{"id":140,"date":"2013-12-27T20:00:34","date_gmt":"2013-12-27T20:00:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/scottishliterature.wordpress.com\/?page_id=140"},"modified":"2014-03-11T15:19:39","modified_gmt":"2014-03-11T15:19:39","slug":"6-the-vernacular-revival","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/scottishlit.com\/?page_id=140","title":{"rendered":"6: The Vernacular Revival"},"content":{"rendered":"

In this chapter we explore the changing functions of literature and the changing roles of poets in the 18th century. At the beginning of this century, we move into period of Modern Scots and as the decades pass, we begin \u2013 gradually \u2013 to see the contemporary figures of the poet, the novelist and the dramatist emerge.<\/p>\n

As we saw in the previous chapter, Scotland again underwent radical social and political changes in the last decades of the 17th century, and these changes impacted on its literature. The main space for literary activity had been the court \u2013 and with the removal of the court to London at the start of the 17th century, the space for a distinctively Scottish court literature was closed. We saw that, for example, Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty wrote first for the London-based court of Charles I, and then, after the king\u2019s execution, for his republican successors. His works are largely in English. In Scotland, however, ballads, songs and folk tales continued to be performed in Scots and Gaelic; and towards the end of the century these began to be written down.<\/p>\n

The republican Commonwealth eventually gave way to the restored monarchy of Charles II, who died in 1685, to be succeeded by his brother, James II and VII. Around this time several momentous events occurred. First, James II converted to Roman Catholicism and, on the birth of his son, James Francis Edward Stuart in 1688, there was an openly Catholic heir to the throne of the United Kingdom. Protestant forces opposed to a Catholic monarchy forced James into exile in France, replacing him with his daughter, Mary, who was married to the Protestant, William of Orange.<\/p>\n

\"Bonnie<\/a>

Bonnie Prince Charlie by John Pettie<\/p><\/div>\n

The accession of William and Mary to the throne of the United Kingdom is known as the \u2018Glorious Revolution\u2019. James and his son remained in exile in France, and they plotted to regain control of the kingdom; supporters of their cause were known as Jacobites. When James II died in 1701, his son and then his grandson, Charles Edward Stuart or ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’, continued to campaign to be restored as king. Sympathy for the Jacobite cause was particularly strong in the highland areas of Scotland.<\/p>\n

In the 1690s, many of the wealthier Scottish families were tempted to invest money in a scheme to colonise part of the Panama peninsula, a place called Darien, and so establish a Scottish colony that would be well placed to benefit from trade routes between the Atlantic and Pacific. It is estimated that around half of the national wealth of Scotland was invested into the Darien scheme; owing to various factors, including internal disputes, hostility from existing colonial powers such as Spain and England, and the difficulties of coping with the local climate, the colony failed and the investors lost their investments. The dawn of the 18th century, then, saw Scotland suffering the loss of the Stuart monarchy, and in the midst of a deep financial crisis.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>

A copy of the 1707 Treaty of Union<\/p><\/div>\n

The solution, for Scotland and England\u2019s political elites, was a more thorough political and economic integration between the two nations. A Treaty of Union was negotiated and, in the face of popular opposition, in 1707, the treaty was ratified by separate Acts of Union in Scotland and England. The state of Great Britain was formed. Many of the debts incurred by the Darien disaster were paid off, and the Scots agreed, in an Act of Settlement, that the Protestant Hanoverian descendants of William and Mary would be accepted as legitimate monarchs of the UK. The separate Scottish parliament was disbanded and absorbed into the Westminster parliament in London.<\/p>\n

In the early 18th century, as a response to this perceived loss of Scottish sovereignty, there was a rise in cultural nationalism. In the early 1700s, around the time of the Treaty of Union, a revival of interest in literature in Scots was signalled by book publications such as James Watson\u2019s Choice Collection of Comic and Serious Scots Poems both Ancient and Modern <\/i>(1706-1711) and Thomas Ruddiman\u2019s edition of Gavin Douglas\u2019 16th century Eneados<\/i> (\u00c6neid) in 1710.<\/p>\n

