the poet. I doubt not had the poet +lived to a good old age he would have been gradually dropped out of +acquaintance by some who have not scrupled to write his biography. +Politics, it is admitted, may have formed the chief element in the +lairds' and ministers' aversion, but there is a hint that his irregular +life had as much to do with it. Is it to be seriously contended that +these men looked askance at Burns because of his occasional +convivialities? 'Madam,' he answered a lady who remonstrated with him on +this very subject, 'they would not thank me for my company if I did not +drink with them.' These lairds, perhaps even these ministers, could in +all probability stand their three bottles with the best, and were more +likely to drop the acquaintance of one who would not drink bottle for +bottle with them than of one who indulged to excess. It was considered a +breach of hospitality not to imbibe so long as the host ordained; and +in many cases glasses were supplied so constructed that they had to be +drained at every toast. 'Occasional hard drinking,' he confessed to Mrs. +Dunlop, 'is the devil to me; against this I have again and again set my +resolution, and have greatly succeeded. Taverns I have totally +abandoned; it is the private parties in the family way among the +hard-drinking gentlemen of this county that do me the mischief; but even +this I have more than half given over.' Most assuredly whatever these +men charged against Robert Burns it was not drunkenness. But he has been +accused of mixing with low company! That is something nearer the mark, +and goes far to explain the aversion of those stately Tories. But again, +what is meant by low company? Are we to believe that the poet made +associates of depraved and abandoned men? Not for a moment! This low +company was nothing more than men in the rank of life into which he had +been born; mechanics, tradesmen, farmers, ploughmen, who did not move in +the aristocratic circles of patrician lairds or ministers ordained to +preach the gospel to the poor. It was simply the old, old cry of +'associating with publicans and sinners.' + +We do not defend nor seek to hide the poet's aberrations; he confessed +them remorselessly, and condemned himself. But we do raise our voice +against the exaggeration of occasional over-indulgence into confirmed +debauchery; and dare assert that Burns was as sober a man as the average +lairds and ministers who had the courage of their prejudices, and wrote +themselves down asses to all posterity. + +But here again the work the poet managed to do is a sufficient disproof +of his irregular life. He was at this time, besides working hard at his +Excise business, writing ballads and songs, correcting for Creech the +two-volume edition of his poems, and managing somehow or other to find +time for a pretty voluminous correspondence. His hands were full and his +days completely occupied. He would not have been an Excise officer very +long had he been unable to attend to his duties. William Wallace, the +editor of _Chambers's Burns_, has studied very carefully this period of +the poet's life, and found that in those days of petty faultfinding he +has not once been reprimanded, either for drunkenness or for dereliction +of duty. There were spies and informers about who would not have left +the Excise Commissioners uninformed of the paltriest charge they could +have trumped up against Burns. Nor is there, when we look at his +literary work, any falling off in his powers as a poet. He sang as +sweetly, as purely, as magically as ever he did; and this man, who has +been branded as a blasphemer and a libertine, had nobly set himself to +purify the polluted stream of Scottish Song. He was still continuing his +contributions to Johnson's Museum, and now he had also begun to write +for Thomson's more ambitious work. + +Some of the first of his Dumfriesshire songs owe their inspiration to a +hurried visit he paid to Mrs. Maclehose in Edinburgh before she sailed +to join her husband in the West Indies. The best of these are, perhaps, +_My Nannie's Awa'_ and _Ae Fond Kiss_. The fourth verse of the latter +was a favourite of Byron's, while Scott claims for it that it is worth a +thousand romances-- + + 'Had we never loved so kindly, + Had we never loved so blindly! + Never met--or never parted, + We had ne'er been broken-hearted.' + +Another song of a different kind, _The Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman_, +had its origin in a raid upon a smuggling brig that had got into shallow +water in the Solway. The ship was armed and well manned; and while +Lewars, a brother-excisemen, posted to Dumfries for a guard of dragoons, +Burns, with a few men under him, watched to prevent landing or escape. +It was while impatiently waiting Lewars's return that he composed this +song. When the dragoons arrived Burns put himself at their head, and +wading, sword in hand, was the first to board the smuggler. The affair +might ultimately have led to his promotion had he not, next day at the +sale of the vessel's arms and stores in Dumfries, purchased four +carronades, which he sent, with a letter testifying his admiration and +respect, to the French Legislative Assembly. The carronades never +reached their destination, having been intercepted at Dover by the +Custom House authorities. It is a pity perhaps that Burns should have +testified his political leanings in so characteristic a way. It was the +impetuous act of a poet roused to enthusiasm, as were thousands of his +fellow-countrymen at the time, by what was thought to be the beginning +of universal brotherhood in France. But whatever may be said as to the +impulsive imprudence of the step, it is not to be condemned as a most +absurd and presumptuous breach of decorum. We were not at war with +France at this time; had not even begun to await developments with +critical suspicion. Talleyrand had not yet been slighted by our Queen, +and protestations of peace and friendship were passing between the two +Governments. Any subject of the king might at this time have written a +friendly letter or forwarded a token of goodwill to the French +Government, without being suspected of disloyalty. But by the time the +carronades had reached Dover the complexion of things had changed; and +yet even in those critical times Burns's action, though it may have +hindered promotion, does not appear to have been interpreted as 'a most +absurd and presumptuous breach of decorum.' That interpretation was left +for biographers made wise with the passions of war; and yet they have +not said in so many words, what they darkly insinuate, that the poet was +not a loyal British subject. His love of country is too surely +established. That, later, he thought the Ministry engaging in an unjust +and unrighteous war, may be frankly admitted. He was not alone in his +opinion; nor was he the only poet carried away with a wild enthusiasm of +Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. Societies were then springing up all +over the country calling for redress of grievances and for greater +political freedom. Such societies were regarded by the Government of the +day as seditious, and their agitations as dangerous to the peace of the +country; and Burns, though he did not become a member of the Society of +the Friends of the People, was at one with them in their desire for +reform. It was known also that he 'gat the _Gazeteer_,' and that was +enough to mark him out as a disaffected person. No doubt he also talked +imprudently; for it was not the nature of this man to keep his +sentiments hidden in his heart, and to talk the language of expediency. +What he thought in private he advocated publicly in season and out of +season; and it was quite in the natural course of things that +information regarding his political opinions should be lodged against +him with the Board of Excise. His political conduct was made the subject +of official inquiry, and it would appear that for a time he was in +danger of dismissal from the service. This is a somewhat painful episode +in his life; and we find him in a letter to Mr. Graham of Fintry +repudiating the slanderous charges, yet confessing that the tender ties +of wife and children 'unnerve courage and wither resolution.' Mr. +Findlater, his superior, was of opinion that only a very mild reprimand +was administered, and the poet warned to be more prudent in his speech. +But what appeared mild to Mr. Findlater was galling to Burns. In his +letter to Erskine of Mar he says: 'One of our supervisors-general, a Mr. +Corbet, was instructed to inquire on the spot and to document me--that +my business was to act, _not to think_; and that whatever might be men +or measures it was for me to be _silent_ and _obedient_.' + +We can hardly conceive a harsher sentence on one of Burns's temperament, +and we doubt not that the degradation of being thus gagged, and the +blasting of his hopes of promotion, were the cause of much of the +bitterness that we find bursting from him now more frequently than ever, +both in speech and writing. That remorse for misconduct irritated him +against himself and against the world, is true; but it is none the less +true that he must have chafed against the servility of an office that +forbade him the freedom of personal opinion. In the same letter he +unburdens his heart in a burst of eloquent and noble indignation. + +'Burns was a poor man from birth, and an exciseman by necessity; but--I +_will_ say it--the sterling of his honest worth no poverty could debase; +his independent British mind oppression might bend, but could not +subdue.... I have three sons who, I see already, have brought into the +world souls ill-qualified to inhabit the bodies of slaves.... Does any +man tell me that my full efforts can be of no service, and that it does +not belong to my humble station to meddle with the concerns of a nation? +I can tell him that it is on such individuals as I that a nation has to +rest, both for the hand of support and the eye of intelligence.' + +What the precise charges against him were, we are not informed. It is +alleged that he once, when the health of Pitt was being drunk, +interposed with the toast of 'A greater than Pitt--George Washington.' +There can be little fault found with the sentiment. It is given to poets +to project themselves into futurity, and declare the verdict of +posterity. But the occasion was ill-chosen, and he spoke with all a +poet's imprudence. In another company he aroused the martial fury of an +unreasoning captain by proposing the toast, 'May our success in the +present war be equal to the justice of our cause.' A very humanitarian +toast, one would think, but regarded as seditious by the fire-eating +captain, who had not the sense to see that there was more of sedition in +his resentment than in Burns's proposal. Yet the affair looked black +enough for a time, and the poet was afraid that even this story would be +carried to the ears of the commissioners, and his political opinions be +again misrepresented. + +Another thing that came to disturb his peace of mind was his quarrel +with Mrs. Riddell of Woodley Park, where he had been made a welcome +guest ever since his advent to this district. That Burns, in the heat of +a fever of intoxication, had been guilty of a glaring act of impropriety +in the presence of the ladies seated in the drawing-room, we may gather +from the internal evidence of his letter written the following morning +'from the regions of hell, amid the horrors of the damned.' It would +appear that the gentlemen left in the dining-room had got ingloriously +drunk, and there and then proposed an indecorous raid on the +drawing-room. Whatever it might be they did, it was Burns who was made +to suffer the shame of the drunken plot. His letter of abject apology +remained unanswered, and the estrangement was only embittered by some +lampoons which he wrote afterwards on this accomplished lady. The affair +was bruited abroad, and the heinousness of the poet's offence vastly +exaggerated. Certain it is that he became deeply incensed against not +only the lady, but her husband as well, to whom he considered he owed no +apology whatever. Matters were only made worse by his unworthy verses, +and it was not till he was almost on the brink of the grave that he and +Mrs. Riddell met again, and the old friendship was re-established. The +lady not only forgot and forgave, but she was one of the first after the +poet's death to write generously and appreciatively of his character and +abilities. + +That the quarrel with Mrs. Riddell was prattled about in Dumfries, and +led other families to drop the acquaintance of the poet, we are made +painfully aware; and in his correspondence now there is rancour, +bitterness, and remorse more pronounced and more settled than at any +other period of his life. He could not go abroad without being reminded +of the changed attitude of the world; he could not stay at home without +seeing his noble wife uncomplainingly nursing a child that was not hers. +He cursed himself for his sins and follies; he cursed the world for its +fickleness and want of sympathy. 'His wit,' says Heron, 'became more +gloomy and sarcastic, and his conversation and writings began to assume +a misanthropical tone, by which they had not been before in any eminent +degree distinguished. But with all his failings his was still that +exalted mind which had raised itself above the depression of its +original condition, with all the energy of the lion pawing to free his +hinder limbs from the yet encumbering earth.' + +His health now began to give his friends serious concern. To Cunningham +he wrote, February 24, 1794: 'For these two months I have not been able +to lift a pen. My constitution and my frame were _ab origine_ blasted +with a deep, incurable taint of hypochondria, which poisons my +existence.' A little later he confesses: 'I have been in poor health. I +am afraid that I am about to suffer for the follies of my youth. My +medical friends threaten me with a flying gout, but I trust they are +mistaken.' His only comfort in those days was his correspondence with +Thomson and with Johnson. He kept pouring out song after song, +criticising, rewriting, changing what was foul and impure into songs of +the tenderest delicacy. He showed love in every mood, from the rapture +of pure passion in the _Lea Rig_, the maidenly abandon of _Whistle and +I'll come to you, my Lad_, to the humour of _Last May a Braw Wooer_ and +_Duncan Gray_, and the guileless devotion of _O wert thou in the Cauld +Blast_. But he sang of more than love. Turning from the coldness of the +high and mighty, who had once been his friends, he found consolation in +the naked dignity of manhood, and penned the hymn of humanity, _A Man's +a Man for a' that_. Perhaps he found his text in _Tristram Shandy_: +'Honours, like impressions upon coin, may give an ideal and local value +to a bit of base metal, but gold and silver pass all the world over with +no other recommendation than their own weight.' Something like this +occurs in Massinger's _Duke of Florence_, where it is said of princes +that + + 'They can give wealth and titles, but no virtues; + This is without their power.' + +Gower also had written-- + + 'A king can kill, a king can save; + A king can make a lord a knave, + And of a knave a lord also.' + +But the poem is undoubtedly Burns's, and it is one he must have written +ere he passed away. _Scots wha hae_ is another of his Dumfries poems. +Mr. Syme gives a highly-coloured and one-sided view of the poet riding +in a storm between Gatehouse and Kenmure, where we are assured he +composed this ode. Carlyle accepts Syme's authority, and adds: +'Doubtless this stern hymn was singing itself, as he formed it, through +the soul of Burns; but to the external ear it should be sung with the +throat of the whirlwind.' Burns gives an account of the writing of the +poem, which it is difficult to reconcile with Mr. Syme's sensational +details. It matters not, however, when or how it was written; we have it +now, one of the most martial and rousing odes ever penned. Not only has +it gripped the heart of Scotsmen, but it has taken the ear of the world; +its fire and vigour have inspired soldiers in the day of battle, and +consoled them in the hour of death. We are not forgetful of the fact +that Mrs. Hemans, who wrote some creditable verse, and the placid +Wordsworth, discussed this ode, and agreed that it was little else than +the rhodomontade of a schoolboy. It is a pity that such authorities +should have missed the charm of _Scots wha hae_. More than likely they +made up for the loss in a solitary appreciation of _Betty Foy_ or _The +Pilgrim Fathers_. + +Another martial ode, composed in 1795, was called forth by the immediate +dangers of the time. The country was roused by the fear of foreign +invasion, and Burns, who had enrolled himself in the ranks of the +Dumfriesshire Volunteers, penned the patriotic song, _Does Haughty Gaul +Invasion threat?_ This song itself might have reinstalled him in public +favour, and dispelled all doubt as to his loyalty, had he cared again to +court the society of those who had dropped him from the list of their +acquaintance. But Burns had grown indifferent to any favour save the +favour of his Muse; besides, he was now shattered in health, and +assailed with gloomy forebodings of an early death. For himself he would +have faced death manfully, but again it was the thought of wife and +bairns that unmanned him. + +Not content with supplying Thomson with songs, he wrote letters full of +hints and suggestions anent songs and song-making, and now and then he +gave a glimpse of himself at work. We see him sitting under the shade of +an old thorn crooning to himself until he gets a verse to suit the +measure he has in his mind; looking round for objects in nature that are +in unison and harmony with the cogitations of his fancy; humming every +now and then the air with the verses; retiring to his study to commit +his effusions to paper, and while he swings at intervals on the hind +legs of his elbow-chair, criticising what he has written. A common walk +of his when he was in the poetical vein was to the ruins of Lincluden +Abbey, whither he was often accompanied by his eldest boy; sometimes +towards Martingdon ford, on the north side of the Nith. When he returned +home with a set of verses, he listened attentively to his wife singing +them, and if she happened to find a word that was harsh in sound, a +smoother one was immediately substituted; but he would on no account +ever sacrifice sense to sound. + +During the earlier part of this year Burns had taken his full share in +the political contest that was going on, and fought for Heron of Heron, +the Whig candidate, with electioneering ballads, not to be claimed as +great poems nor meant to be so ranked, but marked with all his +incisiveness of wit and satire, and with his extraordinary deftness of +portraiture. Heron was the successful candidate, and his poetical +supporter again began to indulge in dreams of promotion: 'a life of +literary leisure with a decent competency was the summit of his wishes.' +But his dreams were not to be realised. + +In September his favourite child and only daughter, Elizabeth, died at +Mauchline, and he was prostrated with grief. He had also taken very much +to heart the inexplicable silence of his old friend, and for many years +constant correspondent, Mrs. Dunlop. To both these griefs he alludes in +a letter to her, dated January 31, 1796: 'These many months you have +been two packets in my debt. What sin of ignorance I have committed +against so highly valued a friend I am utterly at a loss to guess. Alas! +madam, I can ill afford at this time to be deprived of any of the small +remnant of my pleasures. I have lately drunk deep of the cup of +affliction. The autumn robbed me of my only daughter and darling child, +and that at a distance, too, and so rapidly as to put it out of my power +to pay my last duties to her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that +shock when I became myself the victim of a severe rheumatic fever, and +long the die spun doubtful, until, after many weeks of a sickbed, it +seems to have turned up life.' + +There was an evident decline in the poet's appearance, Dr. Currie tells +us, for upwards of a year before his death, and he himself was sensible +that his constitution was sinking. During almost the whole of the winter +of 1795-96 he had been confined to the house. Then follows the +unsubstantiated story which has done duty for Shakspeare and many other +poets. 'He dined at a tavern, returned home about three o'clock in a +very cold morning, benumbed and intoxicated. This was followed by an +attack of rheumatism.' It is difficult to kill a charitable myth, +especially one that is so agreeable to the levelling instincts of +ordinary humanity, and of such sweet consolation to the weaker brethren. +Of course there are variants of the story, with a stair and sleep and +snow brought in as sensational, if improbable, accessories; but such +stories as these all good men refuse to believe, unless they are +compelled to do so by the conclusive evidence of direct authority; and +that, in this case, is altogether awanting. All evidence that has been +forthcoming has gone directly against it, and the story may be accepted +as a myth. The fact is that brains have been ransacked to find reason +for the poet's early death,--as if the goings and comings of death could +be scientifically calculated in biography,--and the last years of his +'irregular life' are blamed: Dumfries is set apart as the chief sinner. +No doubt his life was irregular there; his duties were irregular; his +hours were irregular. But Burns in his thirty-six years, had lived a +full life, putting as much into one year as the ordinary sons of men put +into two. He had had threatenings of rheumatism and heart disease when +he was an overworked lad at Lochlea; and now his constitution was +breaking up from the rate at which he had lived. Excess of work more +than excess of drink brought him to an early grave. During his few +years' stay at Dumfries he had written over two hundred poems, songs, +etc., many of them of the highest excellence, and most of them now +household possessions. Besides his official duties, we know also that he +took a great interest in his home and in the education of his children. +Mr. Gray, master of the High School of Dumfries, who knew the poet +intimately, wrote a long and interesting letter to Gilbert Burns, in +which he mentions particularly the attention he paid to his children's +education. 'He was a kind and attentive father, and took great delight +in spending his evenings in the cultivation of the minds of his +children. Their education was the grand object of his life; and he did +not, like most parents, think it sufficient to send them to public +schools; he was their private instructor; and even at that early age +bestowed great pains in training their minds to habits of thought and +reflection, and in keeping them pure from every form of vice. This he +considered a sacred duty, and never to his last illness relaxed in his +diligence.' + +Throughout the winter of 1795 and spring of 1796, he could only keep up +an irregular correspondence with Thomson. 'Alas!' he wrote in April, 'I +fear it will be long ere I tune my lyre again. I have only known +existence by the pressure of the heavy hand of sickness, and counted +time by the repercussion of pain. I close my eyes in misery and open +them without hope.' Yet it was literally on his deathbed that he +composed the exquisite song, _O wert thou in the Cauld Blast_, in honour +of Jessie Lewars, who waited on him so faithfully. In June he wrote: 'I +begin to fear the worst. As to my individual self I am tranquil, and +would despise myself if I were not; but Burns's poor widow and half a +dozen of his dear little ones--helpless orphans!--there, I am weaker +than a woman's tear.' + +From Brow, whither he had gone to try the effect of sea-bathing, he +wrote several letters all in the same strain, one to Cunningham; a +pathetic one to Mrs. Dunlop, regretting her continued silence; and +letters begging a temporary loan to James Burness, Montrose, and to +George Thomson, whom he had been supplying with songs without fee or +reward. Thomson at once forwarded the amount asked--five pounds! To his +wife, who had not been able to accompany him, he wrote: 'My dearest +love, I delayed writing until I could tell you what effect sea-bathing +was likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny it has eased my +pain.... I will see you on Sunday.' + +During his stay at Brow he met again Mrs. Riddell, and she has left in a +letter her impression of his appearance at that time. 'The stamp of +death was imprinted on his features. He seemed already touching the +brink of eternity.... He spoke of his death with firmness as well as +feeling as an event likely to happen very soon.... He said he was well +aware that his death would occasion some noise, and that every scrap of +his writing would be revived against him, to the injury of his future +reputation.... The conversation was kept up with great evenness and +animation on his side. I had seldom seen his mind greater or more +collected.' + +When he returned from Brow he was worse than when he went away, and +those who saw him tottering to his door knew that they had looked their +last on the poet. The question in Dumfries for a day or two was, 'How is +Burns now?' And the question was not long in being answered. He knew he +was dying, but neither his humour nor his wit left him. 'John,' he said +to one of his brother volunteers, 'don't let the awkward squad fire over +me.' + +He lingered on for a day or two, his wife hourly expecting to be +confined and unable to attend to him, and Jessie Lewars taking her +place, a constant and devoted nurse. On the fourth day after his return, +July 21, he sank into delirium, and his children were summoned to the +bedside of their dying father, who quietly and gradually sank to rest. +His last words showed that his mind was still disturbed by the thought +of the small debt that had caused him so much annoyance. 'And thus he +passed,' says Carlyle, 'not softly, yet speedily, into that still +country where the hailstorms and fire-showers do not reach, and the +heaviest laden wayfarer at length lays down his load.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE + + +In Mrs. Riddell's sketch of Burns, which appeared shortly after his +death, she starts with the somewhat startling statement that poetry was +not actually his _forte_. She did not question the excellence of his +songs, or seek to depreciate his powers as a poet, but she spoke of the +man as she had known him, and was one of the first to assert that Burns +was very much more than an uneducated peasant with a happy knack of +versification. Even in the present day we hear too much of the inspired +ploughman bursting into song as one that could not help himself, and +warbling of life and love in a kind of lyrical frenzy. The fact is that +Burns was a great intellectual power, and would have been a force in any +sphere of life or letters. All who met him and heard him talk have +insisted on the greatness of the man, apart from his achievements in +poetry. It was not his fame as a poet that made him the lion of a season +in Edinburgh, but the force and brilliancy of his conversation; and it +needs more than the reputation of a minstrel to explain the hold he has +on the affection and intelligence of the world to-day. + +On the other hand, it would be a mistake to accept his intellectual +greatness as a mere tradition of those who knew him, and to regret that +he has not left us some long and ponderous work worthy of the power he +possessed. It is an absurd idea to imagine that every great poet ought +to write an epic or a play. Burns's powers were concentrative, and he +could put into a song what a dramatist might elaborate into a five-act +tragedy; but that is not to say that the dramatist is the greater poet. +After all, the song is the more likely to live, and the more likely, +therefore, to keep the mission of the poet an enduring and living +influence in the lives of men. + +Still Burns might have been a great song-writer without becoming the +name and power he is in the world to-day. The lyrical gift implies a +quick emotional sense, which in some cases may be little more than a +beautiful defect in a weak nature. But Burns was essentially a strong +man. His very vices are the vices of a robust and healthy humanity. +Besides being possessed of all the qualities of a great singer, he was +at the same time vigorously human and throbbing with the love and joy of +life. It is this sterling quality of manhood that has made Burns the +poet and the power he is. He looked out on the world with the eyes of a +man, and saw things in their true colours and in their natural +relations. He regarded the world into which he had been born, and saw it +not as some other poet or an artist or a painter might have beheld +it,--for the purposes of art,--but in all its uncompromising realism; +and what his eye saw clearly, his lips as clearly uttered. His first and +greatest gift, therefore, as a poet was his manifest sincerity. His men +and women are living human beings; his flowers are real flowers; his +dogs, real dogs, and nothing more. All his pictures are presented in +the simplest and fewest possible words. There is no suspicion of +trickery; no attempt to force words to carry a weight of meaning they +are incapable of expressing. He knew nothing of the deification of +style, and on absolute truthfulness and unidealised reality rested his +poetical structure. Wordsworth speaks of him-- + + 'Whose light I hailed when first it shone, + And showed my youth + How verse may build a princely throne + On humble truth.' + +It is this quality that made Burns the interpreter of the lives of his +fellow-men, not only to an outside world that knew them not, but to +themselves. And he has glorified those lives in the interpretation, not +by the introduction of false elements or the elimination of unlovely +features, but simply by his insistence, in spite of the sordidness of +poverty, on the naked dignity of man. + +Everything he touched became interesting because it was interesting to +him, and he spoke forth what he felt. For Burns did not go outside of +his own life, either in time or place, for subject. There are poetry and +romance, tragedy and comedy ever waiting for the man who has eyes to see +them; and Burns's stage was the parish of Tarbolton, and he found his +poetry in (or rendered poetical) the ordinary humdrum life round about +him. For that reason it is, perhaps, that he has been called the +satirist and singer of a parish. Had he lived nowadays, he would have +been relegated to the kailyard, there to cultivate his hardy annuals +and indigenous daisies. For Burns did not affect exotics, and it +requires a specialist in manure to produce blue dandelions or sexless +ferns. In the narrow sense of the word he was not parochial. Whilst true +to class and country, he reached out a hand to universal man. A Scotsman +of Scotsmen, he endeared himself to the hearts of a people; but he was +from first to last a man, and so has found entrance to the hearts of all +men. Although local in subject, he was artistic in treatment; he might +address the men and women of Mauchline, but he spoke with the voice of +humanity, and his message was for mankind. + +Besides interpreting the lives of the Scottish peasantry, he revived for +them their nationality. For he was but the last of the great bards that +sang the Iliad of Scotland; and in him, when patriotism was all but +dead, and a hybrid culture was making men ashamed of their land and +their language, the voices of nameless ballad-makers and forgotten +singers blended again into one great voice that sang of the love of +country, till men remembered their fathers, and gloried in the name of +Scotsmen. His patriotism, however, was not parochial. It was no mere +prejudice which bound him hand and foot to Scottish theme and Scottish +song. He knew that there were lands beyond the Cheviots, and that men of +other countries and other tongues joyed and sorrowed, toiled and sweated +and struggled and hoped even as he did. He was attached to the people of +his own rank in life, the farmers and ploughmen amongst whom he had been +born and bred; but his sympathies went out to all men, prince or +peasant, beggar or king, if they were worthy of the name of men he +recognised them as brothers. It is this sympathy which gives him his +intimate knowledge of mankind. He sees into the souls of his fellows; +the thoughts of their hearts are visible to his piercing eye. He who had +mixed only with hard-working men, and scarcely ever been beyond the +boundary of his parish, wrote of court and parliament as if he had known +princes and politicians from his boyhood. The goodwife of Wauchope House +would hardly credit that he had come straight from the plough-stilts-- + + 'And then sae slee ye crack your jokes + O' Willie Pitt and Charlie Fox; + Our great men a' sae weel descrive, + And how to gar the nation thrive, + Ane maist would swear ye dwalt amang them, + And as ye saw them sae ye sang them.' + +But his intuitive knowledge of men is apparent in almost all he wrote. +Every character he has drawn stands out a living and breathing +personality. This is greatly due to the fact that he studied those he +met, as _men_, dismissing the circumstance of birth and rank, of costly +apparel, or beggarly rags. For rank and station after all are mere +accidents, and count for nothing in an estimate of character. Indeed, +Burns was too often inclined from his hard experience of life to go +further than this, and to count them disqualifying circumstances. This +aggressive independence was, however, always as far removed from +insolence as it was from servility. He saw clearly that the 'pith o' +sense and pride o' worth' are beyond all the dignities a king can +bestow; and he looked to the time when class distinctions would cease, +and the glory of manhood be the highest earthly dignity. + + 'Then let us pray that come it may-- + As come it will for a' that-- + That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, + May bear the gree and a' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + It's comin' yet, for a' that, + That man to man, the warld o'er, + Shall brothers be for a' that!' + +Besides this abiding love of his fellow-man, or because of it, Burns had +also a childlike love of nature and all created things. He sings of the +mountain daisy turned up by his plough; his heart goes out to the mouse +rendered homeless after all its provident care. Listening at home while +the storm made the doors and windows rattle, he bethought him on the +cattle and sheep and birds outside-- + + 'I thought me on the ourie cattle + Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle + O' wintry war, + And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle + Beneath a scaur.' + +Nor is there in his love of nature any transcendental strain; no mawkish +sentimentality, and consequently in its expression no bathos. Everywhere +in his poetry nature comes in, at times in artistically selected detail, +at times again with a deft suggestive touch that is telling and +effective, yet always in harmony with the feeling of the poem, and +always subordinate to it. His descriptions of scenery are never dragged +in. They are incidental and complementary; human life and human feeling +are the first consideration; to this his scenery is but the setting and +background. He is never carried away by the force or beauty of his +drawing as a smaller artist might have been. The picture is given with +simple conciseness, and he leaves it; nor does he ever attempt to +elaborate a detail into a separate poem. The description of the burn in +_Hallowe'en_ is most beautiful in itself, yet it is but a detail in a +great picture-- + + 'Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, + As thro' the glen it wimpl't; + Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays; + Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; + Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, + Wi' bickerin', dancin' dazzle; + Whyles cookit underneath the braes, + Below the spreading hazel, + Unseen that night.' + +That surely is the perfection of description; whilst the wimple of the +burn is echoed in the music of the verse! + +Allied to the clearness of vision and truthfulness of presentment of +Burns, growing out of them it may be, is that graphic power in which he +stands unexcelled. He is a great artist, and word-painting is not the +least of his many gifts. He combines terseness and lucidity, which is a +rare combination in letters; his phrasing is as beautiful and fine as it +is forcible, which is a distinction rarer still. Hundreds of examples of +his pregnant phrasing might be cited, but it is best to see them in the +poems. Many have become everyday expressions, and have passed into the +proverbs of the country. + +Another of Burns's gifts was the saving grace of humour. This, of +course, is not altogether a quality distinct in itself, but rather a +particular mode in which love or tenderness or pity may manifest +itself. This humour is ever glinting forth from his writings. Some of +his poems--_The Farmer's Address to his Auld Mare_, for example--are +simply bathed in it, and we see the subject glowing in its light, soft +and tremulous, as of an autumn sunset. In others, again, it flashes and +sparkles, more sportive than tender. But, however it manifest itself, we +recognise at once that it has a character of its own, which marks it off +from the humour of any other writer; it is a peculiar possession of +Burns. + +Perhaps the poem in which all Burns's poetic qualities are seen at their +best is _The Jolly Beggars_. The subject may be low and the materials +coarse, but that only makes the finished poem a more glorious +achievement. For the poem is a unity. We see those vagabonds for a +moment's space holding high revel in Poosie Nansie's; but in that brief +glance we see them from their birth to their death. They are flung into +the world, and go zigzagging through it, chaffering and cheating, +swaggering and swearing; kicked and cuffed from parish to parish; their +only joy of existence an occasional night like this, a carnival of drink +and all sensuality; snapping their fingers in the face of the world, and +as they have lived so going down defiantly to death, a laugh on their +lips and a curse in their heart. Every character in it is individual and +distinct from his neighbour; the language from first to last simple, +sensuous, musical. Of this poem Matthew Arnold says: 'It has a breadth, +truth, and power which make the famous scene in Auerbach's cellar of +Goethe's _Faust_ seem artificial and tame beside it, and which are only +matched by Shakspeare and Aristophanes.' + +_The Cotter's Saturday Night_ has usually, in Scotland, been the most +lauded of his poems. Many writers give it as his best. It is a pious +opinion, but is not sound criticism. Burns handicapped himself, not only +by the stanza he selected for this poem, but also by the attitude he +took towards his subject. He is never quite himself in it. We admire its +many beauties; we see the life of the poor made noble and dignified; we +see, in the end, the soul emerging from the tyranny of time and +circumstance; but with all that we feel that there is something +awanting. The priest-like father is drawn from life, and the picture is +beautiful; not less deftly drawn is the mother's portrait, though it be +not so frequently quoted: + + 'The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy + What makes the youth so bashfu' and so grave; + Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.' + +The last line gives one of the most natural and most subtle touches in +the whole poem. The closing verses are, I think, unhappy. The poet has +not known when to stop, keeps writing after he has finished, and so +becomes stilted and artificial. + +It is in his songs, however, more than in his poems, that we find Burns +most regularly at his best. And excellence in song-writing is a rare +gift. The snatches scattered here and there throughout the plays of +Shakspeare are perhaps the only collection of lyrics that can at all +stand comparison with the wealth of minstrelsy Burns has left behind +him. This was his undying legacy to the world. Song-writing was a labour +of love, almost his only comfort and consolation in the dark days of his +later years. He set himself to this as to a congenial task, and he knew +that he was writing himself into the hearts of unborn generations. His +songs live; they are immortal, because every one is a bit of his soul. +These are no feverish, hysterical jingles of clinking verse, dead save +for the animating breath of music. They sing themselves, because the +spirit of song is in them. Quite as marvellous as his excellence in this +department of poetry is his variety of subject. He has a song for every +age; a musical interpretation of every mood. But this is a subject for a +book to itself. His songs are sung all over the world. The love he sings +appeals to all, for it is elemental, and is the love of all. Heart +speaks to heart in the songs of Robert Burns; there is a freemasonry in +them that binds Scotsmen to Scotsmen across the seas in the firmest +bonds of brotherhood. + +What place Burns occupies as a poet has been determined not so much by +the voice of criticism, as by the enthusiastic way in which his +fellow-mortals have taken him to their heart. The summing-up of a judge +counts for little when the jury has already made up its mind. What +matters it whether a critic argues Burns into a first or second or third +rate poet? His countrymen, and more than his countrymen, his brothers +all the world over, who read in his writings the joys and sorrows, the +temptations and trials, the sins and shortcomings of a great-hearted +man, have accepted him as a prophet, and set him in the front rank of +immortals. They admire many poets; they love Robert Burns. They have +been told their love is unreasoning and unreasonable. It may be so. Love +goes by instinct more than by reason; and who shall say it is wrong? Yet +Burns is not loved because of his faults and failings, but in spite of +them. His sins are not hidden. He himself confessed them again and +again, and repented in sackcloth and ashes. If he did not always abjure +his weaknesses, he denounced them, and with no uncertain voice; nor do +we know how hardly he strove to do more. + +What estimate is to be taken of Burns as a man will have many and +various answers. Those who still denounce him as the chief of sinners, +and without mercy condemn him out of his own mouth, are those whom Burns +has pilloried to all posterity. There are dull, phlegmatic beings with +blood no warmer than ditch-water, who are virtuous and sober citizens +because they have never felt the force of temptation. What power could +tempt them? The tree may be parched and blistered in the heat of +noonday, but the parasitical fungus draining its sap remains cool--and +poisonous. So in the glow of sociability the Pharisee remains cold and +clammy; the fever of love leaves his blood at zero. How can such +anomalies understand a man of Burns's wild and passionate nature, or, +indeed, human nature at all? The broad fact remains, however much we may +deplore his sins and shortcomings, they are the sins and shortcomings of +a large-hearted, healthy, human being. Had he loved less his fellow men +and women, he might have been accounted a better man. After all, too, it +must be remembered that his failings have been consistently exaggerated. +Coleridge, in his habit of drawing nice distinctions, admits that Burns +was not a man of degraded genius, but a degraded man of genius. Burns +was neither the one nor the other. In spite of the occasional excesses +of his later years, he did not degenerate into drunkenness, nor was the +sense of his responsibilities as a husband, a father, and a man less +clear and acute in the last months of his life than it had ever been. +Had he lived a few years longer, we should have seen the man mellowed by +sorrow and suffering, braving life, not as he had done all along with +the passionate vehemence of undisciplined youth, but with the fortitude +and dignity of one who had learned that contentment and peace are gifts +the world cannot give, and, if he haply find them in his own heart, +which it cannot take away. That is the lesson we read in the closing +months of Burns's chequered career. + +But it was not to be. His work was done. The message God had sent him +into the world to deliver he had delivered, imperfectly and with +faltering lips it may be, but a divine message all the same. And because +it is divine men still hear it gladly and believe. + +Let all his failings and defects be acknowledged, his sins as a man and +his limitations as a poet, the want of continuity and purpose in his +work and life; but at the same time let his nobler qualities be weighed +against these, and the scale 'where the pure gold is, easily turns the +balance.' In the words of Angellier: 'Admiration grows in proportion as +we examine his qualities. When we think of his sincerity, of his +rectitude, of his kindness towards man and beast; of his scorn of all +that is base, his hatred of all knavery which in itself would be an +honour; of his disinterestedness, of the fine impulses of his heart, and +the high aspirations of his spirit; of the intensity and idealism +necessary to maintain his soul above its circumstances; when we reflect +that he has expressed all these generous sentiments to the extent of +their constituting his intellectual life; that they have fallen from him +as jewels ... as if his soul had been a furnace for the purification of +precious metals, we are tempted to regard him as belonging to the elect +spirits of humanity, to those gifted with exceptional goodness. When we +recall what he suffered, what he surmounted, and what he has effected; +against what privations his genius struggled into birth and lived; the +perseverance of his apprenticeship; his intellectual exploits; and, +after all, his glory, we are inclined to maintain that what he failed to +accomplish or undertake is as nothing in comparison with his +achievements.... There is nothing left but to confess that the clay of +which he was made was thick with diamonds, and that his life was one of +the most valiant and the most noble a poet ever has lived.' + +With Burns's own words we may fitly conclude. They are words not merely +to be read and admired, but to be remembered in our hearts and practised +in our lives-- + + 'Then gently scan your brother Man, + Still gentler sister Woman; + Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, + To step aside is human: + One point must still be greatly dark, + The moving _Why_ they do it; + And just as lamely can ye mark, + How far perhaps they rue it. + + Who made the heart, 'tis He alone + Decidedly can try us, + He knows each chord--its various tone, + Each spring--its various bias: + Then at the balance let's be mute, + We never can adjust it; + What's _done_ we partly may compute, + But know not what's _resisted_' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Burns, by Gabriel Setoun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS *** + +***** This file should be named 30721-8.txt or 30721-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/2/30721/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Robert Burns + Famous Scots Series + +Author: Gabriel Setoun + +Release Date: December 20, 2009 [EBook #30721] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 67px;"> +<img src="images/spine.jpg" width="67" height="600" alt="Spine" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 380px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="380" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" /> + +</div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></span></p> + + + + +<h1 style="margin-bottom: 10em;">ROBERT<br /> +BURNS:</h1> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/title.jpg" width="362" height="600" alt="ROBERT +BURNS + +BY + +GABRIEL +SETOUN + +FAMOUS +SCOTS +SERIES + +PUBLISHED BY +OLIPHANT ANDERSON +& FERRIER EDINBURGH +AND LONDON" title="" /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: x-large;">ROBERT<br /> +BURNS</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">BY<br /> +GABRIEL<br /> +SETOUN</p> + + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">FAMOUS<br /> + +·SCOTS·<br /> +·SERIES·</p> + +<p class='center' style="font-size: large;">PUBLISHED BY<br /> +OLIPHANT ANDERSON<br /> +& FERRIER · EDINBURGH<br /> +AND LONDON</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">{4}</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The designs and ornaments of this +volume are by Mr. Joseph Brown, +and the printing from the press of +Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh.</p></div> + +<p style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>June 1896.</i></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">{5}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right" colspan='2'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Birth and Education</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Lochlea and Mossgiel</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Series of Satires</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Kilmarnock Edition</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Edinburgh Edition</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Burns's Tours</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ellisland</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Dumfries</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Summary and Estimate</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">{7}</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_BURNS" id="ROBERT_BURNS"></a>ROBERT BURNS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">BIRTH AND EDUCATION</span></h2> + + +<p>Of the many biographies of Robert Burns that have +been written, most of them laboriously and carefully, +perhaps not one gives so luminous and vivid a portrait, +so lifelike and vigorous an impression of the personality +of the poet and the man, as the picture the author has +given of himself in his own writings. Burns's poems +from first to last are, almost without exception, the +literary embodiment of his feelings at a particular +moment. He is for ever revealing himself to the +reader, even in poems that might with propriety be +said to be purely objective. His writings in a greater +degree than the writings of any other author are the +direct expression of his own experiences; and in his +poems and songs he is so invariably true to himself, so +dominated by the mood of the moment, that every one +of them gives us some glimpse into the heart and soul +of the writer. In his letters he is rarely so happy; frequently +he is writing up to certain models, and ceases to +be natural. Consequently we often miss in them the +character and spirituality that is never absent from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">{8}</a></span> +poetry. But his poems and songs, chronologically +arranged, might make in themselves, and without the +aid of any running commentary, a tolerably complete +biography. Reading them, we note the development of +his character and the growth of his powers as a poet; +we can see at any particular time his attitude towards +the world, and the world's attitude towards him; we +have, in fine, a picture of the man in his relations to his +fellow-man and in relation to circumstances, and may +learn if we will what mark he made on the society of +his time, and what effect that society had on him. +And that surely is an important essential of perfect +biography.</p> + +<p>But otherwise the story of Burns's life has been told +with such minuteness of detail, that the internal evidence +of his poetry would seem only to be called in to verify +or correct the verdict of tradition and the garbled gossip +of those wise after the fact of his fame. It is so easy +after a man has compelled the attention of the world +to fill up the empty years of his life when he was all +unknown to fame, with illustrative anecdotes and almost +forgotten incidents, revealed and coloured by the light +of after events! This is a penalty of genius, and it is +sometimes called fame, as if fame were a gift given of +the world out of a boundless and unintelligent curiosity, +and not the life-record of work achieved. It is easier to +collect ana and to make them into the patchwork pattern +of a life than to read the character of the man in his +writings; and patchwork, of necessity, has more of +colour than the homespun web of a peasant-poet.</p> + +<p>Burns has suffered sorely at the hands of the anecdote-monger. +One great feature of his poems is their perfect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">{9}</a></span> +sincerity. He pours out his soul in song; tells the tale +of his loves, his joys and sorrows, of his faults and +failings, and the awful pangs of remorse. And if a man +be candid and sincere, he will be taken at his word when +he makes the world his confessional, and calls himself a +sinner. There is pleasure to small minds in discovering +that the gods are only clay; that they who are guides +and leaders are men of like passions with themselves, +subject to the same temptations, and as liable to fall. +This is the consolation of mediocrity in the presence of +genius; and if from the housetops the poet proclaims +his shortcomings, the world will hear him gladly and +believe; his faults will be remembered, and his genius +forgiven. What more easy than to bear out his testimony +with the weight of collateral evidence, and the charitable +anecdotage of acquaintances who knew him not? Information +that is vile and valueless may ever be had for the +seeking; and it needs only to be whispered about for +a season to find its way ultimately into print, and to +flourish.</p> + +<p>It might naturally be expected at this time of day that +all that is merely mythical and traditional might have +been sifted from what is accredited and attested fact, +that the chaff might have been winnowed from the grain +in the life of Burns. In some of the most recently-published +biographies this has been most carefully and +conscientiously done; but through so many years wild +and improbable stories had been allowed to thrive and +to go unchallenged, that fiction has come to take the +colour and character of fact, and to pass into history. +'The general impression of the place,' that unfortunate +phrase on which the late George Gilfillan based an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">{10}</a></span> +unpardonable attack on the character of the poet, has +grown by slow degrees, and gained credence by the +lapse of time, till it is accepted as the general impression +of the country. Those who would speak of the poet +Robert Burns are expected to speak apologetically, and +to point a moral from the story of a wasted life. For +that has become a convention, and convention is always +respectable. But after all is said and done, the devil's +advocate makes a wretched biographer. It seems +strange and unaccountable that men should dare to +become apologists for one who has sung himself into +the heart and conscience of his country, and taken the +ear of the world. Yet there have been apologists even +for the poetry of Burns. We are told, wofully, that +he wrote only short poems and songs; was content with +occasional pieces; did not achieve any long and sustained +effort—to be preserved, it is to be expected, in a +folio edition, and assigned a fitting place among other +musty and hide-bound immortals on the shelves of +libraries under lock and key. As well might we seek +to apologise for the fields and meadows, in so far as +they bring forth neither corn nor potatoes, but only +grasses and flowers, to dance to the piping of the wind, +and nod in the sunshine of summer.</p> + +<p>It is a healthier sign, however, that the more recent +biographers of Burns snap their fingers in the face of +convention, and, looking to the legacy he has left the +world, refuse to sit in sackcloth and ashes round his +grave, either in the character of moralising mourners +or charitable mutes. Whatever has to be said against +them nowadays, the 'cant of concealment'—to adopt +another of Gilfillan's phrases—is not to be laid to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">{11}</a></span> +charge. Rather have they rushed to the other extreme, +and in their eagerness to do justice to the memory of +the poet, led the reader astray in a wilderness of +unnecessary detail. So much is now known of Burns, +so many minute and unimportant details of his life and +the lives of others have been unearthed, that the poet is, +so to speak, buried in biography; the character and the +personality of the man lost in the voluminous testimony +of many witnesses. Reading, we note the care and +conscientiousness of the writer; we have but a confused +and blurred impression of the poet. Although a century +has passed since his death, we do not yet see the events +of Burns's life in proper perspective. Things trifling in +themselves, and of little bearing on his character, have +been preserved, and are still recorded with painful +elaboration; while the sidelights from friends, companions, +and acquaintances, male and female, are many +and bewildering.</p> + +<p>Would it not be possible out of this mass of material +to tell the story of Robert Burns's life simply and clearly, +neither wandering away into the family histories and +genealogies of a crowd of uninteresting contemporaries, +nor wasting time in elaborating inconsequential trifles? +What is wanted is a picture of the man as he was, and +an understanding of all that tended to make him the +name and the power he is in the world to-day.</p> + +<p>William Burness, the father of the poet, was a native +of Kincardineshire, and 'was thrown by early misfortunes +on the world at large.' After many years' wanderings, +he at last settled in Ayrshire, where he worked at first +as a gardener before taking a lease of some seven acres +of land near the Bridge of Doon, and beginning business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">{12}</a></span> +as a nurseryman. It was to a clay cottage which he +built on this land that he brought his wife, Agnes Broun, +in December 1757; and here the poet was born in 1759. +The date of his birth is not likely to be forgotten.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Our monarch's hindmost year but ane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was five-and-twenty days begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas then a blast o' Jan'war' win'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blew hansel in on Robin.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To his father Burns owed much; and if there be anything +in heredity in the matter of genius, it was from +him that he inherited his marvellous mental powers. +His mother is spoken of as a shrewd and sagacious +woman, with education enough to enable her to read her +Bible, but unable to write her own name. She had a +great love for old ballads, and Robert as a boy must +often have listened to her chanting the quaint old songs +with which her retentive memory was stored. The poet +resembled his mother in feature, although he had the +swarthy complexion of his father. Attempts have been +made now and again to trace his ancestry on the +father's side, and to give to the world a kind of +genealogy of genius. Writers have demonstrated to +their own satisfaction that it was perfectly natural that +Burns should have been the man he was. But the +other children of William Burness were not great poets. +It has even been discovered that his genius was Celtic, +whatever that may mean! Excursions and speculations +of this kind are vain and unprofitable, hardly more +reputable than the profanities of the Dumfries craniologists +who, in 1834, in the early hours of April 1st,—a +day well chosen,—desecrated the poet's dust. They +fingered his skull, 'applied their compasses to it, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">{13}</a></span> +satisfied themselves that Burns had capacity enough to +write <i>Tam o' Shanter</i>, <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i>, and +<i>To Mary in Heaven</i>.' Let us take the poet as he comes +to us, a gift of the gods, and be thankful. As La +Bruyère puts it, 'Ces hommes n'ont ni ancêtres ni +postérités; ils forment eux seuls toute une descendance.'</p> + +<p>What Burns owed particularly to his father he has +told us himself both in prose and verse. The exquisite +and beautiful picture of the father and his family at +their evening devotions is taken from life; and William +Burness is the sire who</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">'turns o'er with patriarchal grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The big ha'-bible ance his father's pride';<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and in his fragment of autobiography the poet remarks: +'My father picked up a pretty large quantity of observation +and experience, to which I am indebted for +most of my pretensions to wisdom. I have met with +few men who understood men, their manners and their +ways, equal to him; but stubborn, ungainly integrity and +headlong, ungovernable irascibility are disqualifying circumstances; +consequently I was born a very poor man's +son.... It was his dearest wish and prayer to have it +in his power to keep his children under his own eye till +they could discern between good and evil; so with the +assistance of his generous master, he ventured on a small +farm in that gentleman's estate.'</p> + +<p>This estimate of William Burness is endorsed and +amplified by Mr. Murdoch, who had been engaged by +him to teach his children, and knew him intimately.</p> + +<p>'I myself,' he says, 'have always considered William<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">{14}</a></span> +Burness as by far the best of the human race that ever +I had the pleasure of being acquainted with. He was +an excellent husband; a tender and affectionate father. +He had the art of gaining the esteem and goodwill of +those that were labourers under him. He carefully +practised every known duty, and avoided everything +that was criminal; or, in the apostle's words, <i>Herein did +he exercise himself in living a life void of offence towards +God and man</i>.'</p> + +<p>Even in his manner of speech he was different from +men in his own walk in life. 'He spoke the English +language with more propriety (both with respect to +diction and pronunciation) than any man I ever knew +with no greater advantages.'</p> + +<p>Truly was Burns blessed in his parents, especially in +his father. Naturally such a father wished his children +to have the best education his means could afford. It +may be that he saw even in the infancy of his firstborn +the promise of intellectual greatness. Certain it is he +laboured, as few fathers even in Scotland have done, to +have his children grow up intelligent, thoughtful, and +virtuous men and women.</p> + +<p>Robert Burns's first school was at Alloway Mill, about +a mile from home, whither he was sent when in his +sixth year. He had not been long there, however, when +the father combined with a few of his neighbours to +establish a teacher in their own neighbourhood. That +teacher was Mr. Murdoch, a young man at that time in +his nineteenth year.</p> + +<p>This is an important period in the poet's life, although +he himself in his autobiography only briefly touches on +his schooling under Murdoch. He has more to say of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">{15}</a></span> +what he owed to an old maid of his mother's, remarkable +for her ignorance, credulity, and superstition. +'She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the +country of tales and songs concerning devils, ghosts, +fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, +elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantraips, +enchanted towers, giants, dragons, and other trumpery. +This cultivated the latent seeds of Poesy; but had so +strong an effect on my imagination, that to this hour, +in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp lookout +in suspicious places; and though nobody can be +more sceptical in these matters than I, yet it often +takes an effort of philosophy to shake off these idle +terrors.'</p> + +<p>It ought not to be forgotten that Burns had a better +education than most lads of his time. Even in the +present day many in better positions have not the +advantages that Robert and Gilbert Burns had, the +sons of such a father as William Burness, and under +such an earnest and thoughtful teacher as Mr. Murdoch. +It is important to notice this, because Burns is too often +regarded merely as a <i>lusus naturæ</i>; a being gifted with +song, and endowed by nature with understanding from +his birth. We hear too much of the <i>ploughman</i> poet. +His genius and natural abilities are unquestioned and +unquestionable; but there is more than mere natural +genius in his writings. They are the work of a man +of no mean education, and bear the stamp—however +spontaneously his songs sing themselves in our ears—of +culture and study. In a letter to Dr. Moore several +years later than now, Burns himself declared against +the popular view. 'I have not a doubt but the knack,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">{16}</a></span> +the aptitude to learn the Muses' trade is a gift +bestowed by Him who forms the secret bias of the +soul; but I as firmly believe that <i>excellence</i> in the +profession is the fruit of industry, attention, labour, +and pains. At least I am resolved to try my doctrine +by the test of experience.' There is a class of people, +however, to whom this will sound heretical, forbidding +them, as it were, the right to babble with grovelling +familiarity of Rab, Rob, Robbie, Scotia's Bard, and +the Ploughman Poet; and insisting on his name being +spoken with conscious pride of utterance, Robert Burns, +Poet.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Burns, writing to Dr. Currie of the school-days +under Mr. Murdoch, says: 'We learnt to read English +tolerably well, and to write a little. He taught us, too, +the English Grammar. I was too young to profit much +by his lessons in grammar, but Robert made some proficiency +in it—a circumstance of considerable weight in +the unfolding of his genius and character, as he soon +became remarkable for the fluency and correctness of +his expression, and read the few books that came in +his way with much pleasure and improvement; for even +then he was a reader when he could get a book.'</p> + +<p>After the family removed to Mount Oliphant, the +brothers attended Mr. Murdoch's school for two years +longer, until Mr. Murdoch was appointed to a better +situation, and the little school was broken up. Thereafter +the father looked after the education of his boys +himself, not only helping them with their reading at +home after the labours of the day, but 'conversing +familiarly with them on all subjects, as if they had been +men, and being at great pains, as they accompanied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">{17}</a></span> +him on the labours of the farm, to lead conversation to +such subjects as might tend to increase their knowledge +or confirm them in virtuous habits.' Among the books +he borrowed or bought for them at that period were +Salmon's <i>Geographical Grammar</i>, Derham's <i>Physico-Theology</i>, +Ray's <i>Wisdom of God in the Works of +Creation</i>, and Stackhouse's <i>History of the Bible</i>. It +was about this time, too, that Robert became possessed +of <i>The Complete Letter-Writer</i>, a book which Gilbert +declared was to Robert of the greatest consequence, +since it inspired him with a great desire to excel in +letter-writing, and furnished him with models by some +of the first writers in our language. Perhaps this book +was a great gain. It is questionable. What would +Robert Burns's letters have been had he never seen a +Complete Letter-Writer, and never read 'those models +by some of the first writers in our language'? Easier +and more natural, we are of opinion; and he might +have written fewer. Those in the Complete Letter-Writer +style we could easily have spared. His teacher, +Mr. Murdoch, furnishes some excellent examples of the +stilted epistolary style that was then fashionable.</p> + +<p>'But now the plains of Mount Oliphant began to +whiten, and Robert was summoned to relinquish the +pleasing scenes that surrounded the grotto of Calypso, +and, armed with a sickle, to seek glory by signalising +himself in the fields of Ceres.' Though Robert Burns +never perpetrated anything like this, his models were +not without their pernicious effect on his prose compositions.</p> + +<p>When Robert was about fourteen years old, he and +Gilbert were sent for a time, week about, to a school<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">{18}</a></span> +at Dalrymple, and the year following Robert was sent +to Ayr to revise his English grammar under Mr. Murdoch. +While there he began the study of French, +bringing with him, when he returned home, a French +Dictionary and Grammar and Fenelon's <i>Telemaque</i>. +In a little while he could read and understand any +French author in prose. He also gave some time to +Latin; but finding it dry and uninteresting work, he +soon gave it up. Still he must have picked up a little +of that language, and we know that he returned to the +rudiments frequently, although 'the Latin seldom predominated, +a day or two at a time, or a week at most.' +Under the heading of general reading might be mentioned +<i>The Life of Hannibal</i>, <i>The Life of Wallace</i>, <i>The +Spectator</i>, Pope's <i>Homer</i>, Locke's <i>Essay on the Human +Understanding</i>, <i>Allan Ramsay's Works</i>, and several +<i>Plays of Shakspeare</i>. All this is worth noting, even at +some length, because it shows how Burns was being +educated, and what books went to form and improve +his literary taste.</p> + +<p>Yet when we consider the circumstances of the +family we see that there was not much time for study. +The work on the farm allowed Burns little leisure, but +every spare moment would seem to have been given +to reading. Father and sons, we are told by one who +afterwards knew the family at Lochlea, used to sit at +their meals with books in their hands; and the poet +says that one book in particular, <i>A Select Collection of +English Songs</i>, was his <i>vade mecum</i>. He pored over +them, driving his cart or walking to labour, song by +song, verse by verse, carefully noting the true, tender, or +sublime from affectation or fustian. 