St. Abb's Lodge,[297]--Mr. William Grieve, the oldest brother, a joyous,
warm-hearted, jolly, clever fellow--takes a hearty glass, and sings a
good song.--Mr. Robert, his brother, and partner in trade, a good
fellow, but says little. Take a sail after dinner. Fishing of all
kinds pays tithes at Eyemouth.
_Sunday._--A Mr. Robinson, brewer at Ednam, sets out with us to
Dunbar.
The Miss Grieves very good girls.--My bardship's heart got a brush
from Miss Betsey.
Mr. William Grieve's attachment to the family-circle, so fond, that
when he is out, which by the bye is often the case, he cannot go to
bed till he see if all his sisters are sleeping well ---- Pass the
famous Abbey of Coldingham, and Pease-bridge.--Call at Mr. Sheriff's
where Mr. A. and I dine.--Mr. S. talkative and conceited. I talk of
love to Nancy the whole evening, while her brother escorts home some
companions like himself.--Sir James Hall of Dunglass, having heard of
my being in the neighbourhood, comes to Mr. Sheriff's to
breakfast--takes me to see his fine scenery on the stream of
Dunglass--Dunglass the most romantic, sweet place I over saw--Sir
James and his lady a pleasant happy couple.--He points out a walk for
which he has an uncommon respect, as it was made by an aunt of his, to
whom he owes much.
Miss ---- will accompany me to Dunbar, by way of making a parade of me as a
sweetheart of hers, among her relations. She mounts an old cart-horse, as
huge and as lean as a house; a rusty old side-saddle without girth, or
stirrup, but fastened on with an old pillion-girth--herself as fine as
hands could make her, in cream-coloured riding clothes, hat and feather,
&c.--I, ashamed of my situation, ride like the devil, and almost shake her
to pieces on old Jolly--get rid of her by refusing to call at her uncle's
with her.
Past through the most glorious corn-country I ever saw, till I reach
Dunbar, a neat little town.--Dine with Provost Fall, an eminent
merchant, and most respectable character, but undescribable, as he
exhibits no marked traits. Mrs. Fall, a genius in painting; fully more
clever in the fine arts and sciences than my friend Lady Wauchope,
without her consummate assurance of her own abilities.--Call with Mr.
Robinson (who, by the bye, I find to be a worthy, much respected man,
very modest; warm, social heart, which with less good sense than his
would be perhaps with the children of prim precision and pride, rather
inimical to that respect which is man's due from man) with him I call
on Miss Clarke, a maiden in the Scotch phrase, "_Guid enough, but no
brent new_:" a clever woman, with tolerable pretensions to remark and
wit; while time had blown the blushing bud of bashful modesty into the
flower of easy confidence. She wanted to see what sort of _raree show_
an author was; and to let him know, that though Dunbar was but a
little town, yet it was not destitute of people of parts.
Breakfast next morning at Skateraw, at Mr. Lee's, a farmer of great
note.--Mr. Lee, an excellent, hospitable, social fellow, rather
oldish; warm-hearted and chatty--a most judicious, sensible farmer.
Mr. Lee detains me till next morning.--Company at dinner.--My Rev.
acquaintance Dr. Bowmaker, a reverend, rattling old fellow.--Two sea
lieutenants; a cousin of the landlord's, a fellow whose looks are of
that kind which deceived me in a gentleman at Kelso, and has often
deceived me: a goodly handsome figure and face, which incline one to
give them credit for parts which they have not. Mr. Clarke, a much
cleverer fellow, but whose looks a little cloudy, and his appearance
rather ungainly, with an every-day observer may prejudice the opinion
against him.--Dr. Brown, a medical young gentleman from Dunbar, a
fellow whose face and manners are open and engaging.--Leave Skateraw
for Dunse next day, along with collector ----, a lad of slender
abilities and bashfully diffident to an extreme.
Found Miss Ainslie, the amiable, the sensible, the good-humoured, the
sweet Miss Ainslie, all alone at Berrywell.--Heavenly powers, who know
the weakness of human hearts, support mine! What happiness must I see
only to remind me that I cannot enjoy it!
Lammer-muir Hills, from East Lothian to Dunse, very wild.--Dine with
the farmer's club at Kelso. Sir John Hume and Mr. Lumsden there, but
nothing worth remembrance when the following circumstance is
considered--I walk into Dunse before dinner, and out to Berrywell in
the evening with Miss Ainslie--how well-bred, how frank, how good she
is! Charming Rachael! may thy bosom never be wrung by the evils of
this life of sorrows, or by the villany of this world's sons!
