Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

and a head-ach lent their aid, and the man of verse was quite accablé. I attempted to reason with him. Mercy on us, how he did fume and rage! Nothing could reinstate him in temper. I tried various expedients, and at last hit on one that succeeded. I showed him the house of across the bay of Wigton. Against ** with whom he was offended, he expectorated his spleen, and regained a most agreeable temper. He was in a most epigrammatic humour indeed! He afterwards fell on humbler game. There is one

[ocr errors]

whom he does not love. blow at him :—

He had a passing

When *****, deceased, to the devil went down,
"Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own crown:
Thy fool's head, quoth Satan, that crown shall wear never,
I grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever.'

"Well, I am to bring you to Kirkcudbright along with our poet, without boots. I carried the torn ruins across my saddle in spite of his fulminations, and in contempt of appearances; and what is more, Lord Selkirk carried them in his coach to Dumfries. He insisted they were worth mending.

"We reached Kirkcudbright about one o'clock. I had promised that we should dine with one of the first men in our country, J. Dalzell. But Burns was in a wild and obstreperous humour, and swore he would not dine where he should be under the smallest restraint. We prevailed, therefore, on Mr. Dalzell to dine with us in the inn, and had a very agreeable party. In the evening we set out for St. Mary's Isle. Robert had not absolutely regained the milkiness of good temper, and it occurred once or twice to him, as he rode along, that St. Mary's Isle was the seat of a Lord; yet that Lord was not an aristocrat, at least in his sense of the word. We arrived about eight o'clock, as the family were at tea and coffee. St. Mary's Isle is one of the most delightful places that can, in my opinion, be formed by the assemblage of every soft, but not tame, object which constitutes natural and cultivated beauty. But, not to dwell on its external graces, let me tell you that we found all the ladies of the family (all beautiful) at home, and some strangers; and, among others, who but Urbani! The Italian sung us many Scottish songs, accompanied with instrumental music. The two young ladies of Selkirk sung also. We had the song of Lord Gregory, which I asked for, to have an opportunity of calling on Burns to recite his ballad to that tune. He did recite it, and such was the effect that a dead silence ensued. It was such a silence as a mind of feeling naturally preserves when it is touched with that enthusiasm which banishes every other thought but the contemplation and indulgence of the sympathy produced.

*This was the same Lord Selkirk, of whom Sir Walter Scott

"We enjoyed a most happy evening at Lord Selkirk's. We had, in every sense of the word, a feast, in which our minds and our senses were equally gratified. The Poet was delighted with his company, and acquitted himself to admiration. The lion that had raged so violently in the morning was now as mild and gentle as a lamb. Next day we returned to Dumfries, and so ends our peregrination."]

The Poet now and then inclined to dramatic composition, and hovered between the serious and the comic.-"I have turned my thoughts," he says to Lady Glencairn, "on the drama. I do not mean the stately buskin of the tragic muse. Does not your Ladyship think that an Edinburgh theatre would be more amused with the affectation, folly, and whim of true Scottish growth, than by manners which by far the greatest part of the audience can only know at second-hand?" There is no question that dialogues, characters, and songs, such as Burns could conceive and write, would have been welcome to a northern, and perhaps a southern, audience. His inimitable poem, "The Jolly Beggars" shews dramatic powers of a high

order.

Burns, in his earlier days, lent his muse as an auxiliary to the western clergy; nor can it be forgotten that she fought the battle with a boldness which was only endured because the cause was thought to be a pious one. In Nithsdale she became a volunteer in a more worldly strife, and lent her breath to augment or allay the When Sir James flame of a contested election. Johnston of Westerhall, in the year 1790, offered himself as a candidate for the Dumfries district of burghs, he was opposed by Patrick Miller, the younger, of Dalswinton. The former was a good man of an old family, and a determined Tory; the latter was a captain in the army, had the promise of youth upon him, and was a resolute Whig. Burns, through the impulse of his genius, was somewhat of a republican. Old jacobitical prejudices, and the kindness of Graham of Fintray, inclined his feelings towards the Tories; while his connexion with Miller, his regard for M'Murdo, his respect for Staig, and his affection for Syme, all combined to draw him towards the Whigs. His election-ballads of this period shew how prudently he balanced the various interests. The first of these compositions is not inappropriately called "The Five Carlins." burghs of Dumfries, Lochmaben, Annan, Kirkcudbright, and Sanquhar are cleverly personified in the second verse:

