No More Learning

His topics and his training being such as
they were, his rare endowments are manifested in the manner of
his treatment. It betokens an exceptionally penetrating insight,
a peculiarly deep sympathy, yet great capacity for scorn, an
abounding and comprehensive humour, a strong vitalising vision
and a specially delicate artistic sense; and, thus, his opportunities
being so close and abundant, he has revealed to us the antique
rural life within the limits of his experience and observation with
copious minuteness, and with superb vividness and fidelity. But,
of course, he has, therefore—though some would fain think other-
wise—his peculiar limitations. His treatment of his themes was
so admirable as to secure for them almost a worldwide interest; but,
ordinarily, his themes do not afford scope for the higher possibilities
of poetry. He could not display his exceptional powers to such
advantage as he might have done, had he been allowed a wider
stage and higher opportunities; nor, in fact, were they trained
and developed as they might have been, had he been sufficiently
favoured of fortune.
>


## p. 211 (#233) ############################################

x]
Elegies and Epistles in rime couée
2II
For his vernacular verse, Burns had recourse mainly to the
staves already popularised by Ramsay, Fergusson and other poets
of the revival. As with them, the most common medium of his
verse was the favourite six-line stave in rime couée, used by
Sempill in Habbie Simson. Following their and Sempill's
example, he usually adopted it for his vernacular elegies, of
which we may here mention those on Poor Mailie, Tam Samson
and Captain Matthew Henderson. The first, an early production,
is more in the vein of Habbie than the other two, and its opening
stanza is almost a parody of that of Sempill's poem. In it and
Tam Samson, he also adopts throughout the Sempill refrain
ending in 'dead'; but, in the more serious elegy Captain Matthew
Henderson he has recourse to it in but one verse, and that
accidentally. The Samson elegy, like those of Ramsay, is in a
humorous, rather than in a pathetic, vein-a fact accounted for by
the sequel—but the humour is strikingly superior to that of Ramsay
in delicacy, in humaneness, in copious splendour, while the poem
is, also, specially noteworthy for the compactness and polish of its
phrasing. A marked feature of Tam Samson, but, more especially,
of the Henderson elegy, is the exquisite felicity of the allusions to
nature. This last, the best of the three, is pitched in a different
key from the others; pathos prevails over humour, and the closing
stanzas reach a strain of lofty and moving eloquence.
Following the example of Ramsay and Hamilton of Gilbertfield,
Burns also employed the six-line stave for most of his vernacular
epistles. In their tone and allusions, they are also partly modelled
upon those of his two predecessors, and, occasionally, they parody
lines and even verses, which he had by heart; but they never do this
without greatly bettering the originals. Most of them are almost
extempore effusions, but, on that very account, they possess a
charming naturalness of their own. Special mention may be
made of those to John Lapraik, James Smith and Willie Simpson.
Here, we have the poet, as it were, in undress, captivating us by
the frankness of his sentiments and selfrevelations, by homely
allusions to current cares and occupations, by plain and pithy
comments on men and things and by light colloquial outbreaks
of wit and humour, varied, occasionally, by enchanting, though,
apparently, quite unstudied, descriptions of the aspects of nature.
One or two of his epistles, as those To John Rankine, and
Reply to a Trimming Epistle received from a Taylor, are in a
coarser vein; but, even so, they are equally representative of
himself and of the peasant Scotland of his time. They are
14-2


## p. 212 (#234) ############################################

2 1 2
[CH.
Burns
6
occupied with a theme concerning which the jocosity of the peasant
was inveterate. They are not to be judged by our modern
notions of decorum; and Burns, it may be added, is never so
merely squalid as is Ramsay. In the epistolary form and in the
same stave is A Poet's Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter,
in which generous human feeling is blended with sarcastic defiance
of the conventions. The attitude of the peasant towards such
casualties had been previously set forth in various chapbooks of
the period, both in prose and verse.
In the same stave as the epistles are Scotch Drink and The
Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer, which mirror the strong
social sentiments of the Scottish rustic, and the close association
in farming communities—an association still surviving-of strong
drink with good fellowship.
This stave is, further, employed by Burns with superb effect in
the satiric narrative of Death and Doctor Hornbook, containing
the eerie midnight interview of the 'canty' bard with the awful
'Something,' whose name, it said, was death, and its grimly jocose
discourse on the medical skill of 'the bauld apothecary,' a village
schoolmaster, who sought to eke out his small salary by the sale of
drugs; but, on the whole, the masterpieces in the stave are The
Address to the Deil, Holy Willie's Prayer and The Auld Farmer's
New Year Salutation to his Mare Maggie. They differ greatly in
their tone and the character of their theme, but each, after its own
fashion, is inimitable. The first two have an ecclesiastical or theo-
logical motif. Of these, The Address to the Deil is a boldly
humorous sketch of the doings of the evil personality, who figured
prominently in the ‘Auld Licht' pulpit oratory of the poet's time
and of the preceding centuries, and became transformed into the
'Auld Hornie,’ ‘Nickie Ben' and 'Clootie' of peasant conversation
and superstition. It is preceded by a motto of two lines from
Milton's Paradise Lost, 'O Prince, etc. , which piquantly contrast
in tone and tenor with the opening verse of the poem itself, the first
two lines—a kind of parody of a couplet in Pope's Dunciad—being
O thon! whatever title suit thee,
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick or Clootie.
The tone of comic humour is maintained throughout, and, in
the last stanza, as in the second, comicality and pathos are
delicately blended in suggesting scepticism of the diabolic per-
sonality's existence:
I am wae to think upo' yon den
Evn for your sake.


## p. 213 (#235) ############################################

x]
Holy Willie's Prayer
213
6
Apart from its weird comedy, the poem is remarkable for the
graphic and condensed vividness of its descriptions, as, to quote
only a few lines and phrases:
Whyles on the strong-winged tempest flyin,
Tirlin' the kirks
Or where auld ruined castles grey
Nod to the moon
Aft yont the dyke she heard you bummin
Wi’ eerie drone
Awa ye squattered, like a drake,
On whistling wings
Holy Willie's Prayer, again, is wholly satirical in tone, a mere
metrical chain of brilliantly relentless mockery. This mockery is
made to serve both a general and a special purpose. While, by a
skilful series of burlesque parodies, it exposes, with deadly effect,
the hypocritical selfrighteousness of an ignorantly opinionated
ruling elder in Mauchline, who had a prominent part in an
unsuccessful prosecution of the poet's friend and landlord, Gavin
Hamilton, it, also, lampoons the narrow puritanic Calvinism
of the 'Auld Licht' party in the kirk, towards whom Burns,
being what he was, was bound to cherish an almost un.
measured antipathy. The antipathy, only indirectly and in
glimpses revealed in The Address to the Deil, is, in The Twa
Herds, in portions of The Holy Fair, in The Ordination and in
The Kirk's Alarm, manifested in the form of uproarious derision.
Though, in his later years, something of a social democrat, and,
even from early manhood, cherishing a certain jealousy of
those above him in station, and easily offended by airs of con-
descension towards him, his antipathy to the ‘Auld Licht' clergy,
the favourites of the people, made him a strong opponent of the
anti-patronage movement, which he contemptuously scouted as an
attempt to get the brutes themselves the power to choose their
herds. ' The proposal is, incidentally, ridiculed with great gusto in
The Twa Herds in the six-line stave-but more at length and more
directly in The Ordination, while the jingling Kirk's Alarm deals
very unceremoniously with the characters and qualifications of
the principal clerical prosecutors in a heresy case; but these
three pieces, though admirably fitted to arouse the derision of
the multitude, are a little too boisterous and violent. For us, at
least, they would have been more effective had they been less
lacking in restraint; and their method cannot compare with the
mock seriousness, the polished innuendo, the withering irony, the
placid scorn of Holy Willie's Prayer.