'I am convinced,'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">{19}</a></span> +he adds, 'I owe to this practice much of my critic craft, +such as it is.'</p> + +<p>The years of their stay at Mount Oliphant were years of +unending toil and of poverty bravely borne. The whole +period was a long fight against adverse circumstances. +Looking back on his life at this time, Burns speaks of +it as 'the cheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing +moil of a galley slave'; and we can well believe +that this is no exaggerated statement. His brother +Gilbert is even more emphatic. 'Mount Oliphant,' +he says, 'is almost the poorest soil I know of in a +state of cultivation.... My father, in consequence +of this, soon came into difficulties, which were increased +by the loss of several of his cattle by accident and +disease. To the buffetings of misfortune we could only +oppose hard labour and the most rigid economy. We +lived very sparingly. For several years butcher's meat +was a stranger in the house, while all the members of +the family exerted themselves to the utmost of their +strength, and rather beyond it, in the labours of the +farm. My brother, at the age of thirteen, assisted in +thrashing the crop of corn, and at fifteen was the +principal labourer on the farm; for we had no hired +servant, male or female. The anguish of mind we felt +at our tender years under these straits and difficulties +was very great. To think of our father growing old +(for he was now above fifty), broken down with the +long-continued fatigues of his life, with a wife and five +other children, and in a declining state of circumstances, +these reflections produced in my brother's mind and +mine sensations of the deepest distress. I doubt not +but the hard labour and sorrow of this period of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">{20}</a></span> +life was in a great measure the cause of that depression of +spirits with which Robert was so often afflicted through +his whole life afterwards. At this time he was almost +constantly afflicted in the evenings with a dull headache, +which at a future period of his life was exchanged +for a palpitation of the heart and a threatening of +fainting and suffocation in his bed in the night-time.'</p> + +<p>This, we doubt not, is a true picture—melancholy, +yet beautiful. But not only did this increasing toil and +worry to make both ends meet, injure the bodily health +of the poet, but it did harm to him in other ways. It +affected, to a certain extent, his moral nature. Those +bursts of bitterness which we find now and again in +his poems, and more frequently in his letters, are +assuredly the natural outcome of these unsocial and +laborious years. Burns was a man of sturdy independence; +too often this independence became aggressive. +He was a man of marvellous keenness of perception; +too frequently did this manifest itself in a sulky suspicion, +a harshness of judgment, and a bitterness of speech. +We say this in no spirit of fault-finding, but merely +point it out as a natural consequence of a wretched +and leisureless existence. This was the education of +circumstances—hard enough in Burns's case; and if it +developed in him certain sterling qualities, gave him +an insight into and a sympathy with the lives of his +struggling fellows, it at the same time warped, to a +certain extent, his moral nature.</p> + +<p>What was his outlook on the world at this time? He +measured himself with those he met, we may be sure, +for Burns certainly (as he says of his father) 'understood +men, their manners and their ways,' as it is given<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">{21}</a></span> +to very few to be able to do. Of the ploughmen, farmers, +lairds, or factors, he saw round about him there was none +to compare with him in natural ability, few his equal in +field-work. 'At the plough, scythe, or reap-hook,' he +remarks, 'I feared no competitor.' Yet, conscious of +easy superiority, he saw himself a drudge, almost a slave, +while those whom nature had not blessed with brains +were gifted with a goodly share of this world's wealth.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's hardly in a body's power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep at times frae being sour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see how things are shar'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How best o' chiels are whiles in want,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While coofs on countless thousands rant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' ken na how to wair 't.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>His father, his brother, and himself—all the members +of the family indeed—toiled unceasingly, yet were unable +to better their position. Matters, indeed, got worse, and +worst of all when their landlord died, and they were left +to the tender mercies of a factor. The name of this man +we do not know, nor need we seek to know it. We know +the man himself, and he will live for ever a type of +tyrannous, insolent insignificance.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I've noticed, on our Laird's court-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a time my heart's been wae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they maun thole a factor's snash:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll apprehend them, poind their gear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Is it to be wondered at that Burns's blood boiled at +times, or that he should now and again look at those in +easier circumstances with snarling suspicion, and give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">{22}</a></span> +vent to his feelings in words of rankling bitterness? +Robert Burns and his father were just such men as an +insolent factor would take a fiendish delight in torturing. +'My indignation yet boils,' Burns wrote years afterwards, +'at the recollection of the scoundrel factor's insolent, +threatening letters, which used to set us all in tears.' +Had they 'boo'd and becked' at his bidding, and +grovelled at his feet, he might have had some glimmering +sense of justice, and thought it mercy. But the Burnses +were men of a different stamp. 'William Burness always +treated superiors with a becoming respect, but he never +gave the smallest encouragement to aristocratical arrogance'; +and his son Robert was not less manly and +independent. He was too sound in judgment; too +conscious of his own worth, to sink into mean and abject +servility. But this factor, perhaps more than anyone +else, did much to pervert, if he could not kill, the poet's +spirit of independence.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, the opening sentences of his autobiographical +sketch have a suspicious ring of the pride +that apes humility. There is something harsh and +aggressive in his unnecessary confidence. 'I have not +the most distant pretensions to assume the character +which the pye-coated guardians of escutcheons call a +gentleman. When at Edinburgh last winter I got acquainted +at the Herald's office; and, looking through +that granary of honours, I there found almost every name +in the kingdom; but for me,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"My ancient but ignoble blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had crept through scoundrels ever since the flood."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Gules, Purpure, Argent, etc., quite disowned me.' All +this is quite gratuitous and hardly in good taste.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">{23}</a></span></p> + +<p>Yet, in spite of untoward circumstances, ceaseless +drudgery, and insufficient diet, the family of Mount +Oliphant was not utterly lost to happiness. With such a +shrewd mother and such a father as William Burness—a +man of whom Scotland may be justly proud—no home +could be altogether unhappy. In Burns's picture of the +family circle in <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i> there is +nothing of bitterness or gloom or melancholy.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anticipation forward points the view:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the work of the farm, too, hard as it was, there was +pleasure, and the poet's first song, with the picture he +gives of the partners in the harvest field, breaks forth +from this life of cheerless gloom and unceasing moil like +a blink of sunshine through a lowering sky. Burns's +description of how the song came to be made is worthy +of quotation, because it gives us a very clear and well-defined +likeness of himself at the time, a lad in years, +but already counting himself among men. 'You know +our country custom of coupling a man and a woman +together in the labours of harvest. In my fifteenth +autumn my partner was a bewitching creature who just +counted an autumn less. In short, she, unwittingly to +herself, initiated me into a certain delicious passion, +which ... I hold to be the first of human joys.... I did not +well know myself why I liked so much to loiter behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">{24}</a></span> +her when returning in the evening from our labours; +why the tones of her voice made my heart-strings thrill +like an Æolian harp; and particularly why my pulse +beat such a furious rantann when I looked and fingered +over her hand to pick out the nettle-stings and thistles. +Among her other love-inspiring qualifications she sang +sweetly; and 'twas her favourite Scotch reel that I attempted +to give an embodied vehicle to in rhyme. I +was not so presumptive as to imagine I could make verses +like printed ones composed by men who had Greek and +Latin; but my girl sung a song which was said to be +composed by a small country laird's son, on one of his +father's maids with whom he was in love; and I saw no +reason why I might not rhyme as well as he.'</p> + +<p>He had already measured himself with this moorland +poet, and admits no inferiority; and what a laird's son +has done he too may do. Writing of this song afterwards, +Burns, who was always a keen critic, admits that it is +'very puerile and silly.' Still, we think there is something +of beauty, and much of promise, in this early effusion. +It has at least one of the merits, and, in a sense, the +peculiar characteristic of all Burns's songs. It is sincere +and natural; and that is the beginning of all good writing.</p> + +<p>'Thus with me,' he says, 'began love and poetry, +which at times have been my only and ... my highest +enjoyment.' This was the first-fruit of his poetic genius, +and we doubt not that in the composition, and after the +composition, life at Mount Oliphant was neither so +cheerless nor so hard as it had been. A new life was +opened up to him with a thousand nameless hopes and +aspirations, though probably as yet he kept all these +things to himself, and pondered them in his heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">{25}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">LOCHLEA AND MOSSGIEL</span></h2> + + +<p>The farm at Mount Oliphant proved a ruinous failure, +and after weathering their last two years on it under the +tyranny of the scoundrel factor, it was with feelings of +relief, we may be sure, that the family removed to Lochlea, +in the parish of Tarbolton. This was a farm of 130 +acres of land rising from the right bank of the river Ayr. +The farm appeared to them more promising than the +one they had left. The prospect from its uplands was +extensive and beautiful. It commanded a view of the +Carrick Hills, and the Firth of Clyde beyond; but where +there are extensive views to be had the land is necessarily +exposed. The farm itself was bleak and bare, and +twenty shillings an acre was a high rent for fields so +situated.</p> + +<p>The younger members of the family, however, were +now old enough to be of some assistance in the house +or in the fields, and for a few years life was brighter than +it had been before; not that labour was lighter to them +here, but simply because they had escaped the meshes +and machinations of a petty tyrant, and worked more +cheerfully, looking to the future with confidence. Father, +mother, and children all worked as hard as they were +able, and none more ungrudgingly than the poet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">{26}</a></span></p> + +<p>We know little about those first few years of life at +Lochlea, which should be matter for special thanksgiving. +Better we should know nothing at all than that +we should learn of misfortunes coming upon them, and +see the family again in tears and forced to thole a factor's +snash; better silence than the later unsavoury episodes, +which have not yet been allowed decent burial. Probably +life went evenly and beautifully in those days. +The brothers accompanied their father to the fields; +Agnes milked the cows, reciting the while to her younger +sisters, Annabella and Isabella, snatches of song or +psalm; and in the evening the whole family would again +gather round the ingle to raise their voices in <i>Dundee</i> or +<i>Martyrs</i> or <i>Elgin</i>, and then to hear the priest-like father +read the sacred page.</p> + +<p>The little that we do know is worth recording. +'Gilbert,' to quote from Chambers's excellent edition of +the poet's works, 'used to speak of his brother as being +at this period a more admirable being than at any other. +He recalled with delight the days when they had to go +with one or two companions to cut peats for the winter +fuel, because Robert was sure to enliven their toil with +a rattling fire of witty remarks of men and things, +mingled with the expressions of a genial glowing heart, +and the whole perfectly free from the taint which he +afterwards acquired from his contact with the world. +Not even in those volumes which afterwards charmed his +country from end to end, did Gilbert see his brother in so +interesting a light as in those conversations in the bog, +with only two or three noteless peasants for an audience.'</p> + +<p>This is a beautiful picture: the poet enlivening toil +with talk, lighting and illustrating all he said with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">{27}</a></span> +lively imagination; Gilbert listening silently, and a group +of noteless peasants dumb with wonder. No artist has +yet painted this picture of Burns, as his brother saw him, +at his best. Writers have glanced at the scene and +passed it by. It needed to be looked at with naked, +appreciative eyes; they had come with microscopes to +the study of Burns. Far more interesting material +awaited them farther on: <i>The Poet's Welcome</i>, for example! +They could amplify that. Here, too, is the +first hint of Burns's brilliant powers as a talker; a +glimpse on this lonely peat moss of the man who, not +many years afterwards, was to dazzle literary Edinburgh +with the sparkle and force of his graphic speech.</p> + +<p>Probably it was about this time that Burns went for +a summer to a school at Kirkoswald. In his autobiography +he says it was his seventeenth year, and, if so, +it must have been before the family had left Mount +Oliphant. Gilbert's recollection was that the poet +was then in his nineteenth year, which would bring +the incident into the Lochlea period. In the new +edition of Chambers's Burns, William Wallace accepts +Robert's statement as correct; yet we hardly think the +poet would have spent a summer at school at a time +when the family was under the heel of that merciless +factor. Besides, although he speaks of his seventeenth +year, he has just made mention of the fact that he was +in the secret of half the amours of the parish; and it +was in the parish of Tarbolton that we hear of him +acting 'as the second of night-hunting swains.' Probably +also it would be after the family had found comparative +peace and quiet in their new home that it would +occur to Burns to resume his studies in a methodical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">{28}</a></span> +way. The point is a small one. The important thing +is, that in his seventeenth or nineteenth summer he went +to a noted school on a smuggling coast to learn mathematics, +surveying, dialling, etc., in which he made a +pretty good progress. 'But,' he says, 'I made a greater +progress in the knowledge of mankind. The contraband +trade was at this time very successful; scenes of swaggering +riot and roaring dissipation were as yet new to +me, and I was no enemy to social life. Here, though I +learnt to look unconcernedly on a large tavern bill and +mix without fear in a drunken squabble, yet I went on +with a high hand in my geometry.'</p> + +<p>The glimpses we have of Burns during his stay here +are all characteristic of the man. We see a young man +looking out on a world that is new to him; moving in a +society to which he had hitherto been a stranger. His +eyes are opened not only to the knowledge of mankind, +but to a better knowledge of himself. Thirsting for information +and power, we find him walking with Willie Niven, +his companion from Maybole, away from the village to +where they might have peace and quiet, and converse +on subjects calculated to improve their minds. They +sharpen their wits in debate, taking sides on speculative +questions, and arguing the matter to their own satisfaction. +No doubt in these conversations and debates he was +developing that gift of clear reasoning and lucid expression +which afterwards so confounded the literary and +legal luminaries of Edinburgh. They had made a study +of logic, but here was a man from the plough who held +his own with them, discussing questions which in their +opinion demanded a special training. For an uncouth +country ploughman gifted with song they were prepared,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">{29}</a></span> +but they did not expect one who could meet them in +conversation with the fence and foil of a skilled logician. +We may see also his burning desire for distinction in that +scene in school when he led the self-confident schoolmaster +into debate and left him humiliated in the eyes +of the pupils. Even in his contests with John Niven +there was the same eagerness to excel. When he could +not beat him in wrestling or putting the stone, he was +fain to content himself with a display of his superiority in +mental calisthenics. The very fact that a charming +<i>fillette</i> overset his trigonometry, and set him off at a +tangent, is a characteristic ending to this summer of +study. Peggy Thomson in her kail-yard was too much +for the fiery imagination of a poet: 'it was in vain to +think of doing more good at school.'</p> + +<p>Too much stress is not to be laid on Burns's own +mention of 'scenes of swaggering riot and dissipation' +at Kirkoswald. Such things were new to him, and +made a lasting impression on his mind. We know that +he returned home very considerably improved. His +reading was enlarged with the very important addition +of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. He had seen +human nature in a new phasis, and now he engaged in +literary correspondence with several of his schoolfellows.</p> + +<p>It was not long after his return from Kirkoswald that +the Bachelor's Club was founded, and here could Burns +again exercise his debating powers and find play for his +expanding intellect. The members met to forget their +cares in mirth and diversion, 'without transgressing the +bounds of innocent decorum'; and the chief diversion +appears to have been debate.</p> + +<p>If we are to believe Gilbert, the seven years of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">{30}</a></span> +stay in Tarbolton parish were not marked by much +literary improvement in Robert. That may well have +been Gilbert's opinion at the time; for the poet was +working hard on the farm, and often spending an evening +at Tarbolton or at one or other of the neighbouring farms. +But he managed all the same to get through a considerable +amount of reading; and though, perhaps, he did +not devote himself so sedulously to books as he had been +accustomed to do in the seclusion of Mount Oliphant, he +was storing his mind in other ways. His keen observation +was at work, and he was studying what was of more +interest and importance to him than books—'men, their +manners and their ways.' 'I seem to be one sent into +the world,' he remarks in a letter to Mr. Murdoch, 'to +see and observe; and I very easily compound with the +knave who tricks me of my money, if there be anything +original about him, which shows me human nature in a +different light from anything I have seen before.' Partly it +was this passion to see and observe, partly it was another +passion that made him the assisting confidant of most of +the country lads in their amours. 'I had a curiosity, zeal, +and intrepid dexterity in these matters which recommended +me as a proper second in duels of that kind.' +His song, <i>My Nannie, O</i>, which belongs to this period, is +not only true as a lyric of sweet and simple love, but is also +true to the particular style of love-making then in vogue.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night's baith mirk and rainy, O:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' owre the hills to Nannie, O.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>According to Gilbert, the poet himself was constantly +the victim of some fair enslaver, although, being jealous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">{31}</a></span> +of those richer than himself, he was not aspiring in his +loves. But while there was hardly a comely maiden in +Tarbolton to whom he did not address a song, we are not +to imagine that he was frittering his heart away amongst +them all. A poet may sing lyrics of love to many while +his heart is true to one. The one at this time to Robert +Burns was Ellison Begbie, to whom some of his songs +are addressed—notably <i>Mary Morrison</i>, one of the +purest and most beautiful love lyrics ever poet penned. +Nothing is more striking than the immense distance +between this composition and any he had previously +written. In this song he for the first time stepped to +the front rank as a song-writer, and gave proof to himself, +if to nobody else at the time, of the genius that was in +him. A few letters to Ellison Begbie are also preserved, +pure and honourable in sentiment, but somewhat artificial +and formal in expression. It was because of his love +for her, and his desire to be settled in life, that he took to +the unfortunate flax-dressing business in Irvine. That +is something of an unlovely and mysterious episode in +Burns's life. Suffice it to say in his own words: 'This +turned out a sadly unlucky affair. My partner was a +scoundrel of the first water, and, to finish the whole +business, while we were giving a welcome carousal to the +New Year, our shop, by the drunken carelessness of my +partner's wife, took fire and burned to ashes, and I was +left, like a true poet, not worth a sixpence.'</p> + +<p>His stay at Irvine was neither pleasant for him at the +time nor happy in its results. He met there 'acquaintances +of a freer manner of thinking and living than he +had been used to'; and it needs something more than +the family misfortunes and the deathbed of his father to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">{32}</a></span> +account for that terrible fit of hypochondria when he +returned to Lochlea. 'For three months I was in a +diseased state of body and mind, scarcely to be envied +by the hopeless wretches who have just got their sentence, +<i>Depart from me, ye cursed</i>.'</p> + +<p>Up to this time, the twenty-fifth year of his age, Burns +had not written much. Besides <i>Mary Morrison</i> might +be mentioned <i>The Death and Dying Words of Poor +Mailie</i>, and another bewitching song, <i>The Rigs o' Barley</i>, +which is surely an expression of the innocent abandon, +the delicious rapture of pure and trustful love. But +what he had written was work of promise, while at least +one or two of his songs had the artistic finish as well as +the spontaneity of genuine poetry. In all that he had +done, 'puerile and silly,' to quote his own criticism of +<i>Handsome Nell</i>, or at times halting and crude, there was +the ring of sincerity. He was not merely an echo, as too +many polished poetasters in their first attempts have been. +Such jinglers are usually as happy in their juvenile +effusions as in their later efforts. But Burns from the +first tried to express what was in him, what he himself +felt, and in so far had set his feet on the road to perfection. +Being natural, he was bound to improve by practice, +and if there was genius in him to become in time a great +poet. That he was already conscious of his powers we +know, and the longing for fame, 'that last infirmity of noble +mind,' was strong in him and continually growing stronger.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Then out into the world my course I did determine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resolved was I at least to try to mend my situation.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">{33}</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Before this he had thought of more ambitious things +than songs, and had sketched the outlines of a tragedy; +but it was only after meeting with Fergusson's <i>Scotch +Poems</i> that he 'struck his wildly resounding lyre with +rustic vigour.' In his commonplace book, begun in 1783, +we have ever-recurring hints of his devoting himself to +poetry. 'For my own part I never had the least +thought or inclination of turning poet till I got once +heartily in love, and then Rhyme and Song were in a +measure the spontaneous language of my heart.'</p> + +<p>The story of Wallace from the poem by Blind Harry +had years before fired his imagination, and his heart +had glowed with a wish to make a song on that hero in +some measure equal to his merits.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'E'en then, a wish, I mind its power—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wish that to my latest hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall strongly heave my breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sing a sang at least.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This was written afterwards, but it is retrospective of +the years of his dawning ambition.</p> + +<p>For a time, however, all dreams of greatness are to +be set aside as vain. The family had again fallen on +evil days, and when the father died, his all went 'among +the hell-hounds that grovel in the kennel of justice.' +This was no time for poetry, and Robert was too much +of a man to think merely of his own aims and ambitions +in such a crisis. It was only by ranking as creditors to +their father's estate for arrears of wages that the children +of William Burness made a shift to scrape together a +little money, with which Robert and Gilbert were able to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">{34}</a></span> +stock the neighbouring farm of Mossgiel. Thither the +family removed in March 1784; and it is on this farm +that the life of the poet becomes most deeply interesting. +The remains of the father were buried in Alloway Kirkyard; +and on a small tombstone over the grave the poet +bears record to the blameless life of the loving husband, +the tender father, and the friend of man. He had +lived long enough to hear some of his son's poems, and +to express admiration for their beauty; but he had also +noted the passionate nature of his first-born. There +was one of his family, he said on his deathbed, for +whose future he feared; and Robert knew who that one +was. He turned to the window, the tears streaming +down his cheeks.</p> + +<p>Mossgiel, to which the brothers now removed, taking +with them their widowed mother, was a farm of about +one hundred and eighteen acres of cold clayey soil, +close to the village of Mauchline. The farm-house, +having been originally the country house of their landlord, +Mr. Gavin Hamilton, was more commodious and +comfortable than the home they had left. Here the +brothers settled down, determined to do all in their +power to succeed. They made a fresh start in life, +and if hard work and rigid economy could have compelled +success, they might now have looked to the +future with an assurance of comparative prosperity. +Mr. Gavin Hamilton was a kind and generous landlord, +and the rent was only £90 a year; considerably +lower than they had paid at Lochlea.</p> + +<p>But misfortune seemed to pursue this family, and ruin +to wait on their every undertaking. Burns says: 'I +entered on this farm with a full resolution, "Come, go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">{35}</a></span> +to, I will be wise." I read farming books; I calculated +crops; I attended markets; and, in short, in spite of +the devil, the world, and the flesh, I should have been +a wise man; but the first year, from unfortunately +buying in bad seed; the second from a late harvest, we +lost half of both our crops. This overset all my wisdom, +and I returned like the dog to his vomit, and the sow +that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.'</p> + +<p>That this resolution was not just taken in a repentant +mood merely to be forgotten again in a month's time, +Gilbert bears convincing testimony. 'My brother's +allowance and mine was £7 per annum each, and +during the whole time this family concern lasted, which +was four years, as well as during the preceding period +at Lochlea, his expenses never in any one year exceeded +his slender income. His temperance and frugality were +everything that could be wished.'</p> + +<p>Honest, however, as Burns's resolution was, it was +not to be expected that he would—or, indeed, could—give +up the practice of poetry, or cease to indulge in +dreams of after-greatness. Poetry, as he has already +told us, had become the spontaneous expression of his +heart. It was his natural speech. His thoughts +appeared almost to demand poetry as their proper +vehicle of expression, and rhythmed into verse as +inevitably as in chemistry certain solutions solidify +in crystals. Besides this, Burns was conscious of his +abilities. He had measured himself with his fellows, +and knew his superiority. More than likely he had +been measuring himself with the writers he had studied, +and found himself not inferior. The great misfortune +of his life, as he confessed himself, was never to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">{36}</a></span> +an aim. He had felt early some stirrings of ambition, +but they were like gropings of Homer's Cyclops round +the walls of his cave. Now, however, we have come +to a period of his life when he certainly did have an +aim, but necessity compelled him to renounce it as +soon as it was recognised. It was not a question of +ploughing or poetry. There was no alternative. However +insidiously inclination might whisper of poetry, +duty's voice called him to the fields, and that voice he +determined to obey. Reading farming books and +calculating crops is not a likely road to perfection in +poetry. Yet, in spite of all noble resolution, the voice +of Poesy was sweet, and he could not shut his ears to it. +He might sing a song to himself, even though it were +but to cheer him after the labours of the day, and he +sang of love in 'the genuine language of his heart.'</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's nought but care on every hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every hour that passes, O:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What signifies the life o' man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' 'twere na for the lasses, O?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For song must come in spite of him. The caged +lark sings, though its field be but a withered sod, and the +sky above it a square foot of green baize. Nor was his +commonplace book neglected; and in August we come +upon an entry which shows that poetical aspirations were +again possessing him; this time not to be cast forth, +either at the timorous voice of Prudence or the importunate +bidding of Poverty. Burns has calmly and +critically taken stock—so to speak—of his literary +aptitudes and abilities, and recognised his fitness for a +place in the ranks of Scotland's poets. 'However I am +pleased with the works of our Scotch poets, particularly +the excellent Ramsay, and the still more excellent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">{37}</a></span> +Fergusson, yet I am hurt to see other places of +Scotland, their towns, rivers, woods, haughs, etc., immortalised +in such celebrated performances, whilst my +dear native country, the ancient Bailieries of Carrick, +Kyle, and Cunningham, famous both in ancient and +modern times for a gallant and warlike race of inhabitants; +a country where civil and particularly religious +liberty have ever found their first support and their +last asylum, a country the birthplace of many famous +philosophers, soldiers, and statesmen, and the scene of +many important events in Scottish history, particularly a +great many of the actions of the glorious Wallace, the +saviour of his country; yet we have never had one +Scottish poet of any eminence to make the fertile banks +of Irvine, the romantic woodlands and sequestered +scenes of Aire, and the heathy mountainous source and +winding sweep of Doon, emulate Tay, Forth, Ettrick, +Tweed, etc. This is a complaint I would gladly remedy; +but, alas! I am far unequal to the task, both in native +genius and education. Obscure I am, and obscure I +must be, though no young poet nor young soldier's +heart ever beat more fondly for fame than mine.' The +same thoughts and aspirations are echoed later in his +<i>Epistle to William Simpson</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Ramsay and famous Fergusson<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gied Forth and Tay a lift aboon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yarrow and Tweed, to mony a tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Owre Scotland rings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Naebody sings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> . . . . . .<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll gar our streams and burnies shine<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Up wi' the best!'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">{38}</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The dread of obscurity spoken of here was almost a +weakness with Burns. We hear it like an ever-recurring +wail in his poems and letters. In the very next entry +in his commonplace book, after praising the old bards, +and drawing a parallel between their sources of inspiration +and his own, he shudders to think that his fate may be +such as theirs. 'Oh mortifying to a bard's vanity, their +very names are buried in the wreck of things that were!'</p> + +<p>Close on the heels of these entries came troubles on +the head of the luckless poet, troubles more serious +than bad seed and late harvests. During the summer +of 1784, we know that he was in bad health, and again +subject to melancholy. His verses at this time are of a +religious cast, serious and sombre, the confession of +fault, and the cry of repentance.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Thou know'st that Thou hast formèd me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With passions wild and strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listening to their witching voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has often led me wrong.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Perhaps this is only the prelude to his verses to +Rankine, written towards the close of the year, and his +poem, <i>A Poet's Welcome</i>. They must at least be all +read together, if we are to have any clear conception of +the nature of Burns. It is not enough to select his +<i>Epistle to Rankine</i>, and speak of its unbecoming levity. +This was the time when Burns was first subjected to +ecclesiastical discipline; and some of his biographers +have tried to trace the origin of that wonderful series of +satires, written shortly afterwards, to the vengeful feelings +engendered in the poet by this degradation. But Burns's +attack on the effete and corrupt ceremonials of the +Church was not a burst of personal rancour and bitterness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> +The attack came of something far deeper and +nobler, and was bound to be delivered sooner or later. +His own personal experience, and the experience of his +worthy landlord, Gavin Hamilton, may have given the +occasion, but the cause of the attack was in the Church +itself, and in Burns's inborn loathing of humbug, hypocrisy, +and cant.</p> + +<p>Well was it the satires were written by so powerful a +satirist, that the Church purged itself of the evil thing +and cleansed its ways. This, however, is an episode of +such importance in the life of Burns, and in the religious +history of Scotland, as to require to be taken up carefully +and considered by itself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">{40}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE SERIES OF SATIRES</span></h2> + + +<p>Before we can clearly see and understand Burns's +attitude to the Church, we must have studied the nature +of the man himself, and we must know something also of +his religious training. It will not be enough to select +his series of satires, and, from a study of them alone, +try to make out the character of the man. His previous +life must be known; the natural bent of his mind apprehended, +and once that is grasped, these satires will +appeal to the heart and understanding of the reader +with a sense of naturalness and expectedness. They are +as inevitable as his love lyrics, and are read with the +conviction that his merciless exposure of profanity masquerading +in the habiliments of religion, was part of the +life-work and mission of this great poet. He had been +born, it is recognised, not only to sing the loves and joys +and sorrows of his fellow men and women, but to purge +their lives of grossness, and their religion of the filth of +hypocrisy and cant. Let it be admitted, that he himself +went 'a kennin wrang.' What argument is there? We +do not deny the divine mission of Samson because of +Delilah. Surely that giant's life was a wasted one, yet +in his very death he was true to his mission, and fulfilled +the purpose of his birth. In other lands and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">{41}</a></span> +other times the satirist is recognised and his work appraised; +the abuses he scourged, the pretensions he +ridiculed, are seen in all their hideousness; but when a +great satirist arises amongst ourselves to probe the ulcers +of pharisaism, he is banned as a profaner of holy things, +touching with impious hands the ark of the covenant. +Why should the <i>cloth</i>—as it is so ingenuously called—be +touched with delicate hands, unless it be that it is +shoddy? Yet the man who would stand well in the +eyes of society must not whisper a word against pharisaism; +for the Pharisee is a highly respectable person, and +observes the proprieties; he typifies the conventional +righteousness and religion of his time.</p> + +<p>Let us have done with all this timidity and coward +tenderness. If the Church is filthy, it must be cleansed; +if there be money-changers within its gates, let them be +driven out with a whip of small cords. This awe of the +<i>cloth</i>, not yet stamped out in Scotland, is but the remains +of a pagan superstition, and has nothing to do with +the manliness and courage of true religion. But prophets +have no honour in their own country, rarely in +their own time; they have ever been persecuted, and it +is the Church's martyrs that have handed down through +the ages the light of the world.</p> + +<p>The profanities and religious blasphemies Burns attacked +were evils insidious and poisonous, eating to the +very heart of the religious life of the country, and they +required a desperate remedy. Let us be thankful that +the remedy was applied in time; and, looking to the +righteousness he wrought, let us bless the name of +Burns.</p> + +<p>Burns's father, stern and severe moralist as he was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">{42}</a></span> +was not a strict Calvinist. Anyone who takes the +trouble to read 'The Manual of Religious Belief in a +Dialogue between Father and Son, compiled by William +Burness, Farmer, Mount Oliphant, and transcribed with +Grammatical Corrections by John Murdoch, Teacher,' +will see that the man was of too loving and kindly a +nature to be strictly orthodox. What was rigid and +unlovely to him in the Calvinism of the Scottish Church +of that day has been here softened down into something +not very far from Arminianism. He had had a +hard experience in the world himself, and that may have +drawn him nearer to his suffering fellow-men and into +closer communion with his God. He had learned that +religion is a thing of the spirit, and not a matter of +creeds and catechisms. Of Robert Burns's own religion +it would be impertinent to inquire too curiously. The +religion of a man is not to be paraded before the public +like the manifesto of a party politician. After all, is +there a single man who can sincerely, without equivocation +or mental reservation, label himself Calvinist, +Arminian, Socinian, or Pelagian? If there be, his +mind must be a marvel of mathematical nicety and +nothing more. All that we need know of Burns is +that he was naturally and sincerely religious; that he +worshipped an all-loving Father, and believed in an +ever-present God; that his charity was boundless; that +he loved what was good and true, and hated with an +indignant hatred whatever was loathsome and false. +He loved greatly his fellow-creatures, man and beast +and flower; he could even find something to pity in +the fate of the devil himself. That he was not orthodox, +in the narrow interpretation of orthodoxy in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">{43}</a></span> +day, we are well enough aware, else had he not been +the poet we love and cherish.</p> + +<p>In his early days at Mount Oliphant there is a hint +of these later satires. 'Polemical divinity about this +time was,' he says, 'putting the country half-mad, and +I, ambitious of shining on Sundays, between sermons, +in conversation parties, at funerals, etc., in a few years +more, used to puzzle Calvinism with so much heat and +indiscretion that I raised a hue and cry of heresy against +me, which has not ceased to this hour.' And heresy is a +terrible cry to raise against a man in Scotland. In +those days it was Anathema-maranatha; even now it is +still the war-slogan of the Assemblies.</p> + +<p>The polemical divinity which he refers to as putting +the country half-mad was the wordy war that was being +carried on at that time between the Auld Lights and the +New Lights. These New Lights, as they were called, +were but a birth of the social and religious upheaval that +was going on in Scotland and elsewhere. The spirit of +revolution was abroad; in France it became acutely +political; in Scotland there was a desire for greater +religious freedom. The Church, as reformed by Knox, +was requiring to be re-reformed. The yoke of papacy +had been lifted certainly, but the yoke of pseudo-Protestantism +which had taken its place was quite as +heavy on the necks of the people. So long as it had +been new; so long as it had been of their own choosing, +it had been endured willingly. But a generation was +springing up—stiff-necked they might have been called, +in that they fretted under the yoke of their fathers—that +sought to be delivered from the tyranny of their +pastors and the fossilised formalism of their creed. To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">{44}</a></span> +the people in their bondage a prophet was born, and +that prophet was Robert Burns.</p> + +<p>It was natural that a man of Burns's temperament and +clearness of perception should be on the side of the +'common-sense' party. In one of his letters to Mr. +James Burness, Montrose, wherein he describes the +strange doings of a strange sect called the Buchanites,—surely +in itself a convincing proof of the degeneracy of +the times in the matter of religion,—we have an interesting +reflection which gives us some insight into the +poet's mind. 'This, my dear Sir, is one of the many +instances of the folly in leaving the guidance of sound +reason and common sense in matters of religion. Whenever +we neglect or despise those sacred monitors, the +whimsical notions of a perturbed brain are taken for the +immediate influences of the Deity, and the wildest +fanaticism and the most inconsistent absurdities will +meet with abettors and converts. Nay, I have often +thought that the more out of the way and ridiculous +their fancies are, if once they are sanctified under the +name of religion, the unhappy, mistaken votaries are the +more firmly glued to them.'</p> + +<p>The man who wrote that was certainly not the man, +when the day of battle came, to join himself with the +orthodox party, the party that stuck to the pure, undiluted +Puritanism of Covenanting times. Yet many +biographers have not seen the bearing that such a letter +has on Burns's attitude to the Church. Principal Shairp +seems to say that Burns, had it not been for the accident +of ecclesiastical discipline to which he had been +subjected, would have joined the orthodox party. The +notion is absurd. Burns had attacked orthodox Calvinism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">{45}</a></span> +even in his boyhood, and was already tainted +with heresy. 'These men,' the worthy Principal informs +us, 'were democratic in their ecclesiastical views, and +stout protesters against patronage. All Burns's instincts +would naturally have been on the side of those who +wished to resist patronage and "cowe the lairds" had +not this, his natural tendency, been counteracted by a +stronger bias drawing him in an opposite direction.' +This is a narrowing—if not even a positive misconception—of +the case with a vengeance. The question was +not of patronage at all, but of moral and religious +freedom; while the democracy of those ministers was +a terribly one-sided democracy. The lairds may have +dubbed them democrats, but they were aristocratic +enough, despotic even, to their herds. But Principal +Shairp has been led altogether wrong by imagining that +'Burns, smarting under the strict church discipline, +naturally threw himself into the arms of the opposite +or New Light party, who were more easy in their life +and in their doctrine.' More charitable also, and Christ-like +in their judgments, I should fain hope; less blinded +by a superstitious awe of the Church. 'Nothing could +have been more unfortunate,' he continues, 'than that +in this crisis of his career he should have fallen into +intimacy with those hard-headed but coarse-minded +men.' Surely this zeal for the Church has carried him +too far. Were these men all coarse minded? Nobody +believes it. The coarse-minded Dr. Dalrymple of Ayr, +and the coarse-minded Mr. Lawrie of Loudon! This is +not argument. Besides, it is perfectly gratuitous. The +question, again, is not one of men—that ecclesiastical +discipline has been an offence and a stumbling-block—either<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> +coarse minded or otherwise. It is a question of principle, +and Burns fought for it with keen-edged weapons.</p> + +<p>It would be altogether a mistake to identify Burns +with the New Light party, or with any other sect. He +was a law unto himself in religion, and would bind himself +by no creed. Because he attacked rigid orthodoxy +as upheld by Auld Light doctrine, that does not at all +mean that he was espousing, through thick and thin, the +cause of the New Light party. He fought in his own +name, with his own weapons, and for humanity. It +ought to be clearly understood that in his series of +satires he was not attacking the orthodoxy of the Auld +Lights from the bulwarks of any other creed. His +criticism was altogether destructive. From his own +conception of a wise and loving God he satirised what +he conceived to be their irrational and inhuman conception +of Deity, whose attitude towards mankind was +assuredly not that of a father to his children. Burns's +God was a God of love; the god they worshipped was +the creation of their creed, a god of election. It is +quite true that Burns made many friends amongst the +New Lights, but we are certain he did not hold by all +their tenets or subscribe to their doctrine. In the +<i>Dictionary of National Biography</i> we read: 'Burns +represented the revolt of a virile and imaginative +nature against a system of belief and practice which, +as he judged, had degenerated into mere bigotry and +pharisaism.... That Burns, like Carlyle, who at once +retained the sentiment and rejected the creed of his race +more decidedly than Burns, could sympathise with the +higher religious sentiments of his class is proved by <i>The +Cotter's Saturday Night</i>.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">{47}</a></span></p> + +<p>Principal Shairp, however, has not seen the matter in +this broad light. All he sees is a man of keen insight +and vigorous powers of reasoning, who 'has not only his +own quarrel with the parish minister and the stricter +clergy to revenge, but the quarrel also of his friend and +landlord, Gavin Hamilton, a county lawyer who had +fallen under church censure for neglect of church ordinances,'—a +question of new potatoes in fact,—'and had +been debarred from the communion.'</p> + +<p>It is pleasing to see that the academic spirit is not +always so blinding and blighting. Professor Blackie +recognises that the abuses Burns castigated were real +abuses, and admits that the verdict of time has been in +his favour. 'In the case of <i>Holy Willie</i> and <i>The Holy +Fair</i>,' he remarks, 'the lash was wisely and effectively +wielded'; and on another occasion he wrote, 'Though +a sensitive pious mind will naturally shrink from the +bold exposure of devout abuses in holy things, in <i>The +Holy Fair</i> and other similar satires, on a broad view of +the matter we cannot but think that the castigation was +reasonable, and the man who did it showed an amount +of independence, frankness, and moral courage that +amply compensates for the rudeness of the assault.'</p> + +<p>Rude, the assault certainly was and overwhelming. +Augean stables are not to be cleansed with a spray of +rose-water.</p> + +<p>Lockhart, whilst recognising the force and keenness +of these satires, has regretfully pointed out that the very +things Burns satirised were part of the same religious +system which produced the scenes described in <i>The +Cotter's Saturday Night</i>. But is this not really the +explanation of the whole matter? It was just because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">{48}</a></span> +Burns had seen the beauty of true religion at home, that +he was fired to fight to the death what was false and +rotten. It was the cause of true religion that he +espoused.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'All hail religion! Maid divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon a muse so mean as mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in her rough imperfect line<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus dares to name thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stigmatise false friends of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can ne'er defame thee.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Compare the reading of the sacred page, when the +family is gathered round the ingle, and 'the sire turns +o'er with patriarchal grace the big ha'-bible' and 'wales +a portion with judicious care,' with the reading of +<i>Peebles frae the Water fit</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'See, up he's got the word o' God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meek and mim has viewed it.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>What a contrast! The two readings are as far apart +as is heaven from hell, as far as the true from the +false. It is strange that both Lockhart and Shairp +should have stumbled on the explanation of Burns's +righteous satire in these poems; should have been so +near it, and yet have missed it. It was just because +Burns could write <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i> that he +could write <i>The Holy Tulzie</i>, <i>Holy Willie's Prayer</i>, <i>The +Ordination</i>, and <i>The Holy Fair</i>. Had he not felt the +beauty of that family worship at home; had he not seen +the purity and holiness of true religion, how could such +scenes as those described in <i>The Holy Fair</i>, or such +hypocrisy as Holy Willie's, ever have moved him to +scathing satire? Where was the poet's indignation to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">{49}</a></span> +come from? That is not to be got by tricks of rhyme +or manufactured by rules of metre; but let it be alive +and burning in the heart of the poet, and all else will +be added unto him for the perfect poem, as it was to +Burns. That Burns, though he wrote in humorous +satire, was moved to the writing by indignation, he tells +us in his epistle to the Rev. John M'Math—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'But I gae mad at their grimaces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sighin', cantin', grace-prood faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Their raxin' conscience,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whase greed, revenge, and pride disgraces<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Waur nor their nonsense.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The first of Burns's satires, if we except his epistle to +John Goudie, wherein we have a hint of the acute differences +of the time, is his poem <i>The Twa Herds</i>, or +<i>The Holy Tulzie</i>. The two herds were the Rev. John +Russell and the Rev. Alexander Moodie, both afterwards +mentioned in <i>The Holy Fair</i>. These reverend gentlemen, +so long sworn friends, bound by a common bond +of enmity against a certain New Light minister of the +name of Lindsay, 'had a bitter black outcast,' and, in +the words of Lockhart, 'abused each other <i>coram populo</i> +with a fiery virulence of personal invective such as has +long been banished from all popular assemblies.' This +degrading spectacle of two priests ordained to preach +the gospel of love, attacking each other with all the +rancour of malice and uncharitableness, and foaming +with the passion of a pothouse, was too flagrant an +occasion for satire for Burns to miss. He held them +up to ridicule in <i>The Holy Tulzie</i>, and showed them +themselves as others saw them. It has been objected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">{50}</a></span> +by some that Burns made use of humorous satire; did +not censure with the fiery fervour of a righteous indignation. +Burns used the weapon he could handle best; +and a powerful weapon it is in the hands of a master. +We acknowledge Horace's satires to be scathing enough, +though they are light and delicate, almost trifling and +flippant at times. He has not the volcanic utterance of +Juvenal, but I doubt not his castigations were quite as +effective. 'Quamquam ridentem dicere verum quid +vetat?' Burns might have well replied to his censors +with the same question. Quick on the heels of this +poem came <i>Holy Willie's Prayer</i>, wherein he took up +the cudgels for his friend, Mr. Gavin Hamilton, and +fought for him in his own enthusiastic way. The satire +here is so scathing and scarifying that we can only read +and wonder, shuddering the while for the wretched +creature so pitilessly flayed. Not a word is wasted; +not a line without weight. The character of the self-righteous, +sensual, spiteful Pharisee is a merciless exposure, +and, hardest of all, the picture is convincing. +For Burns believed in his own mind that these men, +Holy Willie and the crew he typified, were thoroughly +dishonest. They were not in his judgment—and Burns +had keen insight—mere bigots dehumanised by their +creed, but a pack of scheming, calculating scoundrels.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'They take religion in their mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They talk o' mercy, grace, and truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what? to gie their malice skouth<br /></span> +<span class="i8">On some puir wight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hunt him down, o'er right and ruth<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To ruin straight.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But it must be noted in <i>Holy Willie</i> that the poet is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">{51}</a></span> +not letting himself out in a burst of personal spleen. +He is again girding at the rigidity of a lopped and +maimed Calvinism, and attacking the creed through the +man. The poem is a living presentment of the undiluted, +puritanic doctrine of the Auld Light party, to whom +Calvinism meant only a belief in hell and an assurance +of their own election. It is evident that Burns was not +sound on either essential. <i>The Address to the Unco +Guid</i> is a natural sequel to this poem, and, in a sense, +its culmination. There is the same strength of satire, +but now it is more delicate and the language more +dignified. There is the same condemnation of pharisaism; +but the poem rises to a higher level in its appeal +for charitable views of human frailty, and its kindly +counsel to silence; judgment is to be left to Him who</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Knows each cord, its various tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each spring its various bias.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Of all the series of satires, however, <i>The Holy Fair</i> is +the most remarkable. It is in a sense a summing up of +all the others that preceded it. The picture it gives of +the mixed and motley multitude fairing in the churchyard +at Mauchline, with a relay of ministerial mountebanks +catering for their excitement, is true to the life. +It is begging the question to deplore that Burns was +provoked to such an attack. The scene was provocation +sufficient to any right-thinking man who associated the +name of religion with all that was good and beautiful +and true. Such a state of things demanded reformation. +The churchyard—that holy ground on which the church +was built and sanctified by the dust of pious and saintly +men—cried aloud against the desecration to which it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">{52}</a></span> +was subjected; and Burns, who alone had the power to +purify it from such profanities, would have been untrue +to himself and a traitor to the religion of his country +had he merely shrugged his shoulders and allowed things +to go on as they were going. And after all what was the +result? For the poem is part and parcel of the end it +achieved. 'There is a general feeling in Ayrshire,' says +Chambers, 'that <i>The Holy Fair</i> was attended with a good +effect; for since its appearance the custom of resorting +to the occasion in neighbouring parishes for the sake of +holiday-making has been much abated and a great increase +of decorous observance has taken place.' To that +nothing more need be added.</p> + +<p>In this series of satires <i>The Address to the Deil</i> ought +also to be included. Burns had no belief at all in that +Frankenstein creation. It was too bad, he thought, to +invent such a monster for the express purpose of imputing +to him all the wickedness of the world. If such +a creature existed, he was rather sorry for the maligned +character, and inclined to think that there might be +mercy even for him.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I'm wae to think upon yon den,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Even for your sake.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Speaking of this address, Auguste Angellier says: 'All +at once in their homely speech they heard the devil +addressed not only without awe, but with a spice of +good-fellowship and friendly familiarity. They had +never heard the devil spoken of in this tone before. It +was a charming address, jocund, full of raillery and good-humour, +with a dash of friendliness, as if the two speakers +had been cronies and companions ready to jog along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">{53}</a></span> +arm in arm to the nether regions. He simply laughs +Satan out of countenance, turns him to ridicule, pokes +his fun at him, scolds and defies him just as he might +have treated a person from whom he had nothing to +fear. Nor is that all. He must admonish him, tell him +he has been naughty long enough, and wind up by +giving him some good advice, counselling him to mend +his ways. This was certainly without theological precedent. +It was, however, a simple idea which would +have arranged matters splendidly.... Even to-day to +speak well of the devil is an abomination almost as +serious as to speak evil of the Deity. There was +assuredly a great fortitude of mind as well as daring of +conduct to write such a piece as this.'</p> + +<p>The poem has done more than anything else to kill +the devil of superstition in Scotland. After his death +he found, it is averred, a quiet resting-place in Kirkcaldy, +where pious people have built a church on his grave.</p> + +<p>When Burns later in life made the witches and warlocks +dance to the piping of the devil in Alloway's auld +haunted kirk, he was but assembling them in their fit +and proper house of meeting. Here had they been +called into being; here had they the still-born children +of superstition been thrashed into life and trained in +unholiness. One can imagine them oozing out from the +walls that had echoed their names so often through +centuries of Sabbath days. The devil himself, by virtue +of his rank, takes his place in the east, rising we have no +doubt from the very spot on which the pulpit once had +stood. In the church had superstition exorcised this +hellish legion out of the dead mass of ignorance into the +swarming maggots that batten on corruption; and it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">{54}</a></span> +in accordance with the eternal fitness of things that here +their spirits should abide, and, when they took bodily +shape, that they should assume the form and feature in +which their mother Superstition had conceived them.</p> + +<p>Upon the holy table too lay 'twa span-lang wee unchristened +bairns.' For this hell the poet pictures is the +creation of a creed that throngs it with the souls of +innocent babes. 'Suffer little children to come unto +me,' Christ had said; 'for of such is the kingdom of +heaven.' 'But unbaptized children must come unto +me,' the devil of superstition said; 'for of such is the +kingdom of hell.'</p> + +<p>What pathos is in this line of Burns! There is in its +slow spondaic movement an eternity of tears. Could +satire or sermon have shown more forcibly the revolting +inhumanity of a doctrine upheld as divine? Yet were +there devout men, in other things gentle and loving and +charitable, who preached this as the law of a loving God. +With one stroke of genius they were brought face to face +with the logical sequence of their barbarous teaching, +and that without a word of coarseness or a touch of +caricature.</p> + +<p>Only once again did Burns return to this attack on +bigotry and superstition, and that was when he was induced +to fight for Dr. Macgill in <i>The Kirk's Alarm</i>. +But he had done his part in the series of satires of this +year to expose the loathsomeness of hypocrisy and to +purge holy places and the most solemn ceremonies of +what was blasphemous and grossly profane. That in +this Burns was fulfilling a part of his mission as a poet, +we can hardly doubt; and that his work wrought for +righteousness, the purer religious life that followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">{55}</a></span> +amply proves. The true poet is also a prophet; and +Robert Burns was a prophet when he spoke forth boldly +and fearlessly the truth that was in him, and dared to +say that sensuality was foul even in an elder of the kirk, +and that profanities were abhorred of God even though +sanctioned and sanctified under the sacred name of +religion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">{56}</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE KILMARNOCK EDITION</span></h2> + + +<p><i>The Holy Tulzie</i> had been written probably in April +1785, and the greatest of the satires, <i>The Holy Fair</i>, is +dated August of the same year. It may, however, have +been only drafted, and partly written, when the recent +celebration of the sacrament at Mauchline was fresh in +the poet's mind. At the very latest, it must have been +taken up, completed, and perfected, in the early months +of 1786. That is a period of some ten months between +the first and the last of this series of satires; and during +that time he had composed <i>Holy Willie's Prayer</i>, <i>The +Address to the Deil</i>, <i>The Ordination</i>, and <i>The Address to +the Unco Guid</i>. But this represents a very small part of +the poetry written by Burns during this busy period. +From the spring of 1785 on to the autumn of 1786 was +a time of great productiveness in his life, a productiveness +unparalleled in the life of any other poet. If, according +to Gilbert, the seven years of their stay at Lochlea were +not marked by much literary improvement in his brother, +we take it that the poet had been 'lying fallow' all those +years; and what a rich harvest do we have now! Here, +indeed, was a reward worth waiting for. To read over +the names of the poems, songs, and epistles written +within such a short space of time amazes us. And there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">{57}</a></span> +is hardly a poem in the whole collection without a claim +to literary excellence. A month or two previous to the +composition of his first satire he had written what Gilbert +calls his first poem, <i>The Epistle to Davie</i>, 'a brother poet, +lover, ploughman, and fiddler.' It is worthy of notice +that, in the opening lines of this poem—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'While winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bar the doors wi' driving snaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hing us ower the ingle'—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>we see the poet and his surroundings, as he sets himself +down to write. He plunges, as Horace advises, in <i>medias +res</i>, and we have the atmosphere of the poem in the first +phrase. This is Burns's usual way of beginning his +poems and epistles, as well as a great many of his songs. +The metre of this poem Burns has evidently taken from +<i>The Cherry and the Slae</i>, by Alexander Montgomery, +which he must have read in Ramsay's <i>Evergreen</i>. The +stanza is rather complicated, although Burns, with his +extraordinary command and pliancy of language, uses it +from the first with masterly ease. But there is much +more than mere jugglery of words in the poem. Indeed, +such is this poet's seeming simplicity of speech that his +masterly manipulation of metres always comes as an +afterthought. It never disturbs us in our first reading +of the poem. Gilbert's opinion of this poem is worth +recording, the more especially as he expressly tells us +that the first idea of Robert's becoming an author was +started on this occasion. 'I thought it,' he says, 'at +least equal to, if not superior, to many of Allan Ramsay's +epistles, and that the merit of these and much other +Scottish poetry seemed to consist principally in the knack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">{58}</a></span> +of the expression; but here there was a strain of interesting +sentiment, and the Scotticism of the language scarcely +seemed affected, but appeared to be the natural language +of the poet.' It startles us to hear Gilbert talking thus +of the Scotticism, after having heard so much of Robert +Burns writing naturally in the speech of his home and +county. In this poem we have, at least, the first proof +of that graphic power in which Burns has never been +excelled, and in it we have the earliest mention of his +Bonnie Jean. In his next poem, <i>Death and Dr. +Hornbook</i>, his command of language and artistic phrasing +are more apparent, while pawky humour and genial satire +sparkle and flash from every line. The poem is written +in that form of verse which Burns has made particularly +his own. He had become acquainted with it, it is most +likely, in the writings of Fergusson, Ramsay, and Gilbertfield, +who had used it chiefly for comic subjects; but +Burns showed that, in his hands at least, it could be made +the vehicle of the most pensive and tender feeling. In +an interesting note to the <i>Centenary Burns</i>, edited by +Henley and Henderson, it is pointed out that 'the six-line +stave in rime couée built on two rhymes,' was used +by the Troubadours in their <i>Chansons de Gestes</i>, and that +it dates at the very latest from the eleventh century. +Burns's happiest use of it was in those epistles which +about this time he began to dash off to some of his friends; +and it is with these epistles that the uninterrupted stream +of poetry of this season may be said properly to begin. +Perhaps it was in the use of this stanza that Burns first +discovered his command of rhymes and his felicity of +phrasing. Certain it is, that after his first epistle to +Lapraik, we have epistles, poems, songs, satires flowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">{59}</a></span> +from his pen, uninterrupted for a period, and apparently +with marvellous ease. It has to be remembered, too, +that he was now inspired by the dream of becoming an +author—in print. When or where or how, had not been +determined; but the idea was delightful all the same; the +hope was inspiration itself. Some day his work would +be published, and he would be read and talked about! +He would have done something for poor auld Scotland's +sake. The one thing now was to make the book, and to +that he set himself deliberately. Poetry was at last to +have its chance. Farming had been tried, with little +success. The crops of 1784 had been a failure, and this +year they were hardly more promising. In these discouraging +circumstances the poet was naturally driven in +upon himself. His eyes were turned <i>ad intra</i>, and he +sought consolation in his Muse. He was conscious of +some poetical ability, and he knew that his compositions +were not destitute of merit. Poetry, too, was to him, and +particularly so at this time, its own exceeding great reward. +He rhymed 'for fun'; and probably he was finding in +the exercise that excitement his passionate nature craved. +Herein was his stimulant after the routine of farm-work—spiritless +work that was little better than slavery, incessant +and achieving nothing. We can imagine him in +those days returning from the fields, 'forjesket, sair, with +weary legs,' and becoming buoyant as soon as he has +opened the drawer of that small deal table in the garret.