Chapter 10 No.10

Probably the poetry of "Robbie Burns, the Ayrshire Ploughman," is known to more English-speaking people than that of any other writer-not excepting even Shakespeare, for many a person who never reads a book is familiar with John Anderson, My Jo, Auld Lang Syne, and Bonie Doon, though he may not know or care who wrote these famous songs.

The Scotch poet was born at Alloway in Ayrshire, where his father cultivated a small farm. He was the eldest of seven children. Before he was eight years old the family removed to Mt. Oliphant, and later to Lochlea. Here, in 1784, the father died, worn out with incessant toil, which ended only in disappointment. The family were so poor that Robert was obliged to work hard even when very young, and at fifteen he was his father's chief helper. In later years he described his life at Mt. Oliphant as combining "the cheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing moil of a galley slave." But poets are given to exaggeration, and doubtless the attractive picture of home life which he afterwards painted in the Cotter's Saturday Night is true in the main of the life in his father's cottage.

In his father, Burns was most fortunate, for he was a man of strict integrity, and strong religious faith. The education of his children was, in his judgment, so important that when they were unable to attend school he taught them himself, notwithstanding his exhausting labors on the farm. The family as a whole were fond of reading. Among their books the poet mentions certain plays of Shakespeare, Pope's works,-including his translation of Homer,-the Spectator, Allan Ramsay's writings, and several volumes on religious and philosophical subjects. Probably in this list the Bible should stand first. He himself studied the art of verse-making in a collection of songs. He says: "I pored over them, driving my cart or walking to labor, song by song, carefully noting the true tender or sublime from affectation or fustian. I am convinced that I owe to this practice much of my critic-craft, such as it is!" His first song, composed when he was fifteen, was inspired by a young girl who worked at his side in the harvest field.

Robert and his brother Gilbert had taken a farm at Mossgiel, not far away, while their father was still living, and after his death they removed there, taking with them the rest of the family. Unfortunately the farm did not prosper. On reaching the age of twenty-seven the poet determined to go to Jamaica where he had been promised a position as overseer of an estate. In order to raise money to pay his passage he published a volume of poems. The returns were small, but the fame of the writer spread so rapidly that he was persuaded to remain in his own country and publish a second edition of his poems in Edinburgh.

The two winters which he spent in the Scotch capital at this time form an interesting episode in his life. He was the lion of the day in literary circles. Many persons who met him have told how he impressed them; but the most interesting account is that of Walter Scott, then a youth of sixteen. He says of Burns: "His person was strong and robust; his manner rustic, not clownish; a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity. His countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits. . . There was a strong expression of sense and shrewdness in all his lineaments; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, which glowed (I say literally glowed), when he spoke, with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time."

In 1788 the poet married Jane Armour, and the following year settled with her on a farm at Ellisland, near Dumfries. Finding it impossible to make a living for his increasing family as a farmer, he obtained through friends the place of exciseman for the surrounding region. This position obliged him to ride more than two hundred miles a week, collecting government taxes. In 1791 he moved to the town of Dumfries. The following year he came near losing his place through an act of indiscretion which proved him to be more poet than exciseman. He bought four guns which had come into the possession of the government through the seizure of a smuggling vessel, and sent them with expressions of admiration and sympathy to the French Legislative Assembly. These were the early days of the Revolution when young men in many parts of the world were enthusiastic in their support of the movement. Fortunately the guns failed to reach their destination, and the poet having made his peace with the authorities kept his position until failing health obliged him to give it up. During his later years he wrote little but songs, and for these he would take no money, although he was, as ever, a poor man. He died in 1796, at the age of thirty-seven. In 1815 his remains were transferred to a mausoleum built as a tribute to his genius.