## p. 214 (#236) ############################################

214
[CH.
Burns
a
But, vastly and variously entertaining as are his ecclesiastical
diatribes, these controversial topics have now lost much of their
savour even for Scotsmen; and it is a relief to turn from such bitter
and mocking satires, and the old ecclesiastical disputes they embalm,
to the scene of rustic concord, content and happiness conjured up
in The Auld Farmer's Salutation. Here, the poet's rustic heart-
strings are touched, and his tenderer and more genial feelings
have full, uninterrupted play. He is at peace with the world
and himself, and his appeal is primarily to our benevolent sym-
pathies. In language more thoroughly and curiously vernacular
than that of most of his verse and with an air of artless and frank
simplicity, just as if the words had come from the lips of the
hearty old farmer, it supplies a realistic biographic sketch of the
lifelong partnership between him and his favourite mare Maggie
their mingled toils and pleasures and their joint achievements from
the time when, in the bringing home of his 'bonnie Bride,' the mare
outran all the other steeds of the company, until he and she had
'come to crazy years together'; and all is so delicately true to nature
as to entitle the poem to rank as a kind of unique masterpiece.
The Auld Farmer's Salutation is partly, but only imperfectly,
paralleled in Poor Mailie, The Death and Dying Words of
Poor Mailie and in portions of The Twa Dogs; but, in these,
it is more the animals themselves than their owner and his
relations with them that are portrayed; his connection with
them is only indirectly hinted. Again, To a Mouse, delicately
fine as are its descriptive stanzas, and strikingly as it appeals to
the sense of the hard case of a large part of the animal creation
in their relations to one another and to man, hardly expresses
the sentiments of the average ploughman or farmer and, it may
be, not altogether those of Burns. Here, and in To a Mountain
Daisy, he partly assumes the 'sensibility' pose; and English
influence is also specially visible in the character of the reflection
in the concluding stanzas. In striking contrast with both is
the broad rustic humour of To a Louse. While all three-
in the same six-line stave—are but sparsely sprinkled with the
pure vernacular, it is in the last employed here and there with
graphic drollery. But, in this stave more particularly, Burns could
write occasional stanzas in pure English to splendid purpose,
as witness the nobly serious poem The Vision, though, in the
opening stanzas depicting the poet's rustic situation and sur-
roundings, he, with admirable discretion, has recourse mainly to
the vernacular.
6


## p. 215 (#237) ############################################

x]
The Christis Kirk Stave
215
Next to the six-line stave in rime couée, the favourite stave of
Ramsay, Fergusson and other poets of the revival was what may
be termed the Christis Kirk stave, which, though probably the
invention of the author of that poem and of Peblis to the Play, is,
also, the metre of what—from a reference of Sir David Lyndsay~
must be regarded as a very old poem, Sym and his Brudir, and is
used by Alexander Scott in his Justing and Debait. It is formed
by the addition of a bobwheel to the old ballad octave in rollicking
metre as represented in, for example, The Hunting of the Cheviots,
and Henryson's Robene and Makyne. Burns, like Ramsay and
Fergusson, contracted the bobwheel into a refrain of one line;
but, unlike Ramsay, he did not vary the ending of the refrain.
He uses the stave for five pieces: The Holy Fair, Halloween,
The Ordination, A Dream and The Mauchline Wedding and for
a recitativo in The Jolly Beggars. In Halloween and in The
Jolly Beggars recitativo, the final word of the refrain is ‘night';
in the others, it is day. In A Dream, The Ordination and the
recitativo, he, like Ramsay, adheres to the ancient two-rime form
of the octave; but, in The Holy Fair, Halloween and The
Mauchline Wedding, he follows Fergusson in breaking up the
octave and making use of four and, occasionally, three, rimes.
A Dream is really a series of advices, mostly couched in semi-
satirical or jocular terms, but, notwithstanding some clever
epigrams, it must, on the whole, be reckoned of that order of
merit to which most of his political, or semipolitical pieces
belong. The Ordination has been already referred to. Like it,
the other three-as in the case of Christis Kirk and other old
poems, as well as those of the revival-are humorously descriptive
narratives. The Mauchline Wedding is unfinished; The Holy
Fair and Halloween, as presentations of scenes and episodes
in humble life, rank, almost, with The Jolly Beggars and Tam
o' Shanter, though they lack the full inspiration and irresistible
verve of both.
The Holy Fair, in its general form, is modelled on Fergusson's
Leith Races and his Hallow Fair. Like them, it is the narrative
of a day's diversion and, like them, it concludes with a hint that
the result of the day's pleasuring may, in some cases, be not
altogether edifying or pleasant. In intent, it differs somewhat
from them. Unlike them, it has a definite satirical purpose, and
there runs throughout a prevailing strain of ridicule, though not
so much of his fellow peasants—whose idiosyncrasies and doings
are portrayed with a certain humorous toleration as of the


## p. 216 (#238) ############################################

216
[CH.
Burns
6
occasion itself, and of the oratorical flights, especially of the ‘Auld
Licht’clergy, whom Burns makes the subjects of his unsparing wit.
The first six stanzas are a kind of parody of the first five of
Fergusson's Leith Races, but, however excellent, in their way, are
Fergusson's verses, the parody by Burns, in picturesque vivacity
and in glowing realism, quite surpasses the original. It has
further been pointed out that certain stanzas resemble rather
closely, in their tenor, portions of a pamphlet published in 1759,
A Letter from a Blacksmith to the Ministers and Elders of the
Church of Scotland. Burns probably knew the pamphlet. It may
have partly helped to suggest the writing of the poem; and, having
a very retentive memory, he may have got a phrase or two from it;
but, throughout the whole poem, it is evident enough that he is
describing the details of an actual sacramental occasion' in
Mauchline, from his own direct knowledge; and, whatever small
hints he may have got from the pamphlet, his matchless sketch of
the humours of the oldworld scene of mingled piety, superstition
and rude rustic joviality owes its rare merit to his own pene-
trating observation and vivifying genius.
But, Halloween is the finer poem of the two-mainly, be-
cause mere satire is absent and mirthful humour prevails.
It conjures up a quite different rustic scene, one where
ecclesiasticism, either to good or bad purpose, does not intrude;
and all is pure fun and merriment. He had a suggestion for
the poem in Mayne's Halloween, and faint reflections of it,
as well as of lines in Montgomerie, Ramsay, Fergusson, Thomson
and Pope, are discernible in some of the stanzas, just as similar
faint reminiscences of their predecessors or contemporaries are
discernible in the work of most poets of eminence; but they do
not affect in the slightest the main texture of the poem, which,
throughout, is, characteristically, his own. In the fine opening
stanza, he adds to the descriptive effect by introducing internal
rimes :
Upon that night when fairies light,
and he has also partial recourse to this device in some other
stanzas. Near the close of the poem, he suspends, for a moment,
his mirthful narrative of the Halloween adventures and misad-
ventures to surprise and enchant us by his consummate picture of
the meanderings of a woodland stream:
Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays.
But this is a mere casual interlude. It is with the exploits and


## p. 217 (#239) ############################################

x]
The Cherrie and The
The Slae Stave
217
>
ludicrous mishaps of the 'merry, friendly country folks' that the
poem is chiefly concerned.
Another important stave of Burns is that used by Montgomerie
in The Cherrie and The Slae. In this stave, Thomas Howell also
wrote A Dreame, published in his Devises 1581? ; but The Cherrie
and The Slae was, probably, written before Howell's poem; and,
in any case, there is proof of the use of the stave in Scotland before
Howell's volume appeared, and of its earliest use by a Scottish
poet having been by Montgomerie: Ane Ballat of ye Captane of the
Castell (1571), is described as ‘maid to the tone of The Bankis of
Helicon,' of which Montgomerie was the author. The peculiarity
of the stave is the final wheel of four-properly six-lines, borrowed
from a stave of the old Latin hymns, and affixed to a ten-line
stave, common from an early period in English verse.
Though revived by Ramsay for The Vision and other poems,
there are not any examples of it in Fergusson.
With Burns,
however, The Cherrie and The Slae, which he had doubtless seen
in Watson's Choice Collection, was a special favourite, and he
refers to The Epistle to Davie as in the metre of that poem.
Besides The Epistle to Davie, he had recourse to it for to the
Guidwife of Wauchope House, and for the purely English
Despondency, To Ruin, Inscribed on a Work of Hannah More's
and The Farewell. All these, more or less, are gravely reflective
or didactic in tone, as, indeed, is also The Cherrie and The
Slae; but, in the two opening, and the final, recitativos of the
boisterous Jolly Beggars, he made use of it for humorous
descriptive purposes with a picturesque felicity not surpassed
in verse.
For the other descriptive recitativos of this unique cantata, he
employed the ballad octave of two rimes, of which there is also an
example in his Man was made to Mourn; the French octave or
ballad royal (which, though not found in Ramsay or Fergusson,
was used by Alexander Pennecuick for his semi-vernacular Truth's
Travels, but which Burns-who, later, used it for the Lament and
the Address to Edinburgh-probably got from The Evergreen),
very properly recommended by James VI for ‘heich and grave
subjects, but, on that very account, all the more effective where
gravity is burlesqued; the octo-syllabic couplet, used, also, in The
Twa Dogs and Tam o' Shanter; the six-line stave in rime couée ;
the common ballad stave of four rimes, of which there are various
1 See ante, vol. II, p. 188.