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Leeze me on rhyme! it's aye a treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My chief, amaist, my only pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At hame, afield, at wark or leisure,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The Muse, poor hizzie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though rough and raploch be her measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">She's seldom lazy.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">{60}</a></span></div></div> + +<p>But, lazy or not, she becomes 'ramfeezled' with constant +work, when he vows if 'the thowless jad winna mak +it clink,' to prose it,—a terrible threat. For he must +write, though it be but to keep despondency at arm's +length. Yet it had become more than a pleasure and a +recreation to him; and this he was beginning to understand. +This, after all, was his real work, not the drudgery +of the fields; in it he must live his life, and fulfil his +mission. The more he wrote the more he accustomed +himself with the idea of being an author. He knew that +the critic-folk, deep read in books, might scoff at the very +suggestion of a ploughman turning poet, but he recognised +also that they might be wrong. It was not by dint +of Greek that Parnassus was to be climbed. 'Ae spark +o' Nature's fire' was the one thing needful for poetry that +was to touch the heart.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The star that rules my luckless lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has fated me the russet coat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And damned my fortune to the groat;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But, in requit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has blest me with a random shot<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O' countra wit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This while my notion's ta'en a sklent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To try my fate in guid, black prent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the mair I'm that way bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Something cries, "Hoolie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I red you, honest man, tak tent!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ye'll shaw your folly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There's ither poets, much your betters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hae thought they had ensured their debtors,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A' future ages;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now moths deform in shapeless tatters<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Their unknown pages."'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">{61}</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The works of such scholars enjoyed of the moths! There +is gentle satire here. They themselves had grubbed on +Greek, and now is Time avenged.</p> + +<p>It is in his epistles that we see Burns most vividly +and clearly, the man in all his moods. They are just +such letters as might be written to intimate friends +when one is not afraid of being himself, and can speak +freely. In sentiment they are candid and sincere, and +in language transparently unaffected. Whatever occurs +to him as he writes goes down; we have the thoughts +of his heart at the time of writing, and see the varying +expressions of his face as he passes from grave to gay, +from lively to severe. Now he is tender, now indignant; +now rattling along in good-natured raillery without +broadening into burlesque; now becoming serious and +pensively philosophic without a suggestion of mawkish +morality. For Burns, when he is himself, is always an +artist; says his say, and lets the moral take care of +itself; and in his epistles he lets himself go in a very +revelry of artistic abandon. He does not think of +style—that fetich of barren minds—and style comes to +him; for style is a coquette that flies the suppliant +wooer to kiss the feet of him who worships a goddess; +a submissive handmaiden, a wayward and moody +mistress. But along with delicacy of diction, force and +felicity of expression, pregnancy of phrase and pliancy +of language, what knowledge there is of men—the +passions that sway, the impulses that prompt, the +motives that move them to action. Clearness of +vision and accuracy of observation are evidenced in +their vividness of imagery; naturalness and truthfulness—the +first essential of all good writing—in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">{62}</a></span> +convincing sincerity of sentiment. Wit and humour, +play and sparkle of fancy, satire genial or scathing, a +boundless love of nature and all created things, are +harmoniously unified in the glowing imagination of +the poet, and welded into the perfect poem. Behind +all is the personality of the writer, captivating the +reader as much by his kindliness and sympathy as by +his witchery of words. Others have attempted poetic +epistles, but none has touched familiar intercourse to +such fine issues; none has written with such natural +grace or woven the warp and woof of word and sentiment +so cunningly into the web of poetry as Robert +Burns. Looseness of rhythm may be detected, excruciating +rhymes are not awanting, but all are forgiven and +forgotten in the enjoyment of the feast as a whole.</p> + +<p>Besides the satires and epistles we have during this +fertile period poems as different in subject, sentiment, +and treatment as <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i> and +<i>The Jolly Beggars</i>; <i>Hallowe'en</i> and <i>The Mountain +Daisy</i>; <i>The Farmer's Address to his Auld Mare Maggie</i> +and <i>The Twa Dogs</i>; <i>Address to a Mouse</i>, <i>Man was +made to Mourn</i>, <i>The Vision</i>, <i>A Winter's Night</i>, and <i>The +Epistle to a Young Friend</i>. Perhaps of all these poems +<i>The Vision</i> is the most important. It is an epoch-marking +poem in the poet's life. All that he had +previously written had been leading to this; the finer +the poem the more surely was it bringing him to this +composition. The time was bound to come when he +had to settle for himself finally and firmly what his +work in life was to be. Was poetry to be merely a pastime; +a recreation after the labours of the day were done; a +solace when harvests failed and ruin stared the family<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">{63}</a></span> +in the face? That question Burns answered when he +sat down by the ingle-cheek, and, looking backward, +mused on the years of youth that had been spent 'in +stringing blethers up in rhyme for fools to sing.' He +saw what he might have been; he knew too well what +he was—'half-mad, half-fed, half-sarket.' Yet the +picture of what he might have been he dismissed +lightly, almost disdainfully; for he saw what he might +be yet—what he should be. Turning from the toilsome +past and the unpromising present, he looked to the +future with a manly assurance of better things. He +should shine in his humble sphere, a rustic bard; +his to</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Preserve the dignity of Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With soul erect;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trust, the Universal Plan<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Will all protect.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The poem is pitched on a high key; the keynote is +struck in the opening lines, and the verses move to +the end with stateliness and dignity. It is calm, contemplative, +with that artistic restraint that comes of +conscious power. Burns took himself seriously, and +knew that if he were true to his genius he would become +the poet and prophet of his fellow-men.</p> + +<p>It is worth while dwelling a little on this particular +poem, because it marks a crisis in Burns's life. At +this point he shook himself free from the tyranny of the +soil. He had considered all things, and his resolution +for authorship was taken. Some of the other poems will +be mentioned afterwards; meantime we have to consider +another crisis in his life—some aspects of his nature less +pleasing, some episodes in his career dark and unlovely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">{64}</a></span></p> + +<p>Speaking of the effect <i>Holy Willie's Prayer</i> had on +the kirk-session, he says that they actually held three +meetings to see if their holy artillery could be pointed +against profane rhymers. 'Unluckily for me,' he adds, +'my idle wanderings led me on another side, point-blank +within reach of their heaviest metal. This is the +unfortunate story alluded to in my printed poem <i>The +Lament</i>. 'Twas a shocking affair, which I cannot yet +bear to recollect, and it had very nearly given me one +or two of the principal qualifications for a place with +those who have lost the chart and mistaken the reckoning +of rationality.'</p> + +<p>Throughout the year 1785 Burns had been acquainted +with Jean Armour, the daughter of a master mason in +Mauchline. Her name, besides being mentioned in +his <i>Epistle to Davie</i>, is mentioned in <i>The Vision</i>, and +we know from a verse on the six belles of Mauchline +that 'Armour was the jewel o' them a'.' From the +depressing cares and anxieties of that gloomy season +the poet had turned to seek solace in song, but he had +also found comfort and consolation in love.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'When heart-corroding care and grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deprive my soul of rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dear idea brings relief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And solace to my breast.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now in the spring of 1786 Burns as a man of honour +must acknowledge Jean as his wife. The lovers had imprudently +anticipated the Church's sanction to marriage, +and it was his duty, speaking in the homely phrase of +the Scottish peasantry, to make an honest woman of +his Bonnie Jean. But, unfortunately, matters had been +going from bad to worse on the farm of Mossgiel, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">{65}</a></span> +about this time the brothers had come to a final decision +to quit the farm. Robert, as Gilbert informs us, durst +not then engage with a family in his poor, unsettled +state, but was anxious to shield his partner by every +means in his power from the consequences of their +imprudence. It was agreed, therefore, between them, +that they should make a legal acknowledgment of +marriage, that he should go to Jamaica to push his +fortune, and that she should remain with her father till +it should please Providence to put the means of supporting +a family in his power. He was willing even to +work as a common labourer so that he might do his +duty by the woman he had already made his wife. But +Jean's father, whatever were his reasons, would allow +her to have nothing whatever to do with a man like +Burns. A husband in Jamaica was, in his judgment, +no husband at all. What inducement he held out, or +what arguments he used, we may not know, but he +prevailed on Jean to surrender to him the paper +acknowledging the irregular marriage. This he deposited +with Mr. Aitken of Ayr, who, as Burns heard, +deleted the names, thus rendering the marriage null +and void. This was the circumstance, what he regarded +as Jean's desertion, which brought Burns, as he has +said, to the verge of insanity.</p> + +<p>Now it was that he finally resolved to leave the +country. It was not the first time he had thought of +America. Poverty, before this, had led him to think of +emigrating; the success of others who had gone out +as settlers tempted him to try his fortune beyond the +seas, even though he 'should herd the buckskin kye +in Virginia.' Now, imprudence as well as poverty urged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">{66}</a></span> +him, while, wounded so sorely by the action of the +Armours both in his love and his vanity, he had little +desire to remain at home. There is no doubt that, +prior to the birth of his twin children and the publication +of his poems, he would have quitted Scotland with little reluctance. +But he was so poor that, even after accepting +a situation in Jamaica, he had not money to pay +his passage; and it was at the suggestion of Gavin +Hamilton that he began seriously to prepare for the +publication of his poems by subscription, in order to +raise a sum sufficient to buy his banishment. Accordingly +we find him under the date April 3, 1786, writing +to Mr. Aitken, 'My proposals for publishing I am just +going to send to press.'</p> + +<p>But what a time this was in the poet's life! It was +a long tumult of hope and despair, exultation and +despondency, poetry and love; revelry, rebellion, and +remorse. Everything was excitement; calmness itself +a fever. Yet through it all inspiration was ever with +him, and poem followed poem with miraculous, one +might almost say, unnatural rapidity. Now he is +apostrophising Ruin; now he is wallowing in the mire +of village scandal; now he is addressing a mountain +daisy in words of tenderness and purity; now he is +scarifying a garrulous tailor, and ranting with an alien +flippancy; now it is Beelzebub he addresses, now the +King; now he is waxing eloquent on the virtues of +Scotch whisky, anon writing to a young friend in words +of wisdom that might well be written on the fly-leaf of +his Bible.</p> + +<p>This was certainly a period of ageing activity in +Burns's life. It seemed as if there had been a conspiracy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">{67}</a></span> +of fate and circumstance to herald the birth of +his poems with the wildest convulsions of labour and +travail. The parish of Tarbolton became the stage of +a play that had all the makings of a farce and all the +elements of a tragedy. There were endless complications +and daily developments, all deepening the dramatic +intensity without disturbing the unity. We watch with +breathless interest, dumbly wondering what the end will +be. It is tragedy, comedy, melodrama, and burlesque +all in one.</p> + +<p>Driven almost to madness by the faithlessness of +Jean Armour, he rends himself in a whirlwind of passion, +and seeks sympathy and solace in the love of Mary +Campbell. What a situation for a novelist! This is +just how the story-teller would have made his jilted +hero act; sent him with bleeding heart to seek consolation +in a new love. For novelists make a study of the +vagaries of love, and know that hearts are caught in +the rebound.</p> + +<p>Most of the biographers of Burns are agreed that +this Highland lassie was the object of by far the deepest +passion he ever knew. They may be right. Death +stepped in before disillusion, and she was never other +than the adored Mary of that rapturous meeting when +the white hawthorn-blossom no purer was than their +love. Thus was his love for Mary Campbell ever a +holy and spiritual devotion. Auguste Angellier says: +'This was the purest, the most lasting, and by far the +noblest of his loves. Above all the others, many of +which were more passionate, this one stands out with +the chasteness of a lily. There is a complete contrast +between his love for Jean and his love for Mary. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">{68}</a></span> +the one case all the epithets are material; here they +are all moral. The praises are borrowed, not from the +graces of the body, but from the features of the soul. +The words which occur again and again are those of +honour, of purity, of goodness. The idea of seeing her +again some day was never absent from his mind. Every +time he thought of eternity, of a future life, of reunions +in some unknown state, it was to her that his heart +went out. The love of that second Sunday of May was +ever present. It was the love which led Burns to the +most elevated sphere to which he ever attained; it was +the inspiration of his most spiritual efforts. This sweet, +blue-eyed Highland lassie was his Beatrice, and waved +to him from the gates of heaven.'</p> + +<p>We know little about Mary Campbell from the poet +himself; and though much has been ferreted out about +her by a host of snappers-up of unconsidered trifles, +this episode in his life is still involved in mystery. It +is pleasant to reflect that his reticence here has kept at +least one love passage in his life sacred and holy. Is +not mystery half the charm and beauty of love? Yet, +in spite of his silence, or probably because of it, details +have been raked up from time to time, some grey +and colourless fossil-remains of what was once fresh +and living fact. From Burns himself we know that the +lovers took a tender farewell in a sequestered spot by +the banks of the Ayr, and parted never to meet again. +All the romance and tragedy are there, and what need +we more? We are not even certain as to either the +place or the date of her death. Mrs. Begg, the poet's +sister, knew little or nothing about Mary Campbell. +She remembered, however, a letter being handed in to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">{69}</a></span> +him after the work of the season was over. 'He went +to the window to open and read it, and she was struck +by the look of agony which was the consequence. He +went out without uttering a word.' What he felt he +expressed afterwards in song—song that has become +the language of bereaved and broken hearts for all +time. The widowed lover knows 'the dear departed +shade,' but he may not have heard of Mary Campbell.</p> + +<p>It was in May that Burns and Highland Mary had +parted; in June he wrote to a friend about ungrateful +Armour, confessing that he still loved her to distraction, +though he would not tell her so. But all his letters +about this time are wild and rebellious. He raves in +a tempest of passion, and cools himself again, perhaps +in the composition of a song or poem. Just about the +time this letter was written, his poems were already in +the press. His proposal for publishing had met with +so hearty a reception, that success financially was to a +certain extent assured, and the printing had been put +into the hand of John Wilson, Kilmarnock. Even yet +his pen was busy. He wrote often in a gay and lively +style, almost, it would seem, in a struggle to keep +himself from sinking into melancholy, 'singing to keep +his courage up.' His gaiety was 'the madness of an +intoxicated criminal under the hands of the executioner.' +<i>A Bard's Epitaph</i>, however, among the many pieces of +this season, is earnest and serious enough to disarm +hostile criticism; and his loose and flippant productions +are read leniently in the light of this pathetic confession. +It is a self-revelation truly, but it is honest, straightforward, +and manly. There <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">{70}</a></span>is nothing plaintive or +mawkish about it.</p> + +<p>We next find Burns flying from home to escape legal +measures that Jean Armour's father was instituting against +him. He was in hiding at Kilmarnock to be out of the +way of legal diligence, and it was in such circumstances +that he saw his poems through the press. Surely never +before in the history of literature had book burst from +such a medley of misfortunes into so sudden and certain +fame. Born in tumult, it vindicated its volcanic birth, +and took the hearts of men by storm. Burns says little +about those months of labour and bitterness. We know +that he had then nearly as high an idea of himself and +his works as he had in later life; he had watched every +means of information as to how much ground he occupied +as a man and a poet, and was sure his poems would meet +with some applause. He had subscriptions for about +three hundred and fifty, and he got six hundred copies +printed, pocketing, after all expenses were paid, nearly +twenty pounds. With nine guineas of this sum he +bespoke a passage in the first ship that was to sail for +the West Indies. 'I had for some time,' he says, 'been +skulking from covert to covert under all the terrors of a +jail, as some ill-advised, ungrateful people had uncoupled +the merciless, legal pack at my heels. I had taken the +last farewell of my friends; my chest was on the road to +Greenock; I had composed the song <i>The Gloomy Night +is Gathering Fast</i>, which was to be the last effort of my +muse in Caledonia, when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to +a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by rousing +my poetic ambition. The doctor belonged to a class of +critics, for whose applause I had not even dared to hope. +His idea that I would meet with every encouragemen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">{71}</a></span>t +for a second edition fired me so much, that away I +posted to Edinburgh, without a single acquaintance in +town, or a single letter of recommendation in my pocket.'</p> + +<p>It was towards the end of July that the poems were +published, and they met with a success that must have +been gratifying to those friends who had stood by the +poet in his hour of adversity, and done what they could +to ensure subscriptions. In spite of the fact that Burns +certainly looked upon himself as possessed of some +poetic abilities, the reception the little volume met with, +and the impression it at once made, must have exceeded +his wildest anticipations. Even yet, however, he did not +relinquish the idea of going to America. On the other +hand, as we have seen, the first use he made of the +money which publication had brought him, was to +secure a berth in a vessel bound for Jamaica. But he +was still compelled by the dramatic uncertainty of circumstance. +The day of sailing was postponed, else had +he certainly left his native land. It was only after Jean +Armour had become the mother of twin children that +there was any hint of diffidence about sailing. In a +letter to Robert Aitken, written in October, he says: +'All these reasons urge me to go abroad, and to all these +reasons I have one answer—the feelings of a father. +That in the present mood I am in overbalances everything +that can be laid in the scale against it.'</p> + +<p>His friends, too, after the success of his poems, were +beginning to be doubtful about the wisdom of his going +abroad, and were doing what they could to secure for +him a place in the Excise. For his fame had gone +beyond the bounds of his native county, and others than +people in his own station had recognised his genius.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">{72}</a></span> +Mrs. Dunlop of Dunlop was one of the first to seek the +poet's acquaintance, and she became an almost lifelong +friend; through his poems he renewed acquaintance +with Mrs. Stewart of Stair. He was 'roosed' by Craigen-Gillan; +Dugald Stewart, the celebrated metaphysician, +and one of the best-known names in the learned and +literary circles of Edinburgh, who happened to be +spending his vacation at Catrine, not very far from +Mossgiel, invited the poet to dine with him, and on that +occasion he 'dinnered wi' a laird'—Lord Daer. Then +came the appreciative letter from Dr. Blacklock to the +Rev. George Lawrie of Loudon, already mentioned. +Even this letter might not have proved strong enough to +detain him in Scotland, had it not been that he was +disappointed of a second edition of his poems in Kilmarnock. +Other encouragement came from Edinburgh +in a very favourable criticism of his poems in the <i>Edinburgh +Magazine</i>. This, taken along with Dr. Blacklock's +suggestion about 'a second edition more numerous than +the former,' led the poet to believe that his work would +be taken up by any of the Edinburgh publishers. The +feelings of a father also urged him to remain in Scotland; +and at length—probably in November—the thought of +exile was abandoned. It was with very different feelings, +we may be sure, that he contemplated setting out from +Mossgiel to sojourn for a season in Edinburgh—a name +that had ever been associated in his mind with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">{73}</a></span> best +traditions of learning and literature in Scotland.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE EDINBURGH EDITION</span></h2> + + +<p>Edinburgh towards the close of last century was a +very different place from Edinburgh of the present day. +It was then to a certain extent the hub of Scottish +society; the centre of learning and literature; the winter +rendezvous of not a few of the nobility and gentry of +Scotland. For in those days it had its society and its +season; county families had not altogether abandoned +the custom of keeping their houses in town. All roads +did not then lead to London as they do now, when Edinburgh +is a capital in little more than name, and its +prestige has become a tradition. A century ago Edinburgh +had all the glamour and fascination of the capital +of a no mean country; to-day it is but the historical +capital invested with the glamour and fascination of a +departed glory. The very names of those whom Burns +met on his first visit to Edinburgh are part of the history +of the nation. In the University there were at that time, +representative of the learning of the age, Dugald Stewart, +Dr. Blair, and Dr. Robertson. David Hume was but +recently dead, and the lustre of his name remained. +His great friend, Adam Smith, author of <i>The Wealth of +Nations</i>, was still living; while Henry Mackenzie, <i>Th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">{74}</a></span>e +Man of Feeling</i>, the most popular writer of his day, was +editing <i>The Lounger</i>; and Dr. Blacklock, the blind poet, +was also a name of authority in the world of letters. +Nor was the Bar, whose magnates have ever figured in +the front rank of Edinburgh society, eclipsed by the +literary luminaries of the University. Lord Monboddo +has left a name, which his countrymen are not likely to +forget. He was an accomplished, though eccentric +character, whose classical bent was in the direction of +Epicurean parties. His great desire was to revive the +traditions of the elegant suppers of classical times. Not +only were music and painting employed to this end, but +the tables were wreathed with flowers, the odour of +incense pervaded the room; the wines were of the +choicest, served from decanters of Grecian design. But, +perhaps, the chief attraction to Burns in the midst of +all this super-refinement was the presence of 'the +heavenly Miss Burnet,' daughter of Lord Monboddo. +'There has not been anything nearly like her,' he wrote +to his friend Chalmers, 'in all the combinations of +beauty and grace and goodness the great Creator has +formed since Milton's Eve in the first day of her +existence.' The Hon. Henry Erskine was another well-known +name, not only in legal circles, but as well in +fashionable society. His genial and sunny nature made +him so great a favourite in his profession, that having +been elected Dean of the Faculty of Advocates in 1786, +he was unanimously re-elected every year till 1796, when +he was victorious over Dundas of Arniston, who had +been brought forward in opposition to him. The leader +of fashion was the celebrated Duchess of Gordon, who +was never absent from a public place, and 'the late<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">{75}</a></span>r the +hour so much the better.' Her amusements—her life, +we might say—were dancing, cards, and company. With +such a leader, the season to the very select and elegant +society of Edinburgh was certain to be a time of brilliance +and gaiety; while its very exclusiveness, and the fact +that it affected or reflected the literary life of the University +and the Bar, would make it all the more ready to +lionise a man like Burns when the opportunity came.</p> + +<p>The members of the middle class caught their tone +from the upper ranks, and took their nightly sederunts +and morning headaches as privileges they dared aristocratic +exclusiveness to deny them. Douce citizens, merchants, +respectable tradesmen, well-to-do lawyers, forgathered +when the labours of the day were done to spend +a few hours in some snug back-parlour, where mine host +granted them the privileges and privacy of a club. Such +social beings as these, met to discuss punch, law, and +literature, were no less likely than their aristocratic +neighbours to receive Burns with open arms, and once +he was in their midst to prolong their sittings in his +honour. Nor was Burns, if he found them honest and +hearty fellows, the man to say them nay. He was +eminently a social and sociable being, and in company +such as theirs he could unbend himself as he might not +do in the houses of punctilious society. The etiquette +of that howff of the Crochallan Fencibles in the Anchor +Close or of Johnnie Dowie's tavern in Libberton's +Wynd was not the etiquette of drawing-rooms; and the +poet was free to enliven the hours with a rattling fire of +witty remarks on men and things as he had been wont +to do on the bog at Lochlea, with only a few noteless +peasants for audience.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">{76}</a></span></p> +<p>Burns entered Edinburgh on November 28, 1786. +He had spent the night after leaving Mossgiel at the +farm of Covington Mains, where the kind-hearted host, +Mr. Prentice, had all the farmers of the parish gathered +to meet him. This is of interest as showing the popularity +Burns's poems had already won; while the eagerness +of those farmers to see and know the man after they had +read his poems proves most strikingly how straight the +poet had gone to the hearts of his readers. They had +recognised the voice of a human being, and heard it +gladly. This gathering was convincing testimony, if such +were needed, of the truthfulness and sincerity of his +writings. No doubt Burns, with his great force of understanding, +appreciated the welcome of those brother-farmers, +and valued it above the adulation he afterwards +received in Edinburgh. The Kilmarnock Edition was +but a few months old, yet here was a gathering of hard-working +men, who had read his poems, we may be sure, +from cover to cover, and now they were eager to thank +him who had sung the joys and sorrows of their workaday +lives. Of course there was a great banquet, and +night wore into morning before the company dispersed. +They had seen the poet face to face, and the man was +greater than his poems.</p> + +<p>Next morning he resumed his journey, breakfasting at +Carnwath, and reaching Edinburgh in the evening. He +had come, as he tells us, without a letter of introduction +in his pocket, and he took up his abode with John +Richmond in Baxter's Close, off the Lawnmarket. He +had known Richmond when he was a clerk with Gavin +Hamilton, and had kept up a correspondence with him +ever since he had left Mauchline. The lodging was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">{77}</a></span> +humble enough one, the rent being only three shillings a +week; but here Burns lodged all the time he was in +Edinburgh, and it was hither he returned from visiting +the houses of the rich and great, to share a bed with his +friend and companion of many a merry meeting at +Mauchline.</p> + +<p>It would be vain to attempt to describe Burns's feelings +during those first few days in Edinburgh. He had never +before been in a larger town than Kilmarnock or Ayr; +and now he walked the streets of Scotland's capital, to +him full of history and instinct with the associations of +centuries. This was really the heart of Scotland, the +home of heroes who fought and fell for their country, +'the abode of kings of other years.' His sentimental +attachment to Jacobitism became more pronounced as +he looked on Holyrood. For Burns, a representative of +the strength and weakness of his countrymen, was no less +representative of Scotland's sons in his chivalrous pity for +the fate of Queen Mary and his romantic loyalty to the +gallant Prince Charlie. His poetical espousal of the cause +of the luckless Stuarts was purely a matter of sentiment, a +kind of pious pity that had little to do with reason; and +in this he was typical of his countrymen even of the +present day, who are loyal to the house of Stuart in +song, and in life are loyal subjects of their Queen.</p> + +<p>We are told, and we can well believe that for the first +few days of his stay he wandered about, looking down +from Arthur's Seat, gazing at the Castle, or contemplating +the windows of the booksellers' shops. We know that he +made a special pilgrimage to the grave of Fergusson, and +that in a letter, dated February 6, 1787, he applied to +the honourable bailies of Canongate, Edinburgh, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">{78}</a></span> +permission 'to lay a simple stone over his revered ashes'; +which petition was duly considered and graciously +granted. The stone was afterwards erected, with the +simple inscription, 'Here lies Robert Fergusson, Poet. +Born September 5th, 1751; died 16th October, 1774.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No storied urn nor animated bust";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pour her sorrow o'er her poet's dust.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On the reverse side is recorded the fact that the stone +was erected by Robert Burns, and that the ground was +to remain for ever sacred to the memory of Robert +Fergusson.</p> + +<p>It is related, too, that he visited Ramsay's house, and +that he bared his head when he entered. Burns over +and over again, both in prose and verse, turned to these +two names with a kind of fetich worship, that it is difficult +to understand. He must have known that, as a poet, +he was immeasurably superior to both. It may have +been that their writings first opened his eyes to the +possibilities of the Scots tongue in lyrical and descriptive +poetry; and there was something also which appealed to +him in the wretched life of Fergusson.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O thou, my elder brother in misfortune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By far my elder brother in the Muses.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>His elder brother indeed by some six years! But there +is more of reverence than sound judgment in his estimate +of either Ramsay or Fergusson.</p> + +<p>Burns, however, had come to Edinburgh with a fixed +purpose in view, and it would not do to waste his time +mooning about the streets. On December 7 we find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">{79}</a></span> +him writing to Gavin Hamilton, half seriously, half +jokingly: 'I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as +Thomas à Kempis or John Bunyan, and you may expect +henceforth to see my birthday inserted among the +wonderful events in the Poor Robins' and Aberdeen +Almanacs along with the Black Monday and the Battle +of Bothwell Bridge. My Lord Glencairn and the Dean +of Faculty, Mr. H. Erskine, have taken me under their +wing, and by all probability I shall soon be the tenth +worthy and the eighth wise man of the world. Through +my lord's influence it is inserted in the records of the +Caledonian Hunt that they universally one and all subscribe +for the second edition.'</p> + +<p>This letter shows that Burns had already been taken +up, as the phrase goes, by the élite of Edinburgh; and +it shows also and quite as clearly in the tone of quiet +banter, that he was little likely to lose his head by the +notice taken of him. To the Earl of Glencairn, mentioned +in it, he had been introduced probably by Mr. +Dalrymple of Orangefield, whom he knew both as a +brother-mason and a brother-poet. The Earl had +already seen the Kilmarnock Edition of the poems, and +now he not only introduced Burns to William Creech, +the leading publisher in Edinburgh, but he got the +members of the Caledonian Hunt to become subscribers +for a second edition of the poems. To Erskine he had +been introduced at a meeting of the Canongate Kilwinning +Lodge of Freemasons; and assuredly there +was no man living more likely to exert himself in the +interests of a genius like Burns.</p> + +<p>Two days after this letter to Gavin Hamilton there +appeared in <i>The Lounger</i> Mackenzie's apprec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">{80}</a></span>iative +notice of the Kilmarnock Edition. This notice has +become historical, and at the time of its appearance +it must have been peculiarly gratifying to Burns. He +had remarked before, in reference to the letter from +Dr. Blacklock, that the doctor belonged to a class of +critics for whose applause he had not even dared to +hope. Now his work was criticised most favourably by +the one who was regarded as the highest authority on +literature in Scotland. If a writer was praised in <i>The +Lounger</i>, his fame was assured. He went into the world +with the hall-mark of Henry Mackenzie; and what more +was needed? The oracle had spoken, and his decision +was final. His pronouncement would be echoed and +re-echoed from end to end of the country. And this +great critic claimed no special indulgence for Burns on +the plea of his mean birth or poor education. He saw +in this heaven-taught ploughman a genius of no ordinary +rank, a man who possessed the spirit as well as the fancy +of a great poet. He was a poet, and it mattered not +whether he had been born a peasant or a peer. 'His +poetry, considered abstractedly and without the apologies +arising from his situation, seems to me fully entitled to +command our feelings and obtain our applause.... +The power of genius is not less admirable in tracing the +manners, than in painting the passions or in drawing the +scenery of nature. That intuitive glance with which a +writer like Shakspeare discerns the character of men, +with which he catches the many changing hues of life, +forms a sort of problem in the science of mind, of which +it is easier to see the truth than assign the cause.'</p> + +<p>But Mackenzie did more than praise. He pointed +out the fact that the author had had a terrible struggle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">{81}</a></span> +with poverty all the days of his life, and made an appeal +to his country 'to stretch out her hand and retain the +native poet whose wood-notes wild possessed so much +excellence.' There seems little doubt that the concluding +words of this notice led Burns for the first time +to hope and believe that, through some influential patron, +he might be placed in a position to face the future +without a fear, and to cultivate poetry at his leisure. +There is no mistaking the meaning of Mackenzie's +words, and he had evidently used them with the conviction +that something would be done for Burns. +Unfortunately, he was mistaken; the poet, at first +misled, was slowly disillusioned and somewhat embittered. +'To repair the wrongs of suffering or neglected +merit; to call forth genius from the obscurity where it +had pined indignant, and place it where it may profit or +delight the world—these are exertions which give to +wealth an enviable superiority, to greatness and to +patronage a laudable pride.'</p> + +<p>To Burns, at the time, such a criticism as this must +have been all the more pleasing, inasmuch as it was the +verdict of a man whose best-known work had been one +of the poet's favourite books. We can easily imagine +that, under the patronage of Lord Glencairn and Henry +Erskine, and after Mackenzie's generous recognition of +his genius, the doors of the best houses in Edinburgh +would be open to him. His letter to John Ballantine, +Ayr, written a few days after this criticism appeared, +shows in what circles the poet was then moving. 'I +have been introduced to a good many of the <i>noblesse</i>, +but my avowed patrons and patronesses are, the Duchess +of Gordon, the Countess of Glencairn with my Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> +and Lady Betty, the Dean of Faculty, Sir John Whitefoord. +I have likewise warm friends among the <i>literati</i>; +Professors Stewart, Blair, and Mr. Mackenzie, <i>The Man +of Feeling</i>.... I am nearly agreed with Creech to print +my book, and I suppose I will begin on Monday.... +Dugald Stewart and some of my learned friends put me +in a periodical called <i>The Lounger</i>, a copy of which I +here enclose you. I was, Sir, when I was first honoured +with your notice, too obscure; now I tremble lest I +should be ruined by being dragged too suddenly into +the glare of learned and polite observation.'</p> + +<p>Burns was now indeed the lion of Edinburgh. It +must have been a great change for a man to have come +straight from the stilts of the plough to be dined and +toasted by such men as Lord Glencairn, Lord Monboddo, +and the Hon. Henry Erskine; to be fêted and +flattered by the Duchess of Gordon, the Countess of +Glencairn, and Lady Betty Cunningham; to count +amongst his friends Mr. Mackenzie and Professors +Stewart and Blair. It would have been little wonder if +his head had been turned by the patronage of the +nobility, the deference and attention of the literary and +learned coteries of Edinburgh. But Burns was too +sensible to be carried away by the adulation of a season. +A man of his keenness of penetration and clearness of +insight would appreciate the praise of the world at its +proper value. He bore himself with becoming dignity, +taking his place in refined society as one who had a +right there, without showing himself either conceitedly +aggressive or meanly servile. He took his part in +conversation, but no more than his part, and expressed +himself with freedom and decision. His conversation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">{83}</a></span> +in fact, astonished the <i>literati</i> even more than his poems +had done. Perhaps they had expected some uncouth +individual who would stammer crop-and-weather +commonplaces in a rugged vernacular, or, worse still, +in ungrammatical English; but here was one who held +his own with them in speculative discussion, speaking +not only with the eloquence of a poet, but with the +readiness, clearness, and fluency of a man of letters. +His pure English diction astonished them, but his +acuteness of reasoning, his intuitive knowledge of men +and the world, was altogether beyond their comprehension. +All they had got by years of laborious study +this man appeared to have as a natural gift. In repartee, +even, he could more than hold his own with them, and +in the presence of ladies could turn a compliment with +the best. 'It needs no effort of imagination,' says +Lockhart, 'to conceive what the sensations of an isolated +set of scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) +must have been in the presence of this big-boned, black-browed, +brawny stranger, who, having forced his way +among them from the plough-tail at a single stride, +manifested in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation +a most thorough conviction that in the society +of the most eminent men of his nation he was exactly +where he was entitled to be.' It was a new world to +Burns, yet he walked about as if he were of old familiar +with its ways; he conducted himself in society like +one to the manner born.</p> + +<p>All who have left written evidence of Burns's visit to +Edinburgh are agreed that he conducted himself with +manliness and dignity, and all have left record of the +powerful impression his conversation made on them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">{84}</a></span> +His poems were wonderful; himself was greater than +his poems, a giant in intellect. A ploughman who +actually dared to have formed a distinct conception of +the doctrine of <i>association</i> was a miracle before which +schools and scholars were dumb. 'Nothing, perhaps,' +Dugald Stewart wrote, 'was more remarkable among his +various attainments than the fluency, precision, and +originality of his language when he spoke in company; +more particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of +expression, and avoided more successfully than most +Scotchmen the peculiarities of Scottish phraseology.'</p> + +<p>And Professor Stewart goes further than this when he +speaks of the soundness and sanity of Burns's nature. +'The attentions he received during his stay in town from +all ranks and descriptions of persons, were such as would +have turned any head but his own. He retained the +same simplicity of manner and appearance which had +struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in the country; +nor did he seem to feel any additional self-importance +from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. +His dress was perfectly suited to his station, plain and +unpretentious, with a sufficient attention to neatness.' +Principal Robertson has left it on record, that he had +scarcely ever met with any man whose conversation +displayed greater vigour than that of Burns. Walter +Scott, a youth of some sixteen years at the time, met +Burns at the house of Dr. Adam Ferguson, and was +particularly struck with his poetic eye, 'which literally +glowed when he spoke with feeling or interest,' and with +his forcible conversation. 'Among the men who were +the most learned of their time and country, he expressed +himself with perfect firmness, but without the l<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">{85}</a></span>east intrusive +forwardness; and when he differed in opinion, he +did not hesitate to express it firmly, and at the same +time with modesty.... I never saw a man in company +more perfectly free from either the reality or the affectation +of embarrassment.' To these may be added the +testimony of Dr. Walker, who gives, perhaps, the most +complete and convincing picture of the man at this +time. He insists on the same outstanding characteristics +in Burns, his innate dignity, his unaffected demeanour +in company, and brilliancy in conversation. In no part +of his manner, we read, was there the slightest degree of +affectation, and no one could have guessed from his +behaviour or conversation, that he had been for some +months the favourite of all the fashionable circles of a +metropolis. 'In conversation he was powerful. His +conceptions and expression were of corresponding vigour, +and on all subjects were as remote as possible from +commonplace.'</p> + +<p>But whilst ladies of rank and fashion were deluging +this Ayrshire ploughman with invitations, and vying +one with another in their patronage and worship, the +mind of the poet was no less busy registering impressions +of every new experience. If the learned men +of Edinburgh set themselves to study the character of a +genius who upset all their cherished theories of birth +and education, and to chronicle his sayings and doings, +Burns at the same time was studying them, gauging their +powers intuitively, telling their limitations at a glance. +For he must measure every man he met, and himself +with him. His standard was always the same; every +brain was weighed against his own; but with Burns this +was never more than a comparison of capacities. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">{86}</a></span> +took his stand, not by what work he had done, but by +what he felt he was capable of doing. And that is not, +and cannot be, the way of the world. In all his letters +at this time we see him studying himself in the circles +of fashion and learning. He could look on Robert +Burns, as he were another person, brought from the +plough and set down in a world of wealth and refinement, +of learning and wit and beauty. He saw the +dangers that beset him, and the temptations to which he +was exposed; he recognised that something more than +his poetic abilities was needed to explain his sudden +popularity. He was the vogue, the favourite of a season; +but public favour was capricious, and next year the doors +of the great might be closed against him; while patrician +dames who had schemed for his smiles might glance at +him with indifferent eyes as at a dismissed servant once +high in favour. His letter to Mrs. Dunlop, dated +January 15, may be taken as a just, deliberate, and clear +expression of his views of himself and society at this time. +The letter is so quietly dignified that we may quote at +some length. 'You are afraid I shall grow intoxicated +with my prosperity as a poet. Alas! madam, I know +myself and the world too well. I do not mean any airs +of affected modesty; I am willing to believe that my +abilities deserve some notice, but in a most enlightened, +informed age and nation, where poetry is and has been +the study of men of the first natural genius, aided with +all the powers of polite learning, polite books, and polite +company—to be dragged forth to the full glare of learned +and polite observation, with all my imperfections of +awkward rusticity and crude and unpolished ideas on +my head—I assure you, madam, I do not dissemble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> +when I tell you I tremble for the consequences. The +novelty of a poet in my obscure situation, without any +of those advantages that are reckoned necessary for that +character, at least at this time of day, has raised a partial +tide of public notice which has borne me to a height +where I am absolutely, feelingly certain my abilities are +inadequate to support me; and too surely do I see that +time when the same tide will leave me and recede, perhaps +as far below the mark of truth. I do not say this +in the ridiculous affectation of self-abasement and +modesty. I have studied myself, and know what ground +I occupy; and however a friend or the world may differ +from me in that particular, I stand for my own opinion +in silent resolve, with all the tenaciousness of property. +I mention this to you once for all to disburden my mind, +and I do not wish to hear or say more about it. But—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>you will bear me witness that when my bubble of fame +was at the highest, I stood unintoxicated with the inebriating +cup in my hand, looking forward with rueful +resolve to the hastening time when the blow of calamity +should dash it to the ground with all the eagerness of +vengeful triumph.'</p> + +<p>In a letter to Dr. Moore he harps on the same string, +for he sees clearly enough that though his abilities as a +poet are worthy of recognition, it is the novelty of his +position and the strangeness of the life he has pictured +in his poems that have brought him into polite notice. +The field of his poetry, rather than the poetry itself, +is the wonder in the eyes of stately society. To the +Rev. Mr. Lawrie of Loudon he writes in a similar strain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">{88}</a></span> +and speaks even more emphatically. From all his letters, +indeed, at this time we gather that he saw that novelty +had much to do with his present éclat; that the tide +of popularity would recede, and leave him at his leisure +to descend to his former situation; and, above all, that +he was prepared for this, come when it would.</p> + +<p>All this time he had been busy correcting the proofs +of his poems; and now that he was already assured the +edition would be a success, he began to think seriously +of the future and of settling down again as farmer. +The appellation of Scottish Bard, he confessed to Mrs. +Dunlop, was his highest pride; to continue to deserve +it, his most exalted ambition. He had no dearer aim +than to be able to make 'leisurely pilgrimages through +Caledonia, to sit on the fields of her battles, to wander +on the romantic banks of her rivers, and to muse by the +stately towers or venerable ruins, once the honoured +abodes of her heroes.' But that was a Utopian dream; +he had dallied long enough with life, and now it was +time he should be in earnest. 'I have a fond, an aged +mother to care for; and some other bosom ties perhaps +equally tender.'</p> + +<p>Perhaps, had Burns received before he left Edinburgh +the £500 which Creech ultimately paid him for the +Edinburgh Edition, he might have gone straight to a +farm in the south country, and taken up what he considered +the serious business of life. He himself, about +this time, estimated that he would clear nearly £300 by +authorship, and with that sum he intended to return to +farming. Mr. Miller of Dalswinton had expressed a +wish to have Burns as tenant of one of his farms, and +the poet had been already approached on the subject.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">{89}</a></span> +We also gather from almost every letter written just +before the publication of his poems, that he contemplated +an immediate return 'to his shades.' However, when +the Edinburgh Edition came out, April 21, 1787, the +poet found that it would be a considerable time before +the whole profits accruing from publication could be +paid over to him. Indeed, there was certainly an unnecessary +delay on Creech's part in making a settlement. +The first instalment of profits was not sufficient for +leasing and stocking a farm; and during the months that +elapsed before the whole profits were in his hands, Burns +made several tours through the Borders and Highlands +of Scotland. This was certainly one of his dearest aims; +but these tours were undertaken somewhat under compulsion, +and we doubt not he would much more gladly +have gone straight back to farm-life, and kept these +leisurely pilgrimages to a more convenient season. One +is not in a mood for dreaming on battlefields, or wandering +in a reverie by romantic rivers, when the future is +unsettled and life is for the time being without an aim. +There is something of mystery and melancholy hanging +about these peregrinations, and the cause, it seems to +us, is not far to seek. These months are months of +waiting and wearying; he is unsettled, oftentimes moody +and despondent; his bursts of gaiety appear forced, and +his muse is well-nigh barren. In the circumstances, no +doubt it was the best thing he could do, to gratify his +long-cherished desire of seeing these places in his native +country, whose names were enshrined in song or story. +But how much more pleasant—and more profitable both +to the poet himself and the country he loved—had these +journeys been made under more favourable conditions!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">{90}</a></span></p> +<p>The past also as much as the future weighed on the +poet's mind. His days had been so fully occupied in +Edinburgh that he had little leisure to think on some +dark and dramatic episodes of Mauchline and Kilmarnock; +but now in his wanderings he has time not only +to think but to brood; and we may be sure the face of +Bonnie Jean haunted him in dreams, and that his heart +heard again and again the plaintive voices of little +children. In several of his letters now we detect a +tone of bitterness, in which we suspect there is more +of remorse than of resentment with the world. He +certainly was disappointed that Creech could not pay +him in full, but he must have been gratified with the +reception his poems had got. The list of subscribers +ran to thirty-eight pages, and was representative of +every class in Scotland. In the words of Cunningham: +'All that coterie influence and individual exertion—all +that the noblest and humblest could do, was done to +aid in giving it a kind reception. Creech, too, had +announced it through the booksellers of the land, and +it was soon diffused over the country, over the colonies, +and wherever the language was spoken. The literary +men of the South seemed even to fly to a height beyond +those of the North. Some hesitated not to call him the +Northern Shakspeare.'</p> + +<p>This surely was a great achievement for one who, +a few months previously, had been skulking from covert +to covert to escape the terrors of a jail. He had +hardly dared to hope for the commendation of the +Edinburgh critics, yet he had been received by the best +society of the capital; his genius had been recognised +by the highest literary authorities of Scotland; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">{91}</a></span>and +now the second edition of his poems was published +under auspices that gave it the character of a national +book.</p> + +<p>If the poems this volume contained established fully +and finally the reputation of the poet, the subscription +list was a no less substantial proof of a generous and +enthusiastic appreciation of his genius on the part of his +countrymen. And that Burns must have recognised. +A man of his s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">{92}</a></span>ound common sense could not have +expected more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">BURNS'S TOURS</span></h2> + + +<p>The Edinburgh Edition having now been published, +there was no reason for the poet to prolong his stay in +the city. It was only after being disappointed of a +second Kilmarnock Edition of his poems that he had +come to try his fortunes in the capital; and now that his +hopes of a fuller edition and a wider field had been +realised, the purpose of his visit was accomplished, and +there was no need to fritter his time away in idleness.</p> + +<p>In a letter to Lord Buchan, Burns had doubted the +prudence of a penniless poet faring forth to see the +sights of his native land. But circumstances have +changed. With the assured prospect of the financial +success of his second venture, he felt himself in a +position to gratify the dearest wish of his heart and +to fire his muse at Scottish story and Scottish scenes. +Moreover, as has been said, it would be some time +before Creech could come to a final settlement of +accounts with the poet, and he may have deemed +that the interval would be profitably spent in travel. +His travelling companion on his first tour was a Mr. +Robert Ainslie, a young gentleman of good education +and some natural ability, with whom he left Edinburgh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">{93}</a></span> +on the 5th May, a fortnight after the publication of his +poems. We are told that the poet, just before he +mounted his horse, received a letter from Dr. Blair, +which, having partly read, he crumpled up and angrily +thrust into his pocket. A perusal of the letter will +explain, if it does not go far to justify, the poet's irritation. +It is a sleek, superior production, with the tone of +a temperance tract, and the stilted diction of a dominie. +The doctor is in it one of those well-meaning, meddlesome +men, lavish of academic advice. Burns resented +moral prescriptions at all times—more especially from +one whose knowledge of men was severely scholastic; +and we can well imagine that he quitted Edinburgh in +no amiable mood.</p> + +<p>From Edinburgh the two journeyed by the Lammermuirs +to Berrywell, near Duns, where the Ainslie family +lived. On the Sunday he attended church with the +Ainslies, where the minister, Dr. Bowmaker, preached a +sermon against obstinate sinners. 'I am found out,' +the poet remarked, 'wherever I go.' From Duns they +proceeded to Coldstream, where, having crossed the +Tweed, Burns first set foot on English ground. Here +it was that, with bared head, he knelt and prayed for a +blessing on Scotland, reciting with the deepest devotion +the two concluding verses of <i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i>.</p> + +<p>The next place visited was Kelso, where they admired +the old abbey, and went to see Roxburgh Castle, thence +to Jedburgh, where he met a Miss Hope and a Miss +Lindsay, the latter of whom 'thawed his heart into +melting pleasure after being so long frozen up in the +Greenland Bay of indifference amid the noise and nonsense +of Edinburgh.' When he left this romantic city<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">{94}</a></span> +his thoughts were not of the honour its citizens had done +him, but of Jed's crystal stream and sylvan banks, and, +above all, of Miss Lindsay, who brings him to the verge +of verse. Thereafter he visited Kelso, Melrose, and +Selkirk, and after spending about three weeks seeing +all that was to be seen in this beautiful country-side, +he set off with a Mr. Ker and a Mr. Hood on a visit to +England. In this visit he went as far as Newcastle, returning +by way of Hexham and Carlisle. After spending +a day here he proceeded to Annan, and thence to +Dumfries. Whilst in the Nithsdale district he took the +opportunity of visiting Dalswinton and inspecting the +unoccupied farms; but he did not immediately close +with Mr. Miller's generous offer of a four-nineteen years' +lease on his own terms. From Nithsdale he turned +again to his native Ayrshire, arriving at Mossgiel in the +beginning of June, after an absence from home of six +eventful months.</p> + +<p>We can hardly imagine what this home-coming would +be like. The Burnses were typical Scots in their undemonstrative +ways; but this was a great occasion, and +tradition has it that his mother allowed her feeling so far +to overcome her natural reticence that she met him at +the threshold with the exclamation, 'O Robert!' He +had left home almost unknown, and had returned with a +name that was known and honoured from end to end of +his native land. He had left in the direst poverty, and +haunted with the terrors of a jail, now he came back +with his fortune assured; if not actually rich, at least +with more money due to him than the family had ever +dreamed of possessing. The mother's excess of feeling +on such an o<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">{95}</a></span>ccasion as this may be easily understood +and excused.</p> + +<p>Of this Border tour Burns kept a scrappy journal, but +he was more concerned in jotting down the names and +characteristics of those with whom he forgathered than +of letting himself out in snatches of song. He makes +shrewd remarks by the way on farms and farming, on +the washing and shearing of sheep, but the only verse +he attempted was his <i>Epistle to Creech</i>. He who had +longed to sit and muse on 'those once hard-contested +fields' did not go out of his way to look on Ancrum +Moor or Philiphaugh, nor do we read of him musing +pensive in Yarrow.</p> + +<p>However, we are not to regard these days as altogether +barren. The poet was gathering impressions which +would come forth in song at some future time. +'Neither the fine scenery nor the lovely women,' +Cunningham regrets, 'produced any serious effect on +his muse.' This is a rash statement. Poets do not +sow and reap at the same time—not even Burns. If +his friends were disappointed at what they considered +the sterility of his muse on this occasion, the fault did +not lie with the poet, but with their absurd expectations. +It may be as well to point out here that the greatest +harm Edinburgh did to Burns was that it gathered round +him a number of impatient and injudicious admirers +who could not understand that poetry was not to be +forced. The burst of poetry that practically filled the +Kilmarnock Edition came after a seven years' growth of +inspiration; but after his first visit to Edinburgh he +was never allowed to rest. It was expected that he +should write whenever a subject was suggested, or burst +into verse at the first glimpse of a lovely landscape<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">{96}</a></span>. +Every friend was ready with advice as to how and what +he should write, and quite as ready, the poet unfortunately +knew, to criticise afterwards. The poetry +of the Mossgiel period had come from him spontaneously. +He had flung off impressions in verse fearlessly, without +pausing to consider how his work would be appreciated +by this one or denounced by that; and was true to +himself. Now he knew that every verse he wrote would +be read by many eyes, studied by many minds; some +would scent heresy, others would spot Jacobitism, or +worse, freedom; some would suspect his morality, +others would deplore his Scots tongue; all would criticise +favourably or adversely his poetic expression. It +has to be kept in mind, too, that Burns at this time +was in no mood for writing poetry. His mind was +not at ease; and after his long spell of inspiration and +the fatiguing distractions of Edinburgh, it was hardly to +be wondered at that brain and body were alike in need +of rest. The most natural rest would have been a +return direct to the labours of the farm. That, however, +was denied him, and the period of his journeyings +was little else than a season of unsettlement and +suspense.</p> + +<p>Burns only stayed a few days at home, and then set +off on a tour to the West Highlands, a tour of which +we know little or nothing. Perhaps this was merely a +pilgrimage to the grave of Highland Mary. We do +not know, and need not curiously inquire. Burns, as +has been already remarked, kept sacred his love for +this generous-hearted maiden, hidden away in his own +heart, and the whole story is a beautiful mystery. We +do know that before he left he visited the Armours<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">{97}</a></span>, +and was disgusted with the changed attitude of the +family towards himself. 'If anything had been wanting,' +he wrote to Mr. James Smith, 'to disgust me +completely at Armour's family, their mean, servile compliance +would have done it.' To his friend, William +Nicol, he wrote in the same strain. 'I never, my +friend, thought mankind very capable of anything +generous; but the stateliness of the patricians in Edinburgh, +and the servility of my plebeian brethren (who +perhaps formerly eyed me askance) since I returned +home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with +my species.'</p> + +<p>This shows Burns in no very enviable frame of mind; +but the cause is obvious. He is as yet unsettled in +life, and now that he has met again his Bonnie Jean, +and seen his children, he is more than ever dissatisfied +with aimless roving. 'I have yet fixed on nothing with +respect to the serious business of life. I am just as +usual a rhyming, mason-making, raking, aimless, idle +fellow. However, I shall somewhere have a farm soon. +I was going to say a wife too, but that must never be +my blessed lot.'</p> + +<p>To his own folks he was nothing but kindness, ready +to share with them his uttermost farthing, and to have +them share in the glory that was his; but he was at +enmity with himself, and at war with the world. Like +Hamlet, who felt keenly, but was incapable of action, he +saw that 'the times were out of joint'; circumstances +were too strong for him. Almost the only record we +have of this tour is a vicious epigram on what he considered +the flunkeyism of Inveraray. Nor are we in the +least astonished to hear that on the homeward route he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">{98}</a></span> +spent a night in dancing and boisterous revel, ushering +in the day with a kind of burlesque of pagan sun-worship. +This was simply a reaction from his gloom +and despondency; he sought to forget himself in reckless +conviviality.</p> + +<p>About the end of July we find him back again in +Mauchline, and on the 25th May he set out on a +Highland tour along with his friend William Nicol, one +of the masters of the High School. Of this man Dr. +Currie remarks that he rose by the strength of his +talents, and fell by the strength of his passions. Burns +was perfectly well aware of the passionate and quarrelsome +nature of the man. He compared himself with such a +companion to one travelling with a loaded blunderbuss +at full-cock; and in his epigrammatic way he said of him +to Mr. Walker, 'His mind is like his body; he has a +confounded, strong, in-kneed sort of a soul.' The man, +however, had some good qualities. He had a warm +heart; never forgot the friends of his early years, and +he hated vehemently low jealousy and cunning. These +were qualities that would appeal strongly to Burns, and +on account of which much would be forgiven. Still we +cannot think that the poet was happy in his companion; +nor was he yet happy in himself. Otherwise the Highland +tour might have been more interesting, certainly +much more profitable to the poet in its results, than it +actually proved.</p> + +<p>In his diary of this tour, as in his diary of the Border +tour, there is much more of shrewd remark on men +and things than of poetical jottings. The fact is, poetry +is not to be collected in jottings, nor is inspiration to +be culled in catalogue cuttings; and if many of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">{99}</a></span>his +friends were again disappointed in the immediate +poetical results of this holiday, it only shows how +little they understood the comings and goings of inspiration. +Those, however, who read his notes and +reflections carefully and intelligently are bound to notice +how much more than a mere verse-maker Burns was. +This was the journal of a man of strong, sound sense +and keen observation. It has also to be recognised that +Burns was at his weakest when he attempted to describe +scenery for mere scenery's sake. His gift did not lie +that way. His landscapes, rich in colour and deftly +drawn though they be, are always the mere backgrounds +of his pictures. They are impressionistic sketches, the +setting and the complement of something of human +interest in incident or feeling.</p> + +<p>The poet and his companion set out in a postchaise, +journeying by Linlithgow and Falkirk to Stirling. They +visited 'a dirty, ugly place called Borrowstounness,' +where he turned from the town to look across the Forth +to Dunfermline and the fertile coast of Fife; Carron +Iron Works, and the field of Bannockburn. They were +shown the hole where Bruce set his standard, and the +sight fired the patriotic ardour of the poet till he saw in +imagination the two armies again in the thick of battle. +After visiting the castle at Stirling, he left Nicol for a +day, and paid a visit to Mrs. Chalmers of Harvieston. +'Go to see Caudron Linn and Rumbling Brig and Deil's +Mill.' That is all he has to say of the scenery; but in +a letter to Gavin Hamilton he has much more to tell +of Grace Chalmers and Charlotte, 'who is not only +beautiful but lovely.'</p> + +<p>From Stirling the tourists proceeded northwards by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> +Crieff and Glenalmond to Taymouth; thence, keeping +by the banks of the river, to Aberfeldy, whose birks he +immortalised in song. Here he had the good fortune +to meet Niel Gow and to hear him playing. 'A short, +stout-built, honest, Highland figure,' the poet describes +him, 'with his greyish hair shed on his honest, social +brow—an interesting face, marking strong sense, kind +open-heartedness mixed with unmistaking simplicity.'