\"Gavin<\/a>

Gavin Douglas’ ‘Eneados’ (Aeneid)<\/p><\/div>\n

These book publications indicate a growing middle class readership for Scottish texts; at the cheaper end of the market, a new industry in cheap, one-page \u2018broadside\u2019 publications was also beginning to flourish. The broadsides were originally official public proclamations, but by the early 18th century their content had broadened out to include songs, satirical poems, and versions of topical events, such as the speeches supposedly given by condemned prisoners before their execution. In some cases, the language used in the broadsides was Scots. It is likely that broadsides appealed to readers with perhaps limited literacy, or to labouring-class readers who enjoyed performing them to a less literate audience.<\/p>\n

Another space for the performance of literature in Scots \u2013 songs and satirical poems, for example \u2013 was the local club or association. As the historian Linda Colley has observed, clubs were a notable feature of 18th century life:<\/p>\n

Voluntary associations of different kinds were breaking out like measles over the face of Britain and the rest of Europe at this time, especially in towns, and almost exclusively among men. There were street clubs, patronised by the leading inhabitants of a particular district, clubs devoted to hobbies, everything from rose-growing to cruel sports and idiosyncratic sex, innumerable masonic and quasi-masonic societies catering to the male delight in secret rituals and dressing up, box clubs, which poorer men joined to provide themselves with a modicum of insurance, clubs devoted to party politics or food, discussion clubs where blue-chinned autodictats pondered the mysteries of science and philosophy, and more genteel associations where responsible citizens met to dine well and discuss the local poor.<\/p>\n

(Linda Colley, Britons: The Forging of the Nation 1992; p.88)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Clubs provided a space for self-improvement and political dispute; they also provided an immediate audience for literary composition, orally performed or circulated in manuscript. Broadside printing or even book publication might later follow. This seems to be the route taken by the first substantial poet to work in Scots after the Union, Allan Ramsay (1686-1758).<\/p>\n

\"Allan<\/a>

Allan Ramsay by William Aikman<\/p><\/div>\n

Ramsay moved from the Scottish borders to Edinburgh as a young man, and became established in the city first as a wig-maker. By 1712 he was a member of small group of associates who shared literary interests, the Easy Club, in which he adopted the alternating pseudonyms of Gavin Douglas, after the Scottish poet and translator, and Isaac Bickerstaff, after the author of the London magazine The Tatler<\/i> (itself in fact a pseudonym for the Irish writer, Sir Richard Steele). The fact that Ramsay adopted two pseudonyms is perhaps suggestive of his perception of himself as being heir to two traditions. A sense of the literary and social activities of these clubs can be gained by examining a selection of their minutes, e.g the following entry for 1715<\/p>\n

13 April 1715<\/p>\n

Two poems were presented by Gawin Douglas [ie Allan Ramsay] One upon the Debate or discourse in ye club ye 16 of March about the Requisites necessary to Constitute a Gentleman.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Ramsay began to develop a literary career, publishing some of his verse first in broadsides, and then in a collected edition of 1721. \u2018Lucky Spence\u2019s Last Advice\u2019 is a good example of the way in which literary texts were disseminated to different audiences. This satirical ballad, which ostensibly gives a real-life brothel-keeper\u2019s last words to her working girls, probably began as a performance piece for a few friends, then surfaced in print as an anonymous broadside, probably around 1718, before ending up in book form .The advice is written in light Scots, e.g.<\/p>\n

\"Broadsheet<\/a>

Broadsheet version of ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’<\/p><\/div>\n