## p. 218 (#240) ############################################

218
[CH.
Burns
examples in Ramsay, and to which Burns had recourse for An
Address to the Unco Guid and Epistle to a Young Friend; and
the Christis Kirk stave. The cantata thus samples all his principal
Scots staves, though omitting the Sir Thopas stave of The Epistle
to Lord Daer and Fintry My Stay, the modified Killychrankie
form of the ballad stave, as exemplified in Guildford Good and the
heroic couplet of the partly English and partly Scots Brigs of Ayr.
Compact and short as are the recitativos of The Jolly Beggars,
Burns never employed their staves to more brilliant purpose. The
songs, again, with which they are interspersed, are, as already
stated, modelled after those to be found in the Choice Song-Books
or in Herd's Collection; and very similar songs, though ruder in
their form and coarser in their expression, may actually have been
sung by different members of the ragged fraternity, in the course
of the carousal of which Burns was a witness.
Burns was unacquainted with the bulk of old English plays,
treatises and songs, dealing with the fortunes of beggars, vagabonds
and outlaws; but he had probably read Gay’s Beggars' Opera;
he knew, of course, the clever Scottish ballads The Gaberlunzie
Man and The Jolly Beggar; and he evidently got faint hints
from The Happy Beggars—an excerpt from Charles Coffey's
ballad opera, The Beggars' Wedding—and The Merry Beggars
of Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany and the song-books. The
poem is, also, modelled on the burlesque odes and cantatas of
the period; but the wonder is that, such being the case, the
curious metrical medley should be such a captivating master-
piece. True, it has a certain advantage, even in its complete
singularity, as an assortment of old Scottish staves, interlaced with
songs characteristically Scots or Anglo-Scots in their style and
manner. All this aids the vivid picturesqueness of the presentation;
but only the fact that the subject appealed, in a very special way,
to peculiarities of the poet's temperament and genius can account
for the striking character of his artistic triumph.
Carlyle was the first to claim for The Jolly Beggars a superiority
over Tam o' Shanter. Few, perhaps, will admit so complete a
superiority as he asserts, but the value of the criticism, so far as
regards the praise of The Jolly Beggars, originally,
quarters, only faintly tolerated, is now generally admitted. Here,
we have a more varied and more intimate and vital presentation of
certain types of human nature than in Tam o' Shanter; and the
detailed record of the vagabonds' high festival affords wider scope
for picturesque effects than the comparatively conventional and
in many


## p. 219 (#241) ############################################

x] The Jolly Beggars and Tam o'Shanter 219
respectable carousal in the village alehouse. On the other hand, it
seems a strange belittlement or misjudgment of Tam o' Shanter
to describe it as less a poem than 'a piece of sparkling rhetoric,'
and a still more questionable statement that it might have been
written all but quite as well by a man who, in place of genius, had
only possessed talent. ' Most other critics are still convinced that
here, as in The Jolly Beggars, we have a superbly characteristic
example of the rare genius of Burns, as developed by his special
environment and his peculiarly mingled poetic training. Scott says:
'I verily believe Tam o' Shanter to be inimitable, both in the
serious and ludicrous parts, as well as in the happy combination
of both. ' As to the relative merits of the two poems, Tam
o' Shanter is the more studied and mature production: when
he wrote it, Burns was a more fully experienced, a better-read
and a more highly trained, artist, than when, in a fit of fine
inspiration, he dashed off The Jolly Beggars; and he himself says
of it that it ‘shewed a finishing polish,' which he 'despaired of
ever excelling. The felicity and terse compactness and vividness
of its phrasing—notwithstanding an occasional looseness, as was
customary with him, in riming-are unsurpassable; and, as for
the alehouse fellowship of Tam and Souter Johnie, and the
skelping ride of the primed farmer through the eerie region in
the wild night, genius could hardly better these; while the
thunder and lightning storm, and the witches' hornpipes and
reels at haunted Alloway, with Auld Nick himself as musician,
are certainly more strictly poetical and more thrilling than the
presentation of squalid revelry in the low Mauchline lodging-
house.
But the poems are really so dissimilar in theme and
method that a comparison of their respective merits is somewhat
difficult and, more or less, futile. In both, Burns affords us a more
splendid glimpse than elsewhere of his poetic possibilities, had
fortune favoured their full development.
But the dilemma of Burns was that the very circumstances
which favoured him in making him become the unique peasant
poet that he was, tended, also, to preclude the adequate fulfilment
of his poetic aspirations; and there were, also, certain peculiarities
in his case which made the adverse circumstances in the end
all-powerful. Thus, apart from songs, Tam o' Shanter and
Captain Matthew Henderson are the only poems of any special
importance produced by him after 1787; though various election
pieces, if not particularly excellent specimens of wit, cleverly
reproduce the manner and style of the old ballads. Except as


## p. 220 (#242) ############################################

220
Burns
[CH.
a song-writer, the really fruitful period of his genius is confined to
the year or two, when, together with other members of the family,
he occupied Mossgiel, in the stable-loft bothy of which—where, for
lack of room in the farmhouse, he took up his quarters with the
farm-servant-he, in the evening, elaborated the verses he had
been conning over during his daily avocations. Hard and toilsome
as was his daily round of labour, and dreary and disappointing as
were his immediate prospects as a farmer, the horizon of his future
had not yet been definitely circumscribed and hope was still strong
within him. While his misfortunes as a farmer overset, as he says,
his wisdom, made him careless of worldly success and caused him
to seek consolation in social diversions not always of a quite
harmless character, they augmented, rather than diminished, his
poetic ambitions; and when, after the enthusiastic reception in
Ayrshire of the Kilmarnock volume, he left the plough to seek
his fortune in Edinburgh, it was probably with high hopes of a
possible future essentially different from his bleak and toilsome
past.
To pass immediately from his lowly toil and from the rustic
scenes and company of Mossgiel and Mauchline to the fashionable
society of the capital and the learned and cultured converse
of its lawyers, professors and doctors might well seem a rather
adventurous experiment; but, what might have proved, even to
most persons of ability in his position, a very trying ordeal, was,
to him, a highly interesting and entertaining experience; and,
as regards his main errand, he was successful quite beyond his
highest expectations. Through the introduction of Dalrymple of
Orangefield, the earl of Glencairn and the famous advocate
Henry Erskine, brother of the eccentric earl of Buchan, took him,
as he says, 'under their wing '; and, at the instance of Glencairn,
William Creech, the chief Edinburgh publisher of the time, whose
levees were frequented by all the distinguished dignitaries and
literati of the city, condescended to undertake the publication of
the proposed volume of his verse.
Meantime, the social popularity of the “illiterate ploughman
of Ayrshire,' so 'Jupiter' Carlyle terms him, was quite extra-
ordinary. In the houses of the gentry he was warmly welcomed
as a kind of rustic wonder; and he charmed everyone by his
perfect, yet modest, selfpossession, and the easy felicity of his
conversation. His 'address to females '-as recorded by Scott
from the testimony of the duchess of Gordon-while extremely
deferential, had always 'a turn to the humorous or the pathetic


## p. 221 (#243) ############################################

x]
The Edinburgh Visit
221
6
which engaged their attention particularly'; and the duchess
affirms that she never saw a man in company with his superiors
in station and information more perfectly free from either the
reality or the affectation of embarrassment. ' The fact was that,
whatever his deficiencies in certain kinds of information, and his
ignorance of the current interests of the higher Edinburgh circles,
he had a remarkable ease in estimating the character and mental
calibre of those with whom he held intercourse. He, therefore,
soon recognised that, at least in natural gifts, he was the inferior
of none with whom he mingled; and, even in the more learned
companies, he did not hesitate to express his own opinions, some-
times with greater emphasis than was customary in polite society,
but, says Hugh Walker, 'though somewhat authoritative, it was in
& way that gave little offence. ' Dugald Stewart further tells us that
Burns charmed him “still more by his private conversation than
he had ever done in company. But, in the society of the
'
middle-class burghers, in taverns where memories still lingered of
Ramsay and Fergusson, and, more especially, in the company of
the jovial and outspoken wits of the Crochallan club, he was more
entirely at his ease, and, doubtless, shone more brilliantly than in
the somewhat grave and constrained circles frequented by Dugald
Stewart
What, however, we have more especially to note, is his supreme
popularity everywhere, and the effect of his social success on the
subscriptions to his forthcoming volume. No fewer than three
thousand copies were printed—a remarkable number for a book
of rustic verse, and twice as many as were contemplated when the
book was sent to press—for one thousand five hundred subscribers,
Creech himself subscribing for five hundred copies, and purchasing
for one hundred pounds the copyright of any subsequent editions.
Burns, in the end, gained five hundred pounds by his Edinburgh
venture, as compared with twenty pounds for the six hundred
copies of the Kilmarnock volume. He was now completely relieved
from the stress of poverty which had been his sore affliction from
childhood. Petted and fêted by Edinburgh grandees, he might
almost have fancied that he had passed into another world than
that of his sordid past. With his greatly widened fame as a poet,
and with many influential friends to further his interests, he
might surely count on a future comparatively free from the old
worldly anxieties by which he had, hitherto, been greatly
hampered, and latterly almost overwhelmed, so that he had been
meditating escape from them, by becoming, as he states, “a