</p> + +<p>By the Tummel they rode to Blair, going by Fascally +and visiting—both those sentimental Jacobites—'the +gallant Lord Dundee's stone,' in the Pass of Killiecrankie. +At Blair he met his friend Mr. Walker, who +has left an account of the poet's visit; while the two +days which Burns spent here, he has declared, were +among the happiest days of his life.</p> + +<p>'My curiosity,' Walker wrote, 'was great to see how +he would conduct himself in company so different from +what he had been accustomed to. His manner was +unembarrassed, plain, and firm. He appeared to have +complete reliance on his own native good sense for +directing his behaviour. He seemed at once to perceive +and appreciate what was due to the company and +to himself, and never to forget a proper respect for the +separate species of dignity belonging to each. He did +not arrogate conversation, but when led into it he spoke +with ease, propriety, and manliness. He tried to exert +his abilities, because he knew it was ability alone gave +him a title to be there.'</p> + +<p>Burns certainly enjoyed his stay, and would, at the +family's earnest solicitation, have stayed longer, had the +irascible and unreasonable Nicol allowed it. Here it +was he met Mr. Graham of Fintry, and if he had stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">{101}</a></span>ed +a day or two longer he would have met Dundas, a man +whose patronage might have done much to help the +future fortunes of the poet. After leaving Blair, he +visited, at the Duke's advice, the Falls of Bruar, and a +few days afterwards he wrote from Inverness to Mr. +Walker enclosing his verses, <i>The Humble Petition of +Bruar Water to the Noble Duke of Athole</i>.</p> + +<p>Leaving Blair, they continued their journey northwards +towards Inverness, viewing on the way the Falls of +Foyers,—soon to be lost to Scotland,—which the poet +celebrated in a fragment of verse. Of course two such +Jacobites had to see Culloden Moor; then they came +through Nairn and Elgin, crossed the Spey at Fochabers, +and Burns dined at Gordon Castle, the seat of the +lively Duchess of Gordon, whom he had met in +Edinburgh. Here again he was received with marked +respect, and treated with the same Highland hospitality +that had so charmed him at Blair; and here also +the pleasure of the whole party was spoilt by the +ill-natured jealousy of Nicol. That fiery dominie, +imagining that he was slighted by Burns, who seemed +to prefer the fine society of the Duchess and her friends +to his amiable companionship, ordered the horses to +be put to the carriage, and determined to set off alone. +As the spiteful fellow would listen to no reason, Burns +had e'en to accompany him, though much against his +will. He sent his apologies to Her Grace in a song in +praise of Castle Gordon.</p> + +<p>From Fochabers they drove to Banff, and thence to +Aberdeen. In this city he was introduced to the Rev. +John Skinner, a son of the author of <i>Tullochgorum</i>, and +was exceedingly disappointed when he learned that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">{102}</a></span>on +his journey he had been quite near to the father's +parsonage, and had not called on the old man. Mr. +Skinner himself regretted this, when he learned the +fact from his son, as keenly as Burns did; but the +incident led to a correspondence between the two +poets. From Aberdeen he came south by Stonehaven, +where he 'met his relations,' and Montrose to Dundee. +Hence the journey was continued through Perth, Kinross, +and Queensferry, and so back to Edinburgh, 16th +September 1787.</p> + +<p>His letter to his brother from Edinburgh is more +meagre even than his journal, being simply a catalogue +of the places visited. 'Warm as I was from Ossian's +country,' he remarks, 'what cared I for fishing towns or +fertile carses?' Yet although the journal reads now +and again like a railway time-table, we come across +references which give proof of the poet's abounding +interest in the locality of Scottish Song; and it was +probably the case, as Professor Blackie writes, that +'such a lover of the pure Scottish Muse could not fail +when wandering from glen to glen to pick up fragments +of traditional song, which, without his sympathetic touch, +would probably have been lost.'</p> + +<p>Burns's wanderings were not yet, however, at an end. +Probably he had expected on his return to Edinburgh +some settlement with Creech, and was disappointed. +Perhaps he was eager to revisit some places or people—Peggy +Chalmers, no doubt—without being hampered +in his movements by such a companion as Nicol. +Anyhow, we find him setting out again on a tour +through Clackmannan and Perthshire with his friend +Dr. Adair, a warm but somewhat injudicious admi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">{103}</a></span>rer +of the poet's genius. It was probably about the +beginning of October that the two left Edinburgh, going +round by Stirling to Harvieston, where they remained +about ten days, and made excursions to the various +parts of the surrounding scenery. The Caldron Linn +and Rumbling Bridge were revisited, and they went to +see Castle Campbell, the ancient seat of the family of +Argyle. 'I am surprised,' the doctor ingenuously remarks, +'that none of these scenes should have called +forth an exertion of Burns's muse. But I doubt if he +had much taste for the picturesque.' One wonders +whether Dr. Adair had actually read the published +poems. What a picture it must have been to see the +party dragging Burns about, pointing out the best views, +and then breathlessly waiting for a torrent of verse. +The verses came afterwards, but they were addressed, +not to the Ochils or the Devon, but to Peggy Chalmers.</p> + +<p>From Harvieston he went to Ochtertyre on the +Teith to visit Mr. Ramsay, a reputed lover of Scottish +literature; and thence he proceeded to Ochtertyre in +Strathearn, in order to visit Sir William Murray.</p> + +<p>In a letter to Dr. Currie, Mr. Ramsay speaks thus of +Burns on this visit: 'I have been in the company of +many men of genius, some of them poets, but never +witnessed such flashes of intellectual brightness, the +impulse of the moment, sparks of celestial fire! I +never was more delighted, therefore, than with his company +for two days' <i>tête-à-tête</i>.' Of his residence with Sir +William Murray he has left two poetical souvenirs, one +<i>On Scaring some Water Fowl in Loch Turit</i>, and the +other, a love song, <i>Blithe, Blithe, and Merry was She</i>, +in honour o<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">{104}</a></span>f Miss Euphemia Murray, the flower of +Strathearn.</p> + +<p>Returning to Harvieston, he went back with Dr. +Adair to Edinburgh, by Kinross and Queensferry. At +Dunfermline he visited the ruined abbey, where, kneeling, +he kissed the stone above Bruce's grave.</p> + +<p>It was on this tour, too, that he visited at Clackmannan +an old Scottish lady, who claimed to be a +lineal descendant of the family of Robert the Bruce. +She conferred knighthood on the poet with the great +double-handed sword of that monarch, and is said to +have delighted him with the toast she gave after dinner, +'Hooi Uncos,' which means literally, 'Away Strangers,' +and politically much more.</p> + +<p>The year 1787 was now drawing to a close, and Burns +was still waiting for a settlement with Creech. He could +not understand why he was kept hanging on from month +to month. This was a way of doing business quite new +to him, and after being put off again and again he at last +began to suspect that there was something wrong. He +doubted Creech's solvency; doubted even his honesty. +More than ever was he eager to be settled in life, and +he fretted under commercial delays he could not understand. +On the first day of his return to Edinburgh he +had written to Mr. Miller of Dalswinton, telling him of +his ambitions, and making an offer to rent one of his +farms. We know that he visited Dalswinton once or +twice, but returned to Edinburgh. His only comfort at +this time was the work he had begun in collecting +Scottish songs for Johnson's Museum; touching up old +ones and writing new ones to old airs. This with Burns +was altogether a labour of love. The idea of writing a song +with a view to money-making was abhorrent to him. 'He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">{105}</a></span> +entered into the views of Johnson,' writes Chambers, 'with +an industry and earnestness which despised all money +considerations, and which money could not have purchased'; +while Allan Cunningham marvels at the number +of songs Burns was able to write at a time when a sort of +civil war was going on between him and Creech. Another +reason for staying through the winter in Edinburgh +Burns may have had in the hope that through the influence +of his aristocratic friends some office of profit, +and not unworthy his genius, might have been found for +him. Places of profit and honour were at the disposal +of many who might have helped him had they so wished. +But Burns was not now the favourite he had been when +he first came to Edinburgh. The ploughman-poet was +no longer a novelty; and, moreover, Burns had the pride +of his class, and clung to his early friends. It is not +possible for a man to be the boon-companion of peasants +and the associate of peers. Had he dissociated himself +altogether from his past life, the doors of the nobility might +have been still held open to him; and no doubt the +cushioned ease of a sinecure's office would have been +had for the asking. But in that case he would have lost +his manhood, and we should have lost a poet. Burns +would not have turned his back on his fellows for the +most lucrative office in the kingdom; that, he would +have considered as selling his soul to the devil. Yet, on +the other hand, what could any of these men do for a +poet who was 'owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool'? +Burns waited on in the expectation that those who had +the power would take it upon themselves to do something +for him. Perhaps he credited them with a sense +and a generosity they could not lay claim to; though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">{106}</a></span> +had one of them taken the initiative in this matter, he +would have honoured himself in honouring Burns, and +endeared his name to the hearts of his countrymen +for all time. But such offices are created and kept +open for political sycophants, who can importune with +years of prostituted service. They are for those +who advocate the opinions of others; certainly not for +the man who dares to speak fearlessly his own mind, +and to assert the privileges and prerogatives of his +manhood. The children's bread is not to be thrown +to the dogs. Burns asked for nothing, and got nothing. +The Excise commission which he applied for, and +graduated for, was granted. The work was laborious, +the remuneration small, and <i>gauger</i> was a name of +contempt.</p> + +<p>But whilst waiting on in the hope of something +'turning up,' he was still working busily for Johnson's +Museum, and still trying to bring Creech to make a +settlement. At last, however, out of all patience with +his publisher, and recognising the futility of his hopes of +preferment, he had resolved early in December to leave +Edinburgh, when he was compelled to stay against his +will. A double accident befell him; he was introduced +to a Mrs. Maclehose, and three days afterwards, through +the carelessness of a drunken coachman, he was thrown +from a carriage, and had his knee severely bruised. +The latter was an accident that kept him confined to +his room for a time, and from which he quickly recovered; +but the meeting with Mrs. Maclehose was a +serious matter, and for both, most unfortunate in its +results.</p> + +<p>It was while he was 'on the rack of his present agon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">{107}</a></span>y' +that the Sylvander-Clarinda correspondence was begun +and continued. That much may be said in excuse for +Burns. A man, especially one with the passion and +sensitiveness of a poet, cannot be expected to write in all +sanity when he is racked by the pain of an injured limb. +Certainly the poet does not show up in a pleasant light in +this absurd interchange of gasping epistles; nor does Mrs. +Maclehose. 'I like the idea of Arcadian names in a +commerce of this kind,' he unguardedly admits. The +most obvious comment that occurs to the mind of +the reader is that they ought never to have been +written. It is a pity they were written; more than a +pity they were ever published. It seems a terrible +thing that, merely to gratify the morbid curiosity of the +world, the very love-letters of a man of genius should +be made public. Is there nothing sacred in the lives +of our great men? 'Did I imagine,' Burns remarked +to Mrs. Basil Montagu in Dumfries, 'that one half of the +letters which I have written would be published when +I die, I would this moment recall them and burn +them without redemption.'</p> + +<p>After all, what was gained by publishing this correspondence? +It adds literally nothing to our knowledge +of the poet. He could have, and has, given more of +himself in a verse than he gives in the whole series +of letters signed Sylvander. Occasionally he is natural +in them, but rarely. 'I shall certainly be ashamed of +scrawling whole sheets of incoherence.' We trust he +was. The letters are false in sentiment, stilted in +diction, artificial in morality. We have a picture of the +poet all through trying to batter himself into a passion +he does not feel, into love of an accomplished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">{108}</a></span> and intellectual +woman; while in his heart's core is registered +the image of Jean Armour, the mother of his children. +He shows his paces before Clarinda and tears passion to +tatters in inflated prose; he poses as a stylist, a moralist, +a religious enthusiast, a poet, a man of the world, and +now and again accidentally he assumes the face and figure +of Robert Burns. We read and wonder if this be really +the same man who wrote in his journal, 'The whining +cant of love, except in real passion and by a masterly +hand, is to me as insufferable as the preaching cant of +old father Smeaton, Whig minister at Kilmaurs. Darts, +flames, cupids, love graces and all that farrago are just +... a senseless rabble.'</p> + +<p>Clarinda comes out of the correspondence better than +Sylvander. Her letters are more natural and vastly +more clever. She grieves to hear of his accident, and +sympathises with him in his suffering; were she his sister +she would call and see him. He is too romantic in his +style of address, and must remember she is a married +woman. Would he wait like Jacob seven years for a +wife? And perhaps be disappointed! She is not unhappy: +religion has been her balm for every woe. She +had read his autobiography as Desdemona listened to +the narration of Othello, but she was pained because of +his hatred of Calvinism; he must study it seriously. +She could well believe him when he said that no woman +could love as ardently as himself. The only woman +for him would be one qualified for the companion, the +friend, and the mistress. The last might gain Sylvander, +but the others alone could keep him. She admires him +for his continued fondness for Jean, who perhaps does +not possess his tenderest, faithfulest friendship. How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">{109}</a></span> +could that bonnie lassie refuse him after such proofs of +love? But he must not rave; he must limit himself to +friendship. The evening of their third meeting was one +of the most exquisite she had ever experienced. Only +he must now know she has faults. She means well, but +is liable to become the victim of her sensibility. She +too now prefers the religion of the bosom. She cannot +deny his power over her: would he pay another evening +visit on Saturday?</p> + +<p>When the poet is leaving Edinburgh, Clarinda is heartbroken. +'Oh, let the scenes of nature remind you of +Clarinda! In winter, remember the dark shades of her +fate; in summer, the warmth of her friendship; in +autumn, her glowing wishes to bestow plenty on all; and +let spring animate you with hopes that your friend may +yet surmount the wintry blasts of life, and revive to taste +a spring-time of happiness. At all events, Sylvander, +the storms of life will quickly pass, and one unbounded +spring encircle all. Love, there, is not a crime. I +charge you to meet me there, O God! I must lay down +my pen.'</p> + +<p>Poor Clarinda! Well for her peace of mind that the +poet was leaving her; well for Burns, also, that he was +leaving Clarinda and Edinburgh. Only one thing +remained for both to do, and it had been wise, to burn +their letters. Would that Clarinda had been as much +alive to her own good name, and the poet's fair fame, as +Peggy Chalmers, who did not preserve her letters from +Burns!</p> + +<p>It was February 1788 before Burns could settle with +Creech; and, after discharging all expenses, he found a +balance in his favour of about five hundred pounds. To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">{110}</a></span> +Gilbert, who was in sore need of the money, he advanced +one hundred and eighty pounds, as his contribution to +the support of their mother. With what remained of +the money he leased from Mr. Miller of Dalswinton +the f<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">{111}</a></span>arm of Ellisland, on which he entered at Whitsunday +1788.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">ELLISLAND</span></h2> + + +<p>When Burns turned his back on Edinburgh in February +1788, and set his face resolutely towards his native +county and the work that awaited him, he left the city a +happier and healthier man than he had been all the +months of his sojourn in it. The times of aimless roving, +and of still more demoralising hanging on in the hope of +something being done for him, were at an end; he looked +to the future with self-reliance. His vain hopes of preferment +were already 'thrown behind and far away,' and +he saw clearly that by the labour of his own hands he +had to live, independent of the dispensations of patronage, +and trusting no longer to the accidents of fortune. +'The thoughts of a home,' to quote Cunningham's words, +'of a settled purpose in life, gave him a silent gladness +of heart such as he had never before known.'</p> + +<p>Burns, though he had hoped and was disappointed, +left the city not so much with bitterness as with contempt. +If he had been received on this second visit with punctilious +politeness, more ceremoniously than cordially, it +was just as he had himself expected. Gossip, too, had +been busy while he was absent, and his sayings and +doings had been bruited abroad. His worst fault was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">{112}</a></span> +that he was a shrewd observer of men, and drew, in a +memorandum book he kept, pen-portraits of the people +he met. 'Dr Blair is merely an astonishing proof of +what industry and application can do. Natural parts +like his are frequently to be met with; his vanity is proverbially +known among his acquaintance.' The Lord +Advocate he pictured in a verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'He clenched his pamphlets in his fist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He quoted and he hinted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in a declamation-mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His argument he tint it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gap'd for't, he grap'd for't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fand it was awa, man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what his common sense came short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He eked it out wi' law, man.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Had pen-portraits, such as these, been merely caricatures, +they might have been forgiven; but, unfortunately, +they were convincing likenesses, therefore libels. We +doubt not, as Cunningham tells us, that the <i>literati</i> of +Edinburgh were not displeased when such a man left +them; they could never feel at their ease so long as he +was in their midst. 'Nor were the titled part of the +community without their share in this silent rejoicing; +his presence was a reproach to them. The illustrious +of his native land, from whom he had looked for patronage, +had proved that they had the carcass of greatness, +but wanted the soul; they subscribed for his poems, and +looked on their generosity "as an alms could keep a god +alive." He turned his back on Edinburgh, and from that +time forward scarcely counted that man his friend who +spoke of titled persons in his presence.'</p> + +<p>It was with feelings of relief, also, that Burns left the +super-scholarly litterateurs; 'white curd of asses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">{113}</a></span>' milk,' +he called them; gentlemen who reminded him of some +spinsters in his country who 'spin their thread so fine +that it is neither fit for weft nor woof.' To such men, +recognising only the culture of schools, a genius like +Burns was a puzzle, easier dismissed than solved. Burns +saw them, in all their tinsel of academic tradition, +through and through.</p> + +<p>Coming from Edinburgh to the quiet home-life of +Mossgiel was like coming out of the vitiated atmosphere +of a ballroom into the pure and bracing air of early +morning. Away from the fever of city life, he only +gradually comes back to sanity and health. The artificialities +and affectations of polite society are not to be +thrown off in a day's time. Hardly had he arrived at +Mauchline before he penned a letter to Clarinda, that +simply staggers the reader with the shameless and heartless +way in which it speaks of Jean Armour. 'I am +dissatisfied with her—I cannot endure her! I, while my +heart smote me for the profanity, tried to compare her +with my Clarinda. 'Twas setting the expiring glimmer +of a farthing taper beside the cloudless glory of the +meridian sun. <i>Here</i> was tasteless insipidity, vulgarity +of soul, and mercenary fawning; <i>there</i>, polished good +sense, heaven-born genius, and the most generous, the +most delicate, the most tender passion. I have done +with her, and she with me.'</p> + +<p>Poor Jean! Think of her too confiding and trustful +love written down <i>mercenary fawning</i>! But this was not +Burns. The whole letter is false and vulgar. Perhaps +he thought to please his Clarinda by the comparison; +she had little womanly feeling if she felt flattered. Let +us believe, for her own sake, that she was disgusted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">{114}</a></span> +His letter to Ainslie, ten days later, is something very +different, though even yet he gives no hint of acknowledging +Jean as his wife. 'Jean I found banished like a +martyr—forlorn, destitute, and friendless—all for the +good old cause. I have reconciled her to her fate; I +have reconciled her to her mother; I have taken her a +room; I have taken her to my arms; I have given her a +guinea, and I have embraced her till she rejoiced with +joy unspeakable and full of glory.'</p> + +<p>This is flippant in tone, but something more manly in +sentiment; Burns was coming to his senses. On 13th +June, twin girls were born to Jean, but they only lived +a few days. On the same day their father wrote from +Ellisland to Mrs. Dunlop a letter, in which we see the +real Burns, true to the best feelings of his nature, and +true to his sorely-tried and long-suffering wife. 'This +is the second day, my honoured friend, that I have been +on my farm. A solitary inmate of an old smoky spence, +far from every object I love, or by whom I am beloved; +nor any acquaintance older than yesterday, except Jenny +Geddes, the old mare I ride on; while uncouth cares +and novel plans hourly insult my awkward ignorance and +bashful inexperience.... Your surmise, madam, is just; +I am, indeed, a husband.... You are right that a +bachelor state would have ensured me more friends; +but, from a cause you will easily guess, conscious peace +in the enjoyment of my own mind, and unmistrusting +confidence in approaching my God, would seldom have +been of the number. I found a once much-loved and +still much-loved female, literally and truly cast out to the +mercy of the naked elements; but I enabled her to +<i>purchase</i> a she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">{115}</a></span>lter,—there is no sporting with a fellow-creature's +happiness or misery.'</p> + +<p>It was not till August that the marriage was ratified +by the Church, when Robert Burns and Jean Armour +were rebuked for their acknowledged irregularity, and +admonished 'to adhere faithfully to one another, as man +and wife, all the days of their life.'</p> + +<p>This was the only fit and proper ending of Burns's +acquaintance with Jean Armour. As an honourable +man, he could not have done otherwise than he did. +To have deserted her now, and married another, even +admitting he was legally free to do so, which is doubtful, +would have been the act of an abandoned wretch, and +certainly have wrought ruin in the moral and spiritual +life of the poet. In taking Jean as his wedded wife, he +acted not only honourably, but wisely; and wisdom and +prudence were not always distinguishing qualities of +Robert Burns.</p> + +<p>Some months had to elapse, however, before the wife +could join her husband at Ellisland. The first thing he +had to do when he entered on his lease was to rebuild +the dwelling-house, he himself lodging in the meanwhile +in the smoky spence which he mentions in his letter to +Mrs. Dunlop. In the progress of the building he not +only took a lively interest, but actually worked with his +own hands as a labourer, and gloried in his strength: +'he beat all for a dour lift.' But it was some time +before he could settle down to the necessarily monotonous +work of farming. 'My late scenes of idleness +and dissipation,' he confessed to Dunbar, 'have enervated +my mind to a considerable degree.' He was restless +and rebellious at times, and we are not surprised +to find the sudden settling down from gaiety and travel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">{116}</a></span> +to the home-life of a farmer marked by bursts of impatience, +irritation, and discontent. The only steadying +influence was the thought of his wife and children, and +the responsibility of a husband and a father. He grew +despondent occasionally, and would gladly have been +at rest, but a wife and children bound him to struggle +with the stream. His melancholy blinded him even to +the good qualities of his neighbours. The only things +he saw in perfection were stupidity and canting. 'Prose +they only know in graces, prayers, etc., and the value +of these they estimate, as they do their plaiding webs, +by the ell. As for the Muses, they have as much an +idea of a rhinoceros as of a poet.' He was, in fact, +ungracious towards his neighbours, not that they were +boorish or uninformed folk, but simply because, though +living at Ellisland in body, his mind was in Ayrshire +with his darling Jean, and he was looking to the future +when he should have a home and a wife of his own. His +eyes would ever wander to the west, and he sang, to +cheer him in his loneliness, a song of love to his Bonnie +Jean:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dearly lo'e the west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the bonnie lassie lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lassie I lo'e best.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was not till the beginning of December that he was +in a position to bring his wife and children to Ellisland; +and this event brought him into kindlier relations with +his fellow-farmers. His neighbours gathered to bid his +wife welcome; and drank to the roof-tree of the house +of Burns. The poet, now that he had made his home +amongst them, was regarded as one of themselves;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">{117}</a></span> +while Burns, on his part, having at last got his wife and +children beside him, was in a healthier frame of mind +and more charitably disposed towards those who had +come to give them a welcome. That he was now as +one settled in life with something worthy to live for, +we have ample proof in his letter written to Mrs. Dunlop +on the first day of the New Year. It is discursive, yet +philosophical and reflective, and its whole tone is that +of a man who looks on the world round about him with +a kindly charity, and looks to the future with faith and +trust. Life passed very sweetly and peacefully with the +poet and his family for a time here. The farm, it would +appear, was none of the best,—Mr. Cunningham told him +he had made a poet's not a farmer's choice,—but Burns +was hopeful and worked hard. Yet the labour of the +farm was not to be his life-work. Even while waiting +impatiently the coming of his wife, he had been contributing +to Johnson's Museum, and he fondly imagined +that he was going to be farmer, poet, and exciseman +all in one. Some have regretted his appointment to +the Excise at this time, and attributed to his frequent +absences from home his failure as a farmer. They +may be right. But what was the poet to do? He +knew by bitter experience how precarious the business +of farming was, and thought that a certain salary, even +though small, would always stand between his family +and absolute want. 'I know not,' he wrote to Ainslie, +'how the word exciseman, or, still more opprobrious, +gauger, will sound in your ears. I too have seen the +day when my auditory nerves would have felt very +delicately on this subject; but a wife and children have +a wonderful power in blunting these kind of sensation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">{118}</a></span>s. +Fifty pounds a year for life and a pension for widows +and orphans, you will allow, is no bad settlement for a +<i>poet</i>.' And to Blacklock he wrote in verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'But what d'ye think, my trusty fier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm turned a gauger—Peace be here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parnassian queans, I fear, I fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ye'll now disdain me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then my fifty pounds a year<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Will little gain me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hae a wife and twa wee laddies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye ken yoursel's my heart right proud is—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">I needna vaunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll sned besoms—thraw saugh woodies,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Before they want.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But to conclude my silly rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make a happy fireside clime<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To weans and wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's the true pathos and sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of human life.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This was nobly said; and the poet spoke from the +heart.</p> + +<p>Not content with being gauger, farmer, and poet, +Burns took a lively interest in everything affecting the +welfare of the parish and the well-being of its inhabitants. +For this was no poet of the study, holding himself aloof +from the affairs of the world, and fearing the contamination +of his kind. Burns was alive all-round, and always +acted his part in the world as a husband and father; as +a citizen and a man. He made himself the poet of +humanity, because he himself was so intensely human, +and joyed and sorrowed with his fellows. At this time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> +he established a library in Dunscore, and himself undertook +the whole management,—drawing out rules, purchasing +books, acting for a time as secretary, treasurer, +and committee all in one. Among the volumes he +ordered were several of his old favourites, <i>The Spectator</i>, +<i>The Man of Feeling</i>, and <i>The Lounger</i>; and we know +that there was on the shelves even a folio Hebrew +Concordance.</p> + +<p>A favourite walk of the poet's while he stayed here +was along Nithside, where he often wandered to take a +'gloamin' shot at the Muses.' Here, after a fall of rain, +Cunningham records, the poet loved to walk, listening +to the roar of the river, or watching it bursting impetuously +from the groves of Friar's Carse. 'Thither he +walked in his sterner moods, when the world and its +ways touched his spirit; and the elder peasants of the +vale still show the point at which he used to pause and +look on the red and agitated stream.'</p> + +<p>In spite of his multifarious duties, he was now more +than ever determined to make his name as a poet. To +Dr. Moore he wrote (4th January 1789): 'The character +and employment of a poet were formerly my pleasure, +but now my pride.... Poesy I am determined to +prosecute with all my vigour. Nature has given very +few, if any, of the profession the talents of shining in +every species of composition. I shall try (for until trial +it is impossible to know) whether she has qualified me +to shine in any one.'</p> + +<p>It was inevitable that one whose district as an exciseman +reached far and wide could not regularly attend to +ploughing, sowing, and reaping, and the farm was very +often left to the care of servants. Dr. Currie appears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> +to count it as a reproach that his farm no longer occupied +the principal part of his care or his thoughts. Yet it +could not have been otherwise. Burns after having +undertaken a duty would attend to it religiously, and +we know that he pursued his work throughout his ten +parishes diligently, faithfully, and with unvarying punctuality. +Others have bemoaned that those frequent Excise +excursions led the poet into temptation, that he was +being continually assailed by the sin that so easily beset +him. Let it be admitted frankly that the temptations +to social excess were great; is it not all the more +creditable to Burns that he did not sink under those +temptations and become the besotted wreck conventional +biography has attempted to make him? If those who +raise this plaint mean to insinuate that Burns became +a confirmed toper, then they are assuredly wrong; if they +be only drawing attention to the fact that drinking was +too common in Scotland at that time, then they are +attacking not the poet but the social customs of his +day. It would be easy if we were to accept 'the +general impression of the place,' and go by the tale +of gossip, to show that Burns was demoralised by his +duties as a gauger, and sank into a state of maudlin +intemperance. But ascertained fact and the testimony +of unimpeachable authority are at variance with the +voice of gossip. 'So much the worse for fact,' biography +would seem to have said, and gaily sped on the work of +defamation. We only require to forget Allan Cunningham's +<i>Personal Sketch of the Poet</i>, the letters from Mr. +Findlater and Mr. Gray, and to close our eyes to the +excellence of the poetry of this period, in order to see +Burns on the downgrade, and to preach g<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">{121}</a></span>rand moral +lessons from the text of a wasted life.</p> + +<p>But, after all, 'facts are chiels that winna ding,' and +we must take them into account, however they may +baulk us of grand opportunities of plashing in watery +sentiment. Speaking of the poet's biographers, Mr. +Findlater remarks that they have tried to outdo one +another in heaping obloquy on his name; they have +made his convivial habits, habitual drunkenness; his +wit and humour, impiety; his social talents, neglect of +duty; and have accused him of every vice. Then he +gives his testimony: 'My connection with Robert +Burns commenced immediately after his admission into +the Excise, and continued to the hour of his death. +In all that time the superintendence of his behaviour as +an officer of the revenue was a branch of my especial +province; and it may be supposed I would not be an +inattentive observer of the general conduct of a man +and a poet so celebrated by his countrymen. In the +former capacity, so far from its being impossible for +him to discharge the duties of his office with that +regularity which is almost indispensable, as is palpably +assumed by one of his biographers, and insinuated, not +very obscurely even, by Dr. Currie, he was exemplary +in his attention as an Excise officer, and was even +jealous of the least imputation on his vigilance.'</p> + +<p>But a glance at the poems and songs of this period +would be a sufficient vindication of the poet's good +name. There are considerably over a hundred songs +and poems written during his stay at Ellisland, many +of them of his finest. The third volume of Johnson's +Museum, published in February 1790, contained no +fewer than forty songs by Burns. Among the Ellislan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">{122}</a></span>d +songs were such as, <i>Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie +Doon</i>, <i>Auld Lang Syne</i>, <i>Willie brewed a Peck o' Maut</i>, +<i>To Mary in Heaven</i>, <i>Of a' the Airts the Wind can blaw</i>, +<i>My Love she's but a Lassie yet</i>, <i>Tam Glen</i>, <i>John Anderson +my Jo</i>, songs that have become the property of the +world. Of the last-named song, Angellier remarks that +the imagination of the poet must have indeed explored +every situation of love to have led him to that which +he in his own experience could not have known. Even +the song <i>Willie brewed a Peck o' Maut</i>, the first of +bacchanalian ditties, is the work of a man of sane +mind and healthy appetite. It is not of the diseased +imagination of drunken genius. But the greatest poem +of this period, and one of Burns's biggest achievements, +is <i>Tam o' Shanter</i>. This poem was written in answer +to a request of Captain Grose that the poet would +provide a witch story to be printed along with a drawing +of Alloway Kirk, and was first published in Grose's +<i>Antiquities of Scotland</i>. We have been treated by +several biographers to a private view of the poet, with +wild gesticulations, agonising in the composition of this +poem; but where his wife did not venture to intrude, we +surely need not seek to desecrate. 'I stept aside with +the bairns among the broom,' says Bonnie Jean; not, we +should imagine, to leave room for aliens and strangers. +He has been again burlesqued for us rending himself +in rhyme, and stretched on straw groaning elegiacs to +Mary in heaven. All this is mere sensationalism provided +for illiterate readers. We have the poem, and its +excellence sufficeth.</p> + +<p>It is worthy of note that in <i>Tam o' Shanter</i>, as well as +in <i>To Mary in Heaven</i>, the poet goes back to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> his earlier +years in Ayrshire. They are posthumous products of +the inspiration which gave us the Kilmarnock Edition. +I am not inclined to agree with Carlyle in his estimate +of <i>Tam o' Shanter</i>. It is not the composition of a man +of great talent, but of a man of transcendent poetical +genius. The story itself is a conception of genius, and +in the narration the genius is unquestionable. It is a +panorama of pictures so vivid and powerful that the +characters and scenes are fixed indelibly on the mind, +and abide with us a cherished literary possession. After +reading the poem, the words are recalled without +conscious effort of memory, but as the only possible +embodiment of the mental impressions retained. Short +as the poem is, there is in it character, humour, pathos, +satire, indignation, tenderness, fun, frolic, diablerie, +almost every human feeling. I have heard Burns in +the writing of this poem likened to a composer at an +organ improvising a piece of music in which, before he +has done, he has used every stop and touched every +note on the keyboard. Even the weakest lines of the +piece, which mark a dramatic pause in the rapid narration, +have a distinctive beauty and are the most frequently +quoted lines of the poem. In artistic word-painting +and graphic phrasing Burns is here at his best. His +description of the horrible is worthy of Shakspeare; and +it is questionable if even the imagination of that master +ever conceived anything more awful than the scene and +circumstance of the infernal orgies of those witches and +warlocks. What Zolaesque realism there is! In the +line, 'The grey hairs yet stack to the heft,' all the +gruesomeness of murder is compressed into a distich. +Yet the horrible details are controlled and unified <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">{124}</a></span>in +the powerful imagination of the poet. We believe Dr. +Blacklock was right in thinking that this poem, though +Burns had never written another syllable, would have +made him a high reputation. Certainly it was not the +work of a man daily dazing his faculties with drink; +no more was that exquisite lyric <i>To Mary in Heaven</i>. +Another poem of this period deserving special mention +is <i>The Whistle</i>, not merely because of its dramatic force +and lyrical beauty, but because it gives a true picture +of the drinking customs of the time. And again I dare +assert that this is not the work of a mind enfeebled or +debased by drink. It is a bit of simple, direct, sincere +narration, humanly healthy in tone; the ideas are clear +and consecutive, and the language fitting. It is not so +that drunken genius expresses itself. The language of +a poetical mind enfeebled by alcohol or opium is +frequently mystic and musical; it never deals with the +realities and responsibilities of life, but in a witchery +of words winds and meanders through the realms of +reverie and dream. It may be sweet and sensuous; +it is rarely narrative or simple; never direct nor +forcible.</p> + +<p>In the <i>Kirk's Alarm</i>, wherein he again reverted to +his Mossgiel period, he displayed all his former force of +satire, as well as his sympathy with those who advocated +rational views in religion. Dr. Macgill had written a +book which the Kirk declared to be heretical, and +Burns, at the request of some friends, fought for the +doctor in his usual way, though with little hope of doing +him any good. 'Ajax's shield consisted, I think, of +seven bull-hides and a plate of brass, which altogether +set Hector's utmost force at defiance. Alas! I am not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">{125}</a></span> +a Hector, and the worthy doctor's foes are as securely +armed as Ajax was. Ignorance, superstition, bigotry, +stupidity, malevolence, self-conceit, envy—all strongly +bound in a massy frame of brazen impudence; to such +a shield humour is the peck of a sparrow and satire the +pop-gun of a schoolboy. Creation-disgracing scélérats +such as they, God only can mend, and the devil only +can punish.' The doctor yielded, Cunningham tells +us, and was forgiven, but not the poet; pertinently +adding, 'so much more venial is it in devout men's eyes +to be guilty of heresy than of satire.'</p> + +<p>Into political as well as theological matters Burns +also entered with all his wonted enthusiasm. Of his +election ballads, the best, perhaps, are <i>The Five Carlins</i> +and the <i>Epistle to Mr. Graham of Fintry</i>. But these +ballads are not to be taken as a serious addition to the +poet's works; he did not wish them to be so taken. +He was a man as well as a poet; was interested with +his neighbours in political affairs, and in the day of +battle fought with the weapons he could wield with +effect. Nor are his ballads always to be taken as +representing his political principles; these he expressed +in song that did not owe its inspiration to the excitement +of elections. Burns was not a party man; he had +in politics, as in religion, some broad general principles, +but he had 'the warmest veneration for individuals of +both parties.' The most important verse in his <i>Epistle +to Graham of Fintry</i> is the last:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'For your poor friend, the Bard, afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hears and only hears the war,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">A cool spectator purely:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, when the storm the forest rends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The robin in the hedge descends,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">{126}</a></span><span class="i8">And sober chirps securely.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Burns's life was, therefore, quite full at Ellisland, too +full indeed; for, towards the end of 1791, we find him +disposing of the farm, and looking to the Excise alone +for a livelihood. In the farm he had sunk the greater +part of the profits of his Edinburgh Edition; and now +it was painfully evident that the money was lost. He +had worked hard enough, but he was frequently absent, +and a farm thrives only under the eye of a master. On +Excise business he was accustomed to ride at least two +hundred miles every week, and so could have little +time to give to his fields. Besides this, the soil of +Ellisland had been utterly exhausted before he entered +on his lease, and consequently made a miserable return +for the labour expended on it. The friendly relations +that had existed between him and his landlord were +broken off before now; and towards the close of his stay +at Ellisland Burns spoke rather bitterly of Mr. Miller's +selfish kindness. Miller was, in fact, too much of a lord +and master, exacting submission as well as rent from his +tenants; while Burns was of too haughty a spirit to beck +and bow to any man. 'The life of a farmer is,' he wrote +to Mrs. Dunlop, 'as a farmer paying a dear, unconscionable +rent, a cursed life.... Devil take the life of reaping +the fruits that others must eat!'</p> + +<p>The poet, too, had been overworking himself, and was +again subject to his attacks of hypochondria. 'I feel +that horrid hypochondria pervading every atom of both +body and soul. This farm has undone my enjoyment +of myself. It is a ruinous affair on all hands.' In the +midst of his troubles and vexations with his farm, he +began to look more hopefully to the Excise, and to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">{127}</a></span> +in the future a life of literary ease, when he could devote +himself wholly to the Muses. He had already got +ranked on the list as supervisor, an appointment that he +reckoned might be worth one hundred or two hundred +pounds a year; and this determined him to quit the farm +entirely, and to try to make a living by one profession. +As farmer, exciseman, and poet he had tried too much, +and even a man of his great capacity for work was bound +to have succumbed under the strain. Even had the +farm not proved the ruinous bargain it did, we imagine +that he must have been compelled sooner or later to +relinquish one of the two, either his farm or his Excise +commission. Circumstances decided for him, and in +December 1791 he sold by auction his stock and implements, +and removed to Dumfries, 'leaving nothing at +Ellisland but a putting-stone, with which he loved to +exercise his strength; a memory of his musings, which +can never die; and three hundred pounds of his money, +sunk beyond redemption <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">{128}</a></span>in a speculation from which +all augured happiness.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">DUMFRIES</span></h2> + + +<p>When Burns removed from Ellisland to Dumfries, he +took up his abode in a small house of three apartments +in the Wee Vennel. Here he stayed till Whitsunday +1793, when the family removed to a detached house of +two storeys in the Mill Vennel. A mere closet nine +feet square was the poet's writing-room in this house, +and it was in the bedroom adjoining that he died.</p> + +<p>The few years of his residence in Dumfries have been +commonly regarded as a period of poverty and intemperance. +But his intemperance has always been most +religiously exaggerated, and we doubt not also that the +poverty of the family at this time has been made to +appear worse than it was. Burns had not a salary +worthy of his great abilities, it is true, but there is good +reason to believe that the family lived in comparative +ease and comfort, and that there were luxuries in their +home, which neither father nor mother had known in +their younger days. Burns liked to see his Bonnie Jean +neat and trim, and she went as braw as any wife of +the town. Though we know that he wrote painfully, +towards the end of his life, for the loan of paltry sums, we +are to regard this as a sign more of temporary <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">{129}</a></span>embarrassment +than of a continual struggle to make ends meet. +The word debt grated so harshly on Burns's ears that he +could not be at peace with himself so long as the pettiest +account remained unpaid; and if he had no ready +money in his hands to meet it, he must e'en borrow +from a friend. His income, when he settled in Dumfries, +was 'down money £70 per annum,' and there +were perquisites which must have raised it to eighty or +ninety. Though his hopes of preferment were never +realised, he tried his best on this slender income 'to +make a happy fireside clime to weans and wife,' and in +a sense succeeded.</p> + +<p>What he must have felt more keenly than anything +else in leaving Ellisland was, that in giving up farming +he was making an open confession of failure in his ideal +of combining in himself the farmer, the poet, and the +exciseman. There was a stigma also attaching to the +name of gauger, that must often have been galling to +the spirit of Burns. The ordinary labourer utters the +word with dry contempt, as if he were speaking of a spy. +But the thoughts of a wife and bairns had already prevailed +over prejudice; he realised the responsibilities of a husband +and father, and pocketed his pride. A great change +it must have been to come from the quiet and seclusion +of Ellisland to settle down in the midst of the busy life +of an important burgh.</p> + +<p>Life in provincial towns in Scotland in those days was +simply frittered away in the tittle-tattle of cross and +causeway, and the insipid talk of taverns. The most +trifling incidents of everyday life were dissected and discussed, +and magnified into events of the first importance. +Many residents had no trade or profession whateve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">{130}</a></span>r. +Annuitants and retired merchants built themselves +houses, had their portraits painted in oil, and thereafter +strutted into an aristocracy. Without work, without hobby, +without healthy recreation, and cursed with inglorious +leisure, they simply dissipated time until they should pass +into eternity. The only amusement such lumpish creatures +could have was to meet in some inn or tavern, and +swill themselves into a debauched joy of life. Dumfries, +when Burns came to it in 1791, was no better and no +worse than its neighbours; and we can readily imagine +how eagerly such a man would be welcomed by its +pompously dull and leisured topers. Now might their +meetings be lightened with flashes of genius, and the lazy +hours of their long nights go fleeting by on the wings of +wit and eloquence. Too often in Dumfries was Burns +wiled into the howffs and haunts of these seasoned casks. +They could stand heavy drinking; the poet could not. +He was too highly strung, and if he had consulted his +own inclination would rather have shunned than sought +the company of men who met to quaff their quantum of +wine and sink into sottish sleep. For Burns was never +a drunkard, not even in Dumfries; though the contrary +has been asserted so often that it has all the honour that +age and the respectability of authority can give it. There +was with him no animal craving for drink, nor has he +been convicted of solitary drinking; but he was intensely +convivial, and drank, as Professor Blackie put it, 'only +as the carnal seasoning of a rampant intellectuality.' +There is no doubt that he came to Dumfries a comparatively +pure and sober man; and if he now began to +frequent the Globe Tavern, often to cast his pearls before +swine, let it be remembered that he was compelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">{131}</a></span> +frequently to meet there strangers and tourists who had +journeyed for the express purpose of meeting the poet. +Nowadays writers and professional men have their +clubs, and in general frequent them more regularly than +Burns ever haunted the howffs of Dumfries. But +we have heard too much about 'the poet's moral +course after he settled in Dumfries being downward.' +'From the time of his migration to Dumfries,' +Principal Shairp soberly informs us, 'it would +appear that he was gradually dropped out of acquaintance +by most of the Dumfriesshire lairds, as he had long been +by the parochial and other ministers.' Poor lairds! +Poor ministers! If they preferred their own talk of +crops and cattle and meaner things to the undoubted +brilliancy of Burns's conversation, surely their dulness +and want of appreciation is not to be laid to the charge +of the poet. I doubt not had the poet lived to a good +old age he would have been gradually dropped out of +acquaintance by some who have not scrupled to write +his biography. Politics, it is admitted, may have formed +the chief element in the lairds' and ministers' aversion, +but there is a hint that his irregular life had as much +to do with it. Is it to be seriously contended +that these men looked askance at Burns because +of his occasional convivialities? 'Madam,' he answered +a lady who remonstrated with him on this very subject, +'they would not thank me for my company if I did not +drink with them.' These lairds, perhaps even these +ministers, could in all probability stand their three +bottles with the best, and were more likely to drop the +acquaintance of one who would not drink bottle for +bottle with them than of one who indulged to excess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">{132}</a></span> +It was considered a breach of hospitality not to imbibe +so long as the host ordained; and in many cases glasses +were supplied so constructed that they had to be drained +at every toast. 'Occasional hard drinking,' he confessed +to Mrs. Dunlop, 'is the devil to me; against this I have +again and again set my resolution, and have greatly +succeeded. Taverns I have totally abandoned; it is the +private parties in the family way among the hard-drinking +gentlemen of this county that do me the mischief; +but even this I have more than half given over.' Most +assuredly whatever these men charged against Robert +Burns it was not drunkenness. But he has been accused +of mixing with low company! That is something +nearer the mark, and goes far to explain the aversion of +those stately Tories. But again, what is meant by low +company? Are we to believe that the poet made +associates of depraved and abandoned men? Not for +a moment! This low company was nothing more than +men in the rank of life into which he had been born; +mechanics, tradesmen, farmers, ploughmen, who did not +move in the aristocratic circles of patrician lairds or +ministers ordained to preach the gospel to the poor. +It was simply the old, old cry of 'associating with +publicans and sinners.'</p> + +<p>We do not defend nor seek to hide the poet's aberrations; +he confessed them remorselessly, and condemned +himself. But we do raise our voice against the exaggeration +of occasional over-indulgence into confirmed +debauchery; and dare assert that Burns was as sober a +man as the average lairds and ministers who had the +courage of their prejudices, and wrote themselves down +asses to all posterity.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">{133}</a></span></p> +<p>But here again the work the poet managed to do is a +sufficient disproof of his irregular life. He was at this +time, besides working hard at his Excise business, writing +ballads and songs, correcting for Creech the two-volume +edition of his poems, and managing somehow or other +to find time for a pretty voluminous correspondence. +His hands were full and his days completely occupied. +He would not have been an Excise officer very long had +he been unable to attend to his duties. William Wallace, +the editor of <i>Chambers's Burns</i>, has studied very carefully +this period of the poet's life, and found that in those +days of petty faultfinding he has not once been reprimanded, +either for drunkenness or for dereliction of duty. +There were spies and informers about who would not +have left the Excise Commissioners uninformed of the +paltriest charge they could have trumped up against +Burns. Nor is there, when we look at his literary work, +any falling off in his powers as a poet. He sang as +sweetly, as purely, as magically as ever he did; and this +man, who has been branded as a blasphemer and a +libertine, had nobly set himself to purify the polluted +stream of Scottish Song. He was still continuing his +contributions to Johnson's Museum, and now he had +also begun to write for Thomson's more ambitious +work.</p> + +<p>Some of the first of his Dumfriesshire songs owe +their inspiration to a hurried visit he paid to Mrs. +Maclehose in Edinburgh before she sailed to join her +husband in the West Indies. The best of these +are, perhaps, <i>My Nannie's Awa'</i> and <i>Ae Fond Kiss</i>. The +fourth verse of the latter was a favourite of Byron's, +while Scot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">{134}</a></span>t claims for it that it is worth a thousand +romances—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Had we never loved so kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had we never loved so blindly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never met—or never parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We had ne'er been broken-hearted.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Another song of a different kind, <i>The Deil's awa wi' the +Exciseman</i>, had its origin in a raid upon a smuggling +brig that had got into shallow water in the Solway. The +ship was armed and well manned; and while Lewars, a +brother-excisemen, posted to Dumfries for a guard of +dragoons, Burns, with a few men under him, watched to +prevent landing or escape. It was while impatiently +waiting Lewars's return that he composed this song. +When the dragoons arrived Burns put himself at their +head, and wading, sword in hand, was the first to board +the smuggler. The affair might ultimately have led to +his promotion had he not, next day at the sale of the +vessel's arms and stores in Dumfries, purchased four +carronades, which he sent, with a letter testifying his admiration +and respect, to the French Legislative Assembly. +The carronades never reached their destination, having +been intercepted at Dover by the Custom House +authorities. It is a pity perhaps that Burns should have +testified his political leanings in so characteristic a way. +It was the impetuous act of a poet roused to enthusiasm, +as were thousands of his fellow-countrymen at the time, +by what was thought to be the beginning of universal +brotherhood in France. But whatever may be said as +to the impulsive imprudence of the step, it is not to be +condemned as a most absurd and presumptuous breach +of decorum. We were not at war with France at this +time; had not even begun to await developments with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">{135}</a></span> +critical suspicion. Talleyrand had not yet been slighted +by our Queen, and protestations of peace and friendship +were passing between the two Governments. Any subject +of the king might at this time have written a friendly +letter or forwarded a token of goodwill to the French +Government, without being suspected of disloyalty. +But by the time the carronades had reached Dover the +complexion of things had changed; and yet even in those +critical times Burns's action, though it may have hindered +promotion, does not appear to have been interpreted as +'a most absurd and presumptuous breach of decorum.' +That interpretation was left for biographers made wise +with the passions of war; and yet they have not said in +so many words, what they darkly insinuate, that the poet +was not a loyal British subject. His love of country is too +surely established. That, later, he thought the Ministry +engaging in an unjust and unrighteous war, may be +frankly admitted. He was not alone in his opinion; nor +was he the only poet carried away with a wild enthusiasm +of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. Societies were then +springing up all over the country calling for redress of +grievances and for greater political freedom. Such +societies were regarded by the Government of the day +as seditious, and their agitations as dangerous to the +peace of the country; and Burns, though he did not +become a member of the Society of the Friends of the +People, was at one with them in their desire for reform. +It was known also that he 'gat the <i>Gazeteer</i>,' and that +was enough to mark him out as a disaffected person. +No doubt he also talked imprudently; for it was not the +nature of this man to keep his sentiments hidden in his +heart, and to talk the language of expediency. What he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">{136}</a></span> +thought in private he advocated publicly in season and +out of season; and it was quite in the natural course of +things that information regarding his political opinions +should be lodged against him with the Board of Excise. +His political conduct was made the subject of official +inquiry, and it would appear that for a time he was in +danger of dismissal from the service. This is a somewhat +painful episode in his life; and we find him in a +letter to Mr. Graham of Fintry repudiating the slanderous +charges, yet confessing that the tender ties of wife +and children 'unnerve courage and wither resolution.' +Mr. Findlater, his superior, was of opinion that only a very +mild reprimand was administered, and the poet warned +to be more prudent in his speech. But what appeared +mild to Mr. Findlater was galling to Burns. In his letter +to Erskine of Mar he says: 'One of our supervisors-general, +a Mr. Corbet, was instructed to inquire on the +spot and to document me—that my business was to act, +<i>not to think</i>; and that whatever might be men or measures +it was for me to be <i>silent</i> and <i>obedient</i>.'</p> + +<p>We can hardly conceive a harsher sentence on one of +Burns's temperament, and we doubt not that the degradation +of being thus gagged, and the blasting of his +hopes of promotion, were the cause of much of the +bitterness that we find bursting from him now more +frequently than ever, both in speech and writing. That +remorse for misconduct irritated him against himself and +against the world, is true; but it is none the less true +that he must have chafed against the servility of an +office that forbade him the freedom of personal opinion. +In the same letter he unburdens his heart in a burst of +eloquent and noble indignation.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">{137}</a></span></p> +<p>'Burns was a poor man from birth, and an exciseman +by necessity; but—I <i>will</i> say it—the sterling of his +honest worth no poverty could debase; his independent +British mind oppression might bend, but could not +subdue.... I have three sons who, I see already, +have brought into the world souls ill-qualified to inhabit +the bodies of slaves.... Does any man tell me that +my full efforts can be of no service, and that it does not +belong to my humble station to meddle with the concerns +of a nation? I can tell him that it is on such individuals +as I that a nation has to rest, both for the hand +of support and the eye of intelligence.'</p> + +<p>What the precise charges against him were, we are not +informed. It is alleged that he once, when the health +of Pitt was being drunk, interposed with the toast of +'A greater than Pitt—George Washington.' There can +be little fault found with the sentiment. It is given to +poets to project themselves into futurity, and declare the +verdict of posterity. But the occasion was ill-chosen, +and he spoke with all a poet's imprudence. In another +company he aroused the martial fury of an unreasoning +captain by proposing the toast, 'May our success in the +present war be equal to the justice of our cause.' A +very humanitarian toast, one would think, but regarded +as seditious by the fire-eating captain, who had not the +sense to see that there was more of sedition in his +resentment than in Burns's proposal. Yet the affair +looked black enough for a time, and the poet was +afraid that even this story would be carried to the ears +of the commissioners, and his political opinions be again +misrepresented.</p> + +<p>Another thing that came to disturb his peace of mi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">{138}</a></span>nd +was his quarrel with Mrs. Riddell of Woodley Park, +where he had been made a welcome guest ever since +his advent to this district. That Burns, in the heat of a +fever of intoxication, had been guilty of a glaring act of +impropriety in the presence of the ladies seated in the +drawing-room, we may gather from the internal evidence +of his letter written the following morning 'from the +regions of hell, amid the horrors of the damned.' It +would appear that the gentlemen left in the dining-room +had got ingloriously drunk, and there and then proposed +an indecorous raid on the drawing-room. Whatever it +might be they did, it was Burns who was made to suffer +the shame of the drunken plot. His letter of abject +apology remained unanswered, and the estrangement +was only embittered by some lampoons which he wrote +afterwards on this accomplished lady. The affair was +bruited abroad, and the heinousness of the poet's offence +vastly exaggerated. Certain it is that he became deeply +incensed against not only the lady, but her husband as +well, to whom he considered he owed no apology whatever. +Matters were only made worse by his unworthy +verses, and it was not till he was almost on the brink +of the grave that he and Mrs. Riddell met again, and +the old friendship was re-established. The lady not +only forgot and forgave, but she was one of the first +after the poet's death to write generously and appreciatively +of his character and abilities.</p> + +<p>That the quarrel with Mrs. Riddell was prattled about +in Dumfries, and led other families to drop the acquaintance +of the poet, we are made painfully aware; and in +his correspondence now there is rancour, bitterness, and +remorse more pronounced and more settled than at any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">{139}</a></span> +other period of his life. He could not go abroad without +being reminded of the changed attitude of the world; +he could not stay at home without seeing his noble wife +uncomplainingly nursing a child that was not hers. He +cursed himself for his sins and follies; he cursed the +world for its fickleness and want of sympathy. 'His +wit,' says Heron, 'became more gloomy and sarcastic, +and his conversation and writings began to assume a +misanthropical tone, by which they had not been before +in any eminent degree distinguished. But with all his +failings his was still that exalted mind which had raised +itself above the depression of its original condition, with +all the energy of the lion pawing to free his hinder limbs +from the yet encumbering earth.'</p> + +<p>His health now began to give his friends serious +concern. To Cunningham he wrote, February 24, 1794: +'For these two months I have not been able to lift +a pen. My constitution and my frame were <i>ab origine</i> +blasted with a deep, incurable taint of hypochondria, +which poisons my existence.' A little later he confesses: +'I have been in poor health. I am afraid that I am +about to suffer for the follies of my youth. My medical +friends threaten me with a flying gout, but I trust they +are mistaken.' His only comfort in those days was his +correspondence with Thomson and with Johnson. He +kept pouring out song after song, criticising, rewriting, +changing what was foul and impure into songs of the +tenderest delicacy. He showed love in every mood, +from the rapture of pure passion in the <i>Lea Rig</i>, the +maidenly abandon of <i>Whistle and I'll come to you, my +Lad</i>, to the humour of <i>Last May a Braw Wooer</i> and +<i>Duncan Gray</i>, and the guileless devotion of <i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">{140}</a></span>O wert +thou in the Cauld Blast</i>. But he sang of more than +love. Turning from the coldness of the high and +mighty, who had once been his friends, he found +consolation in the naked dignity of manhood, and +penned the hymn of humanity, <i>A Man's a Man for a' +that</i>. Perhaps he found his text in <i>Tristram Shandy</i>: +'Honours, like impressions upon coin, may give an +ideal and local value to a bit of base metal, but gold +and silver pass all the world over with no other recommendation +than their own weight.' Something like +this occurs in Massinger's <i>Duke of Florence</i>, where it +is said of princes that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'They can give wealth and titles, but no virtues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is without their power.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Gower also had written—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'A king can kill, a king can save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A king can make a lord a knave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of a knave a lord also.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But the poem is undoubtedly Burns's, and it is one he +must have written ere he passed away. <i>Scots wha hae</i> +is another of his Dumfries poems. Mr. Syme gives a +highly-coloured and one-sided view of the poet riding in +a storm between Gatehouse and Kenmure, where we are +assured he composed this ode. Carlyle accepts Syme's +authority, and adds: 'Doubtless this stern hymn was +singing itself, as he formed it, through the soul of Burns; +but to the external ear it should be sung with the throat +of the whirlwind.' Burns gives an account of the writing +of the poem, which it is difficult to reconcile with +Mr. Syme's sensational details. It matters not, however, +when or how it was written; we have it now, one of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">{141}</a></span>the +most martial and rousing odes ever penned. Not only +has it gripped the heart of Scotsmen, but it has taken +the ear of the world; its fire and vigour have inspired +soldiers in the day of battle, and consoled them in the +hour of death. We are not forgetful of the fact that +Mrs. Hemans, who wrote some creditable verse, and +the placid Wordsworth, discussed this ode, and agreed +that it was little else than the rhodomontade of a schoolboy. +It is a pity that such authorities should have +missed the charm of <i>Scots wha hae</i>. More than likely +they made up for the loss in a solitary appreciation of +<i>Betty Foy</i> or <i>The Pilgrim Fathers</i>.