Wi well crish’d Loofs I hae been Canty;<\/p>\n

Whan e’er the Lads wad fain a faun t’ye,<\/p>\n

To try the auld Game Taunty Ranty,<\/p>\n

like Cursers keen,<\/p>\n

They took Advice of me your Aunty<\/p>\n

if ye was clean.<\/p>\n

With well-greased palms, I have been merry;<\/i><\/p>\n

Whenever the lads would like to have fallen to you<\/i><\/p>\n

To try the old game of \u2018rumpy pumpy\u2019<\/i><\/p>\n

Like stallions keen,<\/i><\/p>\n

They took advice from me, your Auntie<\/i><\/p>\n

[To know] if you were clean.<\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

To balance the bawdier verses, Ramsay also includes in his Poems<\/i> translations of the Latin poet, Horace, although, as he revealingly admits in his Preface, he is not classically trained:<\/p>\n

I understand Horace but faintly in the Original, and yet can feast on his beautiful Thoughts dress\u2019d in British; and do not see any great occasion for every Man\u2019s being made capable to translate the Classicks, when they are so elegantly done to his hand.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The admission is significant because once again it demonstrates Ramsay\u2019s relative lack of education (though literacy rates in Scotland as a whole at this time were still low compared to the present day), and because it shows him asserting a \u2018British\u2019 identity for English as a medium of translation. His version of Horace\u2019s ode (I.v) addresses another young female beauty who is out to ensnare a man:<\/p>\n

What young raw muisted beau bred at his glass \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 perfumed<\/i><\/p>\n

Now wilt thou on a rose\u2019s bed carress?<\/p>\n

Wha niest to thy white breasts wilt thou intice, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 next<\/i><\/p>\n

With hair unsnooded and without thy stays?<\/p>\n

O bonny lass, wi\u2019 thy sweet landart air,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 rustic<\/i><\/p>\n

How will thy fikle humour gie him care.<\/p>\n

When\u2019er thou takes the fling-strings, like the wind<\/p>\n

That jaws the ocean, thou\u2019lt disturb his mind. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 dashes<\/i><\/p>\n

When thou looks smirky, kind and claps his cheek:<\/p>\n

To poor friends then he\u2019l hardly look or speak.<\/p>\n

The coof believes\u2019t na, but right soon he\u2019ll find \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 fool<\/i><\/p>\n

Thee light as cork, and wav\u2019ring as the wind.<\/p>\n

On that slid place where I \u2019maist brake my bains, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 slippery, bones<\/i><\/p>\n

To be a warning I set up twa stains, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 stones<\/i><\/p>\n

That nane may venture there as I hae done,<\/p>\n

Unless wi\u2019 frosted nails he clink his shoon. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 hammer, shoes<\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It is worth reflecting on possible reasons for the appropriation of Horace\u2019s Latin odes into literature in Scots during this period. Horace (65-8 BC) adopted a stance that privileged country life amongst a small circle of friends to the corruption of the metropolis, and in many of his odes he extolled the virtues of epicureanism, or the pursuit of pleasure. This was an attractive model for Scots in Edinburgh who found themselves no longer in a national but a provincial capital, removed from the metropolis of London. They could take satisfaction from a pleasant life in a convivial company whose members share the poet\u2019s values \u2013 in his poem attacking the fickle \u2018bonny lass\u2019 who ensnares her lovers, the poet ends by setting up a warning sign for the benefit of others who might be seduced by her charms. It is again the kind of poem that might be performed in a social group largely composed of young men.<\/p>\n

Ramsay went on to update and edit collections of Older Scots poetry, in anthologies like The Ever Green<\/i>, and he established a reputation as a dramatist with his pastoral drama, The Gentle Shepherd<\/i> (1725). He therefore stands as a pivotal figure, linking the older tradition of literature in Scots with the new, revived vernacular tradition that is emerging from performance, broadsides and book publication amongst the aspiring middle and professional classes in the 18th century.<\/p>\n