"There was Maggie by the banks o' Nith,
A dame wi' pride eneugh;

And Marjorie o' the mony Lochs,

A carlin auld and teugh;

And blinkin' Bess o' Annandale,

That dwelt by Solway side;

The

relates an amusing anecdote in his Malagrowther Letters.

And whiskey Jean, that took her gill In Galloway sae wide;

And black Joan, frae Crichton-Peel,

O' gipsey kith and kin:

Five weighter carlins were na found

The south countrie within."

The Border dames hesitate whether to send "The belted knight" or "The sodger youth to Lunnun town, to bring them tidings:"

"Then out spak' mim-mou'd Meg of Nith,
And she spak' up wi' pride;

And she wad send the sodger youth,
Whatever might betide."

Not so honest Kirkcudbright:

"Then whiskey Jean spak' owre her drink—

'Ye weel ken, kimmers a',

The auld gudeman o' Lunnun court,

His back's been at the wa';

And mony a friend that kissed his caup
Is now a fremit wight,

But it's ne'er be said o' whiskey Jean-
I'll send the Border Knight.'"

I have heard Sir Walter Scott recite the verse which personifies Lochmaben, and call it "uncommonly happy :"

"Then slow rose Marjorie o' the Lochs,

And wrinkled was her brow;

Her ancient weed was russet grey,
Her auld Scots blood was true."

"The five Carlins," says one of Burns's biographers, "is by far the best-humoured of these productions." He had not seen the Poet's Epistle on the same election, addressed to Graham of Fintray. The original is before me: the measure was new to Burns: the poem is, I believe, new to the reader. The contest was now decided. "The Sirens of Flattery," as the Poet said to M'Murdo, "the Harpies of Corruption, and the Furies of Ambition-those infernal deities that preside over the villanous business of politics"-had retired from the field:

"Fintray, my stay in worldly strife,
Friend o' my muse, friend o' my life,
Are ye as idle's I am?
Come then, wi' uncouth, kintra fleg,
O'er Pegasus I'll fling my leg,

And ye shall see me try him.

"I'll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears,
Who left the all-important cares
Of princes and their darlin's,
And bent on winning borough-touns,
Came shaking hands wi' wabster loons,
And kissin' barefit carlins.

"Combustion through our boroughs rode,
Whistling his roaring pack abroad
Of mad, unmuzzled lions;

As Queensberry's 'buff and blue' unfurl'd,
Bold Westerha' and Hopetoun hurl'd
To every Whig defiance."

The Poet then proceeds to relate how his Grace of Queensberry forsook the contending

ranks

[blocks in formation]

(The enamour'd laurels kiss her brows!)
Led on the Loves and Graces;
She won each gaping burgess' heart,
While he, all-conquering, play'd his part
Amang their wives and lasses.
"Craigdarroch led a light-arm'd corps,
Tropes, metaphors, and figures pour
Like Hecla streaming thunder;
Glenriddel, skill'd in rusty coins,
Blew up each Tory's dark designs,
And bar'd the treason under."

Assistance, of a kind equally effective in all such contests, it seems, was resorted to:

"Miller brought up the artillery ranks,

The many-pounders of the banks."

The commotion which ensued, when the contending parties met in the streets of old Dumfries, is well described :—

"As Highland crags by thunder cleft,
When light'nings fire the stormy lift,
Hurl down with crashing rattle;
As flames among a hundred woods;
As headlong foam a hundred floods ---
Such is the rage of battle!
"The stubborn Tories dare to die,-
As soon the rooted oaks would fly

Before the approaching fellers;
The Whigs come on like Ocean's rear,
When all his wintry billows pour

Against the Buchan-Bullers."