As a man, Burns was far from perfect. His passions were strong and he never learned to control them, and in consequence he had reason to repent bitterly many a rash act. Yet he was brave and honest; he had a righteous hatred of hypocrisy; as the champion of the humble, he claimed for the poorest the full privileges of sturdy manhood; he cared heartily for his fellowmen and had a place in his affections even for the field-mouse and the daisy. Because his verse beats with the passions of his fiery and sympathetic nature, the world loves him as it loves few other poets. Among the best known of his productions are The Cotter's Saturday Night, Tam o' Shanter, Address to the Unco Guid, To a Mouse, and To a Mountain Daisy. In speaking of his songs, one might mention first, Scots Wha Hae,-composed in the midst of tempests, while the poet was riding over a wild Galloway moor,-and next, Highland Mary and A Man's a Man for a' That; but there is no need of enumerating the songs of Burns. As Emerson has said, "The wind whispers them, the birds whistle them, the corn, barley, and bulrushes hoarsely rustle them. . . . They are the property and the solace of mankind."

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT[*]

My loved, my honored, much respected friend![1]

No mercenary bard his homage pays;

With honest pride I scorn each selfish end,

My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:

To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, 5

The lowly train in life's sequestered scene;

The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;

What Aikin in a cottage would have been;

Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween![2]

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;[3] 10

The short'ning winter-day is near a close;

The miry beasts retreating frae[4] the pleugh;[5]

The black'ning trains o' craws[6] to their repose:

The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,

This night his weekly moil[7] is at an end, 15

Collects his spades, his mattocks,[8] and his hoes,

Hoping the morn[9] in ease and rest to spend,

And weary, o'er the moor, his course does homeward[10] bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; 20

Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher[11] through

To meet their dad, wi' flichterin'[12] noise and glee.

His wee bit ingle,[13] blinkin bonilie,[14]

His clean hearth-stane,[15] his thrifty wine's smile,

The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 25

Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile,[16]

And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil,

Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in,[17]

At service out, amang the farmers roun';

Some ca'[18] the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 30

A cannie errand to a neebor town:[19]

Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,[20]

Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw[21] new gown,

Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee,[22] 35

To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.

With joy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet,

And each for other's weelfare kindly spiers:[23]

The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;

Each tells the uncos[24] that he sees or hears. 40

The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;

Anticipation forward points the view;

The mother wi' her needle and her sheers[25]

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel 's the new;[26]

The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 45

Their master's and their mistress's command

The younkers[27] a' are warned to obey;

And mind their labors wi' an eydent[28] hand,

And ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk[29] or play:

"And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 50

And mind your duty, duly, morn and night;

Lest in temptation's path ye gang[30] astray,

Implore His counsel and assisting might:

They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"

But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; 55

Jenny, wha kens[31] the meaning o' the same,

Tells how a neebor[32] lad came o'er the moor

To do some errands, and convoy her hame.

The wily mother sees the conscious flame

Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; 60

With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name,

While Jenny hafflins[33] is afraid to speak;

Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae[34]

wild, worthless rake.

With kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;[35]

A strappin' youth, he takes the mother's eye; 65

Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill taen;[36]

The father cracks[37] of horses, pleughs, and kye.[38]

The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,

But blate and laithfu',[39] scarce can weel behave;

The mother, wi' a woman's wiles,[40] can spy 70

What makes the youth sae[41] bashfu' and sae grave;

Weel-pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.[42]

O happy love! where love like this is found:

O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!

I've paced much this weary, mortal round, 75

And sage experience bids me this declare,-

"If Heaven a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare,

One cordial, in this melancholy vale,

'T is when a youthful, loving, modest pair

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale 80

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale."

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,

A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!

That can with studied, sly, ensnaring art

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 85

Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling, smooth!

Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?

Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,[43]

Points to the parents fondling' o'er their child?

Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild! 90

But now the supper crowns their simple board,

The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food;[44]

The soupe[45] their only hawkie[46] does afford,

That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;[47]

The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 95

To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell;[48]

And aft he's pressed, and aft he ca's it guid;[49]

The frugal wine, garrulous, will tell,

How 't was a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.[50]

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face 100

They round the ingle form a circle wide;

The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace

The big ha'-Bible,[51] ance[52] his father's pride.