\"Statue<\/a>

Statue of Robert Fergusson, Canongate, Edinburgh<\/p><\/div>\n

Eight years before Ramsay\u2019s death, the second poet to be considered in this chapter was born, Robert Fergusson (1750-1774). Of the three poets considered here, Fergusson was the only one to attend university, the University of St Andrews, where he began writing poetry, mainly in English. He had to return to the family home in Edinburgh on the death of his father, and take up a post as a lawyer\u2019s clerk. Like Ramsay and, later, Burns, Fergusson was a member of a club, the Cape Club, and we can imagine a situation in which he began performing poetry in this convivial context. In 1771, he started publishing Scots verse on local and topical matters in an early newspaper, the Weekly Review<\/em>, which had been established by Walter Ruddiman, Thomas Ruddiman\u2019s nephew, three years earlier. The response to Fergusson\u2019s Scots poetry was sufficiently enthusiastic for Ruddiman to publish a collection in the form of a book, in 1773, a year before the poet\u2019s untimely death.<\/p>\n

Fergusson\u2019s poetry shares some of its general characteristics with Ramsay\u2019s: it is at heart clubbable verse, written by a young man in the Scottish capital city for his fellow citizens. Like Ramsay, he draws upon Horace\u2019s verse and translates a poem on the theme of carpe diem, or the importance of \u2018seizing the day\u2019:<\/p>\n

Horace, Ode XI. Lib I,<\/i> by Robert Fergusson<\/p>\n

Ne\u2019er fash your thumb what gods decree \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 trouble yourself<\/i><\/p>\n

To be the weird o\u2019 you or me, fate<\/p>\n

Nor deal in cantrup\u2019s kittle cunning \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 witchcraft\u2019s mysterious<\/i><\/p>\n

To speir how fast your days are running. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ask<\/i><\/p>\n

But patient lippen for the best, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 trust<\/i><\/p>\n

Nor be in dowy thought opprest, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 gloomy<\/i><\/p>\n

Whether we see mare winters come<\/p>\n

Than this that spits wi\u2019 canker\u2019d foam.<\/p>\n

Now moisten weel your geyzen\u2019d wa\u2019as \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 dried-out<\/i><\/p>\n

Wi\u2019 couthy friends and hearty blaws; \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 sociable<\/i><\/p>\n

Ne\u2019er let your hope oe\u2019rgang your days, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 over-reach<\/i><\/p>\n

For eild and thraldom never stays; \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 age, servitude<\/i><\/p>\n

The day looks gash, toot aff your horn, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 bright, drain your cup<\/i><\/p>\n

Nor care yae strae about the morn. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 give a care, tomorrow<\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Like Ramsay, Fergusson integrates literate culture (here the classical source is in the form of a sonnet) with orality. His vocabulary draws on popular oral formulae (e.g. \u2018ne\u2019er fash your thumb\u00b4, \u00b4toot aff your horn\u2019 and \u2018care you strae\u2019) to domesticate the classical source, turning the Latin poet into a contemporary fellow speaker of Scots. The original poems he writes continue to value the homely, the native and the convivially social. In many of his poems, the themes and treatment anticipate Burns\u2019 later work, which echoes even Fergusson\u2019s phrases. Fergusson\u2019s \u2018Braid Claith\u2019 employs the \u2018Standard Habbie\u2019 folk stanza that Ramsay also used, to proclaim, with evident irony, the virtues of being clothed in the finest broadcloth:<\/p>\n

Braid Claith lends fock an unco heese, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 folk, considerable lift<\/i><\/p>\n

Makes mony kail-worms butterflies, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 cabbage-worms<\/i><\/p>\n

Gies mony a doctor his degrees \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 gives<\/i><\/p>\n

For little skaith: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 harm<\/i><\/p>\n

In short, you may be what you please<\/p>\n

Wi’ gude Braid Claith.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

One of Fergusson\u2019s few pastoral poems, \u2018The Farmer\u2019s Ingle\u2019, less ironically praises the homely virtues of rustic life, elevating the theme by using the stanza form first associated with Spenser\u2019s epic The Faerie Queene<\/i>, and more recently revived by the English poet, William Shenstone, to describe, in a mock-heroic manner, a village teacher, in \u2018The School-mistress\u2019. Fergusson\u2019s poem is gently affectionate:<\/p>\n

The fient a chiep’s amang the bairnies now; \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 not a sound\u2019s, children<\/i><\/p>\n

For a’ their anger’s wi’ their hunger gane: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 gone<\/i><\/p>\n

Ay maun the childer, wi’ a fastin mou’, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 must , mouth<\/i><\/p>\n

Grumble and greet, and make an unco mane, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 loud complaint<\/i><\/p>\n

In rangles round before the ingle’s low: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 multitudes, flame<\/i><\/p>\n

Frae gudame’s mouth auld warld tales they hear, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 wife, old world<\/i><\/p>\n

O’ Warlocks louping round the Wirrikow, leaping, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 hobgoblin<\/i><\/p>\n

O’ gaists that win in glen and kirk-yard drear, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ghosts,<\/em><\/p>\n

Whilk touzles a’ their tap, and gars them shak wi’ fear. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 makes their hair standon end<\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"The<\/a>

The Cotter\u2019s Saturday Night, by Alexander Johnston (1863)<\/p><\/div>\n

This kind of scene must have been familiar to Robert Burns (1759-96), who grew up in a farming household in Ayrshire, and who later revisited the theme, more sentimentally, in his own poem \u2018The Cottar\u2019s Saturday Night\u2019, which again uses the Spenserian stanza to affirm the worth of the apparently lowly subject matter. Fergusson\u2019s status as a poetic precursor to Burns, who publicly acknowledged his debt to his \u2018elder brother in the Muse\u2019 has tended to overshadow his own considerable poetic talents, especially as a chronicler of city life in Edinburgh, as in his most ambitious poem, \u2018Auld Reekie\u2019.<\/p>\n

Burns took the now familiar route to publication, joining a club as a young man (the Bachelors\u2019 Club in the village of Tarbolton), circulating some of his earlier poems in broadside, and then collecting a number of them in a book. Burns\u2019 first volume of Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect<\/i>, known generally as the \u2018Kilmarnock edition\u2019 was published in a limited print run in 1786. Despite having a small circulation, the Kilmarnock edition was positively reviewed, and its contents liberally quoted from in the periodical literature of the time, which was becoming ever more influential.<\/p>\n

\"Kilmarnock<\/a>

Kilmarnock Edition of Burns’ Poems<\/p><\/div>\n

As a result of glowing notices in some English magazines, Burns suddenly found himself a literary celebrity and he visited Edinburgh where he cultivated the image of \u2018the ploughman poet\u2019 and was duly lionized by polite society. There, he arranged for a further, expanded edition of his poems to be printed by the main publisher in the capital, William Creech.<\/p>\n

He eventually left Edinburgh, first to lease a farm in Dumfries, and, when that failed, to work as an excise officer in the region. In this period, He became deeply involved in collecting, revising and composing Scottish songs for publication in anthologies such as George Thomson’s A Select Collection of Original Scottish Airs for the Voice<\/i> and James Johnson’s The Scots Musical Museum<\/i>. While his literary enterprises were successful, Burns made relatively little profit by them \u2013 letters and poems chronicle his battles with Creech to obtain his due for the editions of his poems, and he contributed to the song anthologies for little or no recompense.<\/p>\n

Burns also was notoriously attracted to romantic entanglements; as a young man he was publicly chastised by the local Presbyterian church for his sexual conduct (he had his first daughter by one of his family\u2019s servants, Elizabeth Paton); and he later entered enthusiastically into relationships with a number of women, including a passionate \u2018textual affair\u2019 with Agnes, or \u2018Nancy\u2019 McLehose, an Edinburgh woman separated from her husband, and who aspired, herself, to be a poet.<\/p>\n