Forms were present, it seems, visible only to tae eyes of the inspired: on the Whig side appeared an ominous personage

"The muffled murderer of Charles."

Purer spirits, those of the Grahams, were seen on the side of the Tories. But neither the wit of woman, the might of man, nor even the presence of the celestials could hinder the defeat of Johnston and the triumph of Miller: the Poet makes his lament:

"O that my een were flowing burns!
My voice a lioness, that mourns
Her darling cubs' undoing!
That I might weep, that I might cry,
While Tories fall, while Tories fly,
And furious Whigs pursuing!

"Thou, Pitt, shalt rue this overthrow,
And Thurlow growl a curse of woe,

And Melville melt in wailing!
Now Fox and Sheridan rejoice!
And Burke shall sing 'O Prince, arise!
Thy power is all prevailing!'"'

"With regard to your poor Bard," says Burns, "he is only a spectator of what he relates. Amid the hurly-burly of politics he

resembles the redbreast in the storm, which shelters itself in the hedge and chirps away securely."

In the four years which intervened between this borough contest and the county election, in which Heron of Kerroughtree was opposed by Gordon of Balmaghie, the temper of Burns seems to have suffered a serious change. In his lyrics he stills sings with gentleness, and with all the delicacy which becomes true love; but in his election lampoons he is fierce and stern, and even venomous. Heron had erected an altar to Independence, and, through the agency, it is said, of Syme, prevailed on the Poet to bring verse to the aid of his cause. The first of these effusions is a parody on "Fye! let us a' to the bridal." The Poet numbers the friends of the candidates, and as he names them gives us a sketch, personal and mental. The portrait of Heron is happy :

"And there will be trusty Kerroughtree,

Whose honour was ever his law;
If the virtues were pack'd in a parcel,

His worth might be sample for a'."

The best stanzas are the personal ones; the following verse is very characteristic :—

"And there will be maiden Kilkerran,

And also Barskimmins' guid knight;
And there will be roaring Birtwhistle,
Wha, luckily roars in the right."

"the

He continues his catalogue; he brings Maxwells in droves" from the Nithsdale border; the lairds of Terraughty and Carruchan—

"And also the wild Scot of Galloway,
Sodgerin' gunpowder Blair."

In spite of the Poet's song and the exertions of friends, Heron lost his election: he was not, however, daunted: he contested soon after with more success the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright against the Hon. Montgomery Stewart. Burns had still the same belief in the influence of his wit, and was ready with unpremeditated verse. He accordingly imagined himself a pedlar or troggar, and, declaring that his whole stock consisted of

"The broken trade of Broughton," proceeded to sell, to all who ventured to buy, the characters of those who supported Stewart. Some of the descriptions of the facetious pedlar are comical enough; he disliked John Stewart, Earl of Galloway, and assailed him, with all the inveteracy of satiric verse:

"There's a noble earl's

Fame and high renown,

For an auld sang

It's thought the gudes were stown."

Against the Bushbys he bent the bitterest shafts in his quiver; he allowed them talent: in a former satire he says of one,

"He has gotten the heart of a Bushby,

But, Lord! what's become of the head ?"

Of John Bushby, of Tinwald-downs, the most He is equally unkind in the present lampoon. accomplished of the name, and Maxwell of Cardoness, he says,—

"Here's an honest conscience

Might a prince adorn,
Frae the Downs of Tinwald-
Sae was never worn:
Here's the stuff and lining,
O' Cardoness's head;
Fine for a sodger

A' the wale o' lead."

Muirhead, minister of Urr, had an apple for his crest :—

"Here's armorial bearings

Frae the manse of Urr,

The crest-an auld crab apple,
Rotten at the core."

The minister of Buittle was a Maxwell:

"Here's that little wadset,

Buittle's scrap o' truth, Pawn'd in a gin-shop,

Quenching holy drouth."

To conclude these sharp and personal things, the Poet offers for sale the worth and wisdom of Copland of Collieston, and, more curious still,

Murray's fragments
O' the ten commands."