## p. 222 (#244) ############################################

222
Burns
[CH.
poor negro-driver,' in Jamaica. Soon, however, he discovered
that his patrons, greatly as they were charmed by his rustic
personality, and much as they admired his rustic muse, had but
lowly notions of the sphere of activity that was suitable for him.
All that, apart from subscriptions to his volume, he ever obtained
through his patrons—and he obtained even this with difficulty-
was a nomination for the excise. Only one of his new friends,
Mrs Dunlop, manifested any deep concern about his future
well-being. She advised him to become a candidate for the then
discussed chair of agriculture in Edinburgh university; and,
likewise, mentioned to him the possibility of his becoming a salt
officer, the duties of which would be both pleasanter and less
engrossing than those of the excise. But, neither of these, or other,
suggestions made by her bore fruit. Dugald Stewart affirms that,
from the conversation of Burns, he ‘should have pronounced him to
be fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition he had chosen to
exert his abilities'; and his aptitudes, doubtless, were great and
various; but, then, his circumstances were exceptional and he had
the defects of his qualities. Had he been less entangled with his
obscure and somewhat tumultuous past, and had he practically
known more than he did of 'prudent, cautious self control,' he
might well have been able to have secured for himself a fair
amount of worldly success as an Edinburgh citizen. But, even
his flirtations with Mrs Maclehose, to say nothing of other
amatory adventures in the capital, would have rendered his set-
tlement there a rather unwise experiment; and, besides, having,
at last, as a man of some means, and, even, of great repute, found
favour in the eyes of the parents of his rustic sweetheart, Jean
Armour, and having come to the conclusion that humanity,
generosity, honest pride of character and justice to’ his ‘happiness
in after life' necessitated his acknowledging her as his wife, he
resolved to banish from his thoughts whatever brighter day dreams
he might have cherished and to venture what, after a loan to his
brother, remained of his small capital, in the lease of the farm of
Ellisland, Dumfriesshire.
While this was, perhaps, the best resolve that, in the circum-
stances, he could have taken, it was rather with chastened and
placid resignation than with perfect content that he decided to
return to the old occupation associated from his childhood with
years of hopeless drudgery. In a letter to his special friend,
William Dunbar, he refers to his Edinburgh sojourn as 'my late
hare-brained ramble into life’; and, from various expressions in


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x]
Poetic Purposes
223
а
6
his other letters, it is clear that, great as was both the social and
material success of his Edinburgh venture, he had cherished
certain anticipations about it which were only in part fulfilled.
He had set out to the capital, apparently with some hope that he
might escape from his past and begin a new life. In this, he was
disappointed, and Edinburgh was, ever afterwards, very sour grapes
to him. In one letter, he remarks that, in his 'scene of domestic
comfort the bustle of Edinburgh will soon be a business of sickening
disgust'; but we seem to have a better insight into the real state
of his feelings, when, in reference to the friendships he had formed
there, he writes to Dunbar: ‘from my uncouthness when out of my
native sphere and my obscurity in that sphere, I am obliged to give
most of them up in despair of a mutual return. ' Partly, it may be,
from his own faults, but, mainly, owing to his previous circum-
stances, he felt himself a kind of alien in the sphere of life which
best accorded with his aspirations; and, though the ‘obscurity'
of his position is always referred to by him in a manly and
independent fashion, his rooted discontent manifested itself more
and more as time went on.
The heart of man and the fancy of the poet (he wrote to Mrs Dunlop]
are the two grand considerations for which I live; if miry ridges and dirty
dunghills are to express the best part of the functions of my soul immortal,
I had better have been a rook or a magpie at once,
The support of his wife and family was always his first care, but
the only thing that made his social 'obscurity' tolerable to him
was the hope that, as a farmer, he might enjoy sufficient leisure
and sufficient freedom from care to enable him, as he put it,
'to pay court to the tuneful sisters. ' To Lady Elizabeth
Cunningham he wrote: 'I had the most ardent enthusiasm for
the muses when nobody knew me but myself, and that ardour
is by no means cooled now that My Lord Glencairn's goodness has
introduced me to all the world. To bishop Geddes, brother of
the poet, he intimated his determination 'to try if the ripening
and corrections of years' could enable him 'to produce some-
thing worth preserving,' and he proposed to communicate to him
when he saw him in Edinburgh, 'some large poetic plans that
are floating,' so he writes, “in my head, or partly put in execution. '
Of these plans, he makes more definite mention in a letter to
Lady Elizabeth Cunningham. He was, he said, not in haste for
the press,' and he continues :
I am aware that though I were to give performances to the world superior
to my former works, still if they were of the same kind with those, the
6
>


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224
Burns
[ch.
6
comparative reception they would meet with would mortify me. For this
reason I am determined if possible to secure my great friend Novelty on
my side by the kind of my performances;
and he further went on to say that he had thoughts on the
drama':
not the stately busk of the Tragic Muse, but considering the favourite things
of the day, the two or three act Pieces of O'Keefe, Mrs Inchbald eto. -does
not your Ladyship think that an Edin. Theatre would be more amused with
the affectation, folly and whim of true Scottish growth, than manners which by
far the greatest part of the audience can only know at second hand ?
Later, with a view to some such purpose, he set himself to
collect the works of English and French dramatic authors.
Doubtless, in cherishing such intentions, as in his occasional
experiments in purely English verse, Burns was partly influenced
by the comparatively low esteem in which Scots vernacular
verse was then held by the more cultured of his countrymen.
Some have also expressed the opinion that, in contemplating
becoming a dramatist of any kind, he was mistaking his true
vocation as much as he did in aspiring to become an accomplished
English poet. Necessarily, he was lacking in stagecraft; but, then,
he had a marvellous genius for comedy, and anything he wrote
was certain to be at least delightfully amusing reading. Even
at the worst, he might have considerably eclipsed Ramsay's
Gentle Shepherd ; indeed, when we consider that The Jolly
Beggars was the random product of his early and untutored
years, it is difficult to say what he might not have accomplished
as a writer of, at least, a certain type of comedy-opera libretto.
Then, in the Tam o' Shanter of his more mature and more
fully disciplined genius, he did actually achieve a splendid success
in a species of verse quite different from any of his earlier
pieces; and, given the leisure that assists inclination, he might
well have delighted the world with a series of similar tales.
But the melancholy fact is, that, apart from songs, it remains
almost the one solitary sign that he had it in him to fulfil the
promise of his Mossgiel productions by the execution of more
mature and finished work. Notwithstanding his repeatedly
expressed resolve 'to produce something worth preserving,' he
never did seriously set himself to carry out his meditated plans ;
no trace was found among his papers of even abortive attempts
to do so. The last nine years of his life-the period when his
powers might be supposed to be at their best-were, apart
from songs, almost a poetic blank. He may have been partly
led astray by a passing ambition to excel in English verse ; but


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x]
Worldly Disappointments
225
the chief explanation seems to be that, as he well might, he
partly succumbed, doubtless, at first, reluctantly, but, in the end,
apathetically, to his circumstances. The mere return to his old
farming tasks, implying, as it did, the definite dissipation of his
more sanguine day-dreams, was, however brave a face he might
put on it, a very disheartening experience; and, when, to the
old gin-horse round of toil and care was conjoined the old
impossibility of making farming pay, his highest poetic intentions
were bound to remain unfulfilled. By obtaining an excise com-
mission for his own rural district with a salary of fifty pounds, he
was able to save himself from bankruptcy; but this supplement
to his income did little more; and, all things considered, he
concluded that his only chance of bettering himself in life was
through the excise. Having, therefore, at a break in the lease,
relinquished his farm, he removed to Dumfries at a salary of
seventy pounds, which, in September 1792, when he was appointed
port officer, was raised to ninety pounds ; but this was the extent
of his promotion, for his outspoken approbation of the French
revolutionaries, both in conversation and in occasional verse,
brought him into bad odour with his official superiors and even
endangered the retention of his office. This greatly embittered
and disheartened him ; towards his closing years, he partly lost
hope ; and his higher poetic ambitions remained in suspense until
fate conclusively decided against them by the long painful illness
which, 21 July 1796, terminated in his death.
Happily, however, he all along found some encouragement and
opportunity for the exercise of his gifts as a song writer. While
in Edinburgh, he made the acquaintance of James Johnson, an
engraver and music-seller, who was then preparing the first volume
of his Scots Musical Museum. To the first volume, he con-
tributed two songs; and, from the autumn of 1787 almost until
his death, he was largely both literary and musical editor of the
work. He wrote the prefaces probably of volume II and certainly of
volumes III and iv; volume v did not appear until shortly after
his death, but it includes some of his best songs and adaptations,
among them A Red, Red Rose, Auld Lang Syne and It was a'
for our Richtfu King ; while volume vi, though not published
until 1803-doubtless largely due to the lack of his supervising
help—was in course of preparation before his death, and contains
some twenty of his contributions. All that he did for the publi-
cation was, with him, a mere labour of love. He received no re-
muneration for it, nor would he have accepted any. In his efforts
15
E, L XI.
CH. X.


