Isle of Man and the Continent was largely and daringly carried on in this very neighbourhood in which the Poet spent his "nineteenth summer." At such an age, to a nature like his, the secret, dangerous, and romantic aspects of the smuggler's career would present a stirring interest. Even amongst the more settled farming class, the question with many was, not as to whether the traffic was right or wrong, but how best to share in its profits. with impunity. In such circumstances, we can easily believe that our youthful Bard's impulsive spirit and keen curiosity sometimes led him to accompany the midnight expedition to lonely hiding-places among the hills or on the caverned coast, and brought him face to face with those scenes of "swaggering riot and roaring dissipation" of which he speaks. When, too, in after years, he filled the office of exciseman, his experiences among the Kirkoswald smugglers must have proved of much practical service to him. At Kirkoswald, Burns formed a close intimacy with a young man named Niven, whose family resided in the neighbourhood. The two lads spent their spare time in rambling around the village, and engaging in friendly disputations on literary and social subjects, with a set view to sharpening each other's wits, and improving their powers of ready debate. According to Chambers, they asked several of their companions to come and take a side in these debates, but not one would do so; they only laughed at the young philosophers. The schoolmaster, hearing about these disputations, resolved to put a stop to them. He therefore, before the whole school, attempted to cast ridicule upon Burns and his companion on account of their pretentious debatings. The two, in answer, proceeded to justify their conduct, and at length enticed Roger to take a side in discussing, in presence of the scholars, the question, "Whether is a great general or a respectable merchant the most valuable member of society?" The schoolmaster confidently led off by taking the side of the "great general," Burns taking the opposite view. Roger is said to have been com "His hand was pletely worsted in the controversy. observed to shake; then his voice trembled, and he dissolved the house in a state of vexation pitiable to behold." At Scottish farmhouses it was, and still is customary, after the labours of the day are over, for the sturdy youths of neighbouring farms to meet and engage in sundry trials of strength and agility, such as running, leaping, wrestling, etc. Burns took an active part in these exercises, and proved no mean antagonist in the friendly contest. Already, too, his sparkling wit and kindly ways made him the life of such humble rustic gatherings. During his stay in this neighbourhood, long noted for its manly prowess, hard drinking, and lingering superstitions, he met with those characters which he afterwards sketched in “Tam o' Shanter"-Douglas Graham and his wife, tenants of Shanter Farm, Souter Johnnie" and 'Kirkton Jean," "the Miller" and "the Smith." O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise She prophesied that late or soon Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon; By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. We have seen how the Poet's brief and last school term was abruptly ended. Peggy Thomson, the damsel who set him off at a tangent from the sphere of his studies, is the heroine of his song "Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns." It is worthy of remark that this love-fit was not such a passing affair as it has been represented. Years afterwards he is known to have entertained the idea of B making Peggy his wife; and, on a subsequent meeting with her, he revised this song into its published form. I returned home-he says-very considerably improved. My reading was enlarged by the very important additions of Thomson's and Shenstone's works. I had seen human nature in a new phasis; and I engaged several of my schoolfellows to keep up a literary correspondence with me. This improved me in composition. I had met with a collection of letters by the wits of Queen Anne's reign, and I pored over them most devoutly. I kept copies of any of my own letters that pleased me; and a comparison between them and the compositions of most of my correspondents flattered my vanity. I carried this whim so far, that though I had not threefarthings' worth of business in the world, yet almost every post brought me as many letters as if I had been a plodding son of day-book and ledger. He tells us that in his "seventeenth year, to give his manners a brush," he went, in defiance of his father's wish, to a country dancing-school. His statement that, because of this act of disobedience, his father took a kind of dislike to him is contradicted by his brother Gilbert, who says: But he was I wonder how Robert could attribute to our father that lasting resentment of his going to a dancing-school, against his will, of which he was incapable. I believe the truth was, that about this time he began to see the dangerous impetuosity of my brother's passions, as well as his not being amenable to counsel, which often irritated my father, and which he would naturally think a dancing-school was not likely