But customers seem scarce, upon which he exclaims,

"Hornie's turning chapman, He'll buy a' the pack."

And so ends his last and bitterest lampoon.—“I have privately," he says to Mr. Heron, "printed a good many copies of both ballads, and have sent them among friends all about the country. You have already, as your auxiliary, the sober detestation of mankind on the heads of your opponents; and I swear, by the lyre of Thalia, to muster on your side all the votaries of honest laughter, and fair, candid ridicule !" Heron, on whose side the Poet promised to muster the votaries of mirth, was victorious in the contest; but his return was petitioned against: a Committee of the Commons declared him unduly elected; and, worn in body, and harrassed in mind, he fell ill at York, and died before he reached Scotland.

The wit of Burns, like his native thistle, though rough and sharp, suited the multitude better than more smooth and polished things: he had not the art of cutting blocks with a razor, but dragged his victims rudely along the ground at the tail of his Pegasus. Pointed and elegant satire, while it affected the educated gentlemen against whom it was directed,

would have made no impression on the shepherds and husbandmen whose scorn it was the Poet's wish to excite. The laughter and ridicule which his muse awakened had a local influence only; the satire which drove Dr. Hornbook from the parish, and made Holy Willie think of suicide, had a wider range: the lineaments by which he desired we should know his Stewarts, Maxwells, Murrays, Muirheads, and Bushbys, belonged to private life-were accidents of character or matters of imagination, and pertained not to general nature.

I turn gladly to his lyrics. All his songs bear the impress of nature; he himself tells us in what way he made them.-" Until I am complete master of a tune, in my own singing, such as it is, I can never compose for it. My way is this I consider the poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression; then choose my theme; begin one stanza; when that is composed, which is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in nature around me that are in unison and harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my bosom humming, every now and then, the air with the verses I have framed. When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fire-side of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper; swinging, at intervals, on the hind-legs of my elbow chair, by way of calling forth my own critical strictures as my pen goes on. Seriously, this at home is almost invariably my way." He who desires to compose lyric verse according to the character and measure of an air will find the plan of Burns an useful one. The poet must either chant the tune over to himself, or be under its influence while writing, else he will fail to get the emphatic words to harmonize with the emphatic notes.

In the art of uniting gracefully the music and words, Burns was a great master; the song which he wrote in October, 1793, to the tune of "The Quaker's Wife," echoes the music so truly that the words and air seem to have sprung from his fancy together :

"Thine am I, my faithful fair,

Thine, my lovely Nancy; Every pulse along my veins, Every roving fancy."

The inspiration which produced "Lovely Nancy" came from Edinburgh; that which gave "Wilt thou be my dearie" to the air of the "Sutor's daughter" belonged to Dumfries. The former is written with warmth-the latter with respect. He delighted little in distant modes of salutation, and was prone to imagine the subject of his song beside him, and sharing in his rapture now and then, however, he exhibited all the polite respect which the school of chivalrous courtship could desire :

[blocks in formation]

When Burns had done searching old-wives' barrels, or galloping under the light of the moon along the sands of Solway in search of smugglers, he retired to the solitude of his own humble dwelling, or to some lonely place, and, imagining beauty to be present, sung of its influence with equal truth and elegance. The Lass of Craigie-burn-wood seems to have been a favourite model for his heroines; he advises Thomson to adopt his song in her praise, and observes-"The lady on whom it was made is one of the finest women in Scotland; and, in fact, is to me what Sterne's Eliza was to hima mistress, or friend, or what you will, in the guileless simplicity of Platonic love. I assure you, that to my lovely friend you are indebted for many of my best songs. Do you think that the sober, gin-horse routine of existence, could inspire a man with life, and love, and joy-could fire him with enthusiasm, or melt him with pathos equal to the genius of your book? No! no! Whenever I want to be more than ordinary in song-to be in some degree equal to your diviner airs-do you imagine I fast and pray for the celestial emanation? Tout au contraire! I have a glorious recipe-the very one that, for his own use, was invented by the god of healing and poetry, when erst he piped to the flocks of Admetus. I put myself in a regimen of admiring a fine woman, and in proportion to the adorability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my verses. The lightning of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon!"