His bonnet[53] rev'rently is laid aside,

His lyart haffets[54] wearing thin and bare; 105

Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,[55]

He wales[56] a portion with judicious care;

And, "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

They chant their artless notes in simple guise;

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: 110

Perhaps Dundee's[57] wild warbling measures rise,

Or plaintive Martyrs,[57] worthy of the name;

Or noble Elgin[57] beets[58] the heavenward flame,

The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays.

Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; 115

The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise,

Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.[59]

The priest-like father reads the sacred page,

How Abram was the friend of God on high;[60]

Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 120

With Amalek's ungracious progeny;[61]

Or, how the royal Bard[62] did groaning lie

Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;

Or Job's pathetic plaint,[63] and wailing cry;

Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; 125

Or other holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre.

Perhaps the Christian volume[64] is the theme:

How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;

How He, who bore in heaven the second name,

Had not on earth whereon to lay His head; 130

How His first followers and servants sped;[65]

The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:[66]

How he, who lone in Patmos banished,

Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand,

And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced

by Heaven's command.[67] 135

Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King,

The saint, the father, and the husband prays:

Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"[68]

That thus they all shall meet in future days,

There ever bask in uncreated rays, 140

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,

Together hymning their Creator's praise,

In such society, yet still more dear;

While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.

Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride, 145

In all the pomp of method, and of art;

When men display to congregations wide

Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart,

The Power,[69] incensed, the pageant will desert,

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; 150

But haply,[70] in some cottage far apart,

May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul,

And in His Book of Life the inmates poor enroll.

Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way;

The youngling cottagers retire to rest: 155

The parent-pair their secret homage pay,

And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,

That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,

Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 160

For them and for their little ones provide;

But, chiefly, in their hearts with Grace Divine preside.

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,

That makes her loved at home, revered abroad;

Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,[71] 165

"An honest man's the noblest work of God:"[72]

And certes,[73] in fair Virtue's heavenly road,

The cottage leaves the palace far behind;

What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load,

Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 170

Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!

O Scotia[1] my dear, my native soil!

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!

Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! 175

And, O! may Heaven their simple lives prevent

From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!

Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,

A virtuous populace may rise the while,

And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle. 180

O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide

That streamed thro' Wallace's undaunted heart,[74]

Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,

Or nobly die, the second glorious part,

(The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art, 185

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)

O never, never, Scotia's realm desert,

But still the patriot and the patriot-bard

In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!

[*]In printing this poem, it has seemed best to follow the text as given in the scholarly Centenary Burns (1896), edited by Messrs. Henley and Henderson.

NOTE.-The Cotter's Saturday Night was written in 1785 or the beginning of 1786. In all English poetry there are few pictures of home life so charming as that portrayed in this poem. The stanza employed is the Spenserian stanza, named for Edmund Spenser, who first used it. The first eight lines have five feet each, while the last has six feet.

Cotter, as used by Burns, means peasant farmer.

[1.] Much respected friend, Robert Aiken, an early friend of the poet's, to whom the poem was inscribed.

[2.] Ween, think, fancy.

[3.] Sugh (pronounced much like sook, with the k softened; i.e. like such in German), wail, sough.

[4.] Frae, from.

[5.] Pleugh (the gh has a guttural sound), plough.

[6.] Trains o' craws, trains of crows.

[7.] Moil, toil.

[8.] Mattocks, implements for digging.

[9.] The morn, to-morrow.

[10.] Hameward, homeward.

[11.] Stacher, totter.

[12.] Flichterin', fluttering.

[13.] Ingle, fireplace.

[14.] Bonilie, cheerfully, attractively.

[15.] Hearth-stane, hearth-stone.

[16.] Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile, Does all his weary cark (fret) and care beguile. A' has the sound of a in all; pronounce kiaugh something like kee-owch', giving the ch a harsh, guttural sound. (In later editions, carking cares was substituted for kiaugh and care.)

[17.] Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in, Presently the older children come dropping in. (The vowel sound in bairns is like that in care.)

[18.] Ca', follow.

[19.] Some tentie rin a cannie errand to a neebor town, some, heedful, run on a quiet errand to a neighboring town.