## p. 226 (#248) ############################################

226
[CH.
Burns
6
on its behalf, he was influenced partly by the desire to help 'a
good, worthy, honest fellow' in a patriotic undertaking, the
lucrative character of which was very doubtful, and which,
without his guidance and help, seemed almost certain to collapse.
But to assist in it was, besides, a pure delight : he confided to the
poet Skinner that he had been absolutely crazed about the
project,' and was collecting stanzas and every information
respecting their origin, authors, etc. ' Most of this did not
involve any protracted mental effort. He could amend songs
with easy facility, and he could even partly compose others during
his labours on the farm, or in the course of his excise excursions,
which, also, supplied him with opportunities for obtaining old
songs and airs from tradition.
While Burns was still busy assisting Johnson, George Thomson
-a government clerk in Edinburgh and an amateur musician-
invited him, in September 1792, to contribute songs to his Scottish
Airs with Poetry, to which Pleyel had promised accompaniments;
and, without remitting his diligence in assisting Johnson, he could
not resist immediately informing Thomson how delighted he was
with his proposal, which, he said, 'will positively add to my enjoy-
ment in complying with it. ' But, though Thomson, also, mentioned
that he would pay him any reasonable price he might demand for
his contributions, Burns replied: 'As to remuneration, you may
think my songs either above or below price, for they shall
absolutely be the one or the other. ' In his difficult worldly
circumstances, it was a noble, though almost Quixotic, resolve ;
but, apart from the fact that he was not receiving any
remuneration from Johnson, he was determined to be influenced
by no other considerations than love of his art, and to be
perfectly free and independent in the exercise of it. He did not
object to change lines and words when he thought that, while
satisfying his own judgment, he might better meet the wishes of
Thomson ; he did not resent even Thomson's most absurd sug-
gestions; but he was adamant when convinced that any alterations
would be for the worse, though he told Thomson repeatedly, and
evidently with perfect candour, that he would not be in any degree
offended by his rejection of any songs that did not please him.
The prosecution of his art, even in this circumscribed fashion,
became, to Burns, the sheet-anchor of his life, and his main solace
during the troubles and frustrations of his later years. On the
whole, the best of his work was that which he did for Johnson.
He began it when hope was still high within him, and here he was,


## p. 227 (#249) ############################################

x]
Lyric Verse
227
a
besides, his own editor. Moreover, although, in his first letter to
Thomson, he had written : 'Apropos, if you are for English
verses there is an end of the matter,' he was ultimately induced,
entirely against his better judgment, to oblige Thomson by not
unfrequently breaking his resolution. Whether in the simplicity,'
so he had written, of the Ballad or the pathos of the Song, I can
only hope to please myself in being allowed at least a sprinkling
of my native tongue’; and the justness of his preference is
abundantly proved by his performances.
If lyric verse did not afford Burns adequate scope for the
exercise of his best poetic powers, it quite accorded with a certain
strain of his complex personality. He found an entirely con-
genial medium for the expression of poetic emotion and
sympathetic humour, and the exercise of his rare artistic
sensibilities, in writing new songs to old airs, in giving a new,
and an artistically improved, expression to some of the freer
songs of tradition, in inimitable amendments of other old songs-
sometimes merely by the substitution, here and there, of a new
word, or phrase, or line, or the partial reconstruction of a stanza ;
often by a combined process of omission, condensation and
addition, so that a merely halting and vulgar, if, in some respects,
clever, doggerel ditty, becomes transformed into a noble and
finished masterpiece; or, again, by utilising merely the burden
or chorus of an old song, or a mere fragment of verse preserved
in floating tradition, so as, while preserving the spirit and
essence of the sentiment, to inspire it with higher emotional
efficacy and provide it with the artistic setting necessary for its
full lyrical expression. Unlike many song writers, he, also, even
when the words were entirely his own, wrote his songs for
particular airs, and most of them for old traditional airs, some
of which he himself collected. His inspiration was thus, in part,
derived from the old national music.
Until (so he wrote to Thomson) I am a complete master of a tune in my
own singing (such as it is) I never can compose for it. My way is: I consider
the poetic sentiment corresponding to my idea of the musical expression;
then choose my theme.
Again, even of the advantage of having only the old title, when
the song has been lost, and composing the rest of the verses
to suit that line,' he says:
This has always a finer effect than composing English words, or words
with an idea foreign to the spirit of the old title. When old titles of songs
convey any idea at all, they will generally be found to be quite in the spirit of
the air.
15—2


## p. 228 (#250) ############################################

228
[CH.
Burns
But, apart from the burden, or the fragments, or the title,
or the air, much of his direct lyrical inspiration was derived
from, or modified by, the past. Here, it was not Ramsay or
Fergusson, or any other bards of the revival that he strove to
emulate, but 'the glorious old bards' of an earlier period. The
special character of his success, even when the theme was entirely
his own, was largely due to his comprehensive knowledge of
old minstrelsy; he was pervaded by its spirit, and, besides
fashioning his verses for its music, moulded them in the manner
of its expression. It was, also, mainly because of the large and
various inheritance of old verse, which he was free to manipulate
and reshape, that he was able to supply the world with so rich an
assortment of popular songs, and, more especially, to appeal in
them, so fully and irresistibly as he does, to Scottish senti
and emotion. The best of his lyrics—both those entirely or
mainly his own and those which he partly refashioned or almost
re-created—differ entirely in their manner and spirit from those
of the principal English poets. Much of their special virtue
derives from their antique ingenuousness and simplicity, and the
marvellous art of Burns is manifested in the manner in which,
while preserving the antique charm, he has enriched each song
with his own individual vitality. Only an exceptional poetic
artist could have so finely utilised Burns's opportunities, but his
opportunities were, themselves, exceptional. His peasant origin
and environment specially aided him in preserving the primi-
tive simplicity of the old songs ; and his achievements as lyrist
indicate, also, extraordinary gifts of sympathy, humour, senti-
ment and emotion, combined with a great mastery of expression
and a singularly delicate artistic sense; but they could never
have been so great, varied and unique as they are, except for his
partial partnership with older bards.
To give a few illustrations. The lyric by which he is best
known throughout the world is Auld Lang Syne : its universal
and immortal popularity depends on the fine fervour and
simplicity of its appeal to old memories of social fellowship;
but it is not wholly Burns's own : he got its burden and the
essence of its sentiment, however defectively it was expressed,
from an old anonymous song, itself derived from an ancient and
lost original. Again, of MacPherson's Farewell and specially
of the chorus, Carlyle remarks : ‘Who, except Burns, could have
given words to such a soul? ' This is true enough, but Carlyle
did not know that the chorus of Burns is merely a masterly


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x]
Utilisation of Old Songs
229
3
modification of that of a broadside, contemporary with
MacPherson's execution, from which, moreover, the whole outlaw
sentiment of the song-matchless though its expression of the
sentiment is—is borrowed. A much less striking but, so far as
the theme would permit, equally complete, example of the deftness
of Burns in utilising the burden and sentiment of an old song is
Up in the Morning Early. "The chorus of this,' he himself tells
us, ‘is old; the two stanzas are mine’; but, had he not got the
chorus, he would not have written the stanzas, nor could he have
written anything at all resembling them. Those three lyrics differ
widely in their sentiment and manner, but this, mainly, because
in each case, Burns borrowed the sentiment and the manner of
different old songs.
Of another, and quite dissimilar, method of utilisation we
have an example in the piquantly humorous sketch of rustic
courtship in Duncan Davison. The song was suggested by, and
borrowed something from, an old song of the same name in The
Merry Muses ; but its last stanza is, as regards the first half, a
mere assortment of lines borrowed from old ballads and songs, while
the second half was snatched almost verbally from the Herd MS.
As illustrating his art of re-creation, in which a matchless process
of revision is combined with condensation, omissions and slight
additions, it may suffice to mention How Lang and Drearie
is the Night, Charlie he's my Darling, A Red, Red Rose and
It was a' for our Richtfu King. The two last rank with the
very finest specimens of lyric verse; and many would rank them
above any of Burns's songs of which the motif was entirely his
True, most Scots probably agree with Carlyle that Scots
Wha hae is the best war ode 'ever written by any pen’; but,
here, there is a possibility of patriotic bias. There are some,
again, who think that Burns reached the height of his achievement
in 18 there for Honest Poverty, which, though a kind of parody of
an older song, or older songs, is, like Scots Wha hae, Burns to the
core, and, though not faultless as regards the temper of its philo-
sophy, offers, on the whole, a splendidly glowing forecast of the final
triumph of human worth over all artificial restrictions; but the
piece is apt to be overestimated or underestimated according to
the predilections of the reader.
Of the more purely lyrical pieces which he claims as his own,
though they are suggested by older songs, characteristic examples
are John Anderson My Jo, O Merry Hae I been, What Can
a Young Lassie, Wha is that at My Bower Door, O Leeze me
>
own.