_Thursday._--Mr. Ker and I set out to dine at Mr. Hood's on our way to
England.
I am taken extremely ill with strong feverish symptoms, and take a
servant of Mr. Hood's to watch me all night--embittering remorse
scares my fancy at the gloomy forebodings of death.--I am determined
to live for the future in such a manner as not to be scared at the
approach of death--I am sure I could meet him with indifference, but
for "The something beyond the grave."--Mr. Hood agrees to accompany us
to England if we will wait till Sunday.
_Friday._--I go with Mr. Hood to see a roup of an unfortunate farmer's
stock--rigid economy, and decent industry, do you preserve me from
being the principal _dramatis persona_ in such a scene of horror.
Meet my good old friend Mr. Ainslie, who calls on Mr. Hood in the
evening to take farewell of my bardship. This day I feel myself warm
with sentiments of gratitude to the Great Preserver of men, who has
kindly restored me to health and strength once more.
A pleasant walk with my young friend Douglas Ainslie, a sweet, modest,
clever young fellow.
_Sunday_, 27_th May._--Cross Tweed, and traverse the moors through a
wild country till I reach Alnwick--Alnwick Castle a seat of the Duke
of Northumberland, furnished in a most princely manner.--A Mr. Wilkin,
agent of His Grace's, shows us the house and policies. Mr. Wilkin, a
discreet, sensible, ingenious man.
_Monday._--Come, still through by-ways, to Warkworth, where we
dine.--Hermitage and old castle. Warkworth situated very picturesque,
with Coquet Island, a small rocky spot, the seat of an old monastery,
facing it a little in the sea; and the small but romantic river
Coquet, running through it.--Sleep at Morpeth, a pleasant enough
little town, and on next day to Newcastle.--Meet with a very
agreeable, sensible fellow, a Mr. Chattox, who shows us a great many
civilities, and who dines and sups with us.
_Wednesday._--Left Newcastle early in the morning, and rode over a
fine country to Hexham to breakfast--from Hexham to Wardrue, the
celebrated Spa, where we slept.
_Thursday_--Reach Longtown to dine, and part there with my good
friends Messrs. Hood and Ker--A hiring day in Longtown--I am
uncommonly happy to see so many young folks enjoying life.--I come to
Carlisle.--(Meet a strange enough romantic adventure by the way, in
falling in with a girl and her married sister--the girl, after some
overtures of gallantry on my side, sees me a little cut with the
bottle, and offers to take me in for a Gretna-Green affair.--I, not
being such a gull, as she imagines, make an appointment with her, by
way of _vive la bagatelle_, to hold a conference on it when we reach
town.--I meet her in town and give her a brush of caressing, and a
bottle of cider; but finding herself _un peu trompe_ in her man she
sheers off.) Next day I meet my good friend, Mr. Mitchell, and walk
with him round the town and its environs, and through his
printing-works, &c.--four or five hundred people employed, many of
them women and children.--Dine with Mr. Mitchell, and leave
Carlisle.--Come by the coast to Annan.--Overtaken on the way by a
curious old fish of a shoemaker, and miner, from Cumberland mines.
[_Here the manuscript abruptly terminates._]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 294: The author of that fine song, "The Maid that tends the
Goats."]
[Footnote 295: "During the discourse Burns produced a neat impromptu,
conveying an elegant compliment to Miss Ainslie. Dr. B. had selected a
text of Scripture that contained a heavy denunciation against
obstinate sinners. In the course of the sermon Burns observed the
young lady turning over the leaves of her Bible, with much
earnestness, in search of the text. He took out a slip of paper, and
with a pencil wrote the following lines on it, which he immediately
presented to her.
"Fair maid, you need not take the hint,
Nor idle texts pursue:--
'Twas _guilty sinners_ that he meant,--
Not _angels_ such as you."
Cromek.]
[Footnote 296: "This extraordinary woman then moved in a very humble
walk of life:--the wife of a common working gardener. She is still
living, and, if I am rightly informed, her time is principally occupied
in her attentions to a little day-school, which not being sufficient for
her subsistence, she is obliged to solicit the charily of her benevolent
neighbours. 'Ah, who would love the lyre!'"--CROMEK.]
[Footnote 297: The entry made on this occasion in the Lodge-books of St
Abb's is honorable to
"The brethren of the mystic level."
"_Eyemouth_, 19_th May_, 1787.
"At a general encampment held this day, the following brethren were
made royal arch masons, viz. Robert Burns, from the Lodge of St.