\"Agnes<\/a>

Agnes ‘Nancy’ McLehose, or ‘Clarinda’<\/p><\/div>\n

Burns managed to indulge a heated correspondence with Nancy while getting her maid, Jenny Clow, pregnant. He later married Jean Armour, who bore him nine children of their own. Only three of the children born to Jean Armour and Burns survived beyond infancy, but Jean also cared for several of Burns\u2019 offspring by other women, including Jenny Clow, and a maidservant, Margaret Cameron.<\/p>\n

It is evident from this brief biographical sketch that Burns had a tremendous appetite for life, and his passionate engagement with politics, philosophy, companionship and love are everywhere evident in his poetry. One of his earlier satirical poems was no doubt performed in small circles before achieving local notoriety in broadside form. It was not published between the covers of a respectable book for some time. The poem is called \u2018Holy Willie\u2019s Prayer,\u2019 and it springs from a dispute between a conservative elder in Mauchline parish church, William Fisher, and a more progressive lawyer who happened to be amongst Burns\u2019 friends.<\/p>\n

Burns\u2019 poem undermines Fisher\u2019s credibility by portraying him as a religious and moral hypocrite who adheres to the Presbyterian doctrine of \u2018justification by faith\u2019. Simply put, this doctrine held that God had pre-determined the number of humans who would be saved and go to heaven, and those who would be damned and go to hell. The doctrine held that the number of the damned would greatly outnumber that of the saved, and, moreover, since the decision was pre-determined, no action by humans could change it. Thus those who were saved (a group known as \u2018the elect\u2019) would go to heaven, not for any good actions they had performed, but because they had faith in God. And God would grant the elect knowledge of their \u2018election\u2019 to the ranks of the saved.<\/p>\n

Burns saw the potential of this doctrine to fuel religious hypocrisy, and \u2018Holy Willie\u2019s Prayer\u2019 begins with the church elder addressing God, describing justification by faith, and thanking Him for making him one of the elect. As the poem continues, the elder\u2019s various sins \u2013 including fornication and drunkenness \u2013 are gradually revealed:<\/p>\n

\"Manuscript<\/a>

Manuscript of Holy Willie’s Prayer<\/p><\/div>\n

From \u2018Holy Willie\u2019s Prayer\u2019<\/p>\n

O thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell,<\/p>\n

Wha, as it pleases best thysel\u2019,<\/p>\n

Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell,<\/p>\n

A\u2019 for thy glory,<\/p>\n

And no for ony gude or ill<\/p>\n

They\u2019ve done afore thee!<\/p>\n

I bless and praise thy matchless might,<\/p>\n

Whan thousands thou hast left in night,<\/p>\n

That I am here afore thy sight,<\/p>\n

For gifts and grace,<\/p>\n

A burnin\u2019 and a shinin\u2019 light<\/p>\n

To a\u2019 this place.<\/p>\n

What was I, or my generation,<\/p>\n

That I should get sic exaltation,<\/p>\n

I wha deserve sic just damnation,<\/p>\n

For broken laws,<\/p>\n

Five thousand years \u2018fore my creation,<\/p>\n

Thro\u2019 Adam\u2019s cause.<\/p>\n

When frae my mither\u2019s womb I fell,<\/p>\n

Thou might hae plunged me in hell,<\/p>\n

To gnash my gums, to weep and wail,<\/p>\n

In burnin\u2019 lake,<\/p>\n

Whar damned devils roar and yell,<\/p>\n

Chain\u2019d to a stake.<\/p>\n

Yet I am here a chosen sample;<\/p>\n

To show thy grace is great and ample;<\/p>\n

I\u2019m here a pillar in thy temple,<\/p>\n

Strong as a rock,<\/p>\n

A guide, a buckler, an example,<\/p>\n

To a\u2019 thy flock.<\/p>\n

But yet, O Lord! confess I must,<\/p>\n

At times I\u2019m fash\u2019d wi\u2019 fleshly lust;<\/p>\n

And sometimes, too, wi\u2019 warldly trust,<\/p>\n

Vile self gets in;<\/p>\n

But thou remembers we are dust,<\/p>\n

Defil\u2019d in sin.<\/p>\n

O Lord! yestreen thou kens, wi\u2019 Meg\u2014<\/p>\n

Thy pardon I sincerely beg,<\/p>\n

O! may\u2019t ne\u2019er be a livin\u2019 plague<\/p>\n

To my dishonour,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 I\u2019ll ne\u2019er lift a lawless leg<\/p>\n