## p. 230 (#252) ############################################

230
Burns
[CH.
on my Spinnin Wheel and Comin Thro' the Rye. On the other
hand, while the majority of his lyrics were not expressive of
sentiments due to his actual experience, and, though some of this
sort-especially the artificial kind produced for Thomson by
putting himself in the regimen of adoring a fine woman'—are
but mediocre, they also include such varied and excellent
specimens of his art as The Rantin Dog the Daddie O't, Of a'
the Airts, The Banks o' Doon, Ye Banks and Braes and
Streams Around, Yestreen I had a pint o' Wine, Willie Brew'd
a Peck o' Maut, The Blue-eyed Lassie, Mary Morison and o
Wert thou in the Cauld blast.
As regards his purely English songs, it may suffice to quote
two of his own remarks to Thomson : ‘You must not, my dear
Sir, expect your English songs to have superlative merit, 'tis
enough if they are passable'; and : ‘These English songs gravel
me to death. I have not the command of the language that I
have of my native tongue. In fact I think my ideas are more
barren in English than in Scottish. ' Some, even of his Scottish
songs or adaptations, are not of 'superlative merit'; the character
of the theme or sentiment does not always permit of this ; but
there are few that do not, in their tone or expression, exhibit
traces of his felicitous art; and, taken altogether, his achievement
as a lyrist-partly on account of its peculiar relations to the
older bards—is, for comprehensiveness and variety, unmatched by
any other poet. For the same reason, it is, in its character,
in some respects, unique ; and, while the general level of its
excellence is very high, it often, notwithstanding a pervading
rustic homeliness, exercises the complete captivating charm which
is the highest triumph of lyric verse.
Thus, while, in other respects, the poetical aims of Burns were
largely frustrated, he was, as a lyrist, even, in some respects,
peculiarly favoured by fate. Here, he fulfilled, and even more
than fulfilled, the promise of his earlier years ; and if, as seemed
to Carlyle, all the writings he has left us are no more than a
poor mutilated fraction of what was in him,' his very peasant
circumstances—which, in some ways, greatly hampered and
narrowed his endeavours—were, also, the means of enabling him
bequeath a poetic legacy more essentially Scottish than,
probably, it could otherwise have been, and, at the same time,
of such vital worth as to secure him a high place among the
greater poets of Britain.
to


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x]
Lady Writers of Songs
231
LESSER SCOTTISH VERSE
The Scottish literary revival inaugurated by Ramsay was
associated with a widespread interest among educated and
fashionable ladies in the old national airs and songs, and it is
not therefore surprising that several of the most talented of
them essayed song writing. Lady Grizel Baillie, Lady Wardlaw,
Mrs Cockburn and Jane Elliot have been already mentioned'.
These and other ladies, besides songs that have been published,
wrote various others which were circulated only privately among
their friends, and the fashion continued into the nineteenth
century. Here, however, our chronicle of poetesses begins with
Joanna Baillie, who was more of a professional authoress
than most of the others. In 1790, she published a volume of
Fugitive Pieces; and, while she devoted her main efforts, occa-
sionally with marked literary success, to playwriting, it is probably
mainly by her songs that she will be remembered. In 1823
appeared Metrical Legends, and her poems were published in one
volume in 1841. Burns considered her Saw Ye Johnie Comin,
which appeared anonymously in volume 1 of Johnson's Museum,
unparalleled for 'genuine humour in the verses and lively originality
in the air. ' Among her happier contributions to Thomson's Scottish
Airs are a version of Woo'd and Married and a’, beginning “My
Bride he is winsome and bonnie,' and Poverty parts Good Com-
pany,
both in the old Scottish manner; and the same sprightly
humour manifests itself in some of her ballad tales, as It was on
a morn and Tam o' the Lin, a parody of the Tomy Lin ballad in
Ritson's Northern Chorister, which is related to a very old rime.
The very popular sentimental song Auld Robin Gray, which
first appeared in a very imperfect form in Herbert Croft's novel
Love and Madness (1780), and, afterwards, in volume III of John-
son's Museum, was written by Lady Anne Lindsay of Balcarres
(afterwards Lady Anne Barnard) as words to the air of an old song
The Bridegroom Greets (weeps] When the Sun gae's doon, sung by
a much older lady at Balcarres, who 'did not,' says Lady Anne,
'object to its having improper words. A version revised by Lady
'
Anne, with a continuation, was, in 1829, edited for the Bannatyne
club by Sir Walter Scott, who was also entrusted with other poems
and songs by Lady Anne and other members of the Lindsay family
for publication; but the permission to publish was, afterwards,
6
1 See ante, vol. ix.


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i
1
1
232
Lesser Scottish Verse
[ch.
withdrawn. The only other piece known to be by Lady Anne is
a
a short poem in The Scots Magazine for May 1805, Why Tarries
My Love. Susanna Blamire, the muse of Cumberland,' though of
English descent and birth, spent much time in Scotland, owing to her
elder sister's marriage to colonel Graham, of Gartmore, and became
specially interested in old Scottish songs and airs. To Johnson's
Museum, she contributed two songs, somewhat in the Scottish
style: What ails this heart of Mine, and the better known And
Ye shall walk in Silk Attire ; and her Nabob is a kind of parody of
Auld Lang Syne. Mrs Grant of Carron (afterwards Mrs Murray
of Bath) is the authoress of the sprightly Roy's Wife of Aldival-
loch, admirably suited to the air The Ruffians Rant, to which it
is set. It appeared in volume III of Johnson's Museum (1792);
and, some time after its publication there, Burns, in his long critical
letter to Thomson, of September 1793, thus refers to it:
I have the original, set as well as written by the Lady who composed it (it
was probably sent to the editor of Johnson's Museum after the publication of
the song there), and it is superior to anything the public has yet seen;
but this version of the song has disappeared. Mrs Grant of Laggan,
authoress of Letters from the Mountains, 1806, published, in 1803,
a volume of Poems, and, in 1814, Eighteen hundred and Thirteen
a Poem; but only her song, O Where tell me Where, has escaped
oblivion. Elizabeth Hamilton, authoress of the Scottish tale The
Cottagers of Glenburnie and other works, is known as the writer
of only one song, the simple and homely, but very happily expressed,
My Ain Fireside. Mrs John Hunter, wife of the famous anatomical
professor, published a volume of Poems in 1802. Her song, Adieu
Ye Streams that Swiftly Glide, appeared in The Lark, in 1765, as
a proposed setting to the old air The Flowers of the Forest, and it
is the third set to that tune in volume I of Johnson's Museum;
but, of course, it is quite overshadowed by the first two versions,
by Mrs Cockburn and Jane Elliot respectively; and she is now
mainly remembered by her My Mother bids me bind my hair,
which was set to music by Haydn. Burns sent to Johnson's
Museum two songs by Mrs Maclehose (Clarinda'), Talk not of
Love and To a Blackbird. They are quite as good as most of the
sentimental English lyrics of the period; but it was mere flattery
on his part to assert of the former that the latter half of its first
stanza 'would have been worthy of Sappho. '
Caroline Oliphant, Lady Nairne, who began to write as the
career of Burns was prematurely drawing to a close, outvies all
other songstresses of Scotland in the average excellence and
a


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x]
Lady Nairne
233
variety of her songs. Early though she began to write, most of
her best-known songs were first published—under the signature
B. B. -in The Scottish Minstrel'. Though she was largely inspired
by the example of Burns, and, like him, wrote many new versions
of old songs, she has been likened to him rather inaptly; for the
feminine strain is even more marked in most of her songs than it
is in several of the songs of the women already mentioned. Such
a strain in a woman writer is, of course, rather an excellence than
a defect, just as the strong manliness of Burns lends a special
compelling charm to his verse. At the same time, Lady Nairne's
love songs, such as The Lass of Gowrie and Hunting Tower,
somewhat lack afflatus, and are rather hackneyed and conventional
in their sentiment. On the other hand, pathetic feeling is finely
expressed in such songs as The Auld Hoose, Here's to them that
are Gane, The Rowan Tree and The Land of the Leal, though the
last has not been improved by the traditional substitution of ‘Jean’
for 'John'as the person addressed—a change perpetuated, partly,
because of the quite mistaken supposition that the song was meant
to express the dying words of Burns—for the sentiment of the
song is essentially that of a woman. Caller Herrin, a kind of
blend of humour and pathos, is, as set to the air by Niel Gow,
a very realistic representation of the cries of picturesque New-
haven fishwives in Edinburgh streets, mingled with the peal of
bells in St Andrew's church, George street. John Tod and The
Laird of Cockpen—the latter suggested by an older song—are
wittily humorous portraits of antique eccentrics; and The Hun-
dred Pipers is quite irresistible in its combination of Jacobite
defiance and comical mirth. Though written when Jacobitism
had become little more than a pious opinion or a romantic memory,
Lady Nairne's Jacobite songs are inspired by a fervent Jacobite
ardour, derived from old family predilections. Among the best
known are Wha'l be King but Charlie, Will Ye no come back
again? , He's O'er the Hills that I lo'e weel and Charlie is
My Darling, a more Jacobite, but very inferior, reading of the
Burns adaptation in Johnson's Museum.
Among the more voluminous contributors to Johnson's Museum
was Burns's friend, the blind poet, Dr Blacklock; but the character
of his lyrics is sufficiently indicated in the words of Burns, so far as
they apply to his friend. 'He,' he says, in his tactfully and modestly
polite fashion, as well as I, often gave Johnson verses, trifling
enough perhaps, but they served as a vehicle for the music. '
1 Edited by Smith, R. A. , in six volumes (1821–4).