The offspring of one of these interviews, real or imaginary, was that fine lyric-"She says she lo'es me best of a'." The lady's portrait is limned with the most exquisite skill; and the last verse contains a landscape such as the

goddess of love might desire to walk in. The lonely valley, the fragrant evening, and the rising moon were frequent witnesses of his poetic rapture :

"Let others love the city,

And gaudy show at sunny noon,
Gi'e me the lonely valley,

The dewy eve, and rising moon;

Fair beaming, and streaming

Her silver light the boughs amang,
While falling, recalling,

The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove

By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows of truth and love,

And say thou lo'es me best of a'."

The influence of this lady's charms was not of short duration." On my visit the other day," "to my fair Chloris, she suggested an idea which I, in my return from the visit, wrought into the following song:

Burns says,

'My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,

And wave thy flaxen hair.""

Having composed another pastoral song in praise of the same lady to the tune of "Rothemurche's Rant," he says "This piece has at least the merit of being a regular pastoral; the vernal morn, the summer noon, the autumnal evening, and the winter night, are regularly rounded. If I can catch myself in more than an ordinary propitious moment, I shall write a new 'Craigie-burn-wood' altogether: my heart is much in the theme. The lady is not a little proud that she is to make so distinguished a figure in your collection; and I am not a little proud that I have it in my power to please her so much." The air of "Lumps of Pudding suggested enjoyments of a less ethereal kind than those arising from beauty. On the 19th of November the frost was dry and keen. The Poet took a morning walk before breakfast, and produced one of his most delightful songs:

"Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,

Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care,
I gie them a skelp as they're creeping alang
Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang.
"I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought,
But man is a sodger, and life is a faught;

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

That the Poet loved his country he has shewn in many a lasting verse; but when he thought of the splendid possessions of the mean and the sordid, and of the gold descending in showers on the heads of the dull and the undeserving, it required all his poetic philosophy to hinder him from repining. He had sung in other days of the honest joys and fire-side happiness of husbandmen he now endeavoured to pour the healing balm of verse upon the wounded spirits of the poor, the humble, and the unhappy. The song of "For a' that, and a' that," must have been welcome to many. It flew like wildfire over the land: the sentiments accorded with the natural desire of man to be free and equal; and, though not permitted to be sung in the streets of some of our northern borough-towns, it was chanted among the hills and dales by every tongue. Burns introduced it in these words to Thomson: "A great critic on song, Aikin, says that love and wine are the exclusive themes for song-writing. The following is on neither subject, and consequently is no song; but will be allowed, I think, to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme." There are five verses in all, and every one strikes the balance against rank in favour of poverty:

"A king can mak' a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;

But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Our toil's obscure and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea-stamp,

The man's the gowd for a' that!''

Those who judge of the peace of mind and happiness of the Poet by the sentiments of affection and rapture which he expresses so easily and so elegantly in his songs, would imagine My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch, that he lived in a sort of paradise, beset by And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch.' temptation certainly, yet triumphing alike over When his spirit was in the right mood for song, political hatred and social allurements. His Burns generally remembered his country: in- bright outbursts of verse flashed like sunshine deed, the glory of Scotland was as dear to his amid a winter storm; they were fever-fits of heart as his own fame. This sentiment he gave gladness and joy came too seldom, and their full utterance to in his song of "Their groves coming could not be calculated upon. The ino' sweet myrtle." He muses on the bright sum-quisitorial proceedings of the Commissioners of mers and perfumed vales of Italy, and then turns to the glen of green breckan, where the burn glimmers under the yellow broom, on whose banks he had held tryste with his Jean. The

Excise had a deep share in the ruin of Burns. He was permitted to continue on his seventy pounds a-year, with the chance of rising to the station of Supervisor by seniority; but the

I

« PredošláPokračovať »