Welcome to the September 2002 On-Line Edition of

St George's News

Waterlooville's Parish Magazine

ROBERT BURNS, THE BARD

During a recent holiday in Scotland I did something reckless - I bought a book. It was in one of those shops designed to separate the unwary visitor from his hard-earned cash. Why did I buy it? Two reasons; one, it was on offer, £13.00 reduced to £5.00. and two, it was a book of poetry, something which I have always enjoyed reading. I can still recite some of the lines I learnt while I was at school, and I left that establishment sixty years ago. This book was entitled 'The Complete Poems and Songs of Robert Burns'. Now I knew very little about the Bard. He wrote 'Auld Lang Syne', 'Coming through the Rye' and 'Charlie, He's my Darling' - that I did know. And also a poem to a mouse. I did know that a lot of the words he used were those in common use in Scotland at the end of the eighteenth century. When I got home and unpacked it I wondered why I had bought it. It lay on a coffee table beside my armchair for a few days before, finding there was absolutely nothing on the television I wanted to watch (quite a common occurrence these days) and not feeling like listening to a bit of Bach or Beethoven, I picked it up and opened it at random. I picked out a poem which seemed to have little vernacular, and read it. Then I read another - and another. Now I find that I keep picking it up and reading something. There is something about the poetry, the scansion, the lilt, the subjects, the changing mood of the verse, that I cannot resist. It made me feel I wanted to know something about the man. So I did a bit of research. And here is an abbreviated version of what I found out.

William Burness, a poor tenant farmer in Alloway, and his wife, Agnes Broun, had seven children. The eldest, born on 25th January 1759, was called Robert. Robert spent his youth working his father's farm yet became extremely well read, for his father, in spite of his poverty, insisted on employing a tutor for him and his brother Gilbert, though even this education would have been classed as 'sketchy' by today's standards. But by the time he was fifteen he had three attributes - he could read, he could write and he could remember.

At this time Robert was the principal worker on the farm and this prompted him to start writing in an attempt to find a way up and a way out. And so he penned his first song, 'Handsome Nell' for Nellie Kilpatrick, which was an ode to the other subjects that dominated his life, namely scotch whisky and women. (Funnily, I can find no mention of this song in my book.)

When William Burness died in 1784, Robert and his brother became partners in the farm. Robert, however, was more interested in writing poetry than the arduous graft of ploughing and, having had some misadventures with the ladies (resulting in several illegitimate children, including twins by the woman, Jean Armour, who was later to become his wife). In order to take up poetry for a living he planned to escape to the safer, sunnier climes of the West Indies. To facilitate this he had his first collection, 'Poems - Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect - Kilmarnock Edition', published. This was a set of poems essentially based on a broken love affair, and it received much critical acclaim. This, together with a pride of parenthood (unlike most men of the time he was proud of and took an interest in all his children whether born in or out of wedlock), made him stay in Scotland. He moved around the country, eventually arriving in Edinburgh, where he mingled in the illustrious circles of the artists and writers who were agog at the 'Ploughman Poet.'

In a matter of weeks he was transformed from local hero to national celebrity, fussed over by the Edinburgh literati of the day, and Jean Armour's father allowed her to marry him, now that he was no longer a lowly farmer but a celebrity. What actually happened is this. Robert met Jean Armour during the summer of 1785, and in September he "Attested" his marriage to her. In April of the following year, James Armour, Jean's father, "repudiated" Robert as his son-in-law, whereupon Robert reciprocates and "repudiated" Jean as his wife. Three weeks later he declared that he and a lass referred to as Highland Mary were man and wife, but Highland Mary died in October of that year. In February of 1789 Robert met with Jean Armour again in Mauchline, her home village, at which point he bought her a 'mahogany bed' and set up house with her, publicly testifying that they were man and wife. Finally, on 5th August, Rev. William Auld and the Mauchline Kirk Session recognise the authenticity of the marriage between Robert Burns and Jean Armour. It was during these last few months that Robert found that fame did not automatically bring fortune and he took up a job as an exciseman to supplement his meagre income. Whilst collecting taxes he continued to write, including songs to Scottish music of which the words had been lost and forgotten.

The last years of Burns' life were devoted to penning great poetic masterpieces such as 'Tam O'Shanter' and 'A Red, Red Rose'. He died, aged 37, on 21st July 1796, of heart disease exacerbated by the hard manual work he undertook when he was young. It was during his funeral four days later that his wife Jean gave birth to his last son, Maxwell.

One thing I have discovered since I started reading the book is how many times Burns is quoted (and quite often misquoted). The 'Auld Lang Syne' which we sing at the end of gatherings is the first verse and chorus (misquoted) of the original. And I have realised that Burns was a man of emotion, of awareness and sensibility. 'To a Mouse', which is subtitled 'On turning her up in her nest with the plough', could only have been written by a man with feeling. Yet this same poem finishes up:

But Mousie, thou art not alone
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley,And leave us nought but grief and pain for promised joy.

Still thou art blessed, compared with me!
The present only touches thee:
But och! I backward cast my eye on prospects drear!
And forward, though I cannot see, I guess and fear.

And he was also a man with a sense of humour. How else could he have written a poem 'To an Artist' in which he suggests that the man should give up painting angels and paint the devil, since it would be easier to paint something that he knew than something he didn't. Or 'Address to a Haggis' - great chieftain of the puddin'-race, a poem which is recited all over the world on Burns Night. Or a poem 'To a Louse - on seeing one on a lady's bonnet in church'. It is this that includes another well known and oft-quoted passage:

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us.

No doubt literary critics would complain about three lines ending with the same word, but I feel that receiving this "little gift" would be an eye-opener for anyone.

Yes, I am glad I bought that book while I was on holiday in Scotland. And I am sure it is going to remain on that table for quite a while.

BILL HUTCHINGS

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