## p. 234 (#256) ############################################

234
Lesser Scottish Verse
[CH.
Blacklock's contributions, all in pure English, are, in fact, quite
commonplace and characterless. There is, however, some poetic
feeling in the contributions, mainly in English, of Richard Gall, an
Edinburgh printer, whose Poems and Songs were published post-
humously at Edinburgh, in 1819; but, neither his Farewell to
Ayrshire, sent by him to Johnson's Museum with the name of
Burns attached to it, nor his Now Bank and Brae, wrongly
ascribed to Burns by Cromek, is of greater merit than the more
indifferent lyrics of Burns. John Hamilton, a music-seller in
Edinburgh-mainly remembered for the additions to Of a' the
Airts, which he ventured to make as he was accustomed to do to
other songs which he sold with the music in sheets—contributed
several songs to Johnson's Museum; but none of them call for
mention here. Burns sent to the Museum two songs by the John
Lapraik of his poetic Epistles : When I upon thy Bosom Lean, the
song that pleased me best’ of the Epistle, and Jenny was Frail
and Unkind. Because of a somewhat different version of the former
song having appeared in Ruddiman's Magazine in 1773, Lapraik's
authorship of it has been questioned ; but he included it in his
published Poems (1788). John Lowe, an episcopal clergyman of
Kirkcudbrightshire, is represented in volume 1 of Johnson's Museum
I
by the tragic song, in pure English, Mary's Dream, of which a forged
vernacular version, doubtless by Allan Cunningham, appeared in
.
buted to Lowe by Burns ; but it appeared in The Blackbird in
1764, when Lowe was only fourteen years old.
Hector MacNeil, though the senior of Burns by thirteen years,
did not publish his ballad legend The Harp until 1789. His poetic
tales, Scotland's Scaith or the History of Will and Jean (1795),
and the sequel, The Waes of War or the Upshot of the History of
Will and Jean (1796), were meant to expose the evils of the con-
vivial habits of the period. The stories, rather trite in their general
tenor, are tersely rimed; and their homely commonplace and
moral wisdom secured them a wide circulation among the people;
but neither these nor other tales by him in prose and verse, also of
didactic intent, are any longer read; and his memory is kept green
mainly by various excellent contributions to Johnson's Museum.
The ballad Donald and Flora, in that publication, though well
expressed, is rather mannered and artificial; but, in the vernacular
Mary of Castle Cary, My Boy Tammy (founded on an old
song of which at least one broadside copy still exists), Come
Under my Plaidie and Dinna think Bonnie Lassie, homeliness
Rena
emais. Cromek's Reliques as the original. Pompey's Ghost
, also, is attri-


## p. 235 (#257) ############################################

6
x] James Tytler and Others
235
of sentiment is blended to very good purpose with quiet or lively
humour.
A considerable contributor to the Museum was James Tytler-
known as 'Balloon Tytler,' from his construction of a balloon in
which he made the first ascent in Scotland—latterly an Edinburgh
hackwriter (until, owing to his revolutionary principles, he emi-
grated to America, where he became somewhat more prosperous),
but of good education and of accomplishments ranging from science
to theology. He was editor, and largely compiler, of the second
and third editions of The Encyclopaedia Britannica, at, according
to Burns, the remarkable salary of half a guinea a week, though, it
is said, with an advance in the case of the third edition. Burns
describes him as an unknown drunken mortal,' who‘drudges about
Edinburgh as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a skylighted
hat and knee-breeches as unlike George by the Grace of God as
Solomon the Son of David. ' Of the songs which he contributed to
the Museum, the best known are two in the vernacular: The
Bonnie Brucket Lassie, which preserves two lines of an old
free song of that name, and I hae laid a Herring in Saut, an
adaptation from a song in the Herd MS related to a very old
wooing song, containing the line ‘I canna come every day to Woo. '
John Mayne, born in Dumfries the same year as Burns, con-
tributed to The Dumfries Journal, in the office of which he was
a printer, twelve stanzas of The Siller Gun, published, in 1779, in
an expanded form in two cantos. Written in the six-line stave in
rime couée, it gives a spirited vernacular account of the annual
shooting-match at Dumfries for the silver gun presented by
James VI. From his Halloween, published in Ruddiman's Maga-
zine, in 1780, Burns got some hints for his poem of that name. In
1787, Mayne became editor of The London Star, where, in 1789,
appeared his version of Logan Water-founded on an older song
—which, in popular esteem, has justly superseded the semi-political
version by Burns, composed, he tells Thomson, 'in my elbow chair,
in three quarters of an hour's lucubrations. '
Sir Alexander Boswell, of Auchinleck, the eldest son of John-
son's biographer, inherited his father's love of literature. As an
Ayrshire man, he was specially interested in the career of Burns,
in honour of whom he initiated the movement for the erec-
tion of a monument on the banks of Doon. Boswell's pastoral
dialogue Ah! Mary, sweetest maid, Farewell, first published as
a sheet song, appeared in the sixth volume of Johnson's Museum;
and he contributed songs to George Thomson's Welsh Airs, his


## p. 236 (#258) ############################################

236
Lesser Scottish Verse
[CH.
Irish Airs and his Scottish Airs and to Campbell's Albyn's
Anthology. In 1803, he published, anonymously, Songs Chiefly
in the Scottish Dialect; in 1812, he wrote Sir Albyn, a burlesque
of Sir Walter Scott's poetic methods ; and, at his private
printing press at Auchinleck, he published various short poems
written by himself, as well as reprints of some old works. His
squib, The New Whig Song in The Glasgow Sentinel, led to a
challenge from James Stuart, of Dunearn, and, in the duel which
followed, 26 March 1822, Boswell was fatally wounded. His
Taste Life's Glad Moments and Paddy O'Rafferty are still well
known; but his most characteristic pieces are his humorous ver-
nacular sketches and songs, such as Skeldon Haughs or the Sow
Aitted, Jenny's Bawbee and Jenny Dang the Weaver, and the
singularly realistic domestic quarrel and reconciliation detailed
in The East Neuk of Fife.
In striking contrast with the songs of Boswell are the love
lyrics of the Paisley weaver and chief of many Paisley poets,
Robert Tannahill, who published a volume of Poems and Songs in
1817. The rather monotonous amorousness of Tannabill's songs
is
relieved by the felicity of his references to nature : he conveys the
impression that he is quite as much enamoured by nature's charms,
as by those of the imaginary sweethearts he elects to bear him
company in his saunterings. The truth is that, having been at an
early period of life disappointed in a very serious love affair, he
was, henceforth, a lover merely in a poetical or a reminiscent sense.
He first won general fame by his Jessie the Flower of Dunblane
(an imaginary personage), which was set to music by his fellow
townsman, R. A. Smith, afterwards of Edinburgh ; and, among
other songs still popular are The Lass of Arrinteenie (not in
Paisley, but on the banks of loch Long ! ), Gloomy Winter's noo
Awa', The Bonnie Wood of Craigielea, Loudon's bonnie Woods
and Braes and The Braes o' Balquither. He is, also, the author
.
of a clever humorous song Rob Roryson's Bonnet. Another
Paisley poet, who began life as a weaver, and then blossomed
into a travelling packman, was Alexander Wilson, who, in 1790,
got a volume of his poems printed, which he sold on his
itineraries. Later, he resided in Edinburgh and became a poetic
contributor to The Bee; but, on account of republican sentiments
inspired by the French revolution, he emigrated to America, where
he won lasting fame as an ornithologist by his work on American
birds. Wilson's lengthy and rather homespun and squalid ballad
Watty and Meg, published anonymously, in 1792, was hawked