to correct. proud of Robert's genius, which he bestowed more expense on cultivating than on the rest of the family; and he was equally delighted with his warmth of heart and conversational powers. He had, indeed, that dislike of dancing-schools which Robert mentions; but so far overcame it during Robert's first month of attendance, that he permitted the rest of the family, who were fit for it, to accompany him during the second month. In these conflicting statements, Robert and Gilbert refer, in all likelihood, to different occasions-Robert to the Mount Oliphant, and Gilbert to the Lochlea, period. But, in any case, we cannot help thinking that in his use of the word dislike the Poet does a regrettable injury to his worthy father's memory. It is pleasing, however, to know that he felt a deep and lasting sorrow for this, his first act of rebellion against parental authority; and yet, it is sad to think that it is but one among so many instances in which we see Burns's nobler nature cast down in remorse, because of too easy yielding to the "witching voice" of his alluring passions. For all that is authentically known of his life for several years after his return from Kirkoswald, we are indebted to the narratives left by himself and his brother. The Poet's various love entanglements form the burden of both accounts. My heart—says the Poet-was completely tinder, and was eternally lighted up by some goddess or another. At plough, scythe, or reaphook I feared no competitor, and thus I set absolute want at defiance; and as I never cared further for my labours than while I was in actual exercise, I spent the evenings in the way after my own heart. A country lad seldom carries on a love adventure without an assistant confidant. I possessed a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexterity that recommended me as a proper second on these occasions; and I daresay I felt as much pleasure in being in the secret of half the loves of the parish of Tarbolton, as ever did statesman in knowing the intrigues of half the courts of Europe. The grave sons of science, ambition, or avarice, baptize these things by the name of follies; but to the sons and daughters of labour and poverty, they are matters of the most serious nature. To them the ardent hope, the stolen interview, the tender farewell, are the greatest and most delicious parts of their enjoyments. After the above from his own pen, we are prepared to learn that the amorous genius of Burns produced songs on nearly all the handsome girls in Tarbolton; also one song, "The Tarbolton Lasses," in which he celebrates them as a body. Two courtships, however, which he himself at this time carried on, call for special notice. For over half a year he laid siege to the affections of the youthful housekeeper at Montgomerie Castle, at the end of which time he was driven off with the information that she was already betrothed to another. To this girl he inscribed the attractive little song, "Montgomerie's Peggy." He states in his Commonplace Book that he began this courtship in mere love-making frolic, but soon found himself holding Peggy in warm affection, and that it cost him. some heartaches to get rid of the affair,”—a statement which pleasantly reminds us of a fact which can be traced throughout his career, viz. that, amid all his impulsive. waywardness, the heart of Robert Burns ever throbbed true to deep-rooted dictates of generous, manly feeling. The poet's passion for Ellison Begbie was a more prolonged and earnest matter. She was the daughter of a Galston farmer, and was at this time serving-maid to a family who resided at Cessnock, fully two miles from Lochlea. To this damsel he addressed, in 1780-81, four letters, notable for their sentiments of respect and admiration, notable also as being among the earliest of his letters which have been preserved to us. She is the heroine of two at least of his songs written at this juncture-" The Lass o' Cessnock Banks" and "Bonnie Peggy Alison." Moved by his deep attachment to Ellison Begbie, and his anxious desire to find himself in a position to marry her, if she should finally accept his suit, he formed the plan of going to Irvine to learn the flax-dressing business. For some time previously, he and Gilbert had rented land from their father, and were growing flax on their own account. The brothers hoped that, by both growing the flax and dressing it for the market, they would make handsome profits. It was a prudent, sensible enough scheme; but it ended in failure. Robert repaired to Irvine to learn the trade of heckling, but he went in a sadly dejected and unsettled frame of mind. For Ellison did not respond to his epistolary, lyrical, and personal advances. She would count him as a friend; but she would not accept him as her lover and prospective husband. The Poet's Irvine episode is best told in his own words: My twenty-third year was to me an important era. Partly through whim, and partly that I wished to set about doing something in life,1 I joined a flax-dresser in a neighbouring town to learn his trade. This was 1 Gilbert speaks more explicitly on this point, stating that Robert's great desire at this time was to be in a position to marry. |