James's, Tarbolton, Ayrshire, and Robert Ainslie, from the Lodge of
St. Luke's, Edinburgh by James Carmichael, Wm. Grieve, Daniel Dow,
John Clay, Robert Grieve, &c. &c. Robert Ainslie paid one guinea
admission dues; but on account of R. Burns's remarkable poetical
genius, the encampment unanimously agreed to admit him gratis, and
considered themselves honoured by having a man of such shining
abilities for one of their companions."
Extracted from the Minute Book of the Lodge by THOMAS
BOWBILL]
* * * * *
THE HIGHLAND TOUR.
25_th August_, 1787.
I leave Edinburgh for a northern tour, in company with my good friend
Mr. Nicol, whose originality of humour promises me much
entertainment.--Linlithgow--a fertile improved country--West Lothian.
The more elegance and luxury among the farmers, I always observe in
equal proportion, the rudeness and stupidity of the peasantry. This
remark I have made all over the Lothians, Merse, Roxburgh, &c. For
this, among other reasons, I think that a man of romantic taste, a
"Man of Feeling," will be better pleased with the poverty, but
intelligent minds of the peasantry in Ayrshire (peasantry they are all
below the justice of peace) than the opulence of a club of Merse
farmers, when at the same time, he considers the vandalism of their
plough-folks, &c. I carry this idea so far, that an unenclosed, half
improven country is to me actually more agreeable, and gives me more
pleasure as a prospect, than a country cultivated like a garden.--Soil
about Linlithgow light and thin.--The town carries the appearance of
rude, decayed grandeur--charmingly rural, retired situation. The old
royal palace a tolerably fine, but melancholy ruin--sweetly situated
on a small elevation, by the brink of a loch. Shown the room where the
beautiful, injured Mary Queen of Scots was born--a pretty good old
Gothic church. The infamous stool of repentance standing, in the old
Romish way, on a lofty situation.
What a poor pimping business is a Presbyterian place of worship;
dirty, narrow, and squalid; stuck in a corner of old popish grandeur
such as Linlithgow, and much more, Melrose! Ceremony and show, if
judiciously thrown in, absolutely necessary for the bulk of mankind,
both in religious and civil matters.--Dine.--Go to my friend
Smith's at Avon printfield--find nobody but Mrs. Miller, an agreeable,
sensible, modest, good body; as useful, but not so ornamental as
Fielding's Miss Western--not rigidly polite _a la Francais_, but easy,
hospitable, and housewifely.
An old lady from Paisley, a Mrs. Lawson, whom I promised to call for
in Paisley--like old lady W----, and still more like Mrs. C----, her
conversation is pregnant with strong sense and just remark, but like
them, a certain air of self-importance and a _duresse_ in the eye,
seem to indicate, as the Ayrshire wife observed of her cow, that "she
had a mind o' her ain."
Pleasant view of Dunfermline and the rest of the fertile coast of
Fife, as we go down to that dirty, ugly place, Borrowstones--see a
horse-race and call on a friend of Mr. Nicol's, a Bailie Cowan, of
whom I know too little to attempt his portrait--Come through the rich
carse of Falkirk to pass the night. Falkirk nothing remarkable except
the tomb of Sir John the Graham, over which, in the succession of
time, four stones have been placed.--Camelon, the ancient metropolis
of the Picts, now a small village in the neighbourhood of
Falkirk.--Cross the grand canal to Carron.--Come past Larbert and
admire a fine monument of cast-iron erected by Mr. Bruce, the African
traveller, to his wife.
Pass Dunipace, a place laid out with fine taste--a charming
amphitheatre bounded by Denny village, and pleasant seats down the way
to Dunnipace.--The Carron running down the bosom of the whole makes it
one of the most charming little prospects I have seen.
Dine at Auchinbowie--Mr. Monro an excellent, worthy old man--Miss
Monro an amiable, sensible, sweet young woman, much resembling Mrs.
Grierson. Come to Bannockburn--Shown the old house where James III.
finished so tragically his unfortunate life. The field of
Bannockburn--the hole where glorious Bruce set his standard. Here no
Scot can pass uninterested.--I fancy to myself that I see my gallant,
heroic countrymen coming o'er the hill and down upon the plunderers of
their country, the murderers of their fathers; noble revenge, and just
hate, glowing in every vein, striding more and more eagerly as they
approach the oppressive, insulting, blood-thirsty foe! I see them meet
in gloriously triumphant congratulation on the victorious field,
exulting in their heroic royal leader, and rescued liberty and
independence! Come to Stirling.--_Monday_ go to Harvieston. Go to see
Caudron linn, and Rumbling brig, and Diel's mill. Return in the
evening. Supper--Messrs. Doig, the schoolmaster; Bell; and Captain
Forrester of the castle