</p> + +<p>Another martial ode, composed in 1795, was called +forth by the immediate dangers of the time. The +country was roused by the fear of foreign invasion, and +Burns, who had enrolled himself in the ranks of the +Dumfriesshire Volunteers, penned the patriotic song, +<i>Does Haughty Gaul Invasion threat?</i> This song itself +might have reinstalled him in public favour, and dispelled +all doubt as to his loyalty, had he cared again to +court the society of those who had dropped him from +the list of their acquaintance. But Burns had grown +indifferent to any favour save the favour of his Muse; +besides, he was now shattered in health, and assailed +with gloomy forebodings of an early death. For himself +he would have faced death manfully, but again +it was the thought of wife and bairns that unmanned +him.</p> + +<p>Not content with supplying Thomson with songs, he +wrote letters full of hints and suggestions anent songs +and song-making, and now and then he gave a glimpse +of himself at work. We see him sitting under the shade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">{142}</a></span> +of an old thorn crooning to himself until he gets a verse +to suit the measure he has in his mind; looking round +for objects in nature that are in unison and harmony +with the cogitations of his fancy; humming every now +and then the air with the verses; retiring to his study to +commit his effusions to paper, and while he swings at +intervals on the hind legs of his elbow-chair, criticising +what he has written. A common walk of his when he +was in the poetical vein was to the ruins of Lincluden +Abbey, whither he was often accompanied by his eldest +boy; sometimes towards Martingdon ford, on the north +side of the Nith. When he returned home with a set of +verses, he listened attentively to his wife singing them, +and if she happened to find a word that was harsh in +sound, a smoother one was immediately substituted; +but he would on no account ever sacrifice sense to +sound.</p> + +<p>During the earlier part of this year Burns had taken +his full share in the political contest that was going on, +and fought for Heron of Heron, the Whig candidate, +with electioneering ballads, not to be claimed as great +poems nor meant to be so ranked, but marked with +all his incisiveness of wit and satire, and with his +extraordinary deftness of portraiture. Heron was the +successful candidate, and his poetical supporter again +began to indulge in dreams of promotion: 'a life +of literary leisure with a decent competency was the +summit of his wishes.' But his dreams were not to +be realised.</p> + +<p>In September his favourite child and only daughter, +Elizabeth, died at Mauchline, and he was prostrated +with grief. He had also taken very much to heart the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">{143}</a></span> +inexplicable silence of his old friend, and for many years +constant correspondent, Mrs. Dunlop. To both these +griefs he alludes in a letter to her, dated January 31, +1796: 'These many months you have been two packets +in my debt. What sin of ignorance I have committed +against so highly valued a friend I am utterly at a loss to +guess. Alas! madam, I can ill afford at this time to be +deprived of any of the small remnant of my pleasures. +I have lately drunk deep of the cup of affliction. The +autumn robbed me of my only daughter and darling +child, and that at a distance, too, and so rapidly as +to put it out of my power to pay my last duties to +her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that +shock when I became myself the victim of a severe +rheumatic fever, and long the die spun doubtful, until, +after many weeks of a sickbed, it seems to have turned +up life.'</p> + +<p>There was an evident decline in the poet's appearance, +Dr. Currie tells us, for upwards of a year before +his death, and he himself was sensible that his constitution +was sinking. During almost the whole of the +winter of 1795-96 he had been confined to the house. +Then follows the unsubstantiated story which has done +duty for Shakspeare and many other poets. 'He dined +at a tavern, returned home about three o'clock in a very +cold morning, benumbed and intoxicated. This was +followed by an attack of rheumatism.' It is difficult to +kill a charitable myth, especially one that is so agreeable +to the levelling instincts of ordinary humanity, and +of such sweet consolation to the weaker brethren. Of +course there are variants of the story, with a stair and +sleep and snow brought in as sensational, if improb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">{144}</a></span>able, +accessories; but such stories as these all good men +refuse to believe, unless they are compelled to do so by +the conclusive evidence of direct authority; and that, in +this case, is altogether awanting. All evidence that has +been forthcoming has gone directly against it, and the +story may be accepted as a myth. The fact is that brains +have been ransacked to find reason for the poet's early +death,—as if the goings and comings of death could be +scientifically calculated in biography,—and the last years +of his 'irregular life' are blamed: Dumfries is set apart +as the chief sinner. No doubt his life was irregular +there; his duties were irregular; his hours were irregular. +But Burns in his thirty-six years, had lived a full life, +putting as much into one year as the ordinary sons of +men put into two. He had had threatenings of rheumatism +and heart disease when he was an overworked +lad at Lochlea; and now his constitution was breaking +up from the rate at which he had lived. Excess of work +more than excess of drink brought him to an early +grave. During his few years' stay at Dumfries he had +written over two hundred poems, songs, etc., many of +them of the highest excellence, and most of them now +household possessions. Besides his official duties, we +know also that he took a great interest in his home and +in the education of his children. Mr. Gray, master of +the High School of Dumfries, who knew the poet intimately, +wrote a long and interesting letter to Gilbert +Burns, in which he mentions particularly the attention +he paid to his children's education. 'He was a kind +and attentive father, and took great delight in spending +his evenings in the cultivation of the minds of his children. +Their education was the grand object of his life;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> +and he did not, like most parents, think it sufficient to +send them to public schools; he was their private +instructor; and even at that early age bestowed great +pains in training their minds to habits of thought and +reflection, and in keeping them pure from every form of +vice. This he considered a sacred duty, and never to +his last illness relaxed in his diligence.'</p> + +<p>Throughout the winter of 1795 and spring of 1796, +he could only keep up an irregular correspondence with +Thomson. 'Alas!' he wrote in April, 'I fear it will be +long ere I tune my lyre again. I have only known +existence by the pressure of the heavy hand of sickness, +and counted time by the repercussion of pain. I close my +eyes in misery and open them without hope.' Yet it was +literally on his deathbed that he composed the exquisite +song, <i>O wert thou in the Cauld Blast</i>, in honour of +Jessie Lewars, who waited on him so faithfully. In June +he wrote: 'I begin to fear the worst. As to my individual +self I am tranquil, and would despise myself if I +were not; but Burns's poor widow and half a dozen of +his dear little ones—helpless orphans!—there, I am +weaker than a woman's tear.'</p> + +<p>From Brow, whither he had gone to try the effect of +sea-bathing, he wrote several letters all in the same +strain, one to Cunningham; a pathetic one to Mrs. +Dunlop, regretting her continued silence; and letters +begging a temporary loan to James Burness, Montrose, +and to George Thomson, whom he had been supplying +with songs without fee or reward. Thomson at once +forwarded the amount asked—five pounds! To his wife, +who had not been able to accompany him, he wrote: +'My dearest love, I delayed writing until I could tell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">{146}</a></span>you +what effect sea-bathing was likely to produce. It would +be injustice to deny it has eased my pain.... I will +see you on Sunday.'</p> + +<p>During his stay at Brow he met again Mrs. Riddell, +and she has left in a letter her impression of his +appearance at that time. 'The stamp of death was +imprinted on his features. He seemed already touching +the brink of eternity.... He spoke of his death with +firmness as well as feeling as an event likely to happen +very soon.... He said he was well aware that his +death would occasion some noise, and that every scrap +of his writing would be revived against him, to the +injury of his future reputation.... The conversation +was kept up with great evenness and animation on +his side. I had seldom seen his mind greater or more +collected.'</p> + +<p>When he returned from Brow he was worse than when +he went away, and those who saw him tottering to his +door knew that they had looked their last on the poet. +The question in Dumfries for a day or two was, 'How +is Burns now?' And the question was not long in +being answered. He knew he was dying, but neither +his humour nor his wit left him. 'John,' he said to +one of his brother volunteers, 'don't let the awkward +squad fire over me.'</p> + +<p>He lingered on for a day or two, his wife hourly +expecting to be confined and unable to attend to +him, and Jessie Lewars taking her place, a constant +and devoted nurse. On the fourth day after his +return, July 21, he sank into delirium, and his children +were summoned to the bedside of their dying +father, who quietly and gradually sank to rest. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">{147}</a></span> +last words showed that his mind was still disturbed +by the thought of the small debt that had caused him +so much annoyance. 'And thus he passed,' says +Carlyle, 'not softly, yet speedily, into that still country +where the hailstorms and fire-showers do not reach, and +the he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">{148}</a></span>aviest laden wayfarer at length lays down his +load.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE</span></h2> + + +<p>In Mrs. Riddell's sketch of Burns, which appeared +shortly after his death, she starts with the somewhat +startling statement that poetry was not actually his <i>forte</i>. +She did not question the excellence of his songs, or +seek to depreciate his powers as a poet, but she spoke +of the man as she had known him, and was one of the +first to assert that Burns was very much more than an +uneducated peasant with a happy knack of versification. +Even in the present day we hear too much of the inspired +ploughman bursting into song as one that could +not help himself, and warbling of life and love in a +kind of lyrical frenzy. The fact is that Burns was a +great intellectual power, and would have been a force +in any sphere of life or letters. All who met him and +heard him talk have insisted on the greatness of the +man, apart from his achievements in poetry. It was not +his fame as a poet that made him the lion of a season +in Edinburgh, but the force and brilliancy of his conversation; +and it needs more than the reputation of a +minstrel to explain the hold he has on the affection and +intelligence of the world to-day.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, it would be a mistake to accept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">{149}</a></span> +his intellectual greatness as a mere tradition of those +who knew him, and to regret that he has not left us +some long and ponderous work worthy of the power he +possessed. It is an absurd idea to imagine that every +great poet ought to write an epic or a play. Burns's +powers were concentrative, and he could put into a +song what a dramatist might elaborate into a five-act +tragedy; but that is not to say that the dramatist is +the greater poet. After all, the song is the more likely +to live, and the more likely, therefore, to keep the +mission of the poet an enduring and living influence in +the lives of men.</p> + +<p>Still Burns might have been a great song-writer +without becoming the name and power he is in the +world to-day. The lyrical gift implies a quick emotional +sense, which in some cases may be little more than +a beautiful defect in a weak nature. But Burns was +essentially a strong man. His very vices are the vices +of a robust and healthy humanity. Besides being +possessed of all the qualities of a great singer, he was +at the same time vigorously human and throbbing with +the love and joy of life. It is this sterling quality of +manhood that has made Burns the poet and the power +he is. He looked out on the world with the eyes of a +man, and saw things in their true colours and in their +natural relations. He regarded the world into which +he had been born, and saw it not as some other poet +or an artist or a painter might have beheld it,—for the +purposes of art,—but in all its uncompromising realism; +and what his eye saw clearly, his lips as clearly uttered. +His first and greatest gift, therefore, as a poet was his +manifest sincerity. His men and women are living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">{150}</a></span> +human beings; his flowers are real flowers; his dogs, +real dogs, and nothing more. All his pictures are +presented in the simplest and fewest possible words. +There is no suspicion of trickery; no attempt to force +words to carry a weight of meaning they are incapable +of expressing. He knew nothing of the deification of +style, and on absolute truthfulness and unidealised +reality rested his poetical structure. Wordsworth +speaks of him—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Whose light I hailed when first it shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And showed my youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How verse may build a princely throne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On humble truth.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is this quality that made Burns the interpreter of +the lives of his fellow-men, not only to an outside world +that knew them not, but to themselves. And he has +glorified those lives in the interpretation, not by the +introduction of false elements or the elimination of +unlovely features, but simply by his insistence, in spite +of the sordidness of poverty, on the naked dignity of +man.</p> + +<p>Everything he touched became interesting because +it was interesting to him, and he spoke forth what he +felt. For Burns did not go outside of his own life, +either in time or place, for subject. There are poetry +and romance, tragedy and comedy ever waiting for the +man who has eyes to see them; and Burns's stage +was the parish of Tarbolton, and he found his poetry +in (or rendered poetical) the ordinary humdrum life +round about him. For that reason it is, perhaps, that +he has been called the satirist and singer of a parish. +Had he lived nowadays, he would have been relegated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">{151}</a></span> +to the kailyard, there to cultivate his hardy annuals and +indigenous daisies. For Burns did not affect exotics, +and it requires a specialist in manure to produce blue +dandelions or sexless ferns. In the narrow sense of the +word he was not parochial. Whilst true to class and +country, he reached out a hand to universal man. A +Scotsman of Scotsmen, he endeared himself to the +hearts of a people; but he was from first to last a man, +and so has found entrance to the hearts of all men. +Although local in subject, he was artistic in treatment; +he might address the men and women of Mauchline, +but he spoke with the voice of humanity, and his message +was for mankind.</p> + +<p>Besides interpreting the lives of the Scottish peasantry, +he revived for them their nationality. For he was but +the last of the great bards that sang the Iliad of Scotland; +and in him, when patriotism was all but dead, and +a hybrid culture was making men ashamed of their land +and their language, the voices of nameless ballad-makers +and forgotten singers blended again into one +great voice that sang of the love of country, till men +remembered their fathers, and gloried in the name +of Scotsmen. His patriotism, however, was not +parochial. It was no mere prejudice which bound him +hand and foot to Scottish theme and Scottish song. +He knew that there were lands beyond the Cheviots, +and that men of other countries and other tongues joyed +and sorrowed, toiled and sweated and struggled and hoped +even as he did. He was attached to the people of his +own rank in life, the farmers and ploughmen amongst +whom he had been born and bred; but his sympathies +went out to all men, prince or peasant, beggar or ki<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">{152}</a></span>ng, +if they were worthy of the name of men he recognised +them as brothers. It is this sympathy which gives him +his intimate knowledge of mankind. He sees into the +souls of his fellows; the thoughts of their hearts are +visible to his piercing eye. He who had mixed only +with hard-working men, and scarcely ever been beyond +the boundary of his parish, wrote of court and parliament +as if he had known princes and politicians from his boyhood. +The goodwife of Wauchope House would hardly +credit that he had come straight from the plough-stilts—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And then sae slee ye crack your jokes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' Willie Pitt and Charlie Fox;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our great men a' sae weel descrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how to gar the nation thrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ane maist would swear ye dwalt amang them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as ye saw them sae ye sang them.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But his intuitive knowledge of men is apparent in +almost all he wrote. Every character he has drawn +stands out a living and breathing personality. This is +greatly due to the fact that he studied those he met, +as <i>men</i>, dismissing the circumstance of birth and rank, +of costly apparel, or beggarly rags. For rank and +station after all are mere accidents, and count for +nothing in an estimate of character. Indeed, Burns +was too often inclined from his hard experience of life +to go further than this, and to count them disqualifying +circumstances. This aggressive independence was, however, +always as far removed from insolence as it was +from servility. He saw clearly that the 'pith o' sense +and pride o' worth' are beyond all the dignities a king +can bestow; and he looked to the time when class distinctions +would cease, and the glo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">{153}</a></span>ry of manhood be the +highest earthly dignity.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Then let us pray that come it may—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As come it will for a' that—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May bear the gree and a' that!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It's comin' yet, for a' that,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That man to man, the warld o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall brothers be for a' that!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Besides this abiding love of his fellow-man, or because +of it, Burns had also a childlike love of nature and all +created things. He sings of the mountain daisy turned +up by his plough; his heart goes out to the mouse +rendered homeless after all its provident care. Listening +at home while the storm made the doors and windows +rattle, he bethought him on the cattle and sheep and +birds outside—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I thought me on the ourie cattle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle<br /></span> +<span class="i6">O' wintry war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Beneath a scaur.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Nor is there in his love of nature any transcendental +strain; no mawkish sentimentality, and consequently in +its expression no bathos. Everywhere in his poetry +nature comes in, at times in artistically selected detail, +at times again with a deft suggestive touch that is +telling and effective, yet always in harmony with the +feeling of the poem, and always subordinate to it. His +descriptions of scenery are never dragged in. They are +incidental and complementary; human life and human +feeling are the first consideration; to this his sc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">{154}</a></span>enery is +but the setting and background. He is never carried +away by the force or beauty of his drawing as a smaller +artist might have been. The picture is given with +simple conciseness, and he leaves it; nor does he ever +attempt to elaborate a detail into a separate poem. The +description of the burn in <i>Hallowe'en</i> is most beautiful +in itself, yet it is but a detail in a great picture—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thro' the glen it wimpl't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wi' bickerin', dancin' dazzle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whyles cookit underneath the braes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below the spreading hazel,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Unseen that night.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That surely is the perfection of description; whilst the +wimple of the burn is echoed in the music of the +verse!</p> + +<p>Allied to the clearness of vision and truthfulness of +presentment of Burns, growing out of them it may be, +is that graphic power in which he stands unexcelled. +He is a great artist, and word-painting is not the least +of his many gifts. He combines terseness and lucidity, +which is a rare combination in letters; his phrasing is +as beautiful and fine as it is forcible, which is a distinction +rarer still. Hundreds of examples of his +pregnant phrasing might be cited, but it is best to see +them in the poems. Many have become everyday expressions, +and have passed into the proverbs of the +country.</p> + +<p>Another of Burns's gifts was the saving grace of humour. +This, of course, is not altogether a quality distinct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">{155}</a></span> in +itself, but rather a particular mode in which love or +tenderness or pity may manifest itself. This humour is +ever glinting forth from his writings. Some of his poems—<i>The +Farmer's Address to his Auld Mare</i>, for example—are +simply bathed in it, and we see the subject glowing +in its light, soft and tremulous, as of an autumn sunset. +In others, again, it flashes and sparkles, more sportive +than tender. But, however it manifest itself, we recognise +at once that it has a character of its own, which marks +it off from the humour of any other writer; it is a peculiar +possession of Burns.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the poem in which all Burns's poetic qualities +are seen at their best is <i>The Jolly Beggars</i>. The subject +may be low and the materials coarse, but that only makes +the finished poem a more glorious achievement. For the +poem is a unity. We see those vagabonds for a moment's +space holding high revel in Poosie Nansie's; but in that +brief glance we see them from their birth to their death. +They are flung into the world, and go zigzagging through +it, chaffering and cheating, swaggering and swearing; +kicked and cuffed from parish to parish; their only joy +of existence an occasional night like this, a carnival of +drink and all sensuality; snapping their fingers in the +face of the world, and as they have lived so going down +defiantly to death, a laugh on their lips and a curse in +their heart. Every character in it is individual and +distinct from his neighbour; the language from first to +last simple, sensuous, musical. Of this poem Matthew +Arnold says: 'It has a breadth, truth, and power which +make the famous scene in Auerbach's cellar of Goethe's +<i>Faust</i> seem artificial and tame beside it, and which are +only matched by Shakspeare and Aristophanes.'</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">{156}</a></span></p> +<p><i>The Cotter's Saturday Night</i> has usually, in Scotland, +been the most lauded of his poems. Many writers give +it as his best. It is a pious opinion, but is not sound +criticism. Burns handicapped himself, not only by the +stanza he selected for this poem, but also by the attitude +he took towards his subject. He is never quite himself +in it. We admire its many beauties; we see the life of +the poor made noble and dignified; we see, in the end, +the soul emerging from the tyranny of time and circumstance; +but with all that we feel that there is something +awanting. The priest-like father is drawn from life, and +the picture is beautiful; not less deftly drawn is the +mother's portrait, though it be not so frequently quoted:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes the youth so bashfu' and so grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The last line gives one of the most natural and most +subtle touches in the whole poem. The closing verses +are, I think, unhappy. The poet has not known when +to stop, keeps writing after he has finished, and so becomes +stilted and artificial.</p> + +<p>It is in his songs, however, more than in his poems, +that we find Burns most regularly at his best. And +excellence in song-writing is a rare gift. The snatches +scattered here and there throughout the plays of Shakspeare +are perhaps the only collection of lyrics that can +at all stand comparison with the wealth of minstrelsy +Burns has left behind him. This was his undying legacy +to the world. Song-writing was a labour of love, almost +his only comfort and consolation in the dark days of his +later years. He set himself to this as to a congenial t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">{157}</a></span>ask, +and he knew that he was writing himself into the hearts +of unborn generations. His songs live; they are immortal, +because every one is a bit of his soul. These +are no feverish, hysterical jingles of clinking verse, dead +save for the animating breath of music. They sing +themselves, because the spirit of song is in them. Quite +as marvellous as his excellence in this department of +poetry is his variety of subject. He has a song for every +age; a musical interpretation of every mood. But this is +a subject for a book to itself. His songs are sung all +over the world. The love he sings appeals to all, for it +is elemental, and is the love of all. Heart speaks to +heart in the songs of Robert Burns; there is a freemasonry +in them that binds Scotsmen to Scotsmen across +the seas in the firmest bonds of brotherhood.</p> + +<p>What place Burns occupies as a poet has been determined +not so much by the voice of criticism, as by the +enthusiastic way in which his fellow-mortals have taken +him to their heart. The summing-up of a judge counts for +little when the jury has already made up its mind. What +matters it whether a critic argues Burns into a first +or second or third rate poet? His countrymen, and +more than his countrymen, his brothers all the world +over, who read in his writings the joys and sorrows, the +temptations and trials, the sins and shortcomings of a +great-hearted man, have accepted him as a prophet, and +set him in the front rank of immortals. They admire +many poets; they love Robert Burns. They have been +told their love is unreasoning and unreasonable. It may +be so. Love goes by instinct more than by reason; and +who shall say it is wrong? Yet Burns is not loved +because of his faults and failings, but in spite o<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">{158}</a></span>f them. +His sins are not hidden. He himself confessed them +again and again, and repented in sackcloth and ashes. +If he did not always abjure his weaknesses, he denounced +them, and with no uncertain voice; nor do we know how +hardly he strove to do more.</p> + +<p>What estimate is to be taken of Burns as a man +will have many and various answers. Those who still +denounce him as the chief of sinners, and without +mercy condemn him out of his own mouth, are those +whom Burns has pilloried to all posterity. There are +dull, phlegmatic beings with blood no warmer than +ditch-water, who are virtuous and sober citizens because +they have never felt the force of temptation. What +power could tempt them? The tree may be parched +and blistered in the heat of noonday, but the parasitical +fungus draining its sap remains cool—and poisonous. +So in the glow of sociability the Pharisee remains cold +and clammy; the fever of love leaves his blood at zero. +How can such anomalies understand a man of Burns's +wild and passionate nature, or, indeed, human nature +at all? The broad fact remains, however much we may +deplore his sins and shortcomings, they are the sins +and shortcomings of a large-hearted, healthy, human +being. Had he loved less his fellow men and women, +he might have been accounted a better man. After all, +too, it must be remembered that his failings have been +consistently exaggerated. Coleridge, in his habit of +drawing nice distinctions, admits that Burns was not a +man of degraded genius, but a degraded man of genius. +Burns was neither the one nor the other. In spite of +the occasional excesses of his later years, he did not +degenerate into drunkenness, nor was the sense of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> +responsibilities as a husband, a father, and a man less +clear and acute in the last months of his life than it had +ever been. Had he lived a few years longer, we should +have seen the man mellowed by sorrow and suffering, +braving life, not as he had done all along with the +passionate vehemence of undisciplined youth, but with +the fortitude and dignity of one who had learned that +contentment and peace are gifts the world cannot give, +and, if he haply find them in his own heart, which it +cannot take away. That is the lesson we read in the +closing months of Burns's chequered career.</p> + +<p>But it was not to be. His work was done. The +message God had sent him into the world to deliver he +had delivered, imperfectly and with faltering lips it may +be, but a divine message all the same. And because it +is divine men still hear it gladly and believe.</p> + +<p>Let all his failings and defects be acknowledged, his +sins as a man and his limitations as a poet, the want of +continuity and purpose in his work and life; but at the +same time let his nobler qualities be weighed against +these, and the scale 'where the pure gold is, easily turns +the balance.' In the words of Angellier: 'Admiration +grows in proportion as we examine his qualities. When +we think of his sincerity, of his rectitude, of his kindness +towards man and beast; of his scorn of all that is +base, his hatred of all knavery which in itself would be +an honour; of his disinterestedness, of the fine impulses +of his heart, and the high aspirations of his spirit; of +the intensity and idealism necessary to maintain his soul +above its circumstances; when we reflect that he has +expressed all these generous sentiments to the extent +of their constituting his intellectual life; that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">{160}</a></span>y have +fallen from him as jewels ... as if his soul had been +a furnace for the purification of precious metals, we are +tempted to regard him as belonging to the elect spirits +of humanity, to those gifted with exceptional goodness. +When we recall what he suffered, what he surmounted, and +what he has effected; against what privations his genius +struggled into birth and lived; the perseverance of his +apprenticeship; his intellectual exploits; and, after all, +his glory, we are inclined to maintain that what he failed +to accomplish or undertake is as nothing in comparison +with his achievements.... There is nothing left but to +confess that the clay of which he was made was thick +with diamonds, and that his life was one of the most +valiant and the most noble a poet ever has lived.'</p> + +<p>With Burns's own words we may fitly conclude. +They are words not merely to be read and admired, +but to be remembered in our hearts and practised in +our lives—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Then gently scan your brother Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still gentler sister Woman;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To step aside is human:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One point must still be greatly dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moving <i>Why</i> they do it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And just as lamely can ye mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How far perhaps they rue it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who made the heart, 'tis He alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decidedly can try us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows each chord—its various tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each spring—its various bias:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then at the balance let's be mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We never can adjust it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's <i>done</i> we partly may compute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But know not what's <i>resisted</i>.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Burns, by Gabriel Setoun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS *** + +***** This file should be named 30721-h.htm or 30721-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/2/30721/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30721-h/images/cover.jpg b/30721-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b524f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/30721-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/30721-h/images/spine.jpg b/30721-h/images/spine.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1874bd3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30721-h/images/spine.jpg diff --git a/30721-h/images/title.jpg b/30721-h/images/title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d48d2c --- /dev/null +++ b/30721-h/images/title.jpg diff --git a/30721.txt b/30721.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd11dfd --- /dev/null +++ b/30721.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4559 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Burns, by Gabriel Setoun + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Robert Burns + Famous Scots Series + +Author: Gabriel Setoun + +Release Date: December 20, 2009 [EBook #30721] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + + + + +[Illustration: + +ROBERT +BURNS + +BY +GABRIEL +SETOUN + +FAMOUS +.SCOTS. +.SERIES. + +PUBLISHED BY +OLIPHANT ANDERSON +& FERRIER . EDINBURGH +AND LONDON + +] + + * * * * * + +The designs and ornaments of this volume are by Mr. Joseph Brown, and +the printing from the press of Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh. + + _June 1896._ + + * * * * * + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +CHAPTER I + +BIRTH AND EDUCATION 7 + + +CHAPTER II + +LOCHLEA AND MOSSGIEL 25 + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SERIES OF SATIRES 40 + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE KILMARNOCK EDITION 56 + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EDINBURGH EDITION 73 + + +CHAPTER VI + +BURNS'S TOURS 92 + + +CHAPTER VII + +ELLISLAND 111 + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DUMFRIES 128 + + +CHAPTER IX + +SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE 148 + + + + +ROBERT BURNS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BIRTH AND EDUCATION + + +Of the many biographies of Robert Burns that have been written, most of +them laboriously and carefully, perhaps not one gives so luminous and +vivid a portrait, so lifelike and vigorous an impression of the +personality of the poet and the man, as the picture the author has given +of himself in his own writings. Burns's poems from first to last are, +almost without exception, the literary embodiment of his feelings at a +particular moment. He is for ever revealing himself to the reader, even +in poems that might with propriety be said to be purely objective. His +writings in a greater degree than the writings of any other author are +the direct expression of his own experiences; and in his poems and songs +he is so invariably true to himself, so dominated by the mood of the +moment, that every one of them gives us some glimpse into the heart and +soul of the writer. In his letters he is rarely so happy; frequently he +is writing up to certain models, and ceases to be natural. Consequently +we often miss in them the character and spirituality that is never +absent from his poetry. But his poems and songs, chronologically +arranged, might make in themselves, and without the aid of any running +commentary, a tolerably complete biography. Reading them, we note the +development of his character and the growth of his powers as a poet; we +can see at any particular time his attitude towards the world, and the +world's attitude towards him; we have, in fine, a picture of the man in +his relations to his fellow-man and in relation to circumstances, and +may learn if we will what mark he made on the society of his time, and +what effect that society had on him. And that surely is an important +essential of perfect biography. + +But otherwise the story of Burns's life has been told with such +minuteness of detail, that the internal evidence of his poetry would +seem only to be called in to verify or correct the verdict of tradition +and the garbled gossip of those wise after the fact of his fame. It is +so easy after a man has compelled the attention of the world to fill up +the empty years of his life when he was all unknown to fame, with +illustrative anecdotes and almost forgotten incidents, revealed and +coloured by the light of after events! This is a penalty of genius, and +it is sometimes called fame, as if fame were a gift given of the world +out of a boundless and unintelligent curiosity, and not the life-record +of work achieved. It is easier to collect ana and to make them into the +patchwork pattern of a life than to read the character of the man in his +writings; and patchwork, of necessity, has more of colour than the +homespun web of a peasant-poet. + +Burns has suffered sorely at the hands of the anecdote-monger. One great +feature of his poems is their perfect sincerity. He pours out his soul +in song; tells the tale of his loves, his joys and sorrows, of his +faults and failings, and the awful pangs of remorse. And if a man be +candid and sincere, he will be taken at his word when he makes the world +his confessional, and calls himself a sinner. There is pleasure to small +minds in discovering that the gods are only clay; that they who are +guides and leaders are men of like passions with themselves, subject to +the same temptations, and as liable to fall. This is the consolation of +mediocrity in the presence of genius; and if from the housetops the poet +proclaims his shortcomings, the world will hear him gladly and believe; +his faults will be remembered, and his genius forgiven. What more easy +than to bear out his testimony with the weight of collateral evidence, +and the charitable anecdotage of acquaintances who knew him not? +Information that is vile and valueless may ever be had for the seeking; +and it needs only to be whispered about for a season to find its way +ultimately into print, and to flourish. + +It might naturally be expected at this time of day that all that is +merely mythical and traditional might have been sifted from what is +accredited and attested fact, that the chaff might have been winnowed +from the grain in the life of Burns. In some of the most +recently-published biographies this has been most carefully and +conscientiously done; but through so many years wild and improbable +stories had been allowed to thrive and to go unchallenged, that fiction +has come to take the colour and character of fact, and to pass into +history. 'The general impression of the place,' that unfortunate phrase +on which the late George Gilfillan based an unpardonable attack on the +character of the poet, has grown by slow degrees, and gained credence by +the lapse of time, till it is accepted as the general impression of the +country. Those who would speak of the poet Robert Burns are expected to +speak apologetically, and to point a moral from the story of a wasted +life. For that has become a convention, and convention is always +respectable. But after all is said and done, the devil's advocate makes +a wretched biographer. It seems strange and unaccountable that men +should dare to become apologists for one who has sung himself into the +heart and conscience of his country, and taken the ear of the world. Yet +there have been apologists even for the poetry of Burns. We are told, +wofully, that he wrote only short poems and songs; was content with +occasional pieces; did not achieve any long and sustained effort--to be +preserved, it is to be expected, in a folio edition, and assigned a +fitting place among other musty and hide-bound immortals on the shelves +of libraries under lock and key. As well might we seek to apologise for +the fields and meadows, in so far as they bring forth neither corn nor +potatoes, but only grasses and flowers, to dance to the piping of the +wind, and nod in the sunshine of summer. + +It is a healthier sign, however, that the more recent biographers of +Burns snap their fingers in the face of convention, and, looking to the +legacy he has left the world, refuse to sit in sackcloth and ashes round +his grave, either in the character of moralising mourners or charitable +mutes. Whatever has to be said against them nowadays, the 'cant of +concealment'--to adopt another of Gilfillan's phrases--is not to be laid +to their charge. Rather have they rushed to the other extreme, and in +their eagerness to do justice to the memory of the poet, led the reader +astray in a wilderness of unnecessary detail. So much is now known of +Burns, so many minute and unimportant details of his life and the lives +of others have been unearthed, that the poet is, so to speak, buried in +biography; the character and the personality of the man lost in the +voluminous testimony of many witnesses. Reading, we note the care and +conscientiousness of the writer; we have but a confused and blurred +impression of the poet. Although a century has passed since his death, +we do not yet see the events of Burns's life in proper perspective. +Things trifling in themselves, and of little bearing on his character, +have been preserved, and are still recorded with painful elaboration; +while the sidelights from friends, companions, and acquaintances, male +and female, are many and bewildering. + +Would it not be possible out of this mass of material to tell the story +of Robert Burns's life simply and clearly, neither wandering away into +the family histories and genealogies of a crowd of uninteresting +contemporaries, nor wasting time in elaborating inconsequential trifles? +What is wanted is a picture of the man as he was, and an understanding +of all that tended to make him the name and the power he is in the world +to-day. + +William Burness, the father of the poet, was a native of +Kincardineshire, and 'was thrown by early misfortunes on the world at +large.' After many years' wanderings, he at last settled in Ayrshire, +where he worked at first as a gardener before taking a lease of some +seven acres of land near the Bridge of Doon, and beginning business as +a nurseryman. It was to a clay cottage which he built on this land that +he brought his wife, Agnes Broun, in December 1757; and here the poet +was born in 1759. The date of his birth is not likely to be forgotten. + + 'Our monarch's hindmost year but ane + Was five-and-twenty days begun, + 'Twas then a blast o' Jan'war' win' + Blew hansel in on Robin.' + +To his father Burns owed much; and if there be anything in heredity in +the matter of genius, it was from him that he inherited his marvellous +mental powers. His mother is spoken of as a shrewd and sagacious woman, +with education enough to enable her to read her Bible, but unable to +write her own name. She had a great love for old ballads, and Robert as +a boy must often have listened to her chanting the quaint old songs with +which her retentive memory was stored. The poet resembled his mother in +feature, although he had the swarthy complexion of his father. Attempts +have been made now and again to trace his ancestry on the father's side, +and to give to the world a kind of genealogy of genius. Writers have +demonstrated to their own satisfaction that it was perfectly natural +that Burns should have been the man he was. But the other children of +William Burness were not great poets. It has even been discovered that +his genius was Celtic, whatever that may mean! Excursions and +speculations of this kind are vain and unprofitable, hardly more +reputable than the profanities of the Dumfries craniologists who, in +1834, in the early hours of April 1st,--a day well chosen,--desecrated +the poet's dust. They fingered his skull, 'applied their compasses to +it, and satisfied themselves that Burns had capacity enough to write +_Tam o' Shanter_, _The Cotter's Saturday Night_, and _To Mary in +Heaven_.' Let us take the poet as he comes to us, a gift of the gods, +and be thankful. As La Bruyere puts it, 'Ces hommes n'ont ni ancetres ni +posterites; ils forment eux seuls toute une descendance.' + +What Burns owed particularly to his father he has told us himself both +in prose and verse. The exquisite and beautiful picture of the father +and his family at their evening devotions is taken from life; and +William Burness is the sire who + + 'turns o'er with patriarchal grace + The big ha'-bible ance his father's pride'; + +and in his fragment of autobiography the poet remarks: 'My father picked +up a pretty large quantity of observation and experience, to which I am +indebted for most of my pretensions to wisdom. I have met with few men +who understood men, their manners and their ways, equal to him; but +stubborn, ungainly integrity and headlong, ungovernable irascibility are +disqualifying circumstances; consequently I was born a very poor man's +son.... It was his dearest wish and prayer to have it in his power to +keep his children under his own eye till they could discern between good +and evil; so with the assistance of his generous master, he ventured on +a small farm in that gentleman's estate.' + +This estimate of William Burness is endorsed and amplified by Mr. +Murdoch, who had been engaged by him to teach his children, and knew him +intimately. + +'I myself,' he says, 'have always considered William Burness as by far +the best of the human race that ever I had the pleasure of being +acquainted with. He was an excellent husband; a tender and affectionate +father. He had the art of gaining the esteem and goodwill of those that +were labourers under him. He carefully practised every known duty, and +avoided everything that was criminal; or, in the apostle's words, +_Herein did he exercise himself in living a life void of offence towards +God and man_.' + +Even in his manner of speech he was different from men in his own walk +in life. 'He spoke the English language with more propriety (both with +respect to diction and pronunciation) than any man I ever knew with no +greater advantages.' + +Truly was Burns blessed in his parents, especially in his father. +Naturally such a father wished his children to have the best education +his means could afford. It may be that he saw even in the infancy of his +firstborn the promise of intellectual greatness. Certain it is he +laboured, as few fathers even in Scotland have done, to have his +children grow up intelligent, thoughtful, and virtuous men and women. + +Robert Burns's first school was at Alloway Mill, about a mile from home, +whither he was sent when in his sixth year. He had not been long there, +however, when the father combined with a few of his neighbours to +establish a teacher in their own neighbourhood. That teacher was Mr. +Murdoch, a young man at that time in his nineteenth year. + +This is an important period in the poet's life, although he himself in +his autobiography only briefly touches on his schooling under Murdoch. +He has more to say of what he owed to an old maid of his mother's, +remarkable for her ignorance, credulity, and superstition. 'She had, I +suppose, the largest collection in the country of tales and songs +concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, +spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, +cantraips, enchanted towers, giants, dragons, and other trumpery. This +cultivated the latent seeds of Poesy; but had so strong an effect on my +imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes +keep a sharp lookout in suspicious places; and though nobody can be more +sceptical in these matters than I, yet it often takes an effort of +philosophy to shake off these idle terrors.' + +It ought not to be forgotten that Burns had a better education than most +lads of his time. Even in the present day many in better positions have +not the advantages that Robert and Gilbert Burns had, the sons of such a +father as William Burness, and under such an earnest and thoughtful +teacher as Mr. Murdoch. It is important to notice this, because Burns is +too often regarded merely as a _lusus naturae_; a being gifted with song, +and endowed by nature with understanding from his birth. We hear too +much of the _ploughman_ poet. His genius and natural abilities are +unquestioned and unquestionable; but there is more than mere natural +genius in his writings. They are the work of a man of no mean education, +and bear the stamp--however spontaneously his songs sing themselves in +our ears--of culture and study. In a letter to Dr. Moore several years +later than now, Burns himself declared against the popular view. 'I have +not a doubt but the knack, the aptitude to learn the Muses' trade is a +gift bestowed by Him who forms the secret bias of the soul; but I as +firmly believe that _excellence_ in the profession is the fruit of +industry, attention, labour, and pains. At least I am resolved to try my +doctrine by the test of experience.' There is a class of people, +however, to whom this will sound heretical, forbidding them, as it were, +the right to babble with grovelling familiarity of Rab, Rob, Robbie, +Scotia's Bard, and the Ploughman Poet; and insisting on his name being +spoken with conscious pride of utterance, Robert Burns, Poet. + +Gilbert Burns, writing to Dr. Currie of the school-days under Mr. +Murdoch, says: 'We learnt to read English tolerably well, and to write a +little. He taught us, too, the English Grammar. I was too young to +profit much by his lessons in grammar, but Robert made some proficiency +in it--a circumstance of considerable weight in the unfolding of his +genius and character, as he soon became remarkable for the fluency and +correctness of his expression, and read the few books that came in his +way with much pleasure and improvement; for even then he was a reader +when he could get a book.' + +After the family removed to Mount Oliphant, the brothers attended Mr. +Murdoch's school for two years longer, until Mr. Murdoch was appointed +to a better situation, and the little school was broken up. Thereafter +the father looked after the education of his boys himself, not only +helping them with their reading at home after the labours of the day, +but 'conversing familiarly with them on all subjects, as if they had +been men, and being at great pains, as they accompanied him on the +labours of the farm, to lead conversation to such subjects as might tend +to increase their knowledge or confirm them in virtuous habits.' Among +the books he borrowed or bought for them at that period were Salmon's +_Geographical Grammar_, Derham's _Physico-Theology_, Ray's _Wisdom of +God in the Works of Creation_, and Stackhouse's _History of the Bible_. +It was about this time, too, that Robert became possessed of _The +Complete Letter-Writer_, a book which Gilbert declared was to Robert of +the greatest consequence, since it inspired him with a great desire to +excel in letter-writing, and furnished him with models by some of the +first writers in our language. Perhaps this book was a great gain. It is +questionable. What would Robert Burns's letters have been had he never +seen a Complete Letter-Writer, and never read 'those models by some of +the first writers in our language'? Easier and more natural, we are of +opinion; and he might have written fewer. Those in the Complete +Letter-Writer style we could easily have spared. His teacher, Mr. +Murdoch, furnishes some excellent examples of the stilted epistolary +style that was then fashionable. + +'But now the plains of Mount Oliphant began to whiten, and Robert was +summoned to relinquish the pleasing scenes that surrounded the grotto of +Calypso, and, armed with a sickle, to seek glory by signalising himself +in the fields of Ceres.' Though Robert Burns never perpetrated anything +like this, his models were not without their pernicious effect on his +prose compositions. + +When Robert was about fourteen years old, he and Gilbert were sent for a +time, week about, to a school at Dalrymple, and the year following +Robert was sent to Ayr to revise his English grammar under Mr. Murdoch. +While there he began the study of French, bringing with him, when he +returned home, a French Dictionary and Grammar and Fenelon's +_Telemaque_. In a little while he could read and understand any French +author in prose. He also gave some time to Latin; but finding it dry and +uninteresting work, he soon gave it up. Still he must have picked up a +little of that language, and we know that he returned to the rudiments +frequently, although 'the Latin seldom predominated, a day or two at a +time, or a week at most.' Under the heading of general reading might be +mentioned _The Life of Hannibal_, _The Life of Wallace_, _The +Spectator_, Pope's _Homer_, Locke's _Essay on the Human Understanding_, +_Allan Ramsay's Works_, and several _Plays of Shakspeare_. All this is +worth noting, even at some length, because it shows how Burns was being +educated, and what books went to form and improve his literary taste. + +Yet when we consider the circumstances of the family we see that there +was not much time for study. The work on the farm allowed Burns little +leisure, but every spare moment would seem to have been given to +reading. Father and sons, we are told by one who afterwards knew the +family at Lochlea, used to sit at their meals with books in their hands; +and the poet says that one book in particular, _A Select Collection of +English Songs_, was his _vade mecum_. He pored over them, driving his +cart or walking to labour, song by song, verse by verse, carefully +noting the true, tender, or sublime from affectation or fustian. 'I am +convinced,' he adds, 'I owe to this practice much of my critic craft, +such as it is.' + +The years of their stay at Mount Oliphant were years of unending toil +and of poverty bravely borne. The whole period was a long fight against +adverse circumstances. Looking back on his life at this time, Burns +speaks of it as 'the cheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing moil +of a galley slave'; and we can well believe that this is no exaggerated +statement. His brother Gilbert is even more emphatic. 'Mount Oliphant,' +he says, 'is almost the poorest soil I know of in a state of +cultivation.... My father, in consequence of this, soon came into +difficulties, which were increased by the loss of several of his cattle +by accident and disease. To the buffetings of misfortune we could only +oppose hard labour and the most rigid economy. We lived very sparingly. +For several years butcher's meat was a stranger in the house, while all +the members of the family exerted themselves to the utmost of their +strength, and rather beyond it, in the labours of the farm. My brother, +at the age of thirteen, assisted in thrashing the crop of corn, and at +fifteen was the principal labourer on the farm; for we had no hired +servant, male or female. The anguish of mind we felt at our tender years +under these straits and difficulties was very great. To think of our +father growing old (for he was now above fifty), broken down with the +long-continued fatigues of his life, with a wife and five other +children, and in a declining state of circumstances, these reflections +produced in my brother's mind and mine sensations of the deepest +distress. I doubt not but the hard labour and sorrow of this period of +his life was in a great measure the cause of that depression of spirits +with which Robert was so often afflicted through his whole life +afterwards. At this time he was almost constantly afflicted in the +evenings with a dull headache, which at a future period of his life was +exchanged for a palpitation of the heart and a threatening of fainting +and suffocation in his bed in the night-time.' + +This, we doubt not, is a true picture--melancholy, yet beautiful. But +not only did this increasing toil and worry to make both ends meet, +injure the bodily health of the poet, but it did harm to him in other +ways. It affected, to a certain extent, his moral nature. Those bursts +of bitterness which we find now and again in his poems, and more +frequently in his letters, are assuredly the natural outcome of these +unsocial and laborious years. Burns was a man of sturdy independence; +too often this independence became aggressive. He was a man of +marvellous keenness of perception; too frequently did this manifest +itself in a sulky suspicion, a harshness of judgment, and a bitterness +of speech. We say this in no spirit of fault-finding, but merely point +it out as a natural consequence of a wretched and leisureless existence. +This was the education of circumstances--hard enough in Burns's case; +and if it developed in him certain sterling qualities, gave him an +insight into and a sympathy with the lives of his struggling fellows, it +at the same time warped, to a certain extent, his moral nature. + +What was his outlook on the world at this time? He measured himself with +those he met, we may be sure, for Burns certainly (as he says of his +father) 'understood men, their manners and their ways,' as it is given +to very few to be able to do. Of the ploughmen, farmers, lairds, or +factors, he saw round about him there was none to compare with him in +natural ability, few his equal in field-work. 'At the plough, scythe, or +reap-hook,' he remarks, 'I feared no competitor.' Yet, conscious of easy +superiority, he saw himself a drudge, almost a slave, while those whom +nature had not blessed with brains were gifted with a goodly share of +this world's wealth. + + It's hardly in a body's power + To keep at times frae being sour, + To see how things are shar'd; + How best o' chiels are whiles in want, + While coofs on countless thousands rant, + An' ken na how to wair 't.' + +His father, his brother, and himself--all the members of the family +indeed--toiled unceasingly, yet were unable to better their position. +Matters, indeed, got worse, and worst of all when their landlord died, +and they were left to the tender mercies of a factor. The name of this +man we do not know, nor need we seek to know it. We know the man +himself, and he will live for ever a type of tyrannous, insolent +insignificance. + + 'I've noticed, on our Laird's court-day, + An' mony a time my heart's been wae, + Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, + How they maun thole a factor's snash: + He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an swear, + He'll apprehend them, poind their gear: + While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, + An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble.' + +Is it to be wondered at that Burns's blood boiled at times, or that he +should now and again look at those in easier circumstances with snarling +suspicion, and give vent to his feelings in words of rankling +bitterness? Robert Burns and his father were just such men as an +insolent factor would take a fiendish delight in torturing. 'My +indignation yet boils,' Burns wrote years afterwards, 'at the +recollection of the scoundrel factor's insolent, threatening letters, +which used to set us all in tears.' Had they 'boo'd and becked' at his +bidding, and grovelled at his feet, he might have had some glimmering +sense of justice, and thought it mercy. But the Burnses were men of a +different stamp. 'William Burness always treated superiors with a +becoming respect, but he never gave the smallest encouragement to +aristocratical arrogance'; and his son Robert was not less manly and +independent. He was too sound in judgment; too conscious of his own +worth, to sink into mean and abject servility. But this factor, perhaps +more than anyone else, did much to pervert, if he could not kill, the +poet's spirit of independence. + +Curiously enough, the opening sentences of his autobiographical sketch +have a suspicious ring of the pride that apes humility. There is +something harsh and aggressive in his unnecessary confidence. 'I have +not the most distant pretensions to assume the character which the +pye-coated guardians of escutcheons call a gentleman. When at Edinburgh +last winter I got acquainted at the Herald's office; and, looking +through that granary of honours, I there found almost every name in the +kingdom; but for me, + + "My ancient but ignoble blood + Had crept through scoundrels ever since the flood." + +Gules, Purpure, Argent, etc., quite disowned me.' All this is quite +gratuitous and hardly in good taste. + +Yet, in spite of untoward circumstances, ceaseless drudgery, and +insufficient diet, the family of Mount Oliphant was not utterly lost to +happiness. With such a shrewd mother and such a father as William +Burness--a man of whom Scotland may be justly proud--no home could be +altogether unhappy. In Burns's picture of the family circle in _The +Cotter's Saturday Night_ there is nothing of bitterness or gloom or +melancholy. + + 'With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, + An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers: + The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet; + Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears. + The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; + Anticipation forward points the view: + The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, + Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; + The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.' + +In the work of the farm, too, hard as it was, there was pleasure, and +the poet's first song, with the picture he gives of the partners in the +harvest field, breaks forth from this life of cheerless gloom and +unceasing moil like a blink of sunshine through a lowering sky. Burns's +description of how the song came to be made is worthy of quotation, +because it gives us a very clear and well-defined likeness of himself at +the time, a lad in years, but already counting himself among men. 'You +know our country custom of coupling a man and a woman together in the +labours of harvest. In my fifteenth autumn my partner was a bewitching +creature who just counted an autumn less. In short, she, unwittingly to +herself, initiated me into a certain delicious passion, which ... I hold +to be the first of human joys.... I did not well know myself why I liked +so much to loiter behind her when returning in the evening from our +labours; why the tones of her voice made my heart-strings thrill like an +AEolian harp; and particularly why my pulse beat such a furious rantann +when I looked and fingered over her hand to pick out the nettle-stings +and thistles. Among her other love-inspiring qualifications she sang +sweetly; and 'twas her favourite Scotch reel that I attempted to give an +embodied vehicle to in rhyme. I was not so presumptive as to imagine I +could make verses like printed ones composed by men who had Greek and +Latin; but my girl sung a song which was said to be composed by a small +country laird's son, on one of his father's maids with whom he was in +love; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he.' + +He had already measured himself with this moorland poet, and admits no +inferiority; and what a laird's son has done he too may do. Writing of +this song afterwards, Burns, who was always a keen critic, admits that +it is 'very puerile and silly.' Still, we think there is something of +beauty, and much of promise, in this early effusion. It has at least one +of the merits, and, in a sense, the peculiar characteristic of all +Burns's songs. It is sincere and natural; and that is the beginning of +all good writing. + +'Thus with me,' he says, 'began love and poetry, which at times have +been my only and ... my highest enjoyment.' This was the first-fruit of +his poetic genius, and we doubt not that in the composition, and after +the composition, life at Mount Oliphant was neither so cheerless nor so +hard as it had been. A new life was opened up to him with a thousand +nameless hopes and aspirations, though probably as yet he kept all these +things to himself, and pondered them in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +LOCHLEA AND MOSSGIEL + + +The farm at Mount Oliphant proved a ruinous failure, and after +weathering their last two years on it under the tyranny of the scoundrel +factor, it was with feelings of relief, we may be sure, that the family +removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton. This was a farm of 130 +acres of land rising from the right bank of the river Ayr. The farm +appeared to them more promising than the one they had left. The prospect +from its uplands was extensive and beautiful. It commanded a view of the +Carrick Hills, and the Firth of Clyde beyond; but where there are +extensive views to be had the land is necessarily exposed. The farm +itself was bleak and bare, and twenty shillings an acre was a high rent +for fields so situated. + +The younger members of the family, however, were now old enough to be of +some assistance in the house or in the fields, and for a few years life +was brighter than it had been before; not that labour was lighter to +them here, but simply because they had escaped the meshes and +machinations of a petty tyrant, and worked more cheerfully, looking to +the future with confidence. Father, mother, and children all worked as +hard as they were able, and none more ungrudgingly than the poet. + +We know little about those first few years of life at Lochlea, which +should be matter for special thanksgiving. Better we should know nothing +at all than that we should learn of misfortunes coming upon them, and +see the family again in tears and forced to thole a factor's snash; +better silence than the later unsavoury episodes, which have not yet +been allowed decent burial. Probably life went evenly and beautifully in +those days. The brothers accompanied their father to the fields; Agnes +milked the cows, reciting the while to her younger sisters, Annabella +and Isabella, snatches of song or psalm; and in the evening the whole +family would again gather round the ingle to raise their voices in +_Dundee_ or _Martyrs_ or _Elgin_, and then to hear the priest-like +father read the sacred page. + +The little that we do know is worth recording. 'Gilbert,' to quote from +Chambers's excellent edition of the poet's works, 'used to speak of his +brother as being at this period a more admirable being than at any +other. He recalled with delight the days when they had to go with one or +two companions to cut peats for the winter fuel, because Robert was sure +to enliven their toil with a rattling fire of witty remarks of men and +things, mingled with the expressions of a genial glowing heart, and the +whole perfectly free from the taint which he afterwards acquired from +his contact with the world. Not even in those volumes which afterwards +charmed his country from end to end, did Gilbert see his brother in so +interesting a light as in those conversations in the bog, with only two +or three noteless peasants for an audience.' + +This is a beautiful picture: the poet enlivening toil with talk, +lighting and illustrating all he said with his lively imagination; +Gilbert listening silently, and a group of noteless peasants dumb with +wonder. No artist has yet painted this picture of Burns, as his brother +saw him, at his best. Writers have glanced at the scene and passed it +by. It needed to be looked at with naked, appreciative eyes; they had +come with microscopes to the study of Burns. Far more interesting +material awaited them farther on: _The Poet's Welcome_, for example! +They could amplify that. Here, too, is the first hint of Burns's +brilliant powers as a talker; a glimpse on this lonely peat moss of the +man who, not many years afterwards, was to dazzle literary Edinburgh +with the sparkle and force of his graphic speech. + +Probably it was about this time that Burns went for a summer to a school +at Kirkoswald. In his autobiography he says it was his seventeenth year, +and, if so, it must have been before the family had left Mount Oliphant. +Gilbert's recollection was that the poet was then in his nineteenth +year, which would bring the incident into the Lochlea period. In the new +edition of Chambers's Burns, William Wallace accepts Robert's statement +as correct; yet we hardly think the poet would have spent a summer at +school at a time when the family was under the heel of that merciless +factor. Besides, although he speaks of his seventeenth year, he has just +made mention of the fact that he was in the secret of half the amours of +the parish; and it was in the parish of Tarbolton that we hear of him +acting 'as the second of night-hunting swains.' Probably also it would +be after the family had found comparative peace and quiet in their new +home that it would occur to Burns to resume his studies in a methodical +way. The point is a small one. The important thing is, that in his +seventeenth or nineteenth summer he went to a noted school on a +smuggling coast to learn mathematics, surveying, dialling, etc., in +which he made a pretty good progress. 