## p. 237 (#259) ############################################

x]
Paisley Poets
237
а
through Dumfries by one Andrew Hislop, as a new ballad by
Robert Burns; upon which Burns is stated to have said to him:
“That's a lee Andrew, but I would make your plack a bawbee if it
were mine’: a dark saying, which could hardly be meant, as is
often supposed, as a compliment to the merits of the ballad. Of
higher social station and literary pretension than either Tannahill
or Wilson was William Motherwell, who, though a native of
Glasgow, where he was born in 1797, was brought up in Paisley,
under the care of his uncle, and, after some years spent in the
sheriff-clerk's office there, became editor of The Paisley Advertiser
and, later, of The Glasgow Courier. In 1817, he also began The
Harp of Renfrewshire, to which he contributed various songs as
well as an essay on the poets of Renfrewshire. In 1827, he pub-
lished his Minstrelsy Ancient and Modern, which included various
ballad versions collected and, probably, somewhat 'improved' by
himself. His Poems Narrative and Lyrical appeared in 1832; and,
together with James Hogg, he brought out, in 1834–5, an edition
of the Works of Burns. He was a facile versifier, with small poetic
inspiration; he wrote some ballads in an affectedly antique style,
but is best known by his vernacular songs, which, however, have
little individuality ; Jeanie Morrison is a little too cloying in its
sentimentality.
Next to Burns, by far the most considerable poet of humble
birth was James Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd; and, though, in rich-
ness of natural endowments, he is not to be compared to Burns, his
poetic career was, in some respects, more astonishing. His record,
in his autobiography, of how he became the poet that he was, is
a plain and simple statement of unexaggerated fact; but it reads
almost like a sheerly impossible romance. In all, he was not more
than six months at school, and, when he left, at the age of seven,
he had only 'advanced so far as to get into the class that read the
Bible'; and, in writing, he was able only to scrawl the letters,
nearly an inch in length. ' In his early years, his poetic tendencies
did not receive any instruction or fostering influence except that
derived from his peasant mother's imperfect recital of ballads
and fairy tales. From his eighth year, his hours from daybreak to
sunset were spent in the fields as a herdboy and, later, as a
shepherd. Until his eighteenth year, the only verses that he had
seen in print were the metrical Psalms of David, and, when he
obtained access to The Life and Adventures of Sir William Wallace
and The Gentle Shepherd, he could make very slow progress in
reading them: “The little reading that I had learned,' he says,
>


## p. 238 (#260) ############################################

238
[CH.
Lesser Scottish Verse
6
'I had nearly lost, and the Scottish dialect quite confounded
me. ' While a shepherd with Laidlaw, of Blackhouse, he was, how-
ever, supplied by him with a number of books, which, he says, he
‘began to read with considerable attention’; and, ‘no sooner,' he
relates, ‘did I begin to read so as to understand them, than, rather
prematurely' (he was, however, twenty-six years of age) 'I began
to write. ' His first compositions were songs and ballads made up
for the lassies to sing in chorus. ' 'I had no more difficulty,' he
naïvely tells us, ‘in composing them than I have at present, and
I was equally well pleased with them. His main difficulty was in
writing them out after he had composed and corrected them in his
mind; he had no method of learning to write save by following
the Italian alphabet’; and, with laborious toil, he could not do
more than 'four or six lines at a sitting. ' So isolated was he in
his southern solitudes, that, he says, the first time I heard of
Burns was in 1797, the year after he died,' when a half-daft man
came to him on the hill and surprised and entranced him by
repeating to him Tam o' Shanter. This 'formed,' so he writes,
'a new epoch of my life. Every day I pondered on the genius
and fate of Burns. I wept and always thought with myself what
is to hinder me from succeeding Burns ? '
The ambition of Hogg-recorded by him with characteristically
ingenuous vanity-may well seem rather extravagant. His career
as a poet, remarkable though it was, cannot be said to entitle him to
rank as a second Burns. Save that, like Burns, he was. a Scottish
peasant, he has very little in common with him. He lacks his pre-
decessor's marked intellectuality as well as his strongly passionate
temperament. Emotion, imagination, a good musical ear, a faculty
for riming, a strong sympathy with nature, created by years of
solitary converse with her, were his principal gifts. He had an
excellent eye for scenery, and his descriptions are remarkably fine
and truthful; but he is somewhat superficial; the vigour and
penetration of Burns are beyond him. As he possessed, however,
a peculiarly lightsome and joyful disposition, his hardships, dis-
appointments and misfortunes did not, as in the case of Burns, give
him any very deep concern.
One may think ſhe writes], on reading over this memoir, that I have worn
out a life of misery and wretchedness; but the case has been quite the reverse.
I never knew either man or woman who has been so universally happy as I
have been; which has been partly owing to a good constitution, and partly
from the conviction that a heavenly gift, conferring the powers of immortal
song, was inherent in
soul.
The wide difference in the individualities of Burns and Hogg is
my


## p. 239 (#261) ############################################

x]
James Hogg
239
shown in their relations with Edinburgh. Lacking the personal
prestance of Burns, Hogg could not attain there to the great personal
success commanded by Burns; his rustic simplicity, combined with
his vanity and certain eccentricities of manner, partly created by his
early circumstances, even made him a kind of butt in the higher
literary circles of which he was proud to be reckoned a member ;
and, to many, he is now best known by the unfair caricature of him
as the irrepressible ‘Shepherd,' in Noctes Ambrosianae. But,
unlike Burns, he made a definite attempt, and, considering his ante-
cedents, with quite marvellous success, to establish himself as a
littérateur in Edinburgh. Having lost, in farming, the money gained
by the publication of The Mountain Bard, he, as late as 1810—when
he was forty years of age-set out to the capital on his adventurous
quest. 'I tost,' he writes, 'my plaid about my shoulders, and
marched away to Edinburgh, determined, since no better could be,
to push my fortunes as a literary man. ' He even set up, as he puts
it, for 'a connoisseur in manners, taste and genius,' by founding
a weekly critical journal The Spy; and, fresh from wielding his
shepherd's crook in the wilds of Ettrick, essayed to supply literary
guidance and direction to the enlightened denizens of the metro-
polis. This paper-a literary curiosity of which, unhappily, no
copy is now known to survive—written three-fourths by himself,
was carried on for more than a year; and, largely for his own
mental discipline, he set on foot a debating society, the Forum,
where his speeches must have been sufficiently amusing. But,
by his publication of The Queen's Wake, he more than surprised
even his warmest admirers. “Od,' said one of his vernacular
acquaintances, 'wha wad hae thought there was as muckle in that
sheep's head o' yours ? ' It firmly established his reputation as
a poet; but, owing to the failure of his publishers, his fortunes
were yet to seek, when the duke of Buccleuch bestowed on him
the farm of Altrive in Yarrow, at a nominal rent. Here, until his
death in 1835—with occasional visits to Edinburgh and the lakes
- he continued to spend a life in which farming and sports were,
not in a pecuniary sense very successfully, but, otherwise, happily
enough, combined with literary labours, his conviction of his
supreme success in which made him blissfully content with his,
from a worldly point of view, comparatively humble lot: 'Yes,' so
he wrote in his old age :
Yes-I hae fought and won the day;
Come weel, come woe, I care na by;
I am a King! My regal sway
Stretches o'er Scotia's mountains high


## p. 240 (#262) ############################################

240
[ch.
Lesser Scottish Verse
And o'er the fairy vales that lie
Beneath the glimpses of the moon,
Or round the ledges of the Sky
In twilight's everlasting noon.
The poetry of Hogg is more akin to that of Scott than that of
Burns. Properly, he does not belong to the Scottish poetic school
.
of the revival. His poetic powers were first nourished by, and
received their special bent from, old border tales and ballads.
He was nearly thirty years of age before he had even heard of
Burns; and if, latterly, he was well read in Scottish vernacular
verse, he, while employing a kind of Scots in certain of his pieces,
did not make any use of the old traditional Scottish staves. Long
before he had studied the vernacular bards, he had become
acquainted with the works of various English poets. Thus, unlike
Burns, he never had, in a literary sense, any strong vernacular
bias; and, since a great period of poetic revival had now begun,
both in Scotland and England, he, necessarily, received from it
much stimulus and guidance; in fact, it was with these later poets
he loved to be classed, and he reckoned himself by no means the
least of the brilliant galaxy. While, therefore, his verse, like himself,
displays, now and again, a certain naïve rusticity, and is occasion-
ally marred by superficial solecisms, it is not only distinguished
by the native charm derived from his early nurture on adventurous
ballad tales and fairy lore, and from his mode of life as a solitary shep-
herd in a beautiful pastoral region, but, also, bears tokens of cultured
refinement. Unlike Burns, he wrote English verse with perfect
facility. His excessive fluency, his extempore voluminousness, his
inability to condense—due, partly, to his insufficient mental dis-
cipline in early life—is, in truth, the occasion of his chief literary
sins as a writer both of prose and verse; his larger poems as well
as his ballads are, generally, too long drawn out. Yet, he has his
passages of high inspiration. The concluding portion of The Witch
of Fife in The Queen's Wake is a quaintly unique specimen of
fantastic eeriness, touched with humour, e. g. the flight of the
bewitched old man from Carlisle:
>
His armis war spred and his heid was hiche,
And his feite stack out behynde;
And the laibis of the auld manis cote
War wauffing in the wynde.
And aye he nicherit, and aye he flew,
For he thochte the ploy sa raire;
It was like the voice of the gainder blue,
Quhan he flees throw the ayr.