John Drinkwater

“ And he who has not the expedition of the ancients is a blockhead.
Muir: A damned blockhead, dominie. That’s what Mr. Burns called the minister at lunch to-day. I never heard a compliment more prettily put. A damned blockhead.
Duncan (rousing from his stupor) : Who says I’m a damned blockhead? I resent the insults of this company—I am tired of them. If Mr. Burns says I am a damned blockhead, he’s a bankrupt bastard.
Simpson and White: Order, order.
Muir (a little sobered) : Shy Duncan, be ashamed of yourself, man. No one is welcome in this company who cannot get drunk like a gentleman. ”

“ Burns (jumping down from his chair, a little ‘flown’) : Fill up—fill up! John Barleycorn is Scotland’s king, and shall be so for ever! Fill up! There’s a pretty Nell. How’s that for a song, landlord?
The Landlord: Very good sentiments, Robin. Let all honest men prosper, say I.
Burns: Meaning, most noble landlord, all honest men to be John Barleycorn’s liege subjects—that pay tribute, mark you. Drink up, Tam Laurie—why so doomsday, man?
Tam (a meek, hard-driven little man) : It’s the cursed factors, Robin. They’ll not let a man scrape supper gruel from his toil. ”

“ We are the true ministers of state, for our policy is everlasting. Love is our law, and drink is our prophet, and shall we not obey these? I give you back a toast—Woman and the brimming bowl—gentlemen!
[The toast is honoured.]
Burns: Mr. Duncan, wake up, sir. Be not dejected in sleep, Mr. Duncan.
White (shaking him) : Wake up, Shy. Shall we forget our behaviour before a man of genius, a man of temperament?
Duncan (rousing himself) : Ten per cent.? What’s ten per cent. to me? I’ll not deal under twelve. Not a guinea under fifteen.
Muir: Behave yourself, Shy. ”

“ We know our obligations. Very well. But you must apologise to Mr. Burns.
Duncan: I will not apologise if he calls me a damned blockhead.
Burns: Mr. Duncan, believe me I had not considered you in that light.
Ogilvie: You are a damned blockhead anyway, Shy.
Duncan: Then I’ve done with argument.
[With this he flings the contents of his cup in Ogilvie’s face. Ogilvie tries to close with him, but is restrained by White and Simpson, while Muir and Burns hold Duncan.]
Duncan (to Burns) : Leave me alone, you bawdy jingler. Go back to your wenching, and let men settle their own affairs. ”

“ Burns: No, Jean, he’s right. You know it, and I know it. It isn’t the farm only that’s spoiling.
Jean: I know, Robbie. Can’t you—I mean, it’s hard for you.
Burns: It’s hard for you, lass. I’ve got a head often enough damned well full of resolutions, [Pg 91] but what’s the good of them—they scatter. The land’s mean and it’s beaten me. Or I’ve beaten myself. I can’t help the tunes running in my head, or getting a dry gullet. (He goes to the dresser and mixes a bowl of whisky punch.) But I’ve done with the cursed bit of acres. I’ve accepted the excise job at Dumfries. ”

“ You can pay, or you can feel handcuffs, or you can go where you’ll never offend honest Scots eyes with the sight of you more.
Holy Willie: And whichever you choose, you’ll first do penance in kirk for an incontinent sinner. It is the kirk’s will.
Burns: Let him that is without sin, minister—but let that go. Again, Mr. Armour, I ask it in good faith, let me take Jean to church. There’ll be no penance in that, but hope and goodwill, I promise it.
Armour: You’ve no virtue, but if you were made of it, I’ld say no still. You’ve not rank enough for the Armours. ”

“ Burns: No, no—persuade them friends. (Tam and the others, Nell and the Landlord assisting, hold them back, while Burns cries to the Beggars.) Come in—come in—serve them, Nell, my dear, full pots all round.
[He locks the door, and Nell hands round the full pots.]
Armour: This shall be a case for the Justice.
Burns: Justice is a blind wench, Mr. Armour—and it would be a bonny jest for the parish, wouldn’t it? I think we shall swallow it. Now, you jolly beggars, drink and sing. ”

“ Burns, thinking you’ll make me quiet by agreeing with me like that. I’ve started, and I’ll finish. It’s been growing in me. We work here for a scant of wages—that’s all fair enough—you can’t afford more. But we want to have a pride in the place, same as you [Pg 90] ought to, and don’t. And you can laugh at my truth as you call it, but you feel it all the same. I’ve watched you, and I’ve seen the conscience in your face. You stand down in the fields there like a man moonstruck, when you ought to be keeping your eyes on us. Couldn’t you write your poems on Sabbath afternoons? ”