'But,' he says, 'I made a greater +progress in the knowledge of mankind. The contraband trade was at this +time very successful; scenes of swaggering riot and roaring dissipation +were as yet new to me, and I was no enemy to social life. Here, though I +learnt to look unconcernedly on a large tavern bill and mix without fear +in a drunken squabble, yet I went on with a high hand in my geometry.' + +The glimpses we have of Burns during his stay here are all +characteristic of the man. We see a young man looking out on a world +that is new to him; moving in a society to which he had hitherto been a +stranger. His eyes are opened not only to the knowledge of mankind, but +to a better knowledge of himself. Thirsting for information and power, +we find him walking with Willie Niven, his companion from Maybole, away +from the village to where they might have peace and quiet, and converse +on subjects calculated to improve their minds. They sharpen their wits +in debate, taking sides on speculative questions, and arguing the matter +to their own satisfaction. No doubt in these conversations and debates +he was developing that gift of clear reasoning and lucid expression +which afterwards so confounded the literary and legal luminaries of +Edinburgh. They had made a study of logic, but here was a man from the +plough who held his own with them, discussing questions which in their +opinion demanded a special training. For an uncouth country ploughman +gifted with song they were prepared, but they did not expect one who +could meet them in conversation with the fence and foil of a skilled +logician. We may see also his burning desire for distinction in that +scene in school when he led the self-confident schoolmaster into debate +and left him humiliated in the eyes of the pupils. Even in his contests +with John Niven there was the same eagerness to excel. When he could not +beat him in wrestling or putting the stone, he was fain to content +himself with a display of his superiority in mental calisthenics. The +very fact that a charming _fillette_ overset his trigonometry, and set +him off at a tangent, is a characteristic ending to this summer of +study. Peggy Thomson in her kail-yard was too much for the fiery +imagination of a poet: 'it was in vain to think of doing more good at +school.' + +Too much stress is not to be laid on Burns's own mention of 'scenes of +swaggering riot and dissipation' at Kirkoswald. Such things were new to +him, and made a lasting impression on his mind. We know that he returned +home very considerably improved. His reading was enlarged with the very +important addition of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. He had seen human +nature in a new phasis, and now he engaged in literary correspondence +with several of his schoolfellows. + +It was not long after his return from Kirkoswald that the Bachelor's +Club was founded, and here could Burns again exercise his debating +powers and find play for his expanding intellect. The members met to +forget their cares in mirth and diversion, 'without transgressing the +bounds of innocent decorum'; and the chief diversion appears to have +been debate. + +If we are to believe Gilbert, the seven years of their stay in +Tarbolton parish were not marked by much literary improvement in Robert. +That may well have been Gilbert's opinion at the time; for the poet was +working hard on the farm, and often spending an evening at Tarbolton or +at one or other of the neighbouring farms. But he managed all the same +to get through a considerable amount of reading; and though, perhaps, he +did not devote himself so sedulously to books as he had been accustomed +to do in the seclusion of Mount Oliphant, he was storing his mind in +other ways. His keen observation was at work, and he was studying what +was of more interest and importance to him than books--'men, their +manners and their ways.' 'I seem to be one sent into the world,' he +remarks in a letter to Mr. Murdoch, 'to see and observe; and I very +easily compound with the knave who tricks me of my money, if there be +anything original about him, which shows me human nature in a different +light from anything I have seen before.' Partly it was this passion to +see and observe, partly it was another passion that made him the +assisting confidant of most of the country lads in their amours. 'I had +a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexterity in these matters which +recommended me as a proper second in duels of that kind.' His song, _My +Nannie, O_, which belongs to this period, is not only true as a lyric of +sweet and simple love, but is also true to the particular style of +love-making then in vogue. + + 'The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill; + The night's baith mirk and rainy, O: + But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal, + An' owre the hills to Nannie, O.' + +According to Gilbert, the poet himself was constantly the victim of some +fair enslaver, although, being jealous of those richer than himself, he +was not aspiring in his loves. But while there was hardly a comely +maiden in Tarbolton to whom he did not address a song, we are not to +imagine that he was frittering his heart away amongst them all. A poet +may sing lyrics of love to many while his heart is true to one. The one +at this time to Robert Burns was Ellison Begbie, to whom some of his +songs are addressed--notably _Mary Morrison_, one of the purest and most +beautiful love lyrics ever poet penned. Nothing is more striking than +the immense distance between this composition and any he had previously +written. In this song he for the first time stepped to the front rank as +a song-writer, and gave proof to himself, if to nobody else at the time, +of the genius that was in him. A few letters to Ellison Begbie are also +preserved, pure and honourable in sentiment, but somewhat artificial and +formal in expression. It was because of his love for her, and his desire +to be settled in life, that he took to the unfortunate flax-dressing +business in Irvine. That is something of an unlovely and mysterious +episode in Burns's life. Suffice it to say in his own words: 'This +turned out a sadly unlucky affair. My partner was a scoundrel of the +first water, and, to finish the whole business, while we were giving a +welcome carousal to the New Year, our shop, by the drunken carelessness +of my partner's wife, took fire and burned to ashes, and I was left, +like a true poet, not worth a sixpence.' + +His stay at Irvine was neither pleasant for him at the time nor happy in +its results. He met there 'acquaintances of a freer manner of thinking +and living than he had been used to'; and it needs something more than +the family misfortunes and the deathbed of his father to account for +that terrible fit of hypochondria when he returned to Lochlea. 'For +three months I was in a diseased state of body and mind, scarcely to be +envied by the hopeless wretches who have just got their sentence, +_Depart from me, ye cursed_.' + +Up to this time, the twenty-fifth year of his age, Burns had not written +much. Besides _Mary Morrison_ might be mentioned _The Death and Dying +Words of Poor Mailie_, and another bewitching song, _The Rigs o' +Barley_, which is surely an expression of the innocent abandon, the +delicious rapture of pure and trustful love. But what he had written was +work of promise, while at least one or two of his songs had the artistic +finish as well as the spontaneity of genuine poetry. In all that he had +done, 'puerile and silly,' to quote his own criticism of _Handsome +Nell_, or at times halting and crude, there was the ring of sincerity. +He was not merely an echo, as too many polished poetasters in their +first attempts have been. Such jinglers are usually as happy in their +juvenile effusions as in their later efforts. But Burns from the first +tried to express what was in him, what he himself felt, and in so far +had set his feet on the road to perfection. Being natural, he was bound +to improve by practice, and if there was genius in him to become in time +a great poet. That he was already conscious of his powers we know, and +the longing for fame, 'that last infirmity of noble mind,' was strong in +him and continually growing stronger. + + 'Then out into the world my course I did determine, + Though to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming; + My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education; + Resolved was I at least to try to mend my situation.' + +Before this he had thought of more ambitious things than songs, and had +sketched the outlines of a tragedy; but it was only after meeting with +Fergusson's _Scotch Poems_ that he 'struck his wildly resounding lyre +with rustic vigour.' In his commonplace book, begun in 1783, we have +ever-recurring hints of his devoting himself to poetry. 'For my own part +I never had the least thought or inclination of turning poet till I got +once heartily in love, and then Rhyme and Song were in a measure the +spontaneous language of my heart.' + +The story of Wallace from the poem by Blind Harry had years before fired +his imagination, and his heart had glowed with a wish to make a song on +that hero in some measure equal to his merits. + + 'E'en then, a wish, I mind its power-- + A wish that to my latest hour + Shall strongly heave my breast-- + That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake, + Some usefu' plan or beuk could make, + Or sing a sang at least.' + +This was written afterwards, but it is retrospective of the years of his +dawning ambition. + +For a time, however, all dreams of greatness are to be set aside as +vain. The family had again fallen on evil days, and when the father +died, his all went 'among the hell-hounds that grovel in the kennel of +justice.' This was no time for poetry, and Robert was too much of a man +to think merely of his own aims and ambitions in such a crisis. It was +only by ranking as creditors to their father's estate for arrears of +wages that the children of William Burness made a shift to scrape +together a little money, with which Robert and Gilbert were able to +stock the neighbouring farm of Mossgiel. Thither the family removed in +March 1784; and it is on this farm that the life of the poet becomes +most deeply interesting. The remains of the father were buried in +Alloway Kirkyard; and on a small tombstone over the grave the poet bears +record to the blameless life of the loving husband, the tender father, +and the friend of man. He had lived long enough to hear some of his +son's poems, and to express admiration for their beauty; but he had also +noted the passionate nature of his first-born. There was one of his +family, he said on his deathbed, for whose future he feared; and Robert +knew who that one was. He turned to the window, the tears streaming down +his cheeks. + +Mossgiel, to which the brothers now removed, taking with them their +widowed mother, was a farm of about one hundred and eighteen acres of +cold clayey soil, close to the village of Mauchline. The farm-house, +having been originally the country house of their landlord, Mr. Gavin +Hamilton, was more commodious and comfortable than the home they had +left. Here the brothers settled down, determined to do all in their +power to succeed. They made a fresh start in life, and if hard work and +rigid economy could have compelled success, they might now have looked +to the future with an assurance of comparative prosperity. Mr. Gavin +Hamilton was a kind and generous landlord, and the rent was only L90 a +year; considerably lower than they had paid at Lochlea. + +But misfortune seemed to pursue this family, and ruin to wait on their +every undertaking. Burns says: 'I entered on this farm with a full +resolution, "Come, go to, I will be wise." I read farming books; I +calculated crops; I attended markets; and, in short, in spite of the +devil, the world, and the flesh, I should have been a wise man; but the +first year, from unfortunately buying in bad seed; the second from a +late harvest, we lost half of both our crops. This overset all my +wisdom, and I returned like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was +washed to her wallowing in the mire.' + +That this resolution was not just taken in a repentant mood merely to be +forgotten again in a month's time, Gilbert bears convincing testimony. +'My brother's allowance and mine was L7 per annum each, and during the +whole time this family concern lasted, which was four years, as well as +during the preceding period at Lochlea, his expenses never in any one +year exceeded his slender income. His temperance and frugality were +everything that could be wished.' + +Honest, however, as Burns's resolution was, it was not to be expected +that he would--or, indeed, could--give up the practice of poetry, or +cease to indulge in dreams of after-greatness. Poetry, as he has already +told us, had become the spontaneous expression of his heart. It was his +natural speech. His thoughts appeared almost to demand poetry as their +proper vehicle of expression, and rhythmed into verse as inevitably as +in chemistry certain solutions solidify in crystals. Besides this, Burns +was conscious of his abilities. He had measured himself with his +fellows, and knew his superiority. More than likely he had been +measuring himself with the writers he had studied, and found himself not +inferior. The great misfortune of his life, as he confessed himself, was +never to have an aim. He had felt early some stirrings of ambition, but +they were like gropings of Homer's Cyclops round the walls of his cave. +Now, however, we have come to a period of his life when he certainly did +have an aim, but necessity compelled him to renounce it as soon as it +was recognised. It was not a question of ploughing or poetry. There was +no alternative. However insidiously inclination might whisper of poetry, +duty's voice called him to the fields, and that voice he determined to +obey. Reading farming books and calculating crops is not a likely road +to perfection in poetry. Yet, in spite of all noble resolution, the +voice of Poesy was sweet, and he could not shut his ears to it. He might +sing a song to himself, even though it were but to cheer him after the +labours of the day, and he sang of love in 'the genuine language of his +heart.' + + 'There's nought but care on every hand, + In every hour that passes, O: + What signifies the life o' man, + An' 'twere na for the lasses, O?' + +For song must come in spite of him. The caged lark sings, though its +field be but a withered sod, and the sky above it a square foot of green +baize. Nor was his commonplace book neglected; and in August we come +upon an entry which shows that poetical aspirations were again +possessing him; this time not to be cast forth, either at the timorous +voice of Prudence or the importunate bidding of Poverty. Burns has +calmly and critically taken stock--so to speak--of his literary +aptitudes and abilities, and recognised his fitness for a place in the +ranks of Scotland's poets. 'However I am pleased with the works of our +Scotch poets, particularly the excellent Ramsay, and the still more +excellent Fergusson, yet I am hurt to see other places of Scotland, +their towns, rivers, woods, haughs, etc., immortalised in such +celebrated performances, whilst my dear native country, the ancient +Bailieries of Carrick, Kyle, and Cunningham, famous both in ancient and +modern times for a gallant and warlike race of inhabitants; a country +where civil and particularly religious liberty have ever found their +first support and their last asylum, a country the birthplace of many +famous philosophers, soldiers, and statesmen, and the scene of many +important events in Scottish history, particularly a great many of the +actions of the glorious Wallace, the saviour of his country; yet we have +never had one Scottish poet of any eminence to make the fertile banks of +Irvine, the romantic woodlands and sequestered scenes of Aire, and the +heathy mountainous source and winding sweep of Doon, emulate Tay, Forth, +Ettrick, Tweed, etc. This is a complaint I would gladly remedy; but, +alas! I am far unequal to the task, both in native genius and education. +Obscure I am, and obscure I must be, though no young poet nor young +soldier's heart ever beat more fondly for fame than mine.' The same +thoughts and aspirations are echoed later in his _Epistle to William +Simpson_-- + + 'Ramsay and famous Fergusson + Gied Forth and Tay a lift aboon; + Yarrow and Tweed, to mony a tune, + Owre Scotland rings, + While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon, + Naebody sings. + + * * * * * + + We'll gar our streams and burnies shine + Up wi' the best!' + +The dread of obscurity spoken of here was almost a weakness with Burns. +We hear it like an ever-recurring wail in his poems and letters. In the +very next entry in his commonplace book, after praising the old bards, +and drawing a parallel between their sources of inspiration and his own, +he shudders to think that his fate may be such as theirs. 'Oh mortifying +to a bard's vanity, their very names are buried in the wreck of things +that were!' + +Close on the heels of these entries came troubles on the head of the +luckless poet, troubles more serious than bad seed and late harvests. +During the summer of 1784, we know that he was in bad health, and again +subject to melancholy. His verses at this time are of a religious cast, +serious and sombre, the confession of fault, and the cry of repentance. + + 'Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me + With passions wild and strong; + And listening to their witching voice + Has often led me wrong.' + +Perhaps this is only the prelude to his verses to Rankine, written +towards the close of the year, and his poem, _A Poet's Welcome_. They +must at least be all read together, if we are to have any clear +conception of the nature of Burns. It is not enough to select his +_Epistle to Rankine_, and speak of its unbecoming levity. This was the +time when Burns was first subjected to ecclesiastical discipline; and +some of his biographers have tried to trace the origin of that wonderful +series of satires, written shortly afterwards, to the vengeful feelings +engendered in the poet by this degradation. But Burns's attack on the +effete and corrupt ceremonials of the Church was not a burst of personal +rancour and bitterness. The attack came of something far deeper and +nobler, and was bound to be delivered sooner or later. His own personal +experience, and the experience of his worthy landlord, Gavin Hamilton, +may have given the occasion, but the cause of the attack was in the +Church itself, and in Burns's inborn loathing of humbug, hypocrisy, and +cant. + +Well was it the satires were written by so powerful a satirist, that the +Church purged itself of the evil thing and cleansed its ways. This, +however, is an episode of such importance in the life of Burns, and in +the religious history of Scotland, as to require to be taken up +carefully and considered by itself. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SERIES OF SATIRES + + +Before we can clearly see and understand Burns's attitude to the Church, +we must have studied the nature of the man himself, and we must know +something also of his religious training. It will not be enough to +select his series of satires, and, from a study of them alone, try to +make out the character of the man. His previous life must be known; the +natural bent of his mind apprehended, and once that is grasped, these +satires will appeal to the heart and understanding of the reader with a +sense of naturalness and expectedness. They are as inevitable as his +love lyrics, and are read with the conviction that his merciless +exposure of profanity masquerading in the habiliments of religion, was +part of the life-work and mission of this great poet. He had been born, +it is recognised, not only to sing the loves and joys and sorrows of his +fellow men and women, but to purge their lives of grossness, and their +religion of the filth of hypocrisy and cant. Let it be admitted, that he +himself went 'a kennin wrang.' What argument is there? We do not deny +the divine mission of Samson because of Delilah. Surely that giant's +life was a wasted one, yet in his very death he was true to his mission, +and fulfilled the purpose of his birth. In other lands and in other +times the satirist is recognised and his work appraised; the abuses he +scourged, the pretensions he ridiculed, are seen in all their +hideousness; but when a great satirist arises amongst ourselves to probe +the ulcers of pharisaism, he is banned as a profaner of holy things, +touching with impious hands the ark of the covenant. Why should the +_cloth_--as it is so ingenuously called--be touched with delicate hands, +unless it be that it is shoddy? Yet the man who would stand well in the +eyes of society must not whisper a word against pharisaism; for the +Pharisee is a highly respectable person, and observes the proprieties; +he typifies the conventional righteousness and religion of his time. + +Let us have done with all this timidity and coward tenderness. If the +Church is filthy, it must be cleansed; if there be money-changers within +its gates, let them be driven out with a whip of small cords. This awe +of the _cloth_, not yet stamped out in Scotland, is but the remains of a +pagan superstition, and has nothing to do with the manliness and courage +of true religion. But prophets have no honour in their own country, +rarely in their own time; they have ever been persecuted, and it is the +Church's martyrs that have handed down through the ages the light of the +world. + +The profanities and religious blasphemies Burns attacked were evils +insidious and poisonous, eating to the very heart of the religious life +of the country, and they required a desperate remedy. Let us be thankful +that the remedy was applied in time; and, looking to the righteousness +he wrought, let us bless the name of Burns. + +Burns's father, stern and severe moralist as he was, was not a strict +Calvinist. Anyone who takes the trouble to read 'The Manual of Religious +Belief in a Dialogue between Father and Son, compiled by William +Burness, Farmer, Mount Oliphant, and transcribed with Grammatical +Corrections by John Murdoch, Teacher,' will see that the man was of too +loving and kindly a nature to be strictly orthodox. What was rigid and +unlovely to him in the Calvinism of the Scottish Church of that day has +been here softened down into something not very far from Arminianism. He +had had a hard experience in the world himself, and that may have drawn +him nearer to his suffering fellow-men and into closer communion with +his God. He had learned that religion is a thing of the spirit, and not +a matter of creeds and catechisms. Of Robert Burns's own religion it +would be impertinent to inquire too curiously. The religion of a man is +not to be paraded before the public like the manifesto of a party +politician. After all, is there a single man who can sincerely, without +equivocation or mental reservation, label himself Calvinist, Arminian, +Socinian, or Pelagian? If there be, his mind must be a marvel of +mathematical nicety and nothing more. All that we need know of Burns is +that he was naturally and sincerely religious; that he worshipped an +all-loving Father, and believed in an ever-present God; that his charity +was boundless; that he loved what was good and true, and hated with an +indignant hatred whatever was loathsome and false. He loved greatly his +fellow-creatures, man and beast and flower; he could even find something +to pity in the fate of the devil himself. That he was not orthodox, in +the narrow interpretation of orthodoxy in his day, we are well enough +aware, else had he not been the poet we love and cherish. + +In his early days at Mount Oliphant there is a hint of these later +satires. 'Polemical divinity about this time was,' he says, 'putting the +country half-mad, and I, ambitious of shining on Sundays, between +sermons, in conversation parties, at funerals, etc., in a few years +more, used to puzzle Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion that I +raised a hue and cry of heresy against me, which has not ceased to this +hour.' And heresy is a terrible cry to raise against a man in Scotland. +In those days it was Anathema-maranatha; even now it is still the +war-slogan of the Assemblies. + +The polemical divinity which he refers to as putting the country +half-mad was the wordy war that was being carried on at that time +between the Auld Lights and the New Lights. These New Lights, as they +were called, were but a birth of the social and religious upheaval that +was going on in Scotland and elsewhere. The spirit of revolution was +abroad; in France it became acutely political; in Scotland there was a +desire for greater religious freedom. The Church, as reformed by Knox, +was requiring to be re-reformed. The yoke of papacy had been lifted +certainly, but the yoke of pseudo-Protestantism which had taken its +place was quite as heavy on the necks of the people. So long as it had +been new; so long as it had been of their own choosing, it had been +endured willingly. But a generation was springing up--stiff-necked they +might have been called, in that they fretted under the yoke of their +fathers--that sought to be delivered from the tyranny of their pastors +and the fossilised formalism of their creed. To the people in their +bondage a prophet was born, and that prophet was Robert Burns. + +It was natural that a man of Burns's temperament and clearness of +perception should be on the side of the 'common-sense' party. In one of +his letters to Mr. James Burness, Montrose, wherein he describes the +strange doings of a strange sect called the Buchanites,--surely in +itself a convincing proof of the degeneracy of the times in the matter +of religion,--we have an interesting reflection which gives us some +insight into the poet's mind. 'This, my dear Sir, is one of the many +instances of the folly in leaving the guidance of sound reason and +common sense in matters of religion. Whenever we neglect or despise +those sacred monitors, the whimsical notions of a perturbed brain are +taken for the immediate influences of the Deity, and the wildest +fanaticism and the most inconsistent absurdities will meet with abettors +and converts. Nay, I have often thought that the more out of the way and +ridiculous their fancies are, if once they are sanctified under the name +of religion, the unhappy, mistaken votaries are the more firmly glued to +them.' + +The man who wrote that was certainly not the man, when the day of battle +came, to join himself with the orthodox party, the party that stuck to +the pure, undiluted Puritanism of Covenanting times. Yet many +biographers have not seen the bearing that such a letter has on Burns's +attitude to the Church. Principal Shairp seems to say that Burns, had it +not been for the accident of ecclesiastical discipline to which he had +been subjected, would have joined the orthodox party. The notion is +absurd. Burns had attacked orthodox Calvinism even in his boyhood, and +was already tainted with heresy. 'These men,' the worthy Principal +informs us, 'were democratic in their ecclesiastical views, and stout +protesters against patronage. All Burns's instincts would naturally have +been on the side of those who wished to resist patronage and "cowe the +lairds" had not this, his natural tendency, been counteracted by a +stronger bias drawing him in an opposite direction.' This is a +narrowing--if not even a positive misconception--of the case with a +vengeance. The question was not of patronage at all, but of moral and +religious freedom; while the democracy of those ministers was a terribly +one-sided democracy. The lairds may have dubbed them democrats, but they +were aristocratic enough, despotic even, to their herds. But Principal +Shairp has been led altogether wrong by imagining that 'Burns, smarting +under the strict church discipline, naturally threw himself into the +arms of the opposite or New Light party, who were more easy in their +life and in their doctrine.' More charitable also, and Christ-like in +their judgments, I should fain hope; less blinded by a superstitious awe +of the Church. 'Nothing could have been more unfortunate,' he continues, +'than that in this crisis of his career he should have fallen into +intimacy with those hard-headed but coarse-minded men.' Surely this zeal +for the Church has carried him too far. Were these men all coarse +minded? Nobody believes it. The coarse-minded Dr. Dalrymple of Ayr, and +the coarse-minded Mr. Lawrie of Loudon! This is not argument. Besides, +it is perfectly gratuitous. The question, again, is not one of men--that +ecclesiastical discipline has been an offence and a +stumbling-block--either coarse minded or otherwise. It is a question of +principle, and Burns fought for it with keen-edged weapons. + +It would be altogether a mistake to identify Burns with the New Light +party, or with any other sect. He was a law unto himself in religion, +and would bind himself by no creed. Because he attacked rigid orthodoxy +as upheld by Auld Light doctrine, that does not at all mean that he was +espousing, through thick and thin, the cause of the New Light party. He +fought in his own name, with his own weapons, and for humanity. It ought +to be clearly understood that in his series of satires he was not +attacking the orthodoxy of the Auld Lights from the bulwarks of any +other creed. His criticism was altogether destructive. From his own +conception of a wise and loving God he satirised what he conceived to be +their irrational and inhuman conception of Deity, whose attitude towards +mankind was assuredly not that of a father to his children. Burns's God +was a God of love; the god they worshipped was the creation of their +creed, a god of election. It is quite true that Burns made many friends +amongst the New Lights, but we are certain he did not hold by all their +tenets or subscribe to their doctrine. In the _Dictionary of National +Biography_ we read: 'Burns represented the revolt of a virile and +imaginative nature against a system of belief and practice which, as he +judged, had degenerated into mere bigotry and pharisaism.... That Burns, +like Carlyle, who at once retained the sentiment and rejected the creed +of his race more decidedly than Burns, could sympathise with the higher +religious sentiments of his class is proved by _The Cotter's Saturday +Night_.' + +Principal Shairp, however, has not seen the matter in this broad light. +All he sees is a man of keen insight and vigorous powers of reasoning, +who 'has not only his own quarrel with the parish minister and the +stricter clergy to revenge, but the quarrel also of his friend and +landlord, Gavin Hamilton, a county lawyer who had fallen under church +censure for neglect of church ordinances,'--a question of new potatoes +in fact,--'and had been debarred from the communion.' + +It is pleasing to see that the academic spirit is not always so blinding +and blighting. Professor Blackie recognises that the abuses Burns +castigated were real abuses, and admits that the verdict of time has +been in his favour. 'In the case of _Holy Willie_ and _The Holy Fair_,' +he remarks, 'the lash was wisely and effectively wielded'; and on +another occasion he wrote, 'Though a sensitive pious mind will naturally +shrink from the bold exposure of devout abuses in holy things, in _The +Holy Fair_ and other similar satires, on a broad view of the matter we +cannot but think that the castigation was reasonable, and the man who +did it showed an amount of independence, frankness, and moral courage +that amply compensates for the rudeness of the assault.' + +Rude, the assault certainly was and overwhelming. Augean stables are not +to be cleansed with a spray of rose-water. + +Lockhart, whilst recognising the force and keenness of these satires, +has regretfully pointed out that the very things Burns satirised were +part of the same religious system which produced the scenes described in +_The Cotter's Saturday Night_. But is this not really the explanation of +the whole matter? It was just because Burns had seen the beauty of true +religion at home, that he was fired to fight to the death what was false +and rotten. It was the cause of true religion that he espoused. + + 'All hail religion! Maid divine, + Pardon a muse so mean as mine, + Who in her rough imperfect line + Thus dares to name thee. + To stigmatise false friends of thine + Can ne'er defame thee.' + +Compare the reading of the sacred page, when the family is gathered +round the ingle, and 'the sire turns o'er with patriarchal grace the big +ha'-bible' and 'wales a portion with judicious care,' with the reading +of _Peebles frae the Water fit_-- + + 'See, up he's got the word o' God, + And meek and mim has viewed it.' + +What a contrast! The two readings are as far apart as is heaven from +hell, as far as the true from the false. It is strange that both +Lockhart and Shairp should have stumbled on the explanation of Burns's +righteous satire in these poems; should have been so near it, and yet +have missed it. It was just because Burns could write _The Cotter's +Saturday Night_ that he could write _The Holy Tulzie_, _Holy Willie's +Prayer_, _The Ordination_, and _The Holy Fair_. Had he not felt the +beauty of that family worship at home; had he not seen the purity and +holiness of true religion, how could such scenes as those described in +_The Holy Fair_, or such hypocrisy as Holy Willie's, ever have moved him +to scathing satire? Where was the poet's indignation to come from? That +is not to be got by tricks of rhyme or manufactured by rules of metre; +but let it be alive and burning in the heart of the poet, and all else +will be added unto him for the perfect poem, as it was to Burns. That +Burns, though he wrote in humorous satire, was moved to the writing by +indignation, he tells us in his epistle to the Rev. John M'Math-- + + 'But I gae mad at their grimaces, + Their sighin', cantin', grace-prood faces, + Their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces, + Their raxin' conscience, + Whase greed, revenge, and pride disgraces + Waur nor their nonsense.' + +The first of Burns's satires, if we except his epistle to John Goudie, +wherein we have a hint of the acute differences of the time, is his poem +_The Twa Herds_, or _The Holy Tulzie_. The two herds were the Rev. John +Russell and the Rev. Alexander Moodie, both afterwards mentioned in _The +Holy Fair_. These reverend gentlemen, so long sworn friends, bound by a +common bond of enmity against a certain New Light minister of the name +of Lindsay, 'had a bitter black outcast,' and, in the words of Lockhart, +'abused each other _coram populo_ with a fiery virulence of personal +invective such as has long been banished from all popular assemblies.' +This degrading spectacle of two priests ordained to preach the gospel of +love, attacking each other with all the rancour of malice and +uncharitableness, and foaming with the passion of a pothouse, was too +flagrant an occasion for satire for Burns to miss. He held them up to +ridicule in _The Holy Tulzie_, and showed them themselves as others saw +them. It has been objected by some that Burns made use of humorous +satire; did not censure with the fiery fervour of a righteous +indignation. Burns used the weapon he could handle best; and a powerful +weapon it is in the hands of a master. We acknowledge Horace's satires +to be scathing enough, though they are light and delicate, almost +trifling and flippant at times. He has not the volcanic utterance of +Juvenal, but I doubt not his castigations were quite as effective. +'Quamquam ridentem dicere verum quid vetat?' Burns might have well +replied to his censors with the same question. Quick on the heels of +this poem came _Holy Willie's Prayer_, wherein he took up the cudgels +for his friend, Mr. Gavin Hamilton, and fought for him in his own +enthusiastic way. The satire here is so scathing and scarifying that we +can only read and wonder, shuddering the while for the wretched creature +so pitilessly flayed. Not a word is wasted; not a line without weight. +The character of the self-righteous, sensual, spiteful Pharisee is a +merciless exposure, and, hardest of all, the picture is convincing. For +Burns believed in his own mind that these men, Holy Willie and the crew +he typified, were thoroughly dishonest. They were not in his +judgment--and Burns had keen insight--mere bigots dehumanised by their +creed, but a pack of scheming, calculating scoundrels. + + 'They take religion in their mouth, + They talk o' mercy, grace, and truth, + For what? to gie their malice skouth + On some puir wight, + And hunt him down, o'er right and ruth + To ruin straight.' + +But it must be noted in _Holy Willie_ that the poet is not letting +himself out in a burst of personal spleen. He is again girding at the +rigidity of a lopped and maimed Calvinism, and attacking the creed +through the man. The poem is a living presentment of the undiluted, +puritanic doctrine of the Auld Light party, to whom Calvinism meant only +a belief in hell and an assurance of their own election. It is evident +that Burns was not sound on either essential. _The Address to the Unco +Guid_ is a natural sequel to this poem, and, in a sense, its +culmination. There is the same strength of satire, but now it is more +delicate and the language more dignified. There is the same condemnation +of pharisaism; but the poem rises to a higher level in its appeal for +charitable views of human frailty, and its kindly counsel to silence; +judgment is to be left to Him who + + 'Knows each cord, its various tone, + Each spring its various bias.' + +Of all the series of satires, however, _The Holy Fair_ is the most +remarkable. It is in a sense a summing up of all the others that +preceded it. The picture it gives of the mixed and motley multitude +fairing in the churchyard at Mauchline, with a relay of ministerial +mountebanks catering for their excitement, is true to the life. It is +begging the question to deplore that Burns was provoked to such an +attack. The scene was provocation sufficient to any right-thinking man +who associated the name of religion with all that was good and beautiful +and true. Such a state of things demanded reformation. The +churchyard--that holy ground on which the church was built and +sanctified by the dust of pious and saintly men--cried aloud against the +desecration to which it was subjected; and Burns, who alone had the +power to purify it from such profanities, would have been untrue to +himself and a traitor to the religion of his country had he merely +shrugged his shoulders and allowed things to go on as they were going. +And after all what was the result? For the poem is part and parcel of +the end it achieved. 'There is a general feeling in Ayrshire,' says +Chambers, 'that _The Holy Fair_ was attended with a good effect; for +since its appearance the custom of resorting to the occasion in +neighbouring parishes for the sake of holiday-making has been much +abated and a great increase of decorous observance has taken place.' To +that nothing more need be added. + +In this series of satires _The Address to the Deil_ ought also to be +included. Burns had no belief at all in that Frankenstein creation. It +was too bad, he thought, to invent such a monster for the express +purpose of imputing to him all the wickedness of the world. If such a +creature existed, he was rather sorry for the maligned character, and +inclined to think that there might be mercy even for him. + + 'I'm wae to think upon yon den, + Even for your sake.' + +Speaking of this address, Auguste Angellier says: 'All at once in their +homely speech they heard the devil addressed not only without awe, but +with a spice of good-fellowship and friendly familiarity. They had never +heard the devil spoken of in this tone before. It was a charming +address, jocund, full of raillery and good-humour, with a dash of +friendliness, as if the two speakers had been cronies and companions +ready to jog along arm in arm to the nether regions. He simply laughs +Satan out of countenance, turns him to ridicule, pokes his fun at him, +scolds and defies him just as he might have treated a person from whom +he had nothing to fear. Nor is that all. He must admonish him, tell him +he has been naughty long enough, and wind up by giving him some good +advice, counselling him to mend his ways. This was certainly without +theological precedent. It was, however, a simple idea which would have +arranged matters splendidly.... Even to-day to speak well of the devil +is an abomination almost as serious as to speak evil of the Deity. There +was assuredly a great fortitude of mind as well as daring of conduct to +write such a piece as this.' + +The poem has done more than anything else to kill the devil of +superstition in Scotland. After his death he found, it is averred, a +quiet resting-place in Kirkcaldy, where pious people have built a church +on his grave. + +When Burns later in life made the witches and warlocks dance to the +piping of the devil in Alloway's auld haunted kirk, he was but +assembling them in their fit and proper house of meeting. Here had they +been called into being; here had they the still-born children of +superstition been thrashed into life and trained in unholiness. One can +imagine them oozing out from the walls that had echoed their names so +often through centuries of Sabbath days. The devil himself, by virtue of +his rank, takes his place in the east, rising we have no doubt from the +very spot on which the pulpit once had stood. In the church had +superstition exorcised this hellish legion out of the dead mass of +ignorance into the swarming maggots that batten on corruption; and it +was in accordance with the eternal fitness of things that here their +spirits should abide, and, when they took bodily shape, that they should +assume the form and feature in which their mother Superstition had +conceived them. + +Upon the holy table too lay 'twa span-lang wee unchristened bairns.' For +this hell the poet pictures is the creation of a creed that throngs it +with the souls of innocent babes. 'Suffer little children to come unto +me,' Christ had said; 'for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' 'But +unbaptized children must come unto me,' the devil of superstition said; +'for of such is the kingdom of hell.' + +What pathos is in this line of Burns! There is in its slow spondaic +movement an eternity of tears. Could satire or sermon have shown more +forcibly the revolting inhumanity of a doctrine upheld as divine? Yet +were there devout men, in other things gentle and loving and charitable, +who preached this as the law of a loving God. With one stroke of genius +they were brought face to face with the logical sequence of their +barbarous teaching, and that without a word of coarseness or a touch of +caricature. + +Only once again did Burns return to this attack on bigotry and +superstition, and that was when he was induced to fight for Dr. Macgill +in _The Kirk's Alarm_. But he had done his part in the series of satires +of this year to expose the loathsomeness of hypocrisy and to purge holy +places and the most solemn ceremonies of what was blasphemous and +grossly profane. That in this Burns was fulfilling a part of his mission +as a poet, we can hardly doubt; and that his work wrought for +righteousness, the purer religious life that followed amply proves. The +true poet is also a prophet; and Robert Burns was a prophet when he +spoke forth boldly and fearlessly the truth that was in him, and dared +to say that sensuality was foul even in an elder of the kirk, and that +profanities were abhorred of God even though sanctioned and sanctified +under the sacred name of religion. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE KILMARNOCK EDITION + + +_The Holy Tulzie_ had been written probably in April 1785, and the +greatest of the satires, _The Holy Fair_, is dated August of the same +year. It may, however, have been only drafted, and partly written, when +the recent celebration of the sacrament at Mauchline was fresh in the +poet's mind. At the very latest, it must have been taken up, completed, +and perfected, in the early months of 1786. That is a period of some ten +months between the first and the last of this series of satires; and +during that time he had composed _Holy Willie's Prayer_, _The Address to +the Deil_, _The Ordination_, and _The Address to the Unco Guid_. But +this represents a very small part of the poetry written by Burns during +this busy period. From the spring of 1785 on to the autumn of 1786 was a +time of great productiveness in his life, a productiveness unparalleled +in the life of any other poet. If, according to Gilbert, the seven years +of their stay at Lochlea were not marked by much literary improvement in +his brother, we take it that the poet had been 'lying fallow' all those +years; and what a rich harvest do we have now! Here, indeed, was a +reward worth waiting for. To read over the names of the poems, songs, +and epistles written within such a short space of time amazes us. And +there is hardly a poem in the whole collection without a claim to +literary excellence. A month or two previous to the composition of his +first satire he had written what Gilbert calls his first poem, _The +Epistle to Davie_, 'a brother poet, lover, ploughman, and fiddler.' It +is worthy of notice that, in the opening lines of this poem-- + + 'While winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw, + And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, + And hing us ower the ingle'-- + +we see the poet and his surroundings, as he sets himself down to write. +He plunges, as Horace advises, in _medias res_, and we have the +atmosphere of the poem in the first phrase. This is Burns's usual way of +beginning his poems and epistles, as well as a great many of his songs. +The metre of this poem Burns has evidently taken from _The Cherry and +the Slae_, by Alexander Montgomery, which he must have read in Ramsay's +_Evergreen_. The stanza is rather complicated, although Burns, with his +extraordinary command and pliancy of language, uses it from the first +with masterly ease. But there is much more than mere jugglery of words +in the poem. Indeed, such is this poet's seeming simplicity of speech +that his masterly manipulation of metres always comes as an +afterthought. It never disturbs us in our first reading of the poem. +Gilbert's opinion of this poem is worth recording, the more especially +as he expressly tells us that the first idea of Robert's becoming an +author was started on this occasion. 'I thought it,' he says, 'at least +equal to, if not superior, to many of Allan Ramsay's epistles, and that +the merit of these and much other Scottish poetry seemed to consist +principally in the knack of the expression; but here there was a strain +of interesting sentiment, and the Scotticism of the language scarcely +seemed affected, but appeared to be the natural language of the poet.' +It startles us to hear Gilbert talking thus of the Scotticism, after +having heard so much of Robert Burns writing naturally in the speech of +his home and county. In this poem we have, at least, the first proof of +that graphic power in which Burns has never been excelled, and in it we +have the earliest mention of his Bonnie Jean. In his next poem, _Death +and Dr. Hornbook_, his command of language and artistic phrasing are +more apparent, while pawky humour and genial satire sparkle and flash +from every line. The poem is written in that form of verse which Burns +has made particularly his own. He had become acquainted with it, it is +most likely, in the writings of Fergusson, Ramsay, and Gilbertfield, who +had used it chiefly for comic subjects; but Burns showed that, in his +hands at least, it could be made the vehicle of the most pensive and +tender feeling. In an interesting note to the _Centenary Burns_, edited +by Henley and Henderson, it is pointed out that 'the six-line stave in +rime couee built on two rhymes,' was used by the Troubadours in their +_Chansons de Gestes_, and that it dates at the very latest from the +eleventh century. Burns's happiest use of it was in those epistles which +about this time he began to dash off to some of his friends; and it is +with these epistles that the uninterrupted stream of poetry of this +season may be said properly to begin. Perhaps it was in the use of this +stanza that Burns first discovered his command of rhymes and his +felicity of phrasing. Certain it is, that after his first epistle to +Lapraik, we have epistles, poems, songs, satires flowing from his pen, +uninterrupted for a period, and apparently with marvellous ease. It has +to be remembered, too, that he was now inspired by the dream of becoming +an author--in print. When or where or how, had not been determined; but +the idea was delightful all the same; the hope was inspiration itself. +Some day his work would be published, and he would be read and talked +about! He would have done something for poor auld Scotland's sake. The +one thing now was to make the book, and to that he set himself +deliberately. Poetry was at last to have its chance. Farming had been +tried, with little success. The crops of 1784 had been a failure, and +this year they were hardly more promising. In these discouraging +circumstances the poet was naturally driven in upon himself. His eyes +were turned _ad intra_, and he sought consolation in his Muse. He was +conscious of some poetical ability, and he knew that his compositions +were not destitute of merit. Poetry, too, was to him, and particularly +so at this time, its own exceeding great reward. He rhymed 'for fun'; +and probably he was finding in the exercise that excitement his +passionate nature craved. Herein was his stimulant after the routine of +farm-work--spiritless work that was little better than slavery, +incessant and achieving nothing. We can imagine him in those days +returning from the fields, 'forjesket, sair, with weary legs,' and +becoming buoyant as soon as he has opened the drawer of that small deal +table in the garret. + + 'Leeze me on rhyme! it's aye a treasure, + My chief, amaist, my only pleasure; + At hame, afield, at wark or leisure, + The Muse, poor hizzie, + Though rough and raploch be her measure, + She's seldom lazy.' + +But, lazy or not, she becomes 'ramfeezled' with constant work, when he +vows if 'the thowless jad winna mak it clink,' to prose it,--a terrible +threat. For he must write, though it be but to keep despondency at arm's +length. Yet it had become more than a pleasure and a recreation to him; +and this he was beginning to understand. This, after all, was his real +work, not the drudgery of the fields; in it he must live his life, and +fulfil his mission. The more he wrote the more he accustomed himself +with the idea of being an author. He knew that the critic-folk, deep +read in books, might scoff at the very suggestion of a ploughman turning +poet, but he recognised also that they might be wrong. It was not by +dint of Greek that Parnassus was to be climbed. 'Ae spark o' Nature's +fire' was the one thing needful for poetry that was to touch the heart. + + 'The star that rules my luckless lot, + Has fated me the russet coat, + And damned my fortune to the groat; + But, in requit, + Has blest me with a random shot + O' countra wit. + + This while my notion's ta'en a sklent, + To try my fate in guid, black prent; + But still the mair I'm that way bent, + Something cries, "Hoolie! + I red you, honest man, tak tent! + Ye'll shaw your folly. + + "There's ither poets, much your betters, + Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, + Hae thought they had ensured their debtors, + A' future ages; + Now moths deform in shapeless tatters + Their unknown pages."' + +The works of such scholars enjoyed of the moths! There is gentle satire +here. They themselves had grubbed on Greek, and now is Time avenged. + +It is in his epistles that we see Burns most vividly and clearly, the +man in all his moods. They are just such letters as might be written to +intimate friends when one is not afraid of being himself, and can speak +freely. In sentiment they are candid and sincere, and in language +transparently unaffected. Whatever occurs to him as he writes goes down; +we have the thoughts of his heart at the time of writing, and see the +varying expressions of his face as he passes from grave to gay, from +lively to severe. Now he is tender, now indignant; now rattling along in +good-natured raillery without broadening into burlesque; now becoming +serious and pensively philosophic without a suggestion of mawkish +morality. For Burns, when he is himself, is always an artist; says his +say, and lets the moral take care of itself; and in his epistles he lets +himself go in a very revelry of artistic abandon. He does not think of +style--that fetich of barren minds--and style comes to him; for style is +a coquette that flies the suppliant wooer to kiss the feet of him who +worships a goddess; a submissive handmaiden, a wayward and moody +mistress. But along with delicacy of diction, force and felicity of +expression, pregnancy of phrase and pliancy of language, what knowledge +there is of men--the passions that sway, the impulses that prompt, the +motives that move them to action. Clearness of vision and accuracy of +observation are evidenced in their vividness of imagery; naturalness and +truthfulness--the first essential of all good writing--in their +convincing sincerity of sentiment. Wit and humour, play and sparkle of +fancy, satire genial or scathing, a boundless love of nature and all +created things, are harmoniously unified in the glowing imagination of +the poet, and welded into the perfect poem. Behind all is the +personality of the writer, captivating the reader as much by his +kindliness and sympathy as by his witchery of words. Others have +attempted poetic epistles, but none has touched familiar intercourse to +such fine issues; none has written with such natural grace or woven the +warp and woof of word and sentiment so cunningly into the web of poetry +as Robert Burns. Looseness of rhythm may be detected, excruciating +rhymes are not awanting, but all are forgiven and forgotten in the +enjoyment of the feast as a whole. + +Besides the satires and epistles we have during this fertile period +poems as different in subject, sentiment, and treatment as _The Cotter's +Saturday Night_ and _The Jolly Beggars_; _Hallowe'en_ and _The Mountain +Daisy_; _The Farmer's Address to his Auld Mare Maggie_ and _The Twa +Dogs_; _Address to a Mouse_, _Man was made to Mourn_, _The Vision_, _A +Winter's Night_, and _The Epistle to a Young Friend_. Perhaps of all +these poems _The Vision_ is the most important. It is an epoch-marking +poem in the poet's life. All that he had previously written had been +leading to this; the finer the poem the more surely was it bringing him +to this composition. The time was bound to come when he had to settle +for himself finally and firmly what his work in life was to be. Was +poetry to be merely a pastime; a recreation after the labours of the day +were done; a solace when harvests failed and ruin stared the family in +the face? That question Burns answered when he sat down by the +ingle-cheek, and, looking backward, mused on the years of youth that had +been spent 'in stringing blethers up in rhyme for fools to sing.' He saw +what he might have been; he knew too well what he was--'half-mad, +half-fed, half-sarket.' Yet the picture of what he might have been he +dismissed lightly, almost disdainfully; for he saw what he might be +yet--what he should be. Turning from the toilsome past and the +unpromising present, he looked to the future with a manly assurance of +better things. He should shine in his humble sphere, a rustic bard; his +to + + 'Preserve the dignity of Man, + With soul erect; + And trust, the Universal Plan + Will all protect.' + +The poem is pitched on a high key; the keynote is struck in the opening +lines, and the verses move to the end with stateliness and dignity. It +is calm, contemplative, with that artistic restraint that comes of +conscious power. Burns took himself seriously, and knew that if he were +true to his genius he would become the poet and prophet of his +fellow-men. + +It is worth while dwelling a little on this particular poem, because it +marks a crisis in Burns's life. At this point he shook himself free from +the tyranny of the soil. He had considered all things, and his +resolution for authorship was taken. Some of the other poems will be +mentioned afterwards; meantime we have to consider another crisis in his +life--some aspects of his nature less pleasing, some episodes in his +career dark and unlovely. + +Speaking of the effect _Holy Willie's Prayer_ had on the kirk-session, +he says that they actually held three meetings to see if their holy +artillery could be pointed against profane rhymers. 'Unluckily for me,' +he adds, 'my idle wanderings led me on another side, point-blank within +reach of their heaviest metal. This is the unfortunate story alluded to +in my printed poem _The Lament_. 'Twas a shocking affair, which I cannot +yet bear to recollect, and it had very nearly given me one or two of the +principal qualifications for a place with those who have lost the chart +and mistaken the reckoning of rationality.' + +Throughout the year 1785 Burns had been acquainted with Jean Armour, the +daughter of a master mason in Mauchline. Her name, besides being +mentioned in his _Epistle to Davie_, is mentioned in _The Vision_, and +we know from a verse on the six belles of Mauchline that 'Armour was the +jewel o' them a'.' From the depressing cares and anxieties of that +gloomy season the poet had turned to seek solace in song, but he had +also found comfort and consolation in love. + + 'When heart-corroding care and grief + Deprive my soul of rest, + Her dear idea brings relief + And solace to my breast.' + +Now in the spring of 1786 Burns as a man of honour must acknowledge Jean +as his wife. The lovers had imprudently anticipated the Church's +sanction to marriage, and it was his duty, speaking in the homely phrase +of the Scottish peasantry, to make an honest woman of his Bonnie Jean. +But, unfortunately, matters had been going from bad to worse on the farm +of Mossgiel, and about this time the brothers had come to a final +decision to quit the farm. Robert, as Gilbert informs us, durst not then +engage with a family in his poor, unsettled state, but was anxious to +shield his partner by every means in his power from the consequences of +their imprudence. It was agreed, therefore, between them, that they +should make a legal acknowledgment of marriage, that he should go to +Jamaica to push his fortune, and that she should remain with her father +till it should please Providence to put the means of supporting a family +in his power. He was willing even to work as a common labourer so that +he might do his duty by the woman he had already made his wife. But +Jean's father, whatever were his reasons, would allow her to have +nothing whatever to do with a man like Burns. A husband in Jamaica was, +in his judgment, no husband at all. What inducement he held out, or what +arguments he used, we may not know, but he prevailed on Jean to +surrender to him the paper acknowledging the irregular marriage. This he +deposited with Mr. Aitken of Ayr, who, as Burns heard, deleted the +names, thus rendering the marriage null and void. This was the +circumstance, what he regarded as Jean's desertion, which brought Burns, +as he has said, to the verge of insanity. + +Now it was that he finally resolved to leave the country. It was not the +first time he had thought of America. Poverty, before this, had led him +to think of emigrating; the success of others who had gone out as +settlers tempted him to try his fortune beyond the seas, even though he +'should herd the buckskin kye in Virginia.' Now, imprudence as well as +poverty urged him, while, wounded so sorely by the action of the +Armours both in his love and his vanity, he had little desire to remain +at home. There is no doubt that, prior to the birth of his twin children +and the publication of his poems, he would have quitted Scotland with +little reluctance. But he was so poor that, even after accepting a +situation in Jamaica, he had not money to pay his passage; and it was at +the suggestion of Gavin Hamilton that he began seriously to prepare for +the publication of his poems by subscription, in order to raise a sum +sufficient to buy his banishment. Accordingly we find him under the date +April 3, 1786, writing to Mr. Aitken, 'My proposals for publishing I am +just going to send to press.' + +But what a time this was in the poet's life! It was a long tumult of +hope and despair, exultation and despondency, poetry and love; revelry, +rebellion, and remorse. Everything was excitement; calmness itself a +fever. Yet through it all inspiration was ever with him, and poem +followed poem with miraculous, one might almost say, unnatural rapidity. +Now he is apostrophising Ruin; now he is wallowing in the mire of +village scandal; now he is addressing a mountain daisy in words of +tenderness and purity; now he is scarifying a garrulous tailor, and +ranting with an alien flippancy; now it is Beelzebub he addresses, now +the King; now he is waxing eloquent on the virtues of Scotch whisky, +anon writing to a young friend in words of wisdom that might well be +written on the fly-leaf of his Bible. + +This was certainly a period of ageing activity in Burns's life. It +seemed as if there had been a conspiracy of fate and circumstance to +herald the birth of his poems with the wildest convulsions of labour and +travail. The parish of Tarbolton became the stage of a play that had all +the makings of a farce and all the elements of a tragedy. There were +endless complications and daily developments, all deepening the dramatic +intensity without disturbing the unity. We watch with breathless +interest, dumbly wondering what the end will be. It is tragedy, comedy, +melodrama, and burlesque all in one. + +Driven almost to madness by the faithlessness of Jean Armour, he rends +himself in a whirlwind of passion, and seeks sympathy and solace in the +love of Mary Campbell. What a situation for a novelist! This is just how +the story-teller would have made his jilted hero act; sent him with +bleeding heart to seek consolation in a new love. For novelists make a +study of the vagaries of love, and know that hearts are caught in the +rebound. + +Most of the biographers of Burns are agreed that this Highland lassie +was the object of by far the deepest passion he ever knew. They may be +right. Death stepped in before disillusion, and she was never other than +the adored Mary of that rapturous meeting when the white +hawthorn-blossom no purer was than their love. Thus was his love for +Mary Campbell ever a holy and spiritual devotion. Auguste Angellier +says: 'This was the purest, the most lasting, and by far the noblest of +his loves. Above all the others, many of which were more passionate, +this one stands out with the chasteness of a lily. There is a complete +contrast between his love for Jean and his love for Mary. In the one +case all the epithets are material; here they are all moral. The praises +are borrowed, not from the graces of the body, but from the features of +the soul. The words which occur again and again are those of honour, of +purity, of goodness. The idea of seeing her again some day was never +absent from his mind. Every time he thought of eternity, of a future +life, of reunions in some unknown state, it was to her that his heart +went out. The love of that second Sunday of May was ever present. It was +the love which led Burns to the most elevated sphere to which he ever +attained; it was the inspiration of his most spiritual efforts. This +sweet, blue-eyed Highland lassie was his Beatrice, and waved to him from +the gates of heaven.' + +We know little about Mary Campbell from the poet himself; and though +much has been ferreted out about her by a host of snappers-up of +unconsidered trifles, this episode in his life is still involved in +mystery. It is pleasant to reflect that his reticence here has kept at +least one love passage in his life sacred and holy. Is not mystery half +the charm and beauty of love? Yet, in spite of his silence, or probably +because of it, details have been raked up from time to time, some grey +and colourless fossil-remains of what was once fresh and living fact. +From Burns himself we know that the lovers took a tender farewell in a +sequestered spot by the banks of the Ayr, and parted never to meet +again. All the romance and tragedy are there, and what need we more? We +are not even certain as to either the place or the date of her death. +Mrs. Begg, the poet's sister, knew little or nothing about Mary +Campbell. She remembered, however, a letter being handed in to him +after the work of the season was over. 'He went to the window to open +and read it, and she was struck by the look of agony which was the +consequence. He went out without uttering a word.' What he felt he +expressed afterwards in song--song that has become the language of +bereaved and broken hearts for all time. The widowed lover knows 'the +dear departed shade,' but he may not have heard of Mary Campbell. + +It was in May that Burns and Highland Mary had parted; in June he wrote +to a friend about ungrateful Armour, confessing that he still loved her +to distraction, though he would not tell her so. But all his letters +about this time are wild and rebellious. He raves in a tempest of +passion, and cools himself again, perhaps in the composition of a song +or poem. Just about the time this letter was written, his poems were +already in the press. His proposal for publishing had met with so hearty +a reception, that success financially was to a certain extent assured, +and the printing had been put into the hand of John Wilson, Kilmarnock. +Even yet his pen was busy. He wrote often in a gay and lively style, +almost, it would seem, in a struggle to keep himself from sinking into +melancholy, 'singing to keep his courage up.' His gaiety was 'the +madness of an intoxicated criminal under the hands of the executioner.' +_A Bard's Epitaph_, however, among the many pieces of this season, is +earnest and serious enough to disarm hostile criticism; and his loose +and flippant productions are read leniently in the light of this +pathetic confession. It is a self-revelation truly, but it is honest, +straightforward, and manly. There is nothing plaintive or mawkish about +it. + +We next find Burns flying from home to escape legal measures that Jean +Armour's father was instituting against him. He was in hiding at +Kilmarnock to be out of the way of legal diligence, and it was in such +circumstances that he saw his poems through the press. Surely never +before in the history of literature had book burst from such a medley of +misfortunes into so sudden and certain fame. Born in tumult, it +vindicated its volcanic birth, and took the hearts of men by storm. +Burns says little about those months of labour and bitterness. We know +that he had then nearly as high an idea of himself and his works as he +had in later life; he had watched every means of information as to how +much ground he occupied as a man and a poet, and was sure his poems +would meet with some applause. He had subscriptions for about three +hundred and fifty, and he got six hundred copies printed, pocketing, +after all expenses were paid, nearly twenty pounds. With nine guineas of +this sum he bespoke a passage in the first ship that was to sail for the +West Indies. 'I had for some time,' he says, 'been skulking from covert +to covert under all the terrors of a jail, as some ill-advised, +ungrateful people had uncoupled the merciless, legal pack at my heels. I +had taken the last farewell of my friends; my chest was on the road to +Greenock; I had composed the song _The Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast_, +which was to be the last effort of my muse in Caledonia, when a letter +from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by +rousing my poetic ambition. The doctor belonged to a class of critics, +for whose applause I had not even dared to hope. His idea that I would +meet with every encouragement for a second edition fired me so much, +that away I posted to Edinburgh, without a single acquaintance in town, +or a single letter of recommendation in my pocket.' + +It was towards the end of July that the poems were published, and they +met with a success that must have been gratifying to those friends who +had stood by the poet in his hour of adversity, and done what they could +to ensure subscriptions. In spite of the fact that Burns certainly +looked upon himself as possessed of some poetic abilities, the reception +the little volume met with, and the impression it at once made, must +have exceeded his wildest anticipations. Even yet, however, he did not +relinquish the idea of going to America. On the other hand, as we have +seen, the first use he made of the money which publication had brought +him, was to secure a berth in a vessel bound for Jamaica. But he was +still compelled by the dramatic uncertainty of circumstance. The day of +sailing was postponed, else had he certainly left his native land. It +was only after Jean Armour had become the mother of twin children that +there was any hint of diffidence about sailing. In a letter to Robert +Aitken, written in October, he says: 'All these reasons urge me to go +abroad, and to all these reasons I have one answer--the feelings of a +father. That in the present mood I am in overbalances everything that +can be laid in the scale against it.' + +His friends, too, after the success of his poems, were beginning to be +doubtful about the wisdom of his going abroad, and were doing what they +could to secure for him a place in the Excise. For his fame had gone +beyond the bounds of his native county, and others than people in his +own station had recognised his genius. Mrs. Dunlop of Dunlop was one of +the first to seek the poet's acquaintance, and she became an almost +lifelong friend; through his poems he renewed acquaintance with Mrs. +Stewart of Stair. He was 'roosed' by Craigen-Gillan; Dugald Stewart, the +celebrated metaphysician, and one of the best-known names in the learned +and literary circles of Edinburgh, who happened to be spending his +vacation at Catrine, not very far from Mossgiel, invited the poet to +dine with him, and on that occasion he 'dinnered wi' a laird'--Lord +Daer. Then came the appreciative letter from Dr. Blacklock to the Rev. +George Lawrie of Loudon, already mentioned. Even this letter might not +have proved strong enough to detain him in Scotland, had it not been +that he was disappointed of a second edition of his poems in Kilmarnock. +Other encouragement came from Edinburgh in a very favourable criticism +of his poems in the _Edinburgh Magazine_. This, taken along with Dr. +Blacklock's suggestion about 'a second edition more numerous than the +former,' led the poet to believe that his work would be taken up by any +of the Edinburgh publishers. The feelings of a father also urged him to +remain in Scotland; and at length--probably in November--the thought of +exile was abandoned. It was with very different feelings, we may be +sure, that he contemplated setting out from Mossgiel to sojourn for a +season in Edinburgh--a name that had ever been associated in his mind +with the best traditions of learning and literature in Scotland. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EDINBURGH EDITION + + +Edinburgh towards the close of last century was a very different place +from Edinburgh of the present day. It was then to a certain extent the +hub of Scottish society; the centre of learning and literature; the +winter rendezvous of not a few of the nobility and gentry of Scotland. +For in those days it had its society and its season; county families had +not altogether abandoned the custom of keeping their houses in town. All +roads did not then lead to London as they do now, when Edinburgh is a +capital in little more than name, and its prestige has become a +tradition. A century ago Edinburgh had all the glamour and fascination +of the capital of a no mean country; to-day it is but the historical +capital invested with the glamour and fascination of a departed glory. +The very names of those whom Burns met on his first visit to Edinburgh +are part of the history of the nation. In the University there were at +that time, representative of the learning of the age, Dugald Stewart, +Dr. Blair, and Dr. Robertson. David Hume was but recently dead, and the +lustre of his name remained. His great friend, Adam Smith, author of +_The Wealth of Nations_, was still living; while Henry Mackenzie, _The +Man of Feeling_, the most popular writer of his day, was editing _The +Lounger_; and Dr. Blacklock, the blind poet, was also a name of +authority in the world of letters. Nor was the Bar, whose magnates have +ever figured in the front rank of Edinburgh society, eclipsed by the +literary luminaries of the University. Lord Monboddo has left a name, +which his countrymen are not likely to forget. He was an accomplished, +though eccentric character, whose classical bent was in the direction of +Epicurean parties. His great desire was to revive the traditions of the +elegant suppers of classical times. Not only were music and painting +employed to this end, but the tables were wreathed with flowers, the +odour of incense pervaded the room; the wines were of the choicest, +served from decanters of Grecian design. But, perhaps, the chief +attraction to Burns in the midst of all this super-refinement was the +presence of 'the heavenly Miss Burnet,' daughter of Lord Monboddo. +'There has not been anything nearly like her,' he wrote to his friend +Chalmers, 'in all the combinations of beauty and grace and goodness the +great Creator has formed since Milton's Eve in the first day of her +existence.' The Hon. Henry Erskine was another well-known name, not only +in legal circles, but as well in fashionable society. His genial and +sunny nature made him so great a favourite in his profession, that +having been elected Dean of the Faculty of Advocates in 1786, he was +unanimously re-elected every year till 1796, when he was victorious over +Dundas of Arniston, who had been brought forward in opposition to him. +The leader of fashion was the celebrated Duchess of Gordon, who was +never absent from a public place, and 'the later the hour so much the +better.' Her amusements--her life, we might say--were dancing, cards, +and company. With such a leader, the season to the very select and +elegant society of Edinburgh was certain to be a time of brilliance and +gaiety; while its very exclusiveness, and the fact that it affected or +reflected the literary life of the University and the Bar, would make it +all the more ready to lionise a man like Burns when the opportunity +came. + +The members of the middle class caught their tone from the upper ranks, +and took their nightly sederunts and morning headaches as privileges +they dared aristocratic exclusiveness to deny them. Douce citizens, +merchants, respectable tradesmen, well-to-do lawyers, forgathered when +the labours of the day were done to spend a few hours in some snug +back-parlour, where mine host granted them the privileges and privacy of +a club. Such social beings as these, met to discuss punch, law, and +literature, were no less likely than their aristocratic neighbours to +receive Burns with open arms, and once he was in their midst to prolong +their sittings in his honour. Nor was Burns, if he found them honest and +hearty fellows, the man to say them nay. He was eminently a social and +sociable being, and in company such as theirs he could unbend himself as +he might not do in the houses of punctilious society. The etiquette of +that howff of the Crochallan Fencibles in the Anchor Close or of Johnnie +Dowie's tavern in Libberton's Wynd was not the etiquette of +drawing-rooms; and the poet was free to enliven the hours with a +rattling fire of witty remarks on men and things as he had been wont to +do on the bog at Lochlea, with only a few noteless peasants for +audience. + +Burns entered Edinburgh on November 28, 1786. He had spent the night +after leaving Mossgiel at the farm of Covington Mains, where the +kind-hearted host, Mr. Prentice, had all the farmers of the parish +gathered to meet him. This is of interest as showing the popularity +Burns's poems had already won; while the eagerness of those farmers to +see and know the man after they had read his poems proves most +strikingly how straight the poet had gone to the hearts of his readers. +They had recognised the voice of a human being, and heard it gladly. +This gathering was convincing testimony, if such were needed, of the +truthfulness and sincerity of his writings. No doubt Burns, with his +great force of understanding, appreciated the welcome of those +brother-farmers, and valued it above the adulation he afterwards +received in Edinburgh. The Kilmarnock Edition was but a few months old, +yet here was a gathering of hard-working men, who had read his poems, we +may be sure, from cover to cover, and now they were eager to thank him +who had sung the joys and sorrows of their workaday lives. Of course +there was a great banquet, and night wore into morning before the +company dispersed. They had seen the poet face to face, and the man was +greater than his poems. + +Next morning he resumed his journey, breakfasting at Carnwath, and +reaching Edinburgh in the evening. He had come, as he tells us, without +a letter of introduction in his pocket, and he took up his abode with +John Richmond in Baxter's Close, off the Lawnmarket. He had known +Richmond when he was a clerk with Gavin Hamilton, and had kept up a +correspondence with him ever since he had left Mauchline. The lodging +was a humble enough one, the rent being only three shillings a week; +but here Burns lodged all the time he was in Edinburgh, and it was +hither he returned from visiting the houses of the rich and great, to +share a bed with his friend and companion of many a merry meeting at +Mauchline. + +It would be vain to attempt to describe Burns's feelings during those +first few days in Edinburgh. He had never before been in a larger town +than Kilmarnock or Ayr; and now he walked the streets of Scotland's +capital, to him full of history and instinct with the associations of +centuries. This was really the heart of Scotland, the home of heroes who +fought and fell for their country, 'the abode of kings of other years.' +His sentimental attachment to Jacobitism became more pronounced as he +looked on Holyrood. For Burns, a representative of the strength and +weakness of his countrymen, was no less representative of Scotland's +sons in his chivalrous pity for the fate of Queen Mary and his romantic +loyalty to the gallant Prince Charlie. His poetical espousal of the +cause of the luckless Stuarts was purely a matter of sentiment, a kind +of pious pity that had little to do with reason; and in this he was +typical of his countrymen even of the present day, who are loyal to the +house of Stuart in song, and in life are loyal subjects of their Queen. + +We are told, and we can well believe that for the first few days of his +stay he wandered about, looking down from Arthur's Seat, gazing at the +Castle, or contemplating the windows of the booksellers' shops. We know +that he made a special pilgrimage to the grave of Fergusson, and that in +a letter, dated February 6, 1787, he applied to the honourable bailies +of Canongate, Edinburgh, for permission 'to lay a simple stone over his +revered ashes'; which petition was duly considered and graciously +granted. The stone was afterwards erected, with the simple inscription, +'Here lies Robert Fergusson, Poet. Born September 5th, 1751; died 16th +October, 1774. + + No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, + "No storied urn nor animated bust"; + This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way + To pour her sorrow o'er her poet's dust.' + +On the reverse side is recorded the fact that the stone was erected by +Robert Burns, and that the ground was to remain for ever sacred to the +memory of Robert Fergusson. + +It is related, too, that he visited Ramsay's house, and that he bared +his head when he entered. Burns over and over again, both in prose and +verse, turned to these two names with a kind of fetich worship, that it +is difficult to understand. He must have known that, as a poet, he was +immeasurably superior to both. It may have been that their writings +first opened his eyes to the possibilities of the Scots tongue in +lyrical and descriptive poetry; and there was something also which +appealed to him in the wretched life of Fergusson. + + 'O thou, my elder brother in misfortune, + By far my elder brother in the Muses.' + +His elder brother indeed by some six years! But there is more of +reverence than sound judgment in his estimate of either Ramsay or +Fergusson. + +Burns, however, had come to Edinburgh with a fixed purpose in view, and +it would not do to waste his time mooning about the streets. On December +7 we find him writing to Gavin Hamilton, half seriously, half jokingly: +'I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as Thomas a Kempis or John +Bunyan, and you may expect henceforth to see my birthday inserted among +the wonderful events in the Poor Robins' and Aberdeen Almanacs along +with the Black Monday and the Battle of Bothwell Bridge. My Lord +Glencairn and the Dean of Faculty, Mr. H. Erskine, have taken me under +their wing, and by all probability I shall soon be the tenth worthy and +the eighth wise man of the world. Through my lord's influence it is +inserted in the records of the Caledonian Hunt that they universally one +and all subscribe for the second edition.' + +This letter shows that Burns had already been taken up, as the phrase +goes, by the elite of Edinburgh; and it shows also and quite as clearly +in the tone of quiet banter, that he was little likely to lose his head +by the notice taken of him. To the Earl of Glencairn, mentioned in it, +he had been introduced probably by Mr. Dalrymple of Orangefield, whom he +knew both as a brother-mason and a brother-poet. The Earl had already +seen the Kilmarnock Edition of the poems, and now he not only introduced +Burns to William Creech, the leading publisher in Edinburgh, but he got +the members of the Caledonian Hunt to become subscribers for a second +edition of the poems. To Erskine he had been introduced at a meeting of +the Canongate Kilwinning Lodge of Freemasons; and assuredly there was no +man living more likely to exert himself in the interests of a genius +like Burns. + +Two days after this letter to Gavin Hamilton there appeared in _The +Lounger_ Mackenzie's appreciative notice of the Kilmarnock Edition. This +notice has become historical, and at the time of its appearance it must +have been peculiarly gratifying to Burns. He had remarked before, in +reference to the letter from Dr. Blacklock, that the doctor belonged to +a class of critics for whose applause he had not even dared to hope. Now +his work was criticised most favourably by the one who was regarded as +the highest authority on literature in Scotland. If a writer was praised +in _The Lounger_, his fame was assured. He went into the world with the +hall-mark of Henry Mackenzie; and what more was needed? The oracle had +spoken, and his decision was final. His pronouncement would be echoed +and re-echoed from end to end of the country. And this great critic +claimed no special indulgence for Burns on the plea of his mean birth or +poor education. He saw in this heaven-taught ploughman a genius of no +ordinary rank, a man who possessed the spirit as well as the fancy of a +great poet. He was a poet, and it mattered not whether he had been born +a peasant or a peer. 'His poetry, considered abstractedly and without +the apologies arising from his situation, seems to me fully entitled to +command our feelings and obtain our applause.... The power of genius is +not less admirable in tracing the manners, than in painting the passions +or in drawing the scenery of nature. That intuitive glance with which a +writer like Shakspeare discerns the character of men, with which he +catches the many changing hues of life, forms a sort of problem in the +science of mind, of which it is easier to see the truth than assign the +cause.' + +But Mackenzie did more than praise. He pointed out the fact that the +author had had a terrible struggle with poverty all the days of his +life, and made an appeal to his country 'to stretch out her hand and +retain the native poet whose wood-notes wild possessed so much +excellence.' There seems little doubt that the concluding words of this +notice led Burns for the first time to hope and believe that, through +some influential patron, he might be placed in a position to face the +future without a fear, and to cultivate poetry at his leisure. There is +no mistaking the meaning of Mackenzie's words, and he had evidently used +them with the conviction that something would be done for Burns. +Unfortunately, he was mistaken; the poet, at first misled, was slowly +disillusioned and somewhat embittered. 'To repair the wrongs of +suffering or neglected merit; to call forth genius from the obscurity +where it had pined indignant, and place it where it may profit or +delight the world--these are exertions which give to wealth an enviable +superiority, to greatness and to patronage a laudable pride.' + +To Burns, at the time, such a criticism as this must have been all the +more pleasing, inasmuch as it was the verdict of a man whose best-known +work had been one of the poet's favourite books. We can easily imagine +that, under the patronage of Lord Glencairn and Henry Erskine, and after +Mackenzie's generous recognition of his genius, the doors of the best +houses in Edinburgh would be open to him. His letter to John Ballantine, +Ayr, written a few days after this criticism appeared, shows in what +circles the poet was then moving. 'I have been introduced to a good many +of the _noblesse_, but my avowed patrons and patronesses are, the +Duchess of Gordon, the Countess of Glencairn with my Lord and Lady +Betty, the Dean of Faculty, Sir John Whitefoord. I have likewise warm +friends among the _literati_; Professors Stewart, Blair, and Mr. +Mackenzie, _The Man of Feeling_.... I am nearly agreed with Creech to +print my book, and I suppose I will begin on Monday.... Dugald Stewart +and some of my learned friends put me in a periodical called _The +Lounger_, a copy of which I here enclose you. I was, Sir, when I was +first honoured with your notice, too obscure; now I tremble lest I +should be ruined by being dragged too suddenly into the glare of learned +and polite observation.' + +Burns was now indeed the lion of Edinburgh. It must have been a great +change for a man to have come straight from the stilts of the plough to +be dined and toasted by such men as Lord Glencairn, Lord Monboddo, and +the Hon. Henry Erskine; to be feted and flattered by the Duchess of +Gordon, the Countess of Glencairn, and Lady Betty Cunningham; to count +amongst his friends Mr. Mackenzie and Professors Stewart and Blair. It +would have been little wonder if his head had been turned by the +patronage of the nobility, the deference and attention of the literary +and learned coteries of Edinburgh. But Burns was too sensible to be +carried away by the adulation of a season. A man of his keenness of +penetration and clearness of insight would appreciate the praise of the +world at its proper value. He bore himself with becoming dignity, taking +his place in refined society as one who had a right there, without +showing himself either conceitedly aggressive or meanly servile. He took +his part in conversation, but no more than his part, and expressed +himself with freedom and decision. His conversation, in fact, astonished +the _literati_ even more than his poems had done. Perhaps they had +expected some uncouth individual who would stammer crop-and-weather +commonplaces in a rugged vernacular, or, worse still, in ungrammatical +English; but here was one who held his own with them in speculative +discussion, speaking not only with the eloquence of a poet, but with the +readiness, clearness, and fluency of a man of letters. His pure English +diction astonished them, but his acuteness of reasoning, his intuitive +knowledge of men and the world, was altogether beyond their +comprehension. All they had got by years of laborious study this man +appeared to have as a natural gift. In repartee, even, he could more +than hold his own with them, and in the presence of ladies could turn a +compliment with the best. 'It needs no effort of imagination,' says +Lockhart, 'to conceive what the sensations of an isolated set of +scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) must have been in +the presence of this big-boned, black-browed, brawny stranger, who, +having forced his way among them from the plough-tail at a single +stride, manifested in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation a +most thorough conviction that in the society of the most eminent men of +his nation he was exactly where he was entitled to be.' It was a new +world to Burns, yet he walked about as if he were of old familiar with +its ways; he conducted himself in society like one to the manner born. + +All who have left written evidence of Burns's visit to Edinburgh are +agreed that he conducted himself with manliness and dignity, and all +have left record of the powerful impression his conversation made on +them. His poems were wonderful; himself was greater than his poems, a +giant in intellect. A ploughman who actually dared to have formed a +distinct conception of the doctrine of _association_ was a miracle +before which schools and scholars were dumb. 'Nothing, perhaps,' Dugald +Stewart wrote, 'was more remarkable among his various attainments than +the fluency, precision, and originality of his language when he spoke in +company; more particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of +expression, and avoided more successfully than most Scotchmen the +peculiarities of Scottish phraseology.' + +And Professor Stewart goes further than this when he speaks of the +soundness and sanity of Burns's nature. 'The attentions he received +during his stay in town from all ranks and descriptions of persons, were +such as would have turned any head but his own. He retained the same +simplicity of manner and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when +I first saw him in the country; nor did he seem to feel any additional +self-importance from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. His +dress was perfectly suited to his station, plain and unpretentious, with +a sufficient attention to neatness.' Principal Robertson has left it on +record, that he had scarcely ever met with any man whose conversation +displayed greater vigour than that of Burns. Walter Scott, a youth of +some sixteen years at the time, met Burns at the house of Dr. Adam +Ferguson, and was particularly struck with his poetic eye, 'which +literally glowed when he spoke with feeling or interest,' and with his +forcible conversation. 'Among the men who were the most learned of their +time and country, he expressed himself with perfect firmness, but +without the least intrusive forwardness; and when he differed in +opinion, he did not hesitate to express it firmly, and at the same time +with modesty.... I never saw a man in company more perfectly free from +either the reality or the affectation of embarrassment.' To these may be +added the testimony of Dr. Walker, who gives, perhaps, the most complete +and convincing picture of the man at this time. He insists on the same +outstanding characteristics in Burns, his innate dignity, his unaffected +demeanour in company, and brilliancy in conversation. In no part of his +manner, we read, was there the slightest degree of affectation, and no +one could have guessed from his behaviour or conversation, that he had +been for some months the favourite of all the fashionable circles of a +metropolis. 'In conversation he was powerful. His conceptions and +expression were of corresponding vigour, and on all subjects were as +remote as possible from commonplace.' + +But whilst ladies of rank and fashion were deluging this Ayrshire +ploughman with invitations, and vying one with another in their +patronage and worship, the mind of the poet was no less busy registering +impressions of every new experience. If the learned men of Edinburgh set +themselves to study the character of a genius who upset all their +cherished theories of birth and education, and to chronicle his sayings +and doings, Burns at the same time was studying them, gauging their +powers intuitively, telling their limitations at a glance. For he must +measure every man he met, and himself with him. His standard was always +the same; every brain was weighed against his own; but with Burns this +was never more than a comparison of capacities. He took his stand, not +by what work he had done, but by what he felt he was capable of doing. +And that is not, and cannot be, the way of the world. In all his letters +at this time we see him studying himself in the circles of fashion and +learning. He could look on Robert Burns, as he were another person, +brought from the plough and set down in a world of wealth and +refinement, of learning and wit and beauty. He saw the dangers that +beset him, and the temptations to which he was exposed; he recognised +that something more than his poetic abilities was needed to explain his +sudden popularity. He was the vogue, the favourite of a season; but +public favour was capricious, and next year the doors of the great might +be closed against him; while patrician dames who had schemed for his +smiles might glance at him with indifferent eyes as at a dismissed +servant once high in favour. His letter to Mrs. Dunlop, dated January +15, may be taken as a just, deliberate, and clear expression of his +views of himself and society at this time. The letter is so quietly +dignified that we may quote at some length. 'You are afraid I shall grow +intoxicated with my prosperity as a poet. Alas! madam, I know myself and +the world too well. I do not mean any airs of affected modesty; I am +willing to believe that my abilities deserve some notice, but in a most +enlightened, informed age and nation, where poetry is and has been the +study of men of the first natural genius, aided with all the powers of +polite learning, polite books, and polite company--to be dragged forth +to the full glare of learned and polite observation, with all my +imperfections of awkward rusticity and crude and unpolished ideas on my +head--I assure you, madam, I do not dissemble when I tell you I tremble +for the consequences. The novelty of a poet in my obscure situation, +without any of those advantages that are reckoned necessary for that +character, at least at this time of day, has raised a partial tide of +public notice which has borne me to a height where I am absolutely, +feelingly certain my abilities are inadequate to support me; and too +surely do I see that time when the same tide will leave me and recede, +perhaps as far below the mark of truth. I do not say this in the +ridiculous affectation of self-abasement and modesty. I have studied +myself, and know what ground I occupy; and however a friend or the world +may differ from me in that particular, I stand for my own opinion in +silent resolve, with all the tenaciousness of property. I mention this +to you once for all to disburden my mind, and I do not wish to hear or +say more about it. But-- + + "When proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes," + +you will bear me witness that when my bubble of fame was at the highest, +I stood unintoxicated with the inebriating cup in my hand, looking +forward with rueful resolve to the hastening time when the blow of +calamity should dash it to the ground with all the eagerness of vengeful +triumph.' + +In a letter to Dr. Moore he harps on the same string, for he sees +clearly enough that though his abilities as a poet are worthy of +recognition, it is the novelty of his position and the strangeness of +the life he has pictured in his poems that have brought him into polite +notice. The field of his poetry, rather than the poetry itself, is the +wonder in the eyes of stately society. To the Rev. Mr. Lawrie of Loudon +he writes in a similar strain, and speaks even more emphatically. From +all his letters, indeed, at this time we gather that he saw that +novelty had much to do with his present eclat; that the tide of +popularity would recede, and leave him at his leisure to descend to his +former situation; and, above all, that he was prepared for this, come +when it would. + +All this time he had been busy correcting the proofs of his poems; and +now that he was already assured the edition would be a success, he began +to think seriously of the future and of settling down again as farmer. +The appellation of Scottish Bard, he confessed to Mrs. Dunlop, was his +highest pride; to continue to deserve it, his most exalted ambition. He +had no dearer aim than to be able to make 'leisurely pilgrimages through +Caledonia, to sit on the fields of her battles, to wander on the +romantic banks of her rivers, and to muse by the stately towers or +venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes.' But that was a +Utopian dream; he had dallied long enough with life, and now it was time +he should be in earnest. 'I have a fond, an aged mother to care for; and +some other bosom ties perhaps equally tender.' + +Perhaps, had Burns received before he left Edinburgh the L500 which +Creech ultimately paid him for the Edinburgh Edition, he might have gone +straight to a farm in the south country, and taken up what he considered +the serious business of life. He himself, about this time, estimated +that he would clear nearly L300 by authorship, and with that sum he +intended to return to farming. Mr. Miller of Dalswinton had expressed a +wish to have Burns as tenant of one of his farms, and the poet had been +already approached on the subject. We also gather from almost every +letter written just before the publication of his poems, that he +contemplated an immediate return 'to his shades.' However, when the +Edinburgh Edition came out, April 21, 1787, the poet found that it would +be a considerable time before the whole profits accruing from +publication could be paid over to him. Indeed, there was certainly an +unnecessary delay on Creech's part in making a settlement. The first +instalment of profits was not sufficient for leasing and stocking a +farm; and during the months that elapsed before the whole profits were +in his hands, Burns made several tours through the Borders and Highlands +of Scotland. This was certainly one of his dearest aims; but these tours +were undertaken somewhat under compulsion, and we doubt not he would +much more gladly have gone straight back to farm-life, and kept these +leisurely pilgrimages to a more convenient season. One is not in a mood +for dreaming on battlefields, or wandering in a reverie by romantic +rivers, when the future is unsettled and life is for the time being +without an aim. There is something of mystery and melancholy hanging +about these peregrinations, and the cause, it seems to us, is not far to +seek. These months are months of waiting and wearying; he is unsettled, +oftentimes moody and despondent; his bursts of gaiety appear forced, and +his muse is well-nigh barren. In the circumstances, no doubt it was the +best thing he could do, to gratify his long-cherished desire of seeing +these places in his native country, whose names were enshrined in song +or story. But how much more pleasant--and more profitable both to the +poet himself and the country he loved--had these journeys been made +under more favourable conditions! + +The past also as much as the future weighed on the poet's mind. His +days had been so fully occupied in Edinburgh that he had little leisure +to think on some dark and dramatic episodes of Mauchline and Kilmarnock; +but now in his wanderings he has time not only to think but to brood; +and we may be sure the face of Bonnie Jean haunted him in dreams, and +that his heart heard again and again the plaintive voices of little +children. In several of his letters now we detect a tone of bitterness, +in which we suspect there is more of remorse than of resentment with the +world. He certainly was disappointed that Creech could not pay him in +full, but he must have been gratified with the reception his poems had +got. The list of subscribers ran to thirty-eight pages, and was +representative of every class in Scotland. In the words of Cunningham: +'All that coterie influence and individual exertion--all that the +noblest and humblest could do, was done to aid in giving it a kind +reception. Creech, too, had announced it through the booksellers of the +land, and it was soon diffused over the country, over the colonies, and +wherever the language was spoken. The literary men of the South seemed +even to fly to a height beyond those of the North. Some hesitated not to +call him the Northern Shakspeare.' + +This surely was a great achievement for one who, a few months +previously, had been skulking from covert to covert to escape the +terrors of a jail. He had hardly dared to hope for the commendation of +the Edinburgh critics, yet he had been received by the best society of +the capital; his genius had been recognised by the highest literary +authorities of Scotland; and now the second edition of his poems was +published under auspices that gave it the character of a national book. + +If the poems this volume contained established fully and finally the +reputation of the poet, the subscription list was a no less substantial +proof of a generous and enthusiastic appreciation of his genius on the +part of his countrymen. And that Burns must have recognised. A man of +his sound common sense could not have expected more. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BURNS'S TOURS + + +The Edinburgh Edition having now been published, there was no reason for +the poet to prolong his stay in the city. It was only after being +disappointed of a second Kilmarnock Edition of his poems that he had +come to try his fortunes in the capital; and now that his hopes of a +fuller edition and a wider field had been realised, the purpose of his +visit was accomplished, and there was no need to fritter his time away +in idleness. + +In a letter to Lord Buchan, Burns had doubted the prudence of a +penniless poet faring forth to see the sights of his native land. But +circumstances have changed. With the assured prospect of the financial +success of his second venture, he felt himself in a position to gratify +the dearest wish of his heart and to fire his muse at Scottish story and +Scottish scenes. Moreover, as has been said, it would be some time +before Creech could come to a final settlement of accounts with the +poet, and he may have deemed that the interval would be profitably spent +in travel. His travelling companion on his first tour was a Mr. Robert +Ainslie, a young gentleman of good education and some natural ability, +with whom he left Edinburgh on the 5th May, a fortnight after the +publication of his poems. We are told that the poet, just before he +mounted his horse, received a letter from Dr. Blair, which, having +partly read, he crumpled up and angrily thrust into his pocket. A +perusal of the letter will explain, if it does not go far to justify, +the poet's irritation. It is a sleek, superior production, with the tone +of a temperance tract, and the stilted diction of a dominie. The doctor +is in it one of those well-meaning, meddlesome men, lavish of academic +advice. Burns resented moral prescriptions at all times--more especially +from one whose knowledge of men was severely scholastic; and we can well +imagine that he quitted Edinburgh in no amiable mood. + +From Edinburgh the two journeyed by the Lammermuirs to Berrywell, near +Duns, where the Ainslie family lived. On the Sunday he attended church +with the Ainslies, where the minister, Dr. Bowmaker, preached a sermon +against obstinate sinners. 'I am found out,' the poet remarked, +'wherever I go.' From Duns they proceeded to Coldstream, where, having +crossed the Tweed, Burns first set foot on English ground. Here it was +that, with bared head, he knelt and prayed for a blessing on Scotland, +reciting with the deepest devotion the two concluding verses of _The +Cotter's Saturday Night_. + +The next place visited was Kelso, where they admired the old abbey, and +went to see Roxburgh Castle, thence to Jedburgh, where he met a Miss +Hope and a Miss Lindsay, the latter of whom 'thawed his heart into +melting pleasure after being so long frozen up in the Greenland Bay of +indifference amid the noise and nonsense of Edinburgh.' When he left +this romantic city his thoughts were not of the honour its citizens had +done him, but of Jed's crystal stream and sylvan banks, and, above all, +of Miss Lindsay, who brings him to the verge of verse. Thereafter he +visited Kelso, Melrose, and Selkirk, and after spending about three +weeks seeing all that was to be seen in this beautiful country-side, he +set off with a Mr. Ker and a Mr. Hood on a visit to England. In this +visit he went as far as Newcastle, returning by way of Hexham and +Carlisle. After spending a day here he proceeded to Annan, and thence to +Dumfries. Whilst in the Nithsdale district he took the opportunity of +visiting Dalswinton and inspecting the unoccupied farms; but he did not +immediately close with Mr. Miller's generous offer of a four-nineteen +years' lease on his own terms. From Nithsdale he turned again to his +native Ayrshire, arriving at Mossgiel in the beginning of June, after an +absence from home of six eventful months. + +We can hardly imagine what this home-coming would be like. The Burnses +were typical Scots in their undemonstrative ways; but this was a great +occasion, and tradition has it that his mother allowed her feeling so +far to overcome her natural reticence that she met him at the threshold +with the exclamation, 'O Robert!' He had left home almost unknown, and +had returned with a name that was known and honoured from end to end of +his native land. He had left in the direst poverty, and haunted with the +terrors of a jail, now he came back with his fortune assured; if not +actually rich, at least with more money due to him than the family had +ever dreamed of possessing. The mother's excess of feeling on such an +occasion as this may be easily understood and excused. + +Of this Border tour Burns kept a scrappy journal, but he was more +concerned in jotting down the names and characteristics of those with +whom he forgathered than of letting himself out in snatches of song. He +makes shrewd remarks by the way on farms and farming, on the washing and +shearing of sheep, but the only verse he attempted was his _Epistle to +Creech_. He who had longed to sit and muse on 'those once hard-contested +fields' did not go out of his way to look on Ancrum Moor or Philiphaugh, +nor do we read of him musing pensive in Yarrow. + +However, we are not to regard these days as altogether barren. The poet +was gathering impressions which would come forth in song at some future +time. 'Neither the fine scenery nor the lovely women,' Cunningham +regrets, 'produced any serious effect on his muse.' This is a rash +statement. Poets do not sow and reap at the same time--not even Burns. +If his friends were disappointed at what they considered the sterility +of his muse on this occasion, the fault did not lie with the poet, but +with their absurd expectations. It may be as well to point out here that +the greatest harm Edinburgh did to Burns was that it gathered round him +a number of impatient and injudicious admirers who could not understand +that poetry was not to be forced. The burst of poetry that practically +filled the Kilmarnock Edition came after a seven years' growth of +inspiration; but after his first visit to Edinburgh he was never allowed +to rest. It was expected that he should write whenever a subject was +suggested, or burst into verse at the first glimpse of a lovely +landscape. Every friend was ready with advice as to how and what he +should write, and quite as ready, the poet unfortunately knew, to +criticise afterwards. The poetry of the Mossgiel period had come from +him spontaneously. He had flung off impressions in verse fearlessly, +without pausing to consider how his work would be appreciated by this +one or denounced by that; and was true to himself. Now he knew that +every verse he wrote would be read by many eyes, studied by many minds; +some would scent heresy, others would spot Jacobitism, or worse, +freedom; some would suspect his morality, others would deplore his Scots +tongue; all would criticise favourably or adversely his poetic +expression. It has to be kept in mind, too, that Burns at this time was +in no mood for writing poetry. His mind was not at ease; and after his +long spell of inspiration and the fatiguing distractions of Edinburgh, +it was hardly to be wondered at that brain and body were alike in need +of rest. The most natural rest would have been a return direct to the +labours of the farm. That, however, was denied him, and the period of +his journeyings was little else than a season of unsettlement and +suspense. + +Burns only stayed a few days at home, and then set off on a tour to the +West Highlands, a tour of which we know little or nothing. Perhaps this +was merely a pilgrimage to the grave of Highland Mary. We do not know, +and need not curiously inquire. Burns, as has been already remarked, +kept sacred his love for this generous-hearted maiden, hidden away in +his own heart, and the whole story is a beautiful mystery. We do know +that before he left he visited the Armours, and was disgusted with the +changed attitude of the family towards himself. 'If anything had been +wanting,' he wrote to Mr. James Smith, 'to disgust me completely at +Armour's family, their mean, servile compliance would have done it.' To +his friend, William Nicol, he wrote in the same strain. 'I never, my +friend, thought mankind very capable of anything generous; but the +stateliness of the patricians in Edinburgh, and the servility of my +plebeian brethren (who perhaps formerly eyed me askance) since I +returned home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with my +species.' + +This shows Burns in no very enviable frame of mind; but the cause is +obvious. He is as yet unsettled in life, and now that he has met again +his Bonnie Jean, and seen his children, he is more than ever +dissatisfied with aimless roving. 'I have yet fixed on nothing with +respect to the serious business of life. I am just as usual a rhyming, +mason-making, raking, aimless, idle fellow. However, I shall somewhere +have a farm soon. I was going to say a wife too, but that must never be +my blessed lot.' + +To his own folks he was nothing but kindness, ready to share with them +his uttermost farthing, and to have them share in the glory that was +his; but he was at enmity with himself, and at war with the world. Like +Hamlet, who felt keenly, but was incapable of action, he saw that 'the +times were out of joint'; circumstances were too strong for him. Almost +the only record we have of this tour is a vicious epigram on what he +considered the flunkeyism of Inveraray. Nor are we in the least +astonished to hear that on the homeward route he spent a night in +dancing and boisterous revel, ushering in the day with a kind of +burlesque of pagan sun-worship. This was simply a reaction from his +gloom and despondency; he sought to forget himself in reckless +conviviality. + +About the end of July we find him back again in Mauchline, and on the +25th May he set out on a Highland tour along with his friend William +Nicol, one of the masters of the High School. Of this man Dr. Currie +remarks that he rose by the strength of his talents, and fell by the +strength of his passions. Burns was perfectly well aware of the +passionate and quarrelsome nature of the man. He compared himself with +such a companion to one travelling with a loaded blunderbuss at +full-cock; and in his epigrammatic way he said of him to Mr. Walker, +'His mind is like his body; he has a confounded, strong, in-kneed sort +of a soul.' The man, however, had some good qualities. He had a warm +heart; never forgot the friends of his early years, and he hated +vehemently low jealousy and cunning. These were qualities that would +appeal strongly to Burns, and on account of which much would be +forgiven. Still we cannot think that the poet was happy in his +companion; nor was he yet happy in himself. Otherwise the Highland tour +might have been more interesting, certainly much more profitable to the +poet in its results, than it actually proved. + +In his diary of this tour, as in his diary of the Border tour, there is +much more of shrewd remark on men and things than of poetical jottings. +The fact is, poetry is not to be collected in jottings, nor is +inspiration to be culled in catalogue cuttings; and if many of his +friends were again disappointed in the immediate poetical results of +this holiday, it only shows how little they understood the comings and +goings of inspiration. Those, however, who read his notes and +reflections carefully and intelligently are bound to notice how much +more than a mere verse-maker Burns was. This was the journal of a man of +strong, sound sense and keen observation. It has also to be recognised +that Burns was at his weakest when he attempted to describe scenery for +mere scenery's sake. His gift did not lie that way. His landscapes, rich +in colour and deftly drawn though they be, are always the mere +backgrounds of his pictures. They are impressionistic sketches, the +setting and the complement of something of human interest in incident or +feeling. + +The poet and his companion set out in a postchaise, journeying by +Linlithgow and Falkirk to Stirling. They visited 'a dirty, ugly place +called Borrowstounness,' where he turned from the town to look across +the Forth to Dunfermline and the fertile coast of Fife; Carron Iron +Works, and the field of Bannockburn. They were shown the hole where +Bruce set his standard, and the sight fired the patriotic ardour of the +poet till he saw in imagination the two armies again in the thick of +battle. After visiting the castle at Stirling, he left Nicol for a day, +and paid a visit to Mrs. Chalmers of Harvieston. 'Go to see Caudron Linn +and Rumbling Brig and Deil's Mill.' That is all he has to say of the +scenery; but in a letter to Gavin Hamilton he has much more to tell of +Grace Chalmers and Charlotte, 'who is not only beautiful but lovely.' + +From Stirling the tourists proceeded northwards by Crieff and Glenalmond +to Taymouth; thence, keeping by the banks of the river, to Aberfeldy, +whose birks he immortalised in song. Here he had the good fortune to +meet Niel Gow and to hear him playing. 'A short, stout-built, honest, +Highland figure,' the poet describes him, 'with his greyish hair shed on +his honest, social brow--an interesting face, marking strong sense, kind +open-heartedness mixed with unmistaking simplicity.' + +By the Tummel they rode to Blair, going by Fascally and visiting--both +those sentimental Jacobites--'the gallant Lord Dundee's stone,' in the +Pass of Killiecrankie. At Blair he met his friend Mr. Walker, who has +left an account of the poet's visit; while the two days which Burns +spent here, he has declared, were among the happiest days of his life. + +'My curiosity,' Walker wrote, 'was great to see how he would conduct +himself in company so different from what he had been accustomed to. His +manner was unembarrassed, plain, and firm. He appeared to have complete +reliance on his own native good sense for directing his behaviour. He +seemed at once to perceive and appreciate what was due to the company +and to himself, and never to forget a proper respect for the separate +species of dignity belonging to each. He did not arrogate conversation, +but when led into it he spoke with ease, propriety, and manliness. He +tried to exert his abilities, because he knew it was ability alone gave +him a title to be there.' + +Burns certainly enjoyed his stay, and would, at the family's earnest +solicitation, have stayed longer, had the irascible and unreasonable +Nicol allowed it. Here it was he met Mr. Graham of Fintry, and if he had +stayed a day or two longer he would have met Dundas, a man whose +patronage might have done much to help the future fortunes of the poet. +After leaving Blair, he visited, at the Duke's advice, the Falls of +Bruar, and a few days afterwards he wrote from Inverness to Mr. Walker +enclosing his verses, _The Humble Petition of Bruar Water to the Noble +Duke of Athole_. + +Leaving Blair, they continued their journey northwards towards +Inverness, viewing on the way the Falls of Foyers,--soon to be lost to +Scotland,--which the poet celebrated in a fragment of verse. Of course +two such Jacobites had to see Culloden Moor; then they came through +Nairn and Elgin, crossed the Spey at Fochabers, and Burns dined at +Gordon Castle, the seat of the lively Duchess of Gordon, whom he had met +in Edinburgh. Here again he was received with marked respect, and +treated with the same Highland hospitality that had so charmed him at +Blair; and here also the pleasure of the whole party was spoilt by the +ill-natured jealousy of Nicol. That fiery dominie, imagining that he was +slighted by Burns, who seemed to prefer the fine society of the Duchess +and her friends to his amiable companionship, ordered the horses to be +put to the carriage, and determined to set off alone. As the spiteful +fellow would listen to no reason, Burns had e'en to accompany him, +though much against his will. He sent his apologies to Her Grace in a +song in praise of Castle Gordon. + +From Fochabers they drove to Banff, and thence to Aberdeen. In this city +he was introduced to the Rev. John Skinner, a son of the author of +_Tullochgorum_, and was exceedingly disappointed when he learned that on +his journey he had been quite near to the father's parsonage, and had +not called on the old man. Mr. Skinner himself regretted this, when he +learned the fact from his son, as keenly as Burns did; but the incident +led to a correspondence between the two poets. From Aberdeen he came +south by Stonehaven, where he 'met his relations,' and Montrose to +Dundee. Hence the journey was continued through Perth, Kinross, and +Queensferry, and so back to Edinburgh, 16th September 1787. + +His letter to his brother from Edinburgh is more meagre even than his +journal, being simply a catalogue of the places visited. 'Warm as I was +from Ossian's country,' he remarks, 'what cared I for fishing towns or +fertile carses?' Yet although the journal reads now and again like a +railway time-table, we come across references which give proof of the +poet's abounding interest in the locality of Scottish Song; and it was +probably the case, as Professor Blackie writes, that 'such a lover of +the pure Scottish Muse could not fail when wandering from glen to glen +to pick up fragments of traditional song, which, without his sympathetic +touch, would probably have been lost.' + +Burns's wanderings were not yet, however, at an end. Probably he had +expected on his return to Edinburgh some settlement with Creech, and was +disappointed. Perhaps he was eager to revisit some places or +people--Peggy Chalmers, no doubt--without being hampered in his +movements by such a companion as Nicol. Anyhow, we find him setting out +again on a tour through Clackmannan and Perthshire with his friend Dr. +Adair, a warm but somewhat injudicious admirer of the poet's genius. It +was probably about the beginning of October that the two left +Edinburgh, going round by Stirling to Harvieston, where they remained +about ten days, and made excursions to the various parts of the +surrounding scenery. The Caldron Linn and Rumbling Bridge were +revisited, and they went to see Castle Campbell, the ancient seat of the +family of Argyle. 'I am surprised,' the doctor ingenuously remarks, +'that none of these scenes should have called forth an exertion of +Burns's muse. But I doubt if he had much taste for the picturesque.' One +wonders whether Dr. Adair had actually read the published poems. What a +picture it must have been to see the party dragging Burns about, +pointing out the best views, and then breathlessly waiting for a torrent +of verse. The verses came afterwards, but they were addressed, not to +the Ochils or the Devon, but to Peggy Chalmers. + +From Harvieston he went to Ochtertyre on the Teith to visit Mr. Ramsay, +a reputed lover of Scottish literature; and thence he proceeded to +Ochtertyre in Strathearn, in order to visit Sir William Murray. + +In a letter to Dr. Currie, Mr. Ramsay speaks thus of Burns on this +visit: 'I have been in the company of many men of genius, some of them +poets, but never witnessed such flashes of intellectual brightness, the +impulse of the moment, sparks of celestial fire! I never was more +delighted, therefore, than with his company for two days' +_tete-a-tete_.' Of his residence with Sir William Murray he has left two +poetical souvenirs, one _On Scaring some Water Fowl in Loch Turit_, and +the other, a love song, _Blithe, Blithe, and Merry was She_, in honour +of Miss Euphemia Murray, the flower of Strathearn. + +Returning to Harvieston, he went back with Dr. Adair to Edinburgh, by +Kinross and Queensferry. At Dunfermline he visited the ruined abbey, +where, kneeling, he kissed the stone above Bruce's grave. + +It was on this tour, too, that he visited at Clackmannan an old Scottish +lady, who claimed to be a lineal descendant of the family of Robert the +Bruce. She conferred knighthood on the poet with the great double-handed +sword of that monarch, and is said to have delighted him with the toast +she gave after dinner, 'Hooi Uncos,' which means literally, 'Away +Strangers,' and politically much more. + +The year 1787 was now drawing to a close, and Burns was still waiting +for a settlement with Creech. He could not understand why he was kept +hanging on from month to month. This was a way of doing business quite +new to him, and after being put off again and again he at last began to +suspect that there was something wrong. He doubted Creech's solvency; +doubted even his honesty. More than ever was he eager to be settled in +life, and he fretted under commercial delays he could not understand. On +the first day of his return to Edinburgh he had written to Mr. Miller of +Dalswinton, telling him of his ambitions, and making an offer to rent +one of his farms. We know that he visited Dalswinton once or twice, but +returned to Edinburgh. His only comfort at this time was the work he had +begun in collecting Scottish songs for Johnson's Museum; touching up old +ones and writing new ones to old airs. This with Burns was altogether a +labour of love. The idea of writing a song with a view to money-making +was abhorrent to him. 'He entered into the views of Johnson,' writes +Chambers, 'with an industry and earnestness which despised all money +considerations, and which money could not have purchased'; while Allan +Cunningham marvels at the number of songs Burns was able to write at a +time when a sort of civil war was going on between him and Creech. +Another reason for staying through the winter in Edinburgh Burns may +have had in the hope that through the influence of his aristocratic +friends some office of profit, and not unworthy his genius, might have +been found for him. Places of profit and honour were at the disposal of +many who might have helped him had they so wished. But Burns was not now +the favourite he had been when he first came to Edinburgh. The +ploughman-poet was no longer a novelty; and, moreover, Burns had the +pride of his class, and clung to his early friends. It is not possible +for a man to be the boon-companion of peasants and the associate of +peers. Had he dissociated himself altogether from his past life, the +doors of the nobility might have been still held open to him; and no +doubt the cushioned ease of a sinecure's office would have been had for +the asking. But in that case he would have lost his manhood, and we +should have lost a poet. Burns would not have turned his back on his +fellows for the most lucrative office in the kingdom; that, he would +have considered as selling his soul to the devil. Yet, on the other +hand, what could any of these men do for a poet who was 'owre blate to +seek, owre proud to snool'? Burns waited on in the expectation that +those who had the power would take it upon themselves to do something +for him. Perhaps he credited them with a sense and a generosity they +could not lay claim to; though had one of them taken the initiative in +this matter, he would have honoured himself in honouring Burns, and +endeared his name to the hearts of his countrymen for all time. But such +offices are created and kept open for political sycophants, who can +importune with years of prostituted service. They are for those who +advocate the opinions of others; certainly not for the man who dares to +speak fearlessly his own mind, and to assert the privileges and +prerogatives of his manhood. The children's bread is not to be thrown to +the dogs. Burns asked for nothing, and got nothing. The Excise +commission which he applied for, and graduated for, was granted. The +work was laborious, the remuneration small, and _gauger_ was a name of +contempt. + +But whilst waiting on in the hope of something 'turning up,' he was +still working busily for Johnson's Museum, and still trying to bring +Creech to make a settlement. At last, however, out of all patience with +his publisher, and recognising the futility of his hopes of preferment, +he had resolved early in December to leave Edinburgh, when he was +compelled to stay against his will. A double accident befell him; he was +introduced to a Mrs. Maclehose, and three days afterwards, through the +carelessness of a drunken coachman, he was thrown from a carriage, and +had his knee severely bruised. The latter was an accident that kept him +confined to his room for a time, and from which he quickly recovered; +but the meeting with Mrs. Maclehose was a serious matter, and for both, +most unfortunate in its results. + +It was while he was 'on the rack of his present agony' that the +Sylvander-Clarinda correspondence was begun and continued. That much +may be said in excuse for Burns. A man, especially one with the passion +and sensitiveness of a poet, cannot be expected to write in all sanity +when he is racked by the pain of an injured limb. Certainly the poet +does not show up in a pleasant light in this absurd interchange of +gasping epistles; nor does Mrs. Maclehose. 'I like the idea of Arcadian +names in a commerce of this kind,' he unguardedly admits. The most +obvious comment that occurs to the mind of the reader is that they ought +never to have been written. It is a pity they were written; more than a +pity they were ever published. It seems a terrible thing that, merely to +gratify the morbid curiosity of the world, the very love-letters of a +man of genius should be made public. Is there nothing sacred in the +lives of our great men? 'Did I imagine,' Burns remarked to Mrs. Basil +Montagu in Dumfries, 'that one half of the letters which I have written +would be published when I die, I would this moment recall them and burn +them without redemption.' + +After all, what was gained by publishing this correspondence? It adds +literally nothing to our knowledge of the poet. He could have, and has, +given more of himself in a verse than he gives in the whole series of +letters signed Sylvander. Occasionally he is natural in them, but +rarely. 'I shall certainly be ashamed of scrawling whole sheets of +incoherence.' We trust he was. The letters are false in sentiment, +stilted in diction, artificial in morality. We have a picture of the +poet all through trying to batter himself into a passion he does not +feel, into love of an accomplished and intellectual woman; while in his +heart's core is registered the image of Jean Armour, the mother of his +children. He shows his paces before Clarinda and tears passion to +tatters in inflated prose; he poses as a stylist, a moralist, a +religious enthusiast, a poet, a man of the world, and now and again +accidentally he assumes the face and figure of Robert Burns. We read and +wonder if this be really the same man who wrote in his journal, 'The +whining cant of love, except in real passion and by a masterly hand, is +to me as insufferable as the preaching cant of old father Smeaton, Whig +minister at Kilmaurs. Darts, flames, cupids, love graces and all that +farrago are just ... a senseless rabble.' + +Clarinda comes out of the correspondence better than Sylvander. Her +letters are more natural and vastly more clever. She grieves to hear of +his accident, and sympathises with him in his suffering; were she his +sister she would call and see him. He is too romantic in his style of +address, and must remember she is a married woman. Would he wait like +Jacob seven years for a wife? And perhaps be disappointed! She is not +unhappy: religion has been her balm for every woe. She had read his +autobiography as Desdemona listened to the narration of Othello, but she +was pained because of his hatred of Calvinism; he must study it +seriously. She could well believe him when he said that no woman could +love as ardently as himself. The only woman for him would be one +qualified for the companion, the friend, and the mistress. The last +might gain Sylvander, but the others alone could keep him. She admires +him for his continued fondness for Jean, who perhaps does not possess +his tenderest, faithfulest friendship. How could that bonnie lassie +refuse him after such proofs of love? But he must not rave; he must +limit himself to friendship. The evening of their third meeting was one +of the most exquisite she had ever experienced. Only he must now know +she has faults. She means well, but is liable to become the victim of +her sensibility. She too now prefers the religion of the bosom. She +cannot deny his power over her: would he pay another evening visit on +Saturday? + +When the poet is leaving Edinburgh, Clarinda is heartbroken. 'Oh, let +the scenes of nature remind you of Clarinda! In winter, remember the +dark shades of her fate; in summer, the warmth of her friendship; in +autumn, her glowing wishes to bestow plenty on all; and let spring +animate you with hopes that your friend may yet surmount the wintry +blasts of life, and revive to taste a spring-time of happiness. At all +events, Sylvander, the storms of life will quickly pass, and one +unbounded spring encircle all. Love, there, is not a crime. I charge you +to meet me there, O God! I must lay down my pen.' + +Poor Clarinda! Well for her peace of mind that the poet was leaving her; +well for Burns, also, that he was leaving Clarinda and Edinburgh. Only +one thing remained for both to do, and it had been wise, to burn their +letters. Would that Clarinda had been as much alive to her own good +name, and the poet's fair fame, as Peggy Chalmers, who did not preserve +her letters from Burns! + +It was February 1788 before Burns could settle with Creech; and, after +discharging all expenses, he found a balance in his favour of about five +hundred pounds. To Gilbert, who was in sore need of the money, he +advanced one hundred and eighty pounds, as his contribution to the +support of their mother. With what remained of the money he leased from +Mr. Miller of Dalswinton the farm of Ellisland, on which he entered at +Whitsunday 1788. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ELLISLAND + + +When Burns turned his back on Edinburgh in February 1788, and set his +face resolutely towards his native county and the work that awaited him, +he left the city a happier and healthier man than he had been all the +months of his sojourn in it. The times of aimless roving, and of still +more demoralising hanging on in the hope of something being done for +him, were at an end; he looked to the future with self-reliance. His +vain hopes of preferment were already 'thrown behind and far away,' and +he saw clearly that by the labour of his own hands he had to live, +independent of the dispensations of patronage, and trusting no longer to +the accidents of fortune. 'The thoughts of a home,' to quote +Cunningham's words, 'of a settled purpose in life, gave him a silent +gladness of heart such as he had never before known.' + +Burns, though he had hoped and was disappointed, left the city not so +much with bitterness as with contempt. If he had been received on this +second visit with punctilious politeness, more ceremoniously than +cordially, it was just as he had himself expected. Gossip, too, had been +busy while he was absent, and his sayings and doings had been bruited +abroad. His worst fault was that he was a shrewd observer of men, and +drew, in a memorandum book he kept, pen-portraits of the people he met. +'Dr Blair is merely an astonishing proof of what industry and +application can do. Natural parts like his are frequently to be met +with; his vanity is proverbially known among his acquaintance.' The Lord +Advocate he pictured in a verse: + + 'He clenched his pamphlets in his fist, + He quoted and he hinted, + Till in a declamation-mist, + His argument he tint it. + He gap'd for't, he grap'd for't, + He fand it was awa, man; + But what his common sense came short, + He eked it out wi' law, man.' + +Had pen-portraits, such as these, been merely caricatures, they might +have been forgiven; but, unfortunately, they were convincing likenesses, +therefore libels. We doubt not, as Cunningham tells us, that the +_literati_ of Edinburgh were not displeased when such a man left them; +they could never feel at their ease so long as he was in their midst. +'Nor were the titled part of the community without their share in this +silent rejoicing; his presence was a reproach to them. The illustrious +of his native land, from whom he had looked for patronage, had proved +that they had the carcass of greatness, but wanted the soul; they +subscribed for his poems, and looked on their generosity "as an alms +could keep a god alive." He turned his back on Edinburgh, and from that +time forward scarcely counted that man his friend who spoke of titled +persons in his presence.' + +It was with feelings of relief, also, that Burns left the +super-scholarly litterateurs; 'white curd of asses' milk,' he called +them; gentlemen who reminded him of some spinsters in his country who +'spin their thread so fine that it is neither fit for weft nor woof.' To +such men, recognising only the culture of schools, a genius like Burns +was a puzzle, easier dismissed than solved. Burns saw them, in all their +tinsel of academic tradition, through and through. + +Coming from Edinburgh to the quiet home-life of Mossgiel was like coming +out of the vitiated atmosphere of a ballroom into the pure and bracing +air of early morning. Away from the fever of city life, he only +gradually comes back to sanity and health. The artificialities and +affectations of polite society are not to be thrown off in a day's time. +Hardly had he arrived at Mauchline before he penned a letter to +Clarinda, that simply staggers the reader with the shameless and +heartless way in which it speaks of Jean Armour. 'I am dissatisfied with +her--I cannot endure her! I, while my heart smote me for the profanity, +tried to compare her with my Clarinda. 'Twas setting the expiring +glimmer of a farthing taper beside the cloudless glory of the meridian +sun. _Here_ was tasteless insipidity, vulgarity of soul, and mercenary +fawning; _there_, polished good sense, heaven-born genius, and the most +generous, the most delicate, the most tender passion. I have done with +her, and she with me.' + +Poor Jean! Think of her too confiding and trustful love written down +_mercenary fawning_! But this was not Burns. The whole letter is false +and vulgar. Perhaps he thought to please his Clarinda by the comparison; +she had little womanly feeling if she felt flattered. Let us believe, +for her own sake, that she was disgusted. His letter to Ainslie, ten +days later, is something very different, though even yet he gives no +hint of acknowledging Jean as his wife. 'Jean I found banished like a +martyr--forlorn, destitute, and friendless--all for the good old cause. +I have reconciled her to her fate; I have reconciled her to her mother; +I have taken her a room; I have taken her to my arms; I have given her a +guinea, and I have embraced her till she rejoiced with joy unspeakable +and full of glory.' + +This is flippant in tone, but something more manly in sentiment; Burns +was coming to his senses. On 13th June, twin girls were born to Jean, +but they only lived a few days. On the same day their father wrote from +Ellisland to Mrs. Dunlop a letter, in which we see the real Burns, true +to the best feelings of his nature, and true to his sorely-tried and +long-suffering wife. 'This is the second day, my honoured friend, that I +have been on my farm. A solitary inmate of an old smoky spence, far from +every object I love, or by whom I am beloved; nor any acquaintance older +than yesterday, except Jenny Geddes, the old mare I ride on; while +uncouth cares and novel plans hourly insult my awkward ignorance and +bashful inexperience.... Your surmise, madam, is just; I am, indeed, a +husband.... You are right that a bachelor state would have ensured me +more friends; but, from a cause you will easily guess, conscious peace +in the enjoyment of my own mind, and unmistrusting confidence in +approaching my God, would seldom have been of the number. I found a once +much-loved and still much-loved female, literally and truly cast out to +the mercy of the naked elements; but I enabled her to _purchase_ a +shelter,--there is no sporting with a fellow-creature's happiness or +misery.' + +It was not till August that the marriage was ratified by the Church, +when Robert Burns and Jean Armour were rebuked for their acknowledged +irregularity, and admonished 'to adhere faithfully to one another, as +man and wife, all the days of their life.' + +This was the only fit and proper ending of Burns's acquaintance with +Jean Armour. As an honourable man, he could not have done otherwise than +he did. To have deserted her now, and married another, even admitting he +was legally free to do so, which is doubtful, would have been the act of +an abandoned wretch, and certainly have wrought ruin in the moral and +spiritual life of the poet. In taking Jean as his wedded wife, he acted +not only honourably, but wisely; and wisdom and prudence were not always +distinguishing qualities of Robert Burns. + +Some months had to elapse, however, before the wife could join her +husband at Ellisland. The first thing he had to do when he entered on +his lease was to rebuild the dwelling-house, he himself lodging in the +meanwhile in the smoky spence which he mentions in his letter to Mrs. +Dunlop. In the progress of the building he not only took a lively +interest, but actually worked with his own hands as a labourer, and +gloried in his strength: 'he beat all for a dour lift.' But it was some +time before he could settle down to the necessarily monotonous work of +farming. 'My late scenes of idleness and dissipation,' he confessed to +Dunbar, 'have enervated my mind to a considerable degree.' He was +restless and rebellious at times, and we are not surprised to find the +sudden settling down from gaiety and travel to the home-life of a farmer +marked by bursts of impatience, irritation, and discontent. The only +steadying influence was the thought of his wife and children, and the +responsibility of a husband and a father. He grew despondent +occasionally, and would gladly have been at rest, but a wife and +children bound him to struggle with the stream. His melancholy blinded +him even to the good qualities of his neighbours. The only things he saw +in perfection were stupidity and canting. 