[20.] E'e, eye.

[21.] Braw, fine.

[22.] Sair-won penny-fee, hard-earned wages.

[23.] Spiers, asks.

[24.] Uncos, wonders, news.

[25.] Sheers, scissors.

[26.] Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new, makes old cloth look almost as well as the new.

[27.] Younkers, young people.

[28.] Eydent, diligent.

[29.] Jauk, trifle.

[30.] Gang, go.

[31.] Wha kens, who knows.

[32.] Neebor, neighbor.

[33.] Hafflins, half.

[34.] Nae, no.

[36.] Ben, inside.

[36.] No ill taen, not ill taken; i.e. Jenny's parents are pleased to have the young man come in.

[37.] Cracks, chats.

[38.] Kye, cattle.

[39.] Blate and laithfu', shy and sheepish.

[40.] Wi' a woman's wiles, with a woman's penetration.

[41.] Sae, so.

[42.] The lave, the rest.

[43.] Ruth, pity, tenderness.

[44.] Healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food, wholesome porridge, chief of Scotland's food.

[45.] Soupe, milk.

[46.] Hawkie, cow.

[47.] That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood, that beyond the wall snugly chews her cud. In a cottage of this kind the cow lives under the same roof with the family.

[48.] Her weel-hained kebbuck, fell, her well-saved cheese, pungent; i.e. her carefully saved, or kept, strong cheese.

[49.] And aft he's pressed, and aft he ca's (pronounced like cause) it guid, And oft he's urged, and oft he calls it good.

[50.] 'T was a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell, it was a twelve-month old since flax was in flower; i.e. when the flax was last in bloom it was a year old.

[51.] The big ha'-Bible (pronounced haw), the big hall-Bible. The name originated in the fact that large Bibles were first used in the hall, or principal room, of the noble's castle, where all the household assembled for worship.

[52.] Ance, once.

[53.] Bonnet, a soft cap made of seamless woolen stuff.

[54.] Lyart haffets, gray side-locks.

[55.] Those strains that once, etc., i.e. the Psalms, which were sung in Jerusalem. Zion is really the hill on which the old city of Jerusalem was built.

[56.] Wales, selects.

[57.] Dundee, Martyrs, Elgin, well-known psalm tunes.

[58.] Beets, fans or feeds.

[59.] Nae unison hae they, no unison have they; i.e. they are not in harmony with.

[60.] Abram, or Abraham. See Genesis.

[61.] Moses bade, etc. See Exodus xvii.

[62.] The royal Bard, King David. Probably Burns refers to certain of the Psalms which express suffering and repentance.

[63.] Job's pathetic plaint. The "plaint" begins with Job iii.

[64.] The Christian volume, i.e. the New Testament.

[65.] How His first followers, etc. See Acts of the Apostles.

[66.] The precepts sage. See the Epistles.

[67.] He, who lone in Patmos, etc. St. John the Evangelist is said to have been exiled to the island of Patmos, or Patmo, west of Asia Minor, and there to have written the Apocalypse, or Book of Revelation. The doom of Babylon is pronounced in Chapter xviii of that book.

[68.] Hope springs exulting, etc. See Pope's Essay on Man, Epistle I, l. 95, and his Windsor Forest, l. 112.

[69.] The Power, the Almighty.

[70.] Haply, perhaps, perchance.

[71.] Princes and lords, etc. See The Deserted Village, lines 53 and 54.

[72.] An honest man's, etc. Pope's Essay on Man, Epistle IV, l. 247.

[73.] Certes, truly.

[74.] Wallace's undaunted heart. Sir William Wallace, born about 1274, is one of the most famous of Scotch heroes. For a time he was a successful opponent of Edward I of England, but he finally suffered defeat, and in 1305 was captured and taken to London, where he was tried, condemned, and beheaded. One of Burns's most celebrated songs begins: "Scots, wha hae (who have) wi' Wallace bled." Scott tells of Wallace in his Tales of a Grandfather.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE