THE ORIGINAL OF THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. of Prince Charles Edward. The generous attachment, the heroic valour, and the final misfortunes of the adherents of the house of Stuart, touched with sympathy his youthful and ardent mind, and influenced his original political opinions. (29) The father of our poet is described by one who knew him towards the latter end of his life, as above the common stature, thin, and bent with labour. His countenance was serious and expressive, and the scanty locks on his head were grey. He was of a religious turn of mind, and, as is usual among the Scottish peasantry, a good deal conversant in speculative theology. There is, in Gilbert's hands, a little manual of religious belief, in the form of a dialogue between a father and his son, composed by him for the use of his children, in which the benevolence of his heart seems to have led him to soften the rigid Calvinism of the Scotch church, into something approaching to Arminianism. He was a devout man, and in the practice of calling his family together to join in prayer. It is known that the following exquisite picture, in the Cotter's Saturday Night, represents William Burnes and his family at their evening devotions: "The cheerful supper done, with serious face, [wide; They, round the ingle (30), form a circle The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, The big hall-Bible, once his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, [bare; His lyart haffets (31) wearing thin and Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, [care; He wales (32) a portion with judicious And 'Let us worship God!" he says with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; [aim: They tune their hearts, by far the noblest Perhaps Dundee's (33) wild warbling measures rise, [name; Or plaintive Martyrs (34), worthy of the Or noble Elgin (35) beets (36) the heavenly flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays ; Compar'd with these Italian trills are tame, The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise; [praise. No unison have they with our Creator's The priest-like father reads the sacred page, (37) HowAbram was the friend of God on high: Or Moses bade eternal welfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie, [ire; Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah wild seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. น 21 Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; [name, How he who bore in heaven the second Had not on earth whereon to lay his head, How his first followers and servants sped; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land; How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced, by Heaven's command! Then kneeling down to heaven's eternal King, [prays; The saint, the father, and the husband, 'Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,' [days; That thus they all shall meet in future There ever bask in uncreated rays, 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. Then homeward all take off their several way; The youngling cottagers retire to rest: The parent pair their secret homage pay, And offer up to Heaven the warm request: That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside!" Of a family so interesting as that which inhabited the cottage of William Burnes, and particularly of the father of the family, the reader will perhaps be willing to listen to some farther account. What follows is given by one already mentioned with so much honour in the narrative of Gilbert Burns, Mr. Murdoch, the preceptor of our poet, who, in a letter to Joseph Cooper Walker, Esq., of Dublin, author of the Historical Memoirs of the Irish Bards, and of the Historical Memoir of the Italian Tragedy, thus expresses himself : "SIR.-I was lately favoured with a letter from our worthy friend, the Rev. Wm. Adair, in which he requested me to communicate to you whatever particulars I could recollect concerning Robert Burns, the Ayrshire poet. My business being at attention is consequently so much divided, present multifarious and harassing, my and I am so little in the habit of expressing my thoughts on paper, that at this distance of time I can give but a very imperfect sketch of the early part of the life of that extraordinary genius, with which alone I am acquainted. William Burnes, the father of the poet, was born in the shire of Kincardine, and syllables by rule, spelling without book, passbred a gardener. He had been settled in ing sentence, &c., Robert and Gilbert Ayrshire ten or twelve years before I were generally at the upper end of the class, knew him, and had been in the service of even when ranged with boys by far their Mr. Crawford of Doonside. He was afterwards seniors. The books most commonly used employed as a gardener and overseer by in the school were the Spelling Book, 'the Provost Ferguson of Doonholm, in the parish New Testament, the Bible, Mason's Collecof Alloway, which is now united with that tion of Prose and Verse, and Fisher's of Ayr. In this parish, on the roadside, a English Grammar. They committed to Scotch mile and a half from the town of Ayr, memory the hymns, and other poems of and half a mile from the bridge of Doon, that collection, with uncommon facility. Willian Burnes took a piece of land, consist- This facility was partly owing to the method ing of about seven acres; part of which he pursued by their father and me in instructlaid out in garden ground, and part of ing them, which was, to make them thowhich he kept to graze a cow, &c., still roughly acquainted with the meaning of continuing in the employ of Provost Fer- every word in each sentence that was guson. Upon this little farm was erected be committed to memory. By the bye, this a humble dwelling, of which William Burnes may be easier done, and at an earlier was the architect. It was, with the excep- period, than is generally thought. As soon tion of a little straw, literally a tabernacle as they were capable of it, I taught them of clay. In this mean cottage, of which to turn verse into its natural prose order; I myself was at times an inhabitant, I sometimes to substitute synonymous exreally believe there dwelt a larger portion pressions for poetical words, and to supply of content than in any palace in Europe. all the ellipses. These, you know, are the The Cotter's Saturday Night will give some means of knowing that the pupil understands idea of the temper and manners that pre-his author. These are excellent helps to the vailed there." arrangement of words in sentences, as well as to a variety of expression.' "In 1765, about the middle of March, Mr. W. Burnes came to Ayr, and sent to the school where I was improving in writing, under my good friend Mr. Robinson, desiring that I would come and speak to him at a certain inn, and bring my writing book with me. This was immediately complied with. Having examined my writing, he was pleased with it-you will readily allow he was not difficult-and told me that he had received very satisfactory information of Mr. Tennant, the master of the English school, concerning my improvement in English, and in his method of teaching. In the month of May following, I was engaged by Mr. Burnes, and four of his neighbours, to teach, and accordingly began to teach the school at Alloway, which was situated a few yards from the argillaceous fabric above-mentioned. My five employers undertook to board me by turns, and to make up a certain salary, at the end of the year, provided my quarterly payments from the different pupils did not amount to that sum." "My pupil, Robert Burns, was then between six and seven years of age; his preceptor about eighteen. Robert, and his younger brother, Gilbert, had been grounded a little in English before they were put under my care. They both made a rapid progress in reading, and a tolerable progress in writing. In reading, dividing words into "Gilbert always appeared to me to possess a more lively imagination, and to be more of the wit, than Robert. I attempted to teach them a little church-music. Here they were left far behind by all the rest of the school. Robert's ear, in particular, was remarkably dull, and his voice untunable. tunable. It was long before I could get them to distinguish one tune from another. Robert's countenance was generally grave, and expressive of a serious, contemplative, and thoughtful mind. Gilbert's face said, Mirth, with thee I mean to live; and certainly, if any person who knew the two boys had been asked which of them was the most likely to court the muses, he would surely never have guessed that Robert had a propensity of that kind." "In the year 1767, Mr. Burnes quitted his mud edifice, and took possession of a farm (Mount Oliphant), of his own improv ing, while in the service of Provost Fergu son. This farm being at a considerable distance from the school, the boys could not attend regularly; and some changes taking place among the other supporters of the school, I left it, having continued to conduct it for nearly two years and a half.” "In the year 1772, I was appointed (being one of five candidates who were examined) to teach the English school at Ayr; and in 1773, Robert Burns came to board and lodge with me, for the purpose of revising English grammar, &c., that he might be better qualified to instruct his brothers and sisters at home. He was now with me day and night, in school, at all meals, and in all my walks. At the end of one week, I told him, that, as he was now pretty much master of the parts of speech, &c., I should like to teach him something of French pronunciation; that when he should meet with the name of a French town, ship officer, or the like, in the newspapers, he might be able to pronounce it something like a French word. Robert was glad to hear this proposal, and immedi- ! ately we attacked the French with good courage." Now there was little else to be heard but the declension of nouns, the conjugation of verbs, &c. When walking together, and even at meals, I was constantly telling him the names of different objects, as they presented themselves, in French; so that he was hourly laying in a stock of words, and sometimes little phrases. In short, he took such pleasure in learning, and I in teaching, that it is difficult to say which of the two was most zealous in the business; and about the end of the second week ofour study of the French, we began to read a little of the Adventures of Telemachus, in Fenelon's own words." "But now the plains of Mount Oliphant began to whiten, and Robert was summoned to relinquish the pleasing scenes that surround the grotto of Calypso, and, armed with a sickle, to seek glory by signalising himself in the field of Ceres-and so he did; for, although but about fifteen, I was told that he performed the work of a man." "Thus was I deprived of my very apt pupil, and consequently agreeable companion, at the end of three weeks, one of which was spent entirely in the study of English, and the other two chiefly in that of French. I did not, however, lose sight of him, but was a frequent visitant at his father's house, when I had my half holiday; and very often went, accompanied with one or two persons more intelligent than myself, that good William Burnes might enjoy a mental feast. Then the labouring oar was shifted to some other hand. The father and the son sat down with us, when we enjoyed a conversation, wherein solid reasoning, sensible remark, and a moderate seasoning of jocularity, were so nicely blended, as to render it palatable to all parties. Robert had a hundred questions to ask me about the French, &c.; and the father, who had always rational information in view, had 'But still the house affairs would draw her and particularly that of her husband. At I can 'And ev❜n his failings lean'd to virtue's side.’ "He was an excellent husband, if I may judge from his assiduous attention to the ease and comfort of his worthy partner, and from her affectionate behaviour to him, as well as her unwearied attention to the duties of a mother." "He was a tender and affectionate father; he took pleasure in leading his children in the path of virtue, not in driving them, as some parents do, to the performance of duties to which they themselves are averse. He took care to find fault but very seldom; and therefore, when he did rebuke, he was listened to with a kind of reverential awe. A look of disapprobation was felt; a reproof was severely so; and a strip with the tawz, even on the skirt of the coat, gave heart-felt pain, produced a loud lamentation, and brought forth a flood of tears.' i a reasonable check in this way, it would be to the advantage of the rising generation. As he was at no time overbearing to inferiors, he was equally incapable of that passive, pitiful, paltry spirit, that induces some people to keep booing and booing in the presence of a great man. He always treated superiors with a becoming respect; but he never gave the smallest encouragement to aristocratical arrogance. But I must not pretend to give you a description of all the manly qualities, the rational and Christian virtues, of the venerable William Burnes. Time would fail me. I shall only add that he carefully practised every known duty, and avoided every thing that was criminal; or, in the apostle's words, Herein did he exercise himself, in living a life void of offence towards God and towards men. Oh for a world of men of such dispositions! We should then have no wars. I have often wished, for the good of mankind, that it were as customary to honour and perpetuate the memory of those who excel in moral rectitude as it is to extol what are called; heroic actions: then would the mausoleum of the friend of my youth overtop and surpass most of the monuments I see in Westminster Abbey.” but it is mislaid. Please remember me, in the best manner, to my worthy friend Mr. Adair, when you see him, or write to him." Hart Street, Bloomsbury Square, London, Feb. 22, 1799." As the narrative of Gilbert Burns was written at a time when he was ignorant of the existence of the preceding narrative of his brother, so this letter of Mr. Murdoch was written without his having any knowledge that either of his pupils had been employed on the same subject. The three relations serve, therefore, not merely to illustrate, but to authenticate each other. Though the information they convey might have been presented within a shorter compass, by reducing the whole into unbroken narrative, it is scarcely to be doubted, that the intelligent reader will be far more gratified by a sight of these original documents themselves. one [The poet mentions in his own narrative his visit in his nineteenth summer to Kirkoswald parish, and his mingling in scenes of dissipation there amongst the Carrick smugglers. The following additional par ticulars respecting this period of his life will probably be interesting: they were collected by the present editor, but appeared originally in Chambers Edinburgh Journal. Although I cannot do justice to the character of this worthy man, yet you will perceive, from these few particulars, what If Burns be correct in stating that it was kind of person had the principal hand in the his nineteenth summer which he spent in education of our poet. He spoke the Kirkoswald parish, the date of his residence English language with more propriety (both there must be 1777. What seems to have with respect to diction and pronunciation) suggested his going to Kirkoswald school, than any man I ever knew with no greater was the connection of his mother with advantages. This had a very good effect that parish. She was the daughter of on the boys, who began to talk, and reason Gilbert Brown, farmer of Craigenton, in like men, much sooner than their neighbours. this parochial division of Carrick, in which I do not recollect any of their contempo- she had many friends still living, parraries, at my little seminary, who afterwards ticularly a brother, Samuel Brown, who made any great degree as literary charac-resided, in the miscellaneous capacity of ters, except Dr. Tennant, who was chaplain to Colonel Fullarton's regiment, and who is now in the East Indies. He is a man of genius and learning; yet affable, and free from pedantry." "Mr. Burnes, in a short time, found that he had overrated Mount Oliphant, and that he could not rear his numerous family upon it. After being there some years, he removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton, where, I believe, Robert wrote most of his poems." "But here, sir, you will permit me to pause. I can tell you but little more relative to our poet. I shall, however, in my next, send you a copy of one of his letters to me, about the year 1783. I received one since, farm-labourer, fisherman, and dealer in wool, at the farm-house of Ballochneil, above a mile from the village of Kirkoswald. This Brown, though not the farmer or guidman of the place, was a person held to be in creditable circumstances in a district where the distinction between master and servant was, and still is, by no means great. His wife was the sister of Niven, the tenant; and he lived in the "chamber” or better portion of the farm-house, but was now a widower. It was with Brown that Burns lived during his attendance at Kirkoswald school, walking every morning to the village where the little seminary of learning was situated, and returning at night. HUGH RODGER THE SCHOOLMASTER. The district into which the young poet of Kyle was thus thrown, has many features of a remarkable kind. Though situated on the shore of the Firth of Clyde, where steamers are every hour to be seen on their passage between enlightened and busy cities, it is to this day the seat of simple and patriarchal usages. Its land, composed of bleak green uplands, partly cultivated and partly pastoral, was, at the time alluded to, occupied by a generation of primitive small farmers, many of whom, while preserving their native simplicity, had superadded to it some of the irregular habits arising from a concern in the trade of introducing contraband goods on the Carrick coast. (38) Such dealings did not prevent superstition from flourishing amongst them in a degree of vigour of which no district of Scotland now presents any example. The parish has six miles of sea coast; and the village, where the church and school are situated, is in a sheltered situation about a couple of miles inland. The parish schoolmaster, Hugh Rodger, enjoyed great local fame as a teacher of mensuration and geometry, and was much employed as a practical land surveyor. On the day when Burns entered at the school, another youth, a little younger than himself, also entered. This was a native of the neighbouring town of Maybole, who having there completed a course of classical study, was now sent by his father, a respectable shopkeeper, to acquire arithmetic and mensuration under the famed mathematician of Kirkoswald. It was then the custom, when pupils of their age entered at a school, to take the master to a tavern, and implement the engagement by treating him to some liquor. Burns and the Maybole youth, accordingly united to regale Rodger with a potation of ale, at a public house in the village, kept by two gentlewomanly sort of persons named Kennedy-Jean and Anne Kennedy-the former of whom was destined to be afterwards married to immortal verse, under the appellation of Kirkton Jean, and whose house, in consideration of some pretensions to birth or style above the common, was always called "the Leddies' House." From that time, Burns and the Maybole youth became intimate friends, insomuch, that, during this summer, neither had any companion with whom he was more frequently in company than with the other. Burns was only at the village during school hours; but when his friend Willie returned to the paternal dome on Saturday nights, the poet would accom 25 pany him, and stay till it was time for both to come back to school on Monday morning. There was also an interval between the morning and afternoon meetings of the school, which the two youths used to spend together. Instead of amusing themselves with ball or any other sport, like the rest of the scholars, they would take a walk by themselves in the outskirts of the village, and converse on subjects calculated to improve their minds. By and bye, they fell upon a plan of holding disputations or arguments on speculative questions, one taking one side, and the other the other, without much regard to their respective opinions on the point, whatever it might be, the whole object being to sharpen their intellects. 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 matter at length reached the ears of the master, who, however skilled in mathematics, possessed but a narrow understanding and little general knowledge. With all the bigotry of the old school, he conceived that this supererogatory employment of his pupils was a piece of absurdity, and he resolved to correct them in it. One day, therefore, when the school was fully met, and in the midst of its usual business, he went up to the desk where Burns and Willie were sitting opposite to each other, and began to advert in sarcastic terms to what he had heard of them. They had become great debaters, he understood, and conceived themselves fit to settle affairs of importance, which wiser heads usually let alone. He hoped their disputations would not ultimately become quarrels, and that they would never think of coming from words to blows; and so forth. The jokes of schoolmasters always succeed amongst the boys, who are too glad to find the awful man in any thing like good humour, to question either the moral aim or the point of his wit. They therefore, on this occasion, hailed the master's remarks with hearty peals of laughter. Nettled at this, Willie resolved he would "speak up" to Rodger; but first he asked Burns in a whisper if he would support him, which Burns promised to do. He then said that he was sorry to find that Robert and he had given offence; it had not been intended. And indeed he had expected that the master would have been rather pleased to know of their endea vours to improve their minds. He could assure him that such improvement was the sole object they had in view. Rodger sneered at the idea of their improving their |