“ Tam: It’s a poor thing to fleer at a man that’s beaten.
Burns (crossing, pot in hand) : A dirty thing, Master Factor, a thing that makes old Nickie-ben laugh down among the sulphur the minister is so fond of gabbing about. And before I’m gone, I’ll stand up and prophesy among you. Mr. Armour, you’re a little man, in a little place, and for your peddling bit of [Pg 27] dignity and self-esteem you’ll break your girl’s heart and ruin me. Minister, you’ll sit on the Lord’s right hand till He turns round and catches you there. ”

“ How life and love are all a dream.
[As he is ending the song, three men come to the door. One is James Armour, Jean’s father, another a Factor, and with them is Holy Willie. The Factor goes to the counter and drinks.]
Armour: So you can sing in the midst of the desolation you’ve caused.
Burns: It was no happy song, Mr. Armour.
Armour: There’s a warrant coming down the road for you.
Burns: But I cannot pay, I told you. I’ll work for Jean, but you’ll not let me.
Armour: I will not. I want no creeping seducer for a son-in-law.
Burns: That’s—I’ll not say what it is, Mr. Armour. Ask Jean. ”

“ An’ a’ the glory shall be Thine,
Amen, Amen! [He goes.]
Burns: Beware the end. Had he been a cleaner gospeller, that might be a thing to [Pg 11] consider. But the man’s rotten—who is to be preached at by such a one? But, the end. Holy Willie there maybe has the truth of it, for all he’s a false and snivelling prophet. A pretty face, and I’m all song, all springtime. Is that peace in the end? Pretty, pretty Nell. But I’ll sing a song for Scotland yet before I founder—cottar though I be. A song to remember on the highways—aye, and in Courts too. But continence, Robin, or they will consume you. ”

“ Jean: I should have kept him out. He vexed you.
Burns: I’ll never be vexed again. He’s some trick of the Lord’s. Jean girl, I’ll say it now, and then we’ll not speak of it again. You’ve been the one sure thing in this world for me. I’m tired, and I leave it all gladly, but you, and them you’ve given me. Bless you everlastingly, and forgive me for my poor soul’s sake, and I’ll need no other forgiveness on earth.
Jean (kisses him, and sings) :
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ”

“ At Professor Ferguson’s house in Edinburgh, nearly a year later—in February.
It is a cheerful, comfortable room, marked by the taste and culture of Edinburgh literary society at its best, with the elegance of fashion. A few portraits of Scots men of letters and action hang on the wall—Allan Ramsay, Robert Fergusson, James VI., Robert Bruce; in addition there are books and a pair or two of claymores, and two or three prints, including one by Bunbury of a dead soldier and his dog. On the mantelpiece is a bust of David Hume. The chill Scots winter day is brightened by a large fire in the grate ”

“ Life is all a variorum,
We regard not how it goes;
Let them cant about decorum
Who have characters to lose.
[The Beggars depart, to the music that brought them, Burns exchanging farewells as they pass through the door. The villagers follow them, except one lying in a drunken sleep on the floor. Burns, Armour, Holy Willie, the Factor, Tam, the Landlord, and Nell are all [Pg 36] that remain. The room is now in confusion, filled with fumes, the floor stained with liquor, tankards lying about, a litter of straw and oddments of rags left by the Beggars.] ”

“ The Duchess: ‘Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes’—wouldn’t you expect it of that?
Mrs. Stewart: His conversation is entrancing.
Miss Taylor: A very dangerous young man, and with those eyes too.
[Pg 48]
The Duchess: Nonsense, Martha. You needn’t alarm yourself.
Miss Taylor: Well, I shouldn’t like to be alone with him.
The Duchess: I am sure he would be discreet. I think you’re a very lucky woman, Mrs. Stewart. I wish Mr. Burns would write poems to me. My husband says there’s never been such a natural genius in Scotland before.
Mrs. Montgomery: Oh, come now. ”

“ Burns,’ through which is heard.]
Miss Taylor (to Robertson) : Very incendiary in sentiment, I must say.
Robertson: A very just criticism.
[The calls for another song persist.]
Burns: The tune of ‘The Collier’s Bonnie Lassie’?
[Mrs. Stewart plays the air, and he sings, very quietly, his audience now Mrs. Stewart alone.]
O saw ye bonnie Lesley,
As she gaed o’er the Border?
She’s gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither! ”

“ Burns: Sir, you flatter me.
Fenton: It is no flattery, sir. Enlightened judgment in London is very well aware that we have no genius in England to excel one in Scotland. It must be a great satisfaction to you, madam, to know your husband is so generally acknowledged.
Jean: We are much encouraged by it.
Fenton: But genius, I know, does not need these assurances.
Burns (handing punch) : They are my wages, sir. I am grateful for them.
[Pg 104]
Fenton: Mr. Hamilton tells me of your appointment to the excise at Dumfries. My congratulations.
[They drink.]
Burns: Yes. Seventy pounds a year. ”

“ Mrs. Montgomery: Dear me. Mr. Burns seems to be making a speech. I fear I was mistaken.
The Duchess: It’s that foolish man Robertson. He was speaking ill of Mr. Gray’s Elegy. He was very provoking. Mr. Burns does quite right to defend it.
[Pg 51]
Burns’s voice (from the far room) : Sir, I now perceive a man may be an excellent judge of poetry by square and rule, and after all be a damned blockhead.
[The Reverend Mr. Robertson, a pedantic and acidulated clergyman, comes hurriedly through the door accompanied by his host, Professor Ferguson, followed by Burns.] ”

“ Burns’s Farm at Ellisland, six miles from Dumfries. An August evening in 1791, more than four years later.
It is the general kitchen-living-room at the farm. It is fine and warm, and the door to the straw-littered yard is open. A girl is clearing away the evening meal, which has been shared by the family and the farm-servants. A young labourer is sitting by the window mending a bridle. By the fireplace, Jean Armour, now Mrs. Burns, is sewing and singing. ”

“ Folding doors are open to a room beyond, where [Pg 45] a luncheon party has been taking place. The ladies have left the table, and are seated round the room before us. They are the hostess, Mrs. Ferguson, the Duchess of Gordon, Mrs. Montgomery, Miss Taylor, and with them a boy of fifteen, the young Walter Scott. Men’s voices can be heard from time to time.
Another lady, young and beautiful, Mrs. Stewart of Stair, is seated at the piano, singing to her own accompaniment.
Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise ”

“ Burns (going to the window, and looking out) : Listen to them—vagabonds, unwashed, thieves perhaps, and kiss who kiss can. But they’re free, and they’re honester than your sort, righter commanders. (Opening the door.) Come in, come in—a pot apiece for a song, [Pg 28] my hearties—come and teach the gentlemen to say their grace.
[The Beggars crowd at the door.]
Armour: You think we’ll stay with you and your dirty rapscallions. By your leave—
[He, the Factor, and Holy Willie move to go.] ”

“ Miss Taylor: Good-afternoon, Mrs. Ferguson. We meet on Friday.
Mrs. Ferguson: Yes, Miss Taylor.
Miss Taylor: Good-afternoon, Mr. Burns. I trust you will not neglect the vineyard.
Burns: There are no vineyards at Mossgiel, madam.
Miss Taylor: I mean the Lord’s. The labourer must be worthy of his hire.
[Pg 63]
Burns: The labourer—hired. Yes, I will remember.
[Miss Taylor takes leave of the Duchess and the company, and goes, accompanied to the door by Mrs. Ferguson.
Walter Scott comes to Mrs. Ferguson and shakes her hand. He stands a moment before Burns, looking at him uncertainly.] ”

“ Burns: You put off settlement with the Lord as long as you can, Michael Johnson—you’ll be wise.
Michael: They say that Mr. Armour will not be put off, though.
[Burns is suddenly silenced by this, and with his parting score Michael goes, two or three of the others following him. One or two of the party are now asleep, [Pg 22] two or three others talking together, Tam sitting by himself. The landlord is smoking, and Nell cleaning pots.]
Tam: He was always bitter to poverty. Thank you, Robin, for speaking.
Nell: What’s that about Mr. Armour?
Burns: They’ve beaten me, Nell. I’ve got to go. ”

“ Holy Willie: I’ll trouble you, Mr. Hamilton, to keep your offensive observations to yourself.
Hamilton: But why, when I part with them so suitably in your company?
[A Sheriff’s Officer comes in.]
The Officer: Are you Robert Burns?
Burns: I am.
The Officer (serving a warrant) : In the King’s name.
Hamilton: What is this?
Burns: I’m a ruined man, Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Armour’s daughter—I can’t pay—and he won’t let me wed her as I would.
Armour: He will not. And he will bid you good-night.
[Pg 40]
[He goes, Holy Willie and the Factor with him.] ”