'Prose they only know in +graces, prayers, etc., and the value of these they estimate, as they do +their plaiding webs, by the ell. As for the Muses, they have as much an +idea of a rhinoceros as of a poet.' He was, in fact, ungracious towards +his neighbours, not that they were boorish or uninformed folk, but +simply because, though living at Ellisland in body, his mind was in +Ayrshire with his darling Jean, and he was looking to the future when he +should have a home and a wife of his own. His eyes would ever wander to +the west, and he sang, to cheer him in his loneliness, a song of love to +his Bonnie Jean: + + 'Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, + I dearly lo'e the west; + For there the bonnie lassie lives, + The lassie I lo'e best.' + +It was not till the beginning of December that he was in a position to +bring his wife and children to Ellisland; and this event brought him +into kindlier relations with his fellow-farmers. His neighbours gathered +to bid his wife welcome; and drank to the roof-tree of the house of +Burns. The poet, now that he had made his home amongst them, was +regarded as one of themselves; while Burns, on his part, having at last +got his wife and children beside him, was in a healthier frame of mind +and more charitably disposed towards those who had come to give them a +welcome. That he was now as one settled in life with something worthy to +live for, we have ample proof in his letter written to Mrs. Dunlop on +the first day of the New Year. It is discursive, yet philosophical and +reflective, and its whole tone is that of a man who looks on the world +round about him with a kindly charity, and looks to the future with +faith and trust. Life passed very sweetly and peacefully with the poet +and his family for a time here. The farm, it would appear, was none of +the best,--Mr. Cunningham told him he had made a poet's not a farmer's +choice,--but Burns was hopeful and worked hard. Yet the labour of the +farm was not to be his life-work. Even while waiting impatiently the +coming of his wife, he had been contributing to Johnson's Museum, and he +fondly imagined that he was going to be farmer, poet, and exciseman all +in one. Some have regretted his appointment to the Excise at this time, +and attributed to his frequent absences from home his failure as a +farmer. They may be right. But what was the poet to do? He knew by +bitter experience how precarious the business of farming was, and +thought that a certain salary, even though small, would always stand +between his family and absolute want. 'I know not,' he wrote to Ainslie, +'how the word exciseman, or, still more opprobrious, gauger, will sound +in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory nerves would have +felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife and children have a +wonderful power in blunting these kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a +year for life and a pension for widows and orphans, you will allow, is +no bad settlement for a _poet_.' And to Blacklock he wrote in verse: + + 'But what d'ye think, my trusty fier, + I'm turned a gauger--Peace be here! + Parnassian queans, I fear, I fear, + Ye'll now disdain me! + And then my fifty pounds a year + Will little gain me. + + I hae a wife and twa wee laddies, + They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies; + Ye ken yoursel's my heart right proud is-- + I needna vaunt, + But I'll sned besoms--thraw saugh woodies, + Before they want. + + But to conclude my silly rhyme + (I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time), + To make a happy fireside clime + To weans and wife, + That's the true pathos and sublime + Of human life.' + +This was nobly said; and the poet spoke from the heart. + +Not content with being gauger, farmer, and poet, Burns took a lively +interest in everything affecting the welfare of the parish and the +well-being of its inhabitants. For this was no poet of the study, +holding himself aloof from the affairs of the world, and fearing the +contamination of his kind. Burns was alive all-round, and always acted +his part in the world as a husband and father; as a citizen and a man. +He made himself the poet of humanity, because he himself was so +intensely human, and joyed and sorrowed with his fellows. At this time +he established a library in Dunscore, and himself undertook the whole +management,--drawing out rules, purchasing books, acting for a time as +secretary, treasurer, and committee all in one. Among the volumes he +ordered were several of his old favourites, _The Spectator_, _The Man of +Feeling_, and _The Lounger_; and we know that there was on the shelves +even a folio Hebrew Concordance. + +A favourite walk of the poet's while he stayed here was along Nithside, +where he often wandered to take a 'gloamin' shot at the Muses.' Here, +after a fall of rain, Cunningham records, the poet loved to walk, +listening to the roar of the river, or watching it bursting impetuously +from the groves of Friar's Carse. 'Thither he walked in his sterner +moods, when the world and its ways touched his spirit; and the elder +peasants of the vale still show the point at which he used to pause and +look on the red and agitated stream.' + +In spite of his multifarious duties, he was now more than ever +determined to make his name as a poet. To Dr. Moore he wrote (4th +January 1789): 'The character and employment of a poet were formerly my +pleasure, but now my pride.... Poesy I am determined to prosecute with +all my vigour. Nature has given very few, if any, of the profession the +talents of shining in every species of composition. I shall try (for +until trial it is impossible to know) whether she has qualified me to +shine in any one.' + +It was inevitable that one whose district as an exciseman reached far +and wide could not regularly attend to ploughing, sowing, and reaping, +and the farm was very often left to the care of servants. Dr. Currie +appears to count it as a reproach that his farm no longer occupied the +principal part of his care or his thoughts. Yet it could not have been +otherwise. Burns after having undertaken a duty would attend to it +religiously, and we know that he pursued his work throughout his ten +parishes diligently, faithfully, and with unvarying punctuality. Others +have bemoaned that those frequent Excise excursions led the poet into +temptation, that he was being continually assailed by the sin that so +easily beset him. Let it be admitted frankly that the temptations to +social excess were great; is it not all the more creditable to Burns +that he did not sink under those temptations and become the besotted +wreck conventional biography has attempted to make him? If those who +raise this plaint mean to insinuate that Burns became a confirmed toper, +then they are assuredly wrong; if they be only drawing attention to the +fact that drinking was too common in Scotland at that time, then they +are attacking not the poet but the social customs of his day. It would +be easy if we were to accept 'the general impression of the place,' and +go by the tale of gossip, to show that Burns was demoralised by his +duties as a gauger, and sank into a state of maudlin intemperance. But +ascertained fact and the testimony of unimpeachable authority are at +variance with the voice of gossip. 'So much the worse for fact,' +biography would seem to have said, and gaily sped on the work of +defamation. We only require to forget Allan Cunningham's _Personal +Sketch of the Poet_, the letters from Mr. Findlater and Mr. Gray, and to +close our eyes to the excellence of the poetry of this period, in order +to see Burns on the downgrade, and to preach grand moral lessons from +the text of a wasted life. + +But, after all, 'facts are chiels that winna ding,' and we must take +them into account, however they may baulk us of grand opportunities of +plashing in watery sentiment. Speaking of the poet's biographers, Mr. +Findlater remarks that they have tried to outdo one another in heaping +obloquy on his name; they have made his convivial habits, habitual +drunkenness; his wit and humour, impiety; his social talents, neglect of +duty; and have accused him of every vice. Then he gives his testimony: +'My connection with Robert Burns commenced immediately after his +admission into the Excise, and continued to the hour of his death. In +all that time the superintendence of his behaviour as an officer of the +revenue was a branch of my especial province; and it may be supposed I +would not be an inattentive observer of the general conduct of a man and +a poet so celebrated by his countrymen. In the former capacity, so far +from its being impossible for him to discharge the duties of his office +with that regularity which is almost indispensable, as is palpably +assumed by one of his biographers, and insinuated, not very obscurely +even, by Dr. Currie, he was exemplary in his attention as an Excise +officer, and was even jealous of the least imputation on his vigilance.' + +But a glance at the poems and songs of this period would be a sufficient +vindication of the poet's good name. There are considerably over a +hundred songs and poems written during his stay at Ellisland, many of +them of his finest. The third volume of Johnson's Museum, published in +February 1790, contained no fewer than forty songs by Burns. Among the +Ellisland songs were such as, _Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon_, +_Auld Lang Syne_, _Willie brewed a Peck o' Maut_, _To Mary in Heaven_, +_Of a' the Airts the Wind can blaw_, _My Love she's but a Lassie yet_, +_Tam Glen_, _John Anderson my Jo_, songs that have become the property +of the world. Of the last-named song, Angellier remarks that the +imagination of the poet must have indeed explored every situation of +love to have led him to that which he in his own experience could not +have known. Even the song _Willie brewed a Peck o' Maut_, the first of +bacchanalian ditties, is the work of a man of sane mind and healthy +appetite. It is not of the diseased imagination of drunken genius. But +the greatest poem of this period, and one of Burns's biggest +achievements, is _Tam o' Shanter_. This poem was written in answer to a +request of Captain Grose that the poet would provide a witch story to be +printed along with a drawing of Alloway Kirk, and was first published in +Grose's _Antiquities of Scotland_. We have been treated by several +biographers to a private view of the poet, with wild gesticulations, +agonising in the composition of this poem; but where his wife did not +venture to intrude, we surely need not seek to desecrate. 'I stept aside +with the bairns among the broom,' says Bonnie Jean; not, we should +imagine, to leave room for aliens and strangers. He has been again +burlesqued for us rending himself in rhyme, and stretched on straw +groaning elegiacs to Mary in heaven. All this is mere sensationalism +provided for illiterate readers. We have the poem, and its excellence +sufficeth. + +It is worthy of note that in _Tam o' Shanter_, as well as in _To Mary in +Heaven_, the poet goes back to his earlier years in Ayrshire. They are +posthumous products of the inspiration which gave us the Kilmarnock +Edition. I am not inclined to agree with Carlyle in his estimate of _Tam +o' Shanter_. It is not the composition of a man of great talent, but of +a man of transcendent poetical genius. The story itself is a conception +of genius, and in the narration the genius is unquestionable. It is a +panorama of pictures so vivid and powerful that the characters and +scenes are fixed indelibly on the mind, and abide with us a cherished +literary possession. After reading the poem, the words are recalled +without conscious effort of memory, but as the only possible embodiment +of the mental impressions retained. Short as the poem is, there is in it +character, humour, pathos, satire, indignation, tenderness, fun, frolic, +diablerie, almost every human feeling. I have heard Burns in the writing +of this poem likened to a composer at an organ improvising a piece of +music in which, before he has done, he has used every stop and touched +every note on the keyboard. Even the weakest lines of the piece, which +mark a dramatic pause in the rapid narration, have a distinctive beauty +and are the most frequently quoted lines of the poem. In artistic +word-painting and graphic phrasing Burns is here at his best. His +description of the horrible is worthy of Shakspeare; and it is +questionable if even the imagination of that master ever conceived +anything more awful than the scene and circumstance of the infernal +orgies of those witches and warlocks. What Zolaesque realism there is! +In the line, 'The grey hairs yet stack to the heft,' all the +gruesomeness of murder is compressed into a distich. Yet the horrible +details are controlled and unified in the powerful imagination of the +poet. We believe Dr. Blacklock was right in thinking that this poem, +though Burns had never written another syllable, would have made him a +high reputation. Certainly it was not the work of a man daily dazing his +faculties with drink; no more was that exquisite lyric _To Mary in +Heaven_. Another poem of this period deserving special mention is _The +Whistle_, not merely because of its dramatic force and lyrical beauty, +but because it gives a true picture of the drinking customs of the time. +And again I dare assert that this is not the work of a mind enfeebled or +debased by drink. It is a bit of simple, direct, sincere narration, +humanly healthy in tone; the ideas are clear and consecutive, and the +language fitting. It is not so that drunken genius expresses itself. The +language of a poetical mind enfeebled by alcohol or opium is frequently +mystic and musical; it never deals with the realities and +responsibilities of life, but in a witchery of words winds and meanders +through the realms of reverie and dream. It may be sweet and sensuous; +it is rarely narrative or simple; never direct nor forcible. + +In the _Kirk's Alarm_, wherein he again reverted to his Mossgiel period, +he displayed all his former force of satire, as well as his sympathy +with those who advocated rational views in religion. Dr. Macgill had +written a book which the Kirk declared to be heretical, and Burns, at +the request of some friends, fought for the doctor in his usual way, +though with little hope of doing him any good. 'Ajax's shield consisted, +I think, of seven bull-hides and a plate of brass, which altogether set +Hector's utmost force at defiance. Alas! I am not a Hector, and the +worthy doctor's foes are as securely armed as Ajax was. Ignorance, +superstition, bigotry, stupidity, malevolence, self-conceit, envy--all +strongly bound in a massy frame of brazen impudence; to such a shield +humour is the peck of a sparrow and satire the pop-gun of a schoolboy. +Creation-disgracing scelerats such as they, God only can mend, and the +devil only can punish.' The doctor yielded, Cunningham tells us, and was +forgiven, but not the poet; pertinently adding, 'so much more venial is +it in devout men's eyes to be guilty of heresy than of satire.' + +Into political as well as theological matters Burns also entered with +all his wonted enthusiasm. Of his election ballads, the best, perhaps, +are _The Five Carlins_ and the _Epistle to Mr. Graham of Fintry_. But +these ballads are not to be taken as a serious addition to the poet's +works; he did not wish them to be so taken. He was a man as well as a +poet; was interested with his neighbours in political affairs, and in +the day of battle fought with the weapons he could wield with effect. +Nor are his ballads always to be taken as representing his political +principles; these he expressed in song that did not owe its inspiration +to the excitement of elections. Burns was not a party man; he had in +politics, as in religion, some broad general principles, but he had 'the +warmest veneration for individuals of both parties.' The most important +verse in his _Epistle to Graham of Fintry_ is the last: + + 'For your poor friend, the Bard, afar + He hears and only hears the war, + A cool spectator purely: + So, when the storm the forest rends, + The robin in the hedge descends, + And sober chirps securely.' + +Burns's life was, therefore, quite full at Ellisland, too full indeed; +for, towards the end of 1791, we find him disposing of the farm, and +looking to the Excise alone for a livelihood. In the farm he had sunk +the greater part of the profits of his Edinburgh Edition; and now it was +painfully evident that the money was lost. He had worked hard enough, +but he was frequently absent, and a farm thrives only under the eye of a +master. On Excise business he was accustomed to ride at least two +hundred miles every week, and so could have little time to give to his +fields. Besides this, the soil of Ellisland had been utterly exhausted +before he entered on his lease, and consequently made a miserable return +for the labour expended on it. The friendly relations that had existed +between him and his landlord were broken off before now; and towards the +close of his stay at Ellisland Burns spoke rather bitterly of Mr. +Miller's selfish kindness. Miller was, in fact, too much of a lord and +master, exacting submission as well as rent from his tenants; while +Burns was of too haughty a spirit to beck and bow to any man. 'The life +of a farmer is,' he wrote to Mrs. Dunlop, 'as a farmer paying a dear, +unconscionable rent, a cursed life.... Devil take the life of reaping +the fruits that others must eat!' + +The poet, too, had been overworking himself, and was again subject to +his attacks of hypochondria. 'I feel that horrid hypochondria pervading +every atom of both body and soul. This farm has undone my enjoyment of +myself. It is a ruinous affair on all hands.' In the midst of his +troubles and vexations with his farm, he began to look more hopefully to +the Excise, and to see in the future a life of literary ease, when he +could devote himself wholly to the Muses. He had already got ranked on +the list as supervisor, an appointment that he reckoned might be worth +one hundred or two hundred pounds a year; and this determined him to +quit the farm entirely, and to try to make a living by one profession. +As farmer, exciseman, and poet he had tried too much, and even a man of +his great capacity for work was bound to have succumbed under the +strain. Even had the farm not proved the ruinous bargain it did, we +imagine that he must have been compelled sooner or later to relinquish +one of the two, either his farm or his Excise commission. Circumstances +decided for him, and in December 1791 he sold by auction his stock and +implements, and removed to Dumfries, 'leaving nothing at Ellisland but a +putting-stone, with which he loved to exercise his strength; a memory of +his musings, which can never die; and three hundred pounds of his money, +sunk beyond redemption in a speculation from which all augured +happiness.' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DUMFRIES + + +When Burns removed from Ellisland to Dumfries, he took up his abode in a +small house of three apartments in the Wee Vennel. Here he stayed till +Whitsunday 1793, when the family removed to a detached house of two +storeys in the Mill Vennel. A mere closet nine feet square was the +poet's writing-room in this house, and it was in the bedroom adjoining +that he died. + +The few years of his residence in Dumfries have been commonly regarded +as a period of poverty and intemperance. But his intemperance has always +been most religiously exaggerated, and we doubt not also that the +poverty of the family at this time has been made to appear worse than it +was. Burns had not a salary worthy of his great abilities, it is true, +but there is good reason to believe that the family lived in comparative +ease and comfort, and that there were luxuries in their home, which +neither father nor mother had known in their younger days. Burns liked +to see his Bonnie Jean neat and trim, and she went as braw as any wife +of the town. Though we know that he wrote painfully, towards the end of +his life, for the loan of paltry sums, we are to regard this as a sign +more of temporary embarrassment than of a continual struggle to make +ends meet. The word debt grated so harshly on Burns's ears that he +could not be at peace with himself so long as the pettiest account +remained unpaid; and if he had no ready money in his hands to meet it, +he must e'en borrow from a friend. His income, when he settled in +Dumfries, was 'down money L70 per annum,' and there were perquisites +which must have raised it to eighty or ninety. Though his hopes of +preferment were never realised, he tried his best on this slender income +'to make a happy fireside clime to weans and wife,' and in a sense +succeeded. + +What he must have felt more keenly than anything else in leaving +Ellisland was, that in giving up farming he was making an open +confession of failure in his ideal of combining in himself the farmer, +the poet, and the exciseman. There was a stigma also attaching to the +name of gauger, that must often have been galling to the spirit of +Burns. The ordinary labourer utters the word with dry contempt, as if he +were speaking of a spy. But the thoughts of a wife and bairns had +already prevailed over prejudice; he realised the responsibilities of a +husband and father, and pocketed his pride. A great change it must have +been to come from the quiet and seclusion of Ellisland to settle down in +the midst of the busy life of an important burgh. + +Life in provincial towns in Scotland in those days was simply frittered +away in the tittle-tattle of cross and causeway, and the insipid talk of +taverns. The most trifling incidents of everyday life were dissected and +discussed, and magnified into events of the first importance. Many +residents had no trade or profession whatever. Annuitants and retired +merchants built themselves houses, had their portraits painted in oil, +and thereafter strutted into an aristocracy. Without work, without +hobby, without healthy recreation, and cursed with inglorious leisure, +they simply dissipated time until they should pass into eternity. The +only amusement such lumpish creatures could have was to meet in some inn +or tavern, and swill themselves into a debauched joy of life. Dumfries, +when Burns came to it in 1791, was no better and no worse than its +neighbours; and we can readily imagine how eagerly such a man would be +welcomed by its pompously dull and leisured topers. Now might their +meetings be lightened with flashes of genius, and the lazy hours of +their long nights go fleeting by on the wings of wit and eloquence. Too +often in Dumfries was Burns wiled into the howffs and haunts of these +seasoned casks. They could stand heavy drinking; the poet could not. He +was too highly strung, and if he had consulted his own inclination would +rather have shunned than sought the company of men who met to quaff +their quantum of wine and sink into sottish sleep. For Burns was never a +drunkard, not even in Dumfries; though the contrary has been asserted so +often that it has all the honour that age and the respectability of +authority can give it. There was with him no animal craving for drink, +nor has he been convicted of solitary drinking; but he was intensely +convivial, and drank, as Professor Blackie put it, 'only as the carnal +seasoning of a rampant intellectuality.' There is no doubt that he came +to Dumfries a comparatively pure and sober man; and if he now began to +frequent the Globe Tavern, often to cast his pearls before swine, let it +be remembered that he was compelled frequently to meet there strangers +and tourists who had journeyed for the express purpose of meeting the +poet. Nowadays writers and professional men have their clubs, and in +general frequent them more regularly than Burns ever haunted the howffs +of Dumfries. But we have heard too much about 'the poet's moral course +after he settled in Dumfries being downward.' 'From the time of his +migration to Dumfries,' Principal Shairp soberly informs us, 'it would +appear that he was gradually dropped out of acquaintance by most of the +Dumfriesshire lairds, as he had long been by the parochial and other +ministers.' Poor lairds! Poor ministers! If they preferred their own +talk of crops and cattle and meaner things to the undoubted brilliancy +of Burns's conversation, surely their dulness and want of appreciation +is not to be laid to the charge of the poet. I doubt not had the poet +lived to a good old age he would have been gradually dropped out of +acquaintance by some who have not scrupled to write his biography. +Politics, it is admitted, may have formed the chief element in the +lairds' and ministers' aversion, but there is a hint that his irregular +life had as much to do with it. Is it to be seriously contended that +these men looked askance at Burns because of his occasional +convivialities? 'Madam,' he answered a lady who remonstrated with him on +this very subject, 'they would not thank me for my company if I did not +drink with them.' These lairds, perhaps even these ministers, could in +all probability stand their three bottles with the best, and were more +likely to drop the acquaintance of one who would not drink bottle for +bottle with them than of one who indulged to excess. It was considered a +breach of hospitality not to imbibe so long as the host ordained; and +in many cases glasses were supplied so constructed that they had to be +drained at every toast. 'Occasional hard drinking,' he confessed to Mrs. +Dunlop, 'is the devil to me; against this I have again and again set my +resolution, and have greatly succeeded. Taverns I have totally +abandoned; it is the private parties in the family way among the +hard-drinking gentlemen of this county that do me the mischief; but even +this I have more than half given over.' Most assuredly whatever these +men charged against Robert Burns it was not drunkenness. But he has been +accused of mixing with low company! That is something nearer the mark, +and goes far to explain the aversion of those stately Tories. But again, +what is meant by low company? Are we to believe that the poet made +associates of depraved and abandoned men? Not for a moment! This low +company was nothing more than men in the rank of life into which he had +been born; mechanics, tradesmen, farmers, ploughmen, who did not move in +the aristocratic circles of patrician lairds or ministers ordained to +preach the gospel to the poor. It was simply the old, old cry of +'associating with publicans and sinners.' + +We do not defend nor seek to hide the poet's aberrations; he confessed +them remorselessly, and condemned himself. But we do raise our voice +against the exaggeration of occasional over-indulgence into confirmed +debauchery; and dare assert that Burns was as sober a man as the average +lairds and ministers who had the courage of their prejudices, and wrote +themselves down asses to all posterity. + +But here again the work the poet managed to do is a sufficient disproof +of his irregular life. He was at this time, besides working hard at his +Excise business, writing ballads and songs, correcting for Creech the +two-volume edition of his poems, and managing somehow or other to find +time for a pretty voluminous correspondence. His hands were full and his +days completely occupied. He would not have been an Excise officer very +long had he been unable to attend to his duties. William Wallace, the +editor of _Chambers's Burns_, has studied very carefully this period of +the poet's life, and found that in those days of petty faultfinding he +has not once been reprimanded, either for drunkenness or for dereliction +of duty. There were spies and informers about who would not have left +the Excise Commissioners uninformed of the paltriest charge they could +have trumped up against Burns. Nor is there, when we look at his +literary work, any falling off in his powers as a poet. He sang as +sweetly, as purely, as magically as ever he did; and this man, who has +been branded as a blasphemer and a libertine, had nobly set himself to +purify the polluted stream of Scottish Song. He was still continuing his +contributions to Johnson's Museum, and now he had also begun to write +for Thomson's more ambitious work. + +Some of the first of his Dumfriesshire songs owe their inspiration to a +hurried visit he paid to Mrs. Maclehose in Edinburgh before she sailed +to join her husband in the West Indies. The best of these are, perhaps, +_My Nannie's Awa'_ and _Ae Fond Kiss_. The fourth verse of the latter +was a favourite of Byron's, while Scott claims for it that it is worth a +thousand romances-- + + 'Had we never loved so kindly, + Had we never loved so blindly! + Never met--or never parted, + We had ne'er been broken-hearted.' + +Another song of a different kind, _The Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman_, +had its origin in a raid upon a smuggling brig that had got into shallow +water in the Solway. The ship was armed and well manned; and while +Lewars, a brother-excisemen, posted to Dumfries for a guard of dragoons, +Burns, with a few men under him, watched to prevent landing or escape. +It was while impatiently waiting Lewars's return that he composed this +song. When the dragoons arrived Burns put himself at their head, and +wading, sword in hand, was the first to board the smuggler. The affair +might ultimately have led to his promotion had he not, next day at the +sale of the vessel's arms and stores in Dumfries, purchased four +carronades, which he sent, with a letter testifying his admiration and +respect, to the French Legislative Assembly. The carronades never +reached their destination, having been intercepted at Dover by the +Custom House authorities. It is a pity perhaps that Burns should have +testified his political leanings in so characteristic a way. It was the +impetuous act of a poet roused to enthusiasm, as were thousands of his +fellow-countrymen at the time, by what was thought to be the beginning +of universal brotherhood in France. But whatever may be said as to the +impulsive imprudence of the step, it is not to be condemned as a most +absurd and presumptuous breach of decorum. We were not at war with +France at this time; had not even begun to await developments with +critical suspicion. Talleyrand had not yet been slighted by our Queen, +and protestations of peace and friendship were passing between the two +Governments. Any subject of the king might at this time have written a +friendly letter or forwarded a token of goodwill to the French +Government, without being suspected of disloyalty. But by the time the +carronades had reached Dover the complexion of things had changed; and +yet even in those critical times Burns's action, though it may have +hindered promotion, does not appear to have been interpreted as 'a most +absurd and presumptuous breach of decorum.' That interpretation was left +for biographers made wise with the passions of war; and yet they have +not said in so many words, what they darkly insinuate, that the poet was +not a loyal British subject. His love of country is too surely +established. That, later, he thought the Ministry engaging in an unjust +and unrighteous war, may be frankly admitted. He was not alone in his +opinion; nor was he the only poet carried away with a wild enthusiasm of +Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. Societies were then springing up all +over the country calling for redress of grievances and for greater +political freedom. Such societies were regarded by the Government of the +day as seditious, and their agitations as dangerous to the peace of the +country; and Burns, though he did not become a member of the Society of +the Friends of the People, was at one with them in their desire for +reform. It was known also that he 'gat the _Gazeteer_,' and that was +enough to mark him out as a disaffected person. No doubt he also talked +imprudently; for it was not the nature of this man to keep his +sentiments hidden in his heart, and to talk the language of expediency. +What he thought in private he advocated publicly in season and out of +season; and it was quite in the natural course of things that +information regarding his political opinions should be lodged against +him with the Board of Excise. His political conduct was made the subject +of official inquiry, and it would appear that for a time he was in +danger of dismissal from the service. This is a somewhat painful episode +in his life; and we find him in a letter to Mr. Graham of Fintry +repudiating the slanderous charges, yet confessing that the tender ties +of wife and children 'unnerve courage and wither resolution.' Mr. +Findlater, his superior, was of opinion that only a very mild reprimand +was administered, and the poet warned to be more prudent in his speech. +But what appeared mild to Mr. Findlater was galling to Burns. In his +letter to Erskine of Mar he says: 'One of our supervisors-general, a Mr. +Corbet, was instructed to inquire on the spot and to document me--that +my business was to act, _not to think_; and that whatever might be men +or measures it was for me to be _silent_ and _obedient_.' + +We can hardly conceive a harsher sentence on one of Burns's temperament, +and we doubt not that the degradation of being thus gagged, and the +blasting of his hopes of promotion, were the cause of much of the +bitterness that we find bursting from him now more frequently than ever, +both in speech and writing. That remorse for misconduct irritated him +against himself and against the world, is true; but it is none the less +true that he must have chafed against the servility of an office that +forbade him the freedom of personal opinion. In the same letter he +unburdens his heart in a burst of eloquent and noble indignation. + +'Burns was a poor man from birth, and an exciseman by necessity; but--I +_will_ say it--the sterling of his honest worth no poverty could debase; +his independent British mind oppression might bend, but could not +subdue.... I have three sons who, I see already, have brought into the +world souls ill-qualified to inhabit the bodies of slaves.... Does any +man tell me that my full efforts can be of no service, and that it does +not belong to my humble station to meddle with the concerns of a nation? +I can tell him that it is on such individuals as I that a nation has to +rest, both for the hand of support and the eye of intelligence.' + +What the precise charges against him were, we are not informed. It is +alleged that he once, when the health of Pitt was being drunk, +interposed with the toast of 'A greater than Pitt--George Washington.' +There can be little fault found with the sentiment. It is given to poets +to project themselves into futurity, and declare the verdict of +posterity. But the occasion was ill-chosen, and he spoke with all a +poet's imprudence. In another company he aroused the martial fury of an +unreasoning captain by proposing the toast, 'May our success in the +present war be equal to the justice of our cause.' A very humanitarian +toast, one would think, but regarded as seditious by the fire-eating +captain, who had not the sense to see that there was more of sedition in +his resentment than in Burns's proposal. Yet the affair looked black +enough for a time, and the poet was afraid that even this story would be +carried to the ears of the commissioners, and his political opinions be +again misrepresented. + +Another thing that came to disturb his peace of mind was his quarrel +with Mrs. Riddell of Woodley Park, where he had been made a welcome +guest ever since his advent to this district. That Burns, in the heat of +a fever of intoxication, had been guilty of a glaring act of impropriety +in the presence of the ladies seated in the drawing-room, we may gather +from the internal evidence of his letter written the following morning +'from the regions of hell, amid the horrors of the damned.' It would +appear that the gentlemen left in the dining-room had got ingloriously +drunk, and there and then proposed an indecorous raid on the +drawing-room. Whatever it might be they did, it was Burns who was made +to suffer the shame of the drunken plot. His letter of abject apology +remained unanswered, and the estrangement was only embittered by some +lampoons which he wrote afterwards on this accomplished lady. The affair +was bruited abroad, and the heinousness of the poet's offence vastly +exaggerated. Certain it is that he became deeply incensed against not +only the lady, but her husband as well, to whom he considered he owed no +apology whatever. Matters were only made worse by his unworthy verses, +and it was not till he was almost on the brink of the grave that he and +Mrs. Riddell met again, and the old friendship was re-established. The +lady not only forgot and forgave, but she was one of the first after the +poet's death to write generously and appreciatively of his character and +abilities. + +That the quarrel with Mrs. Riddell was prattled about in Dumfries, and +led other families to drop the acquaintance of the poet, we are made +painfully aware; and in his correspondence now there is rancour, +bitterness, and remorse more pronounced and more settled than at any +other period of his life. He could not go abroad without being reminded +of the changed attitude of the world; he could not stay at home without +seeing his noble wife uncomplainingly nursing a child that was not hers. +He cursed himself for his sins and follies; he cursed the world for its +fickleness and want of sympathy. 'His wit,' says Heron, 'became more +gloomy and sarcastic, and his conversation and writings began to assume +a misanthropical tone, by which they had not been before in any eminent +degree distinguished. But with all his failings his was still that +exalted mind which had raised itself above the depression of its +original condition, with all the energy of the lion pawing to free his +hinder limbs from the yet encumbering earth.' + +His health now began to give his friends serious concern. To Cunningham +he wrote, February 24, 1794: 'For these two months I have not been able +to lift a pen. My constitution and my frame were _ab origine_ blasted +with a deep, incurable taint of hypochondria, which poisons my +existence.' A little later he confesses: 'I have been in poor health. I +am afraid that I am about to suffer for the follies of my youth. My +medical friends threaten me with a flying gout, but I trust they are +mistaken.' His only comfort in those days was his correspondence with +Thomson and with Johnson. He kept pouring out song after song, +criticising, rewriting, changing what was foul and impure into songs of +the tenderest delicacy. He showed love in every mood, from the rapture +of pure passion in the _Lea Rig_, the maidenly abandon of _Whistle and +I'll come to you, my Lad_, to the humour of _Last May a Braw Wooer_ and +_Duncan Gray_, and the guileless devotion of _O wert thou in the Cauld +Blast_. But he sang of more than love. Turning from the coldness of the +high and mighty, who had once been his friends, he found consolation in +the naked dignity of manhood, and penned the hymn of humanity, _A Man's +a Man for a' that_. Perhaps he found his text in _Tristram Shandy_: +'Honours, like impressions upon coin, may give an ideal and local value +to a bit of base metal, but gold and silver pass all the world over with +no other recommendation than their own weight.' Something like this +occurs in Massinger's _Duke of Florence_, where it is said of princes +that + + 'They can give wealth and titles, but no virtues; + This is without their power.' + +Gower also had written-- + + 'A king can kill, a king can save; + A king can make a lord a knave, + And of a knave a lord also.' + +But the poem is undoubtedly Burns's, and it is one he must have written +ere he passed away. _Scots wha hae_ is another of his Dumfries poems. +Mr. Syme gives a highly-coloured and one-sided view of the poet riding +in a storm between Gatehouse and Kenmure, where we are assured he +composed this ode. Carlyle accepts Syme's authority, and adds: +'Doubtless this stern hymn was singing itself, as he formed it, through +the soul of Burns; but to the external ear it should be sung with the +throat of the whirlwind.' Burns gives an account of the writing of the +poem, which it is difficult to reconcile with Mr. Syme's sensational +details. It matters not, however, when or how it was written; we have it +now, one of the most martial and rousing odes ever penned. Not only has +it gripped the heart of Scotsmen, but it has taken the ear of the world; +its fire and vigour have inspired soldiers in the day of battle, and +consoled them in the hour of death. We are not forgetful of the fact +that Mrs. Hemans, who wrote some creditable verse, and the placid +Wordsworth, discussed this ode, and agreed that it was little else than +the rhodomontade of a schoolboy. It is a pity that such authorities +should have missed the charm of _Scots wha hae_. More than likely they +made up for the loss in a solitary appreciation of _Betty Foy_ or _The +Pilgrim Fathers_. + +Another martial ode, composed in 1795, was called forth by the immediate +dangers of the time. The country was roused by the fear of foreign +invasion, and Burns, who had enrolled himself in the ranks of the +Dumfriesshire Volunteers, penned the patriotic song, _Does Haughty Gaul +Invasion threat?_ This song itself might have reinstalled him in public +favour, and dispelled all doubt as to his loyalty, had he cared again to +court the society of those who had dropped him from the list of their +acquaintance. But Burns had grown indifferent to any favour save the +favour of his Muse; besides, he was now shattered in health, and +assailed with gloomy forebodings of an early death. For himself he would +have faced death manfully, but again it was the thought of wife and +bairns that unmanned him. + +Not content with supplying Thomson with songs, he wrote letters full of +hints and suggestions anent songs and song-making, and now and then he +gave a glimpse of himself at work. We see him sitting under the shade of +an old thorn crooning to himself until he gets a verse to suit the +measure he has in his mind; looking round for objects in nature that are +in unison and harmony with the cogitations of his fancy; humming every +now and then the air with the verses; retiring to his study to commit +his effusions to paper, and while he swings at intervals on the hind +legs of his elbow-chair, criticising what he has written. A common walk +of his when he was in the poetical vein was to the ruins of Lincluden +Abbey, whither he was often accompanied by his eldest boy; sometimes +towards Martingdon ford, on the north side of the Nith. When he returned +home with a set of verses, he listened attentively to his wife singing +them, and if she happened to find a word that was harsh in sound, a +smoother one was immediately substituted; but he would on no account +ever sacrifice sense to sound. + +During the earlier part of this year Burns had taken his full share in +the political contest that was going on, and fought for Heron of Heron, +the Whig candidate, with electioneering ballads, not to be claimed as +great poems nor meant to be so ranked, but marked with all his +incisiveness of wit and satire, and with his extraordinary deftness of +portraiture. Heron was the successful candidate, and his poetical +supporter again began to indulge in dreams of promotion: 'a life of +literary leisure with a decent competency was the summit of his wishes.' +But his dreams were not to be realised. + +In September his favourite child and only daughter, Elizabeth, died at +Mauchline, and he was prostrated with grief. He had also taken very much +to heart the inexplicable silence of his old friend, and for many years +constant correspondent, Mrs. Dunlop. To both these griefs he alludes in +a letter to her, dated January 31, 1796: 'These many months you have +been two packets in my debt. What sin of ignorance I have committed +against so highly valued a friend I am utterly at a loss to guess. Alas! +madam, I can ill afford at this time to be deprived of any of the small +remnant of my pleasures. I have lately drunk deep of the cup of +affliction. The autumn robbed me of my only daughter and darling child, +and that at a distance, too, and so rapidly as to put it out of my power +to pay my last duties to her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that +shock when I became myself the victim of a severe rheumatic fever, and +long the die spun doubtful, until, after many weeks of a sickbed, it +seems to have turned up life.' + +There was an evident decline in the poet's appearance, Dr. Currie tells +us, for upwards of a year before his death, and he himself was sensible +that his constitution was sinking. During almost the whole of the winter +of 1795-96 he had been confined to the house. Then follows the +unsubstantiated story which has done duty for Shakspeare and many other +poets. 'He dined at a tavern, returned home about three o'clock in a +very cold morning, benumbed and intoxicated. This was followed by an +attack of rheumatism.' It is difficult to kill a charitable myth, +especially one that is so agreeable to the levelling instincts of +ordinary humanity, and of such sweet consolation to the weaker brethren. +Of course there are variants of the story, with a stair and sleep and +snow brought in as sensational, if improbable, accessories; but such +stories as these all good men refuse to believe, unless they are +compelled to do so by the conclusive evidence of direct authority; and +that, in this case, is altogether awanting. All evidence that has been +forthcoming has gone directly against it, and the story may be accepted +as a myth. The fact is that brains have been ransacked to find reason +for the poet's early death,--as if the goings and comings of death could +be scientifically calculated in biography,--and the last years of his +'irregular life' are blamed: Dumfries is set apart as the chief sinner. +No doubt his life was irregular there; his duties were irregular; his +hours were irregular. But Burns in his thirty-six years, had lived a +full life, putting as much into one year as the ordinary sons of men put +into two. He had had threatenings of rheumatism and heart disease when +he was an overworked lad at Lochlea; and now his constitution was +breaking up from the rate at which he had lived. Excess of work more +than excess of drink brought him to an early grave. During his few +years' stay at Dumfries he had written over two hundred poems, songs, +etc., many of them of the highest excellence, and most of them now +household possessions. Besides his official duties, we know also that he +took a great interest in his home and in the education of his children. +Mr. Gray, master of the High School of Dumfries, who knew the poet +intimately, wrote a long and interesting letter to Gilbert Burns, in +which he mentions particularly the attention he paid to his children's +education. 'He was a kind and attentive father, and took great delight +in spending his evenings in the cultivation of the minds of his +children. Their education was the grand object of his life; and he did +not, like most parents, think it sufficient to send them to public +schools; he was their private instructor; and even at that early age +bestowed great pains in training their minds to habits of thought and +reflection, and in keeping them pure from every form of vice. This he +considered a sacred duty, and never to his last illness relaxed in his +diligence.' + +Throughout the winter of 1795 and spring of 1796, he could only keep up +an irregular correspondence with Thomson. 'Alas!' he wrote in April, 'I +fear it will be long ere I tune my lyre again. I have only known +existence by the pressure of the heavy hand of sickness, and counted +time by the repercussion of pain. I close my eyes in misery and open +them without hope.' Yet it was literally on his deathbed that he +composed the exquisite song, _O wert thou in the Cauld Blast_, in honour +of Jessie Lewars, who waited on him so faithfully. In June he wrote: 'I +begin to fear the worst. As to my individual self I am tranquil, and +would despise myself if I were not; but Burns's poor widow and half a +dozen of his dear little ones--helpless orphans!--there, I am weaker +than a woman's tear.' + +From Brow, whither he had gone to try the effect of sea-bathing, he +wrote several letters all in the same strain, one to Cunningham; a +pathetic one to Mrs. Dunlop, regretting her continued silence; and +letters begging a temporary loan to James Burness, Montrose, and to +George Thomson, whom he had been supplying with songs without fee or +reward. Thomson at once forwarded the amount asked--five pounds! To his +wife, who had not been able to accompany him, he wrote: 'My dearest +love, I delayed writing until I could tell you what effect sea-bathing +was likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny it has eased my +pain.... I will see you on Sunday.' + +During his stay at Brow he met again Mrs. Riddell, and she has left in a +letter her impression of his appearance at that time. 'The stamp of +death was imprinted on his features. He seemed already touching the +brink of eternity.... He spoke of his death with firmness as well as +feeling as an event likely to happen very soon.... He said he was well +aware that his death would occasion some noise, and that every scrap of +his writing would be revived against him, to the injury of his future +reputation.... The conversation was kept up with great evenness and +animation on his side. I had seldom seen his mind greater or more +collected.' + +When he returned from Brow he was worse than when he went away, and +those who saw him tottering to his door knew that they had looked their +last on the poet. The question in Dumfries for a day or two was, 'How is +Burns now?' And the question was not long in being answered. He knew he +was dying, but neither his humour nor his wit left him. 'John,' he said +to one of his brother volunteers, 'don't let the awkward squad fire over +me.' + +He lingered on for a day or two, his wife hourly expecting to be +confined and unable to attend to him, and Jessie Lewars taking her +place, a constant and devoted nurse. On the fourth day after his return, +July 21, he sank into delirium, and his children were summoned to the +bedside of their dying father, who quietly and gradually sank to rest. +His last words showed that his mind was still disturbed by the thought +of the small debt that had caused him so much annoyance. 'And thus he +passed,' says Carlyle, 'not softly, yet speedily, into that still +country where the hailstorms and fire-showers do not reach, and the +heaviest laden wayfarer at length lays down his load.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SUMMARY AND ESTIMATE + + +In Mrs. Riddell's sketch of Burns, which appeared shortly after his +death, she starts with the somewhat startling statement that poetry was +not actually his _forte_. She did not question the excellence of his +songs, or seek to depreciate his powers as a poet, but she spoke of the +man as she had known him, and was one of the first to assert that Burns +was very much more than an uneducated peasant with a happy knack of +versification. Even in the present day we hear too much of the inspired +ploughman bursting into song as one that could not help himself, and +warbling of life and love in a kind of lyrical frenzy. The fact is that +Burns was a great intellectual power, and would have been a force in any +sphere of life or letters. All who met him and heard him talk have +insisted on the greatness of the man, apart from his achievements in +poetry. It was not his fame as a poet that made him the lion of a season +in Edinburgh, but the force and brilliancy of his conversation; and it +needs more than the reputation of a minstrel to explain the hold he has +on the affection and intelligence of the world to-day. + +On the other hand, it would be a mistake to accept his intellectual +greatness as a mere tradition of those who knew him, and to regret that +he has not left us some long and ponderous work worthy of the power he +possessed. It is an absurd idea to imagine that every great poet ought +to write an epic or a play. Burns's powers were concentrative, and he +could put into a song what a dramatist might elaborate into a five-act +tragedy; but that is not to say that the dramatist is the greater poet. +After all, the song is the more likely to live, and the more likely, +therefore, to keep the mission of the poet an enduring and living +influence in the lives of men. + +Still Burns might have been a great song-writer without becoming the +name and power he is in the world to-day. The lyrical gift implies a +quick emotional sense, which in some cases may be little more than a +beautiful defect in a weak nature. But Burns was essentially a strong +man. His very vices are the vices of a robust and healthy humanity. +Besides being possessed of all the qualities of a great singer, he was +at the same time vigorously human and throbbing with the love and joy of +life. It is this sterling quality of manhood that has made Burns the +poet and the power he is. He looked out on the world with the eyes of a +man, and saw things in their true colours and in their natural +relations. He regarded the world into which he had been born, and saw it +not as some other poet or an artist or a painter might have beheld +it,--for the purposes of art,--but in all its uncompromising realism; +and what his eye saw clearly, his lips as clearly uttered. His first and +greatest gift, therefore, as a poet was his manifest sincerity. His men +and women are living human beings; his flowers are real flowers; his +dogs, real dogs, and nothing more. All his pictures are presented in +the simplest and fewest possible words. There is no suspicion of +trickery; no attempt to force words to carry a weight of meaning they +are incapable of expressing. He knew nothing of the deification of +style, and on absolute truthfulness and unidealised reality rested his +poetical structure. Wordsworth speaks of him-- + + 'Whose light I hailed when first it shone, + And showed my youth + How verse may build a princely throne + On humble truth.' + +It is this quality that made Burns the interpreter of the lives of his +fellow-men, not only to an outside world that knew them not, but to +themselves. And he has glorified those lives in the interpretation, not +by the introduction of false elements or the elimination of unlovely +features, but simply by his insistence, in spite of the sordidness of +poverty, on the naked dignity of man. + +Everything he touched became interesting because it was interesting to +him, and he spoke forth what he felt. For Burns did not go outside of +his own life, either in time or place, for subject. There are poetry and +romance, tragedy and comedy ever waiting for the man who has eyes to see +them; and Burns's stage was the parish of Tarbolton, and he found his +poetry in (or rendered poetical) the ordinary humdrum life round about +him. For that reason it is, perhaps, that he has been called the +satirist and singer of a parish. Had he lived nowadays, he would have +been relegated to the kailyard, there to cultivate his hardy annuals +and indigenous daisies. For Burns did not affect exotics, and it +requires a specialist in manure to produce blue dandelions or sexless +ferns. In the narrow sense of the word he was not parochial. Whilst true +to class and country, he reached out a hand to universal man. A Scotsman +of Scotsmen, he endeared himself to the hearts of a people; but he was +from first to last a man, and so has found entrance to the hearts of all +men. Although local in subject, he was artistic in treatment; he might +address the men and women of Mauchline, but he spoke with the voice of +humanity, and his message was for mankind. + +Besides interpreting the lives of the Scottish peasantry, he revived for +them their nationality. For he was but the last of the great bards that +sang the Iliad of Scotland; and in him, when patriotism was all but +dead, and a hybrid culture was making men ashamed of their land and +their language, the voices of nameless ballad-makers and forgotten +singers blended again into one great voice that sang of the love of +country, till men remembered their fathers, and gloried in the name of +Scotsmen. His patriotism, however, was not parochial. It was no mere +prejudice which bound him hand and foot to Scottish theme and Scottish +song. He knew that there were lands beyond the Cheviots, and that men of +other countries and other tongues joyed and sorrowed, toiled and sweated +and struggled and hoped even as he did. He was attached to the people of +his own rank in life, the farmers and ploughmen amongst whom he had been +born and bred; but his sympathies went out to all men, prince or +peasant, beggar or king, if they were worthy of the name of men he +recognised them as brothers. It is this sympathy which gives him his +intimate knowledge of mankind. He sees into the souls of his fellows; +the thoughts of their hearts are visible to his piercing eye. He who had +mixed only with hard-working men, and scarcely ever been beyond the +boundary of his parish, wrote of court and parliament as if he had known +princes and politicians from his boyhood. The goodwife of Wauchope House +would hardly credit that he had come straight from the plough-stilts-- + + 'And then sae slee ye crack your jokes + O' Willie Pitt and Charlie Fox; + Our great men a' sae weel descrive, + And how to gar the nation thrive, + Ane maist would swear ye dwalt amang them, + And as ye saw them sae ye sang them.' + +But his intuitive knowledge of men is apparent in almost all he wrote. +Every character he has drawn stands out a living and breathing +personality. This is greatly due to the fact that he studied those he +met, as _men_, dismissing the circumstance of birth and rank, of costly +apparel, or beggarly rags. For rank and station after all are mere +accidents, and count for nothing in an estimate of character. Indeed, +Burns was too often inclined from his hard experience of life to go +further than this, and to count them disqualifying circumstances. This +aggressive independence was, however, always as far removed from +insolence as it was from servility. He saw clearly that the 'pith o' +sense and pride o' worth' are beyond all the dignities a king can +bestow; and he looked to the time when class distinctions would cease, +and the glory of manhood be the highest earthly dignity. + + 'Then let us pray that come it may-- + As come it will for a' that-- + That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, + May bear the gree and a' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + It's comin' yet, for a' that, + That man to man, the warld o'er, + Shall brothers be for a' that!' + +Besides this abiding love of his fellow-man, or because of it, Burns had +also a childlike love of nature and all created things. He sings of the +mountain daisy turned up by his plough; his heart goes out to the mouse +rendered homeless after all its provident care. Listening at home while +the storm made the doors and windows rattle, he bethought him on the +cattle and sheep and birds outside-- + + 'I thought me on the ourie cattle + Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle + O' wintry war, + And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle + Beneath a scaur.' + +Nor is there in his love of nature any transcendental strain; no mawkish +sentimentality, and consequently in its expression no bathos. Everywhere +in his poetry nature comes in, at times in artistically selected detail, +at times again with a deft suggestive touch that is telling and +effective, yet always in harmony with the feeling of the poem, and +always subordinate to it. His descriptions of scenery are never dragged +in. They are incidental and complementary; human life and human feeling +are the first consideration; to this his scenery is but the setting and +background. He is never carried away by the force or beauty of his +drawing as a smaller artist might have been. The picture is given with +simple conciseness, and he leaves it; nor does he ever attempt to +elaborate a detail into a separate poem. The description of the burn in +_Hallowe'en_ is most beautiful in itself, yet it is but a detail in a +great picture-- + + 'Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, + As thro' the glen it wimpl't; + Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays; + Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; + Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, + Wi' bickerin', dancin' dazzle; + Whyles cookit underneath the braes, + Below the spreading hazel, + Unseen that night.' + +That surely is the perfection of description; whilst the wimple of the +burn is echoed in the music of the verse! + +Allied to the clearness of vision and truthfulness of presentment of +Burns, growing out of them it may be, is that graphic power in which he +stands unexcelled. He is a great artist, and word-painting is not the +least of his many gifts. He combines terseness and lucidity, which is a +rare combination in letters; his phrasing is as beautiful and fine as it +is forcible, which is a distinction rarer still. Hundreds of examples of +his pregnant phrasing might be cited, but it is best to see them in the +poems. Many have become everyday expressions, and have passed into the +proverbs of the country. + +Another of Burns's gifts was the saving grace of humour. This, of +course, is not altogether a quality distinct in itself, but rather a +particular mode in which love or tenderness or pity may manifest +itself. This humour is ever glinting forth from his writings. Some of +his poems--_The Farmer's Address to his Auld Mare_, for example--are +simply bathed in it, and we see the subject glowing in its light, soft +and tremulous, as of an autumn sunset. In others, again, it flashes and +sparkles, more sportive than tender. But, however it manifest itself, we +recognise at once that it has a character of its own, which marks it off +from the humour of any other writer; it is a peculiar possession of +Burns. + +Perhaps the poem in which all Burns's poetic qualities are seen at their +best is _The Jolly Beggars_. The subject may be low and the materials +coarse, but that only makes the finished poem a more glorious +achievement. For the poem is a unity. We see those vagabonds for a +moment's space holding high revel in Poosie Nansie's; but in that brief +glance we see them from their birth to their death. They are flung into +the world, and go zigzagging through it, chaffering and cheating, +swaggering and swearing; kicked and cuffed from parish to parish; their +only joy of existence an occasional night like this, a carnival of drink +and all sensuality; snapping their fingers in the face of the world, and +as they have lived so going down defiantly to death, a laugh on their +lips and a curse in their heart. Every character in it is individual and +distinct from his neighbour; the language from first to last simple, +sensuous, musical. Of this poem Matthew Arnold says: 'It has a breadth, +truth, and power which make the famous scene in Auerbach's cellar of +Goethe's _Faust_ seem artificial and tame beside it, and which are only +matched by Shakspeare and Aristophanes.' + +_The Cotter's Saturday Night_ has usually, in Scotland, been the most +lauded of his poems. Many writers give it as his best. It is a pious +opinion, but is not sound criticism. Burns handicapped himself, not only +by the stanza he selected for this poem, but also by the attitude he +took towards his subject. He is never quite himself in it. We admire its +many beauties; we see the life of the poor made noble and dignified; we +see, in the end, the soul emerging from the tyranny of time and +circumstance; but with all that we feel that there is something +awanting. The priest-like father is drawn from life, and the picture is +beautiful; not less deftly drawn is the mother's portrait, though it be +not so frequently quoted: + + 'The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy + What makes the youth so bashfu' and so grave; + Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.' + +The last line gives one of the most natural and most subtle touches in +the whole poem. The closing verses are, I think, unhappy. The poet has +not known when to stop, keeps writing after he has finished, and so +becomes stilted and artificial. + +It is in his songs, however, more than in his poems, that we find Burns +most regularly at his best. And excellence in song-writing is a rare +gift. The snatches scattered here and there throughout the plays of +Shakspeare are perhaps the only collection of lyrics that can at all +stand comparison with the wealth of minstrelsy Burns has left behind +him. This was his undying legacy to the world. Song-writing was a labour +of love, almost his only comfort and consolation in the dark days of his +later years. He set himself to this as to a congenial task, and he knew +that he was writing himself into the hearts of unborn generations. His +songs live; they are immortal, because every one is a bit of his soul. +These are no feverish, hysterical jingles of clinking verse, dead save +for the animating breath of music. They sing themselves, because the +spirit of song is in them. Quite as marvellous as his excellence in this +department of poetry is his variety of subject. He has a song for every +age; a musical interpretation of every mood. But this is a subject for a +book to itself. His songs are sung all over the world. The love he sings +appeals to all, for it is elemental, and is the love of all. Heart +speaks to heart in the songs of Robert Burns; there is a freemasonry in +them that binds Scotsmen to Scotsmen across the seas in the firmest +bonds of brotherhood. + +What place Burns occupies as a poet has been determined not so much by +the voice of criticism, as by the enthusiastic way in which his +fellow-mortals have taken him to their heart. The summing-up of a judge +counts for little when the jury has already made up its mind. What +matters it whether a critic argues Burns into a first or second or third +rate poet? His countrymen, and more than his countrymen, his brothers +all the world over, who read in his writings the joys and sorrows, the +temptations and trials, the sins and shortcomings of a great-hearted +man, have accepted him as a prophet, and set him in the front rank of +immortals. They admire many poets; they love Robert Burns. They have +been told their love is unreasoning and unreasonable. It may be so. Love +goes by instinct more than by reason; and who shall say it is wrong? Yet +Burns is not loved because of his faults and failings, but in spite of +them. His sins are not hidden. He himself confessed them again and +again, and repented in sackcloth and ashes. If he did not always abjure +his weaknesses, he denounced them, and with no uncertain voice; nor do +we know how hardly he strove to do more. + +What estimate is to be taken of Burns as a man will have many and +various answers. Those who still denounce him as the chief of sinners, +and without mercy condemn him out of his own mouth, are those whom Burns +has pilloried to all posterity. There are dull, phlegmatic beings with +blood no warmer than ditch-water, who are virtuous and sober citizens +because they have never felt the force of temptation. What power could +tempt them? The tree may be parched and blistered in the heat of +noonday, but the parasitical fungus draining its sap remains cool--and +poisonous. So in the glow of sociability the Pharisee remains cold and +clammy; the fever of love leaves his blood at zero. How can such +anomalies understand a man of Burns's wild and passionate nature, or, +indeed, human nature at all? The broad fact remains, however much we may +deplore his sins and shortcomings, they are the sins and shortcomings of +a large-hearted, healthy, human being. Had he loved less his fellow men +and women, he might have been accounted a better man. After all, too, it +must be remembered that his failings have been consistently exaggerated. +Coleridge, in his habit of drawing nice distinctions, admits that Burns +was not a man of degraded genius, but a degraded man of genius. Burns +was neither the one nor the other. In spite of the occasional excesses +of his later years, he did not degenerate into drunkenness, nor was the +sense of his responsibilities as a husband, a father, and a man less +clear and acute in the last months of his life than it had ever been. +Had he lived a few years longer, we should have seen the man mellowed by +sorrow and suffering, braving life, not as he had done all along with +the passionate vehemence of undisciplined youth, but with the fortitude +and dignity of one who had learned that contentment and peace are gifts +the world cannot give, and, if he haply find them in his own heart, +which it cannot take away. That is the lesson we read in the closing +months of Burns's chequered career. + +But it was not to be. His work was done. The message God had sent him +into the world to deliver he had delivered, imperfectly and with +faltering lips it may be, but a divine message all the same. And because +it is divine men still hear it gladly and believe. + +Let all his failings and defects be acknowledged, his sins as a man and +his limitations as a poet, the want of continuity and purpose in his +work and life; but at the same time let his nobler qualities be weighed +against these, and the scale 'where the pure gold is, easily turns the +balance.' In the words of Angellier: 'Admiration grows in proportion as +we examine his qualities. When we think of his sincerity, of his +rectitude, of his kindness towards man and beast; of his scorn of all +that is base, his hatred of all knavery which in itself would be an +honour; of his disinterestedness, of the fine impulses of his heart, and +the high aspirations of his spirit; of the intensity and idealism +necessary to maintain his soul above its circumstances; when we reflect +that he has expressed all these generous sentiments to the extent of +their constituting his intellectual life; that they have fallen from him +as jewels ... as if his soul had been a furnace for the purification of +precious metals, we are tempted to regard him as belonging to the elect +spirits of humanity, to those gifted with exceptional goodness. When we +recall what he suffered, what he surmounted, and what he has effected; +against what privations his genius struggled into birth and lived; the +perseverance of his apprenticeship; his intellectual exploits; and, +after all, his glory, we are inclined to maintain that what he failed to +accomplish or undertake is as nothing in comparison with his +achievements.... There is nothing left but to confess that the clay of +which he was made was thick with diamonds, and that his life was one of +the most valiant and the most noble a poet ever has lived.' + +With Burns's own words we may fitly conclude. They are words not merely +to be read and admired, but to be remembered in our hearts and practised +in our lives-- + + 'Then gently scan your brother Man, + Still gentler sister Woman; + Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, + To step aside is human: + One point must still be greatly dark, + The moving _Why_ they do it; + And just as lamely can ye mark, + How far perhaps they rue it. + + Who made the heart, 'tis He alone + Decidedly can try us, + He knows each chord--its various tone, + Each spring--its various bias: + Then at the balance let's be mute, + We never can adjust it; + What's _done_ we partly may compute, + But know not what's _resisted_' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Burns, by Gabriel Setoun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS *** + +***** This file should be named 30721.txt or 30721.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/2/30721/ + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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