Again upon her.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In this satire, Burns uses a rich, colloquial Scots turn of phrase, and the popular rhyme scheme \u2013 \u2018standard Habbie\u2019 \u2013 that had been taken up and popularised in similar satires by Ramsay and Fergusson. Burns, however, took both the language and the stanza form and turned it to very different purposes in other poems, notably \u2018To a Mouse\u2019, the poem that fixed his image as \u2018the ploughman poet\u2019. In this poem he imagines himself at the plough, overturning a mouse\u2019s nest, and then addressing the creature, not satirically, but sympathetically, as a vulnerable fellow creature. The ploughman first apologises to the startled animal, and then engages it in philosophical reflection.<\/p>\n

To a Mouse<\/p>\n

Wee, sleekit, cow\u2019rin\u2019, tim\u2019rous beastie,<\/p>\n

\"Postage<\/a>

Postage stamp featuring ‘To a Mouse’<\/p><\/div>\n

O, what a panic\u2019s in thy breastie!<\/p>\n

Thou need na start awa sae hasty,<\/p>\n

Wi\u2019 bickering brattle!<\/p>\n

I wad be laith to rin an\u2019 chase thee,<\/p>\n

Wi\u2019 murd\u2019ring pattle!<\/p>\n

I\u2019m truly sorry man\u2019s dominion<\/p>\n

Has broken nature\u2019s social union,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 justifies that ill opinion,<\/p>\n

Which makes thee startle<\/p>\n

At me, thy poor earth-born companion,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 fellow-mortal!<\/p>\n

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;<\/p>\n

What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!<\/p>\n

A daimen icker in a thrave<\/p>\n

\u2018S a sma\u2019 request:<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll get a blessin\u2019 wi\u2019 the lave,<\/p>\n

And never miss\u2019t!<\/p>\n

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin;<\/p>\n

Its silly wa\u2019s the win\u2019s are strewin\u2019!<\/p>\n

An\u2019 naething, now, to big a new ane,<\/p>\n

O\u2019 foggage green!<\/p>\n

An\u2019 bleak December\u2019s winds ensuin\u2019,<\/p>\n

Baith snell and keen!<\/p>\n

Thou saw the fields laid bare an\u2019 waste,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 weary winter comin\u2019 fast,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 cozie here, beneath the blast,<\/p>\n

Thou thought to dwell,<\/p>\n

\u2019Till, crash! the cruel coulter past<\/p>\n

Out thro\u2019 thy cell.<\/p>\n

That wee bit heap o\u2019 leaves an\u2019 stibble,<\/p>\n

Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!<\/p>\n

Now thou\u2019s turn\u2019d out, for a\u2019 thy trouble,<\/p>\n

But house or hald,<\/p>\n

To thole the winter\u2019s sleety dribble,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 cranreuch cauld!<\/p>\n

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,<\/p>\n

In proving foresight may be vain:<\/p>\n

The best laid schemes o\u2019 mice an\u2019 men,<\/p>\n

Gang aft a-gley,<\/p>\n

An\u2019 lea\u2019e us nought but grief and pain,<\/p>\n

For promis\u2019d joy.<\/p>\n

Still thou art blest, compar\u2019d wi\u2019 me!<\/p>\n

The present only toucheth thee:<\/p>\n

But, Och! I backward cast my e\u2019e,<\/p>\n

On prospects drear!<\/p>\n

An\u2019 forward, tho\u2019 I canna see,<\/p>\n

I guess an\u2019 fear.<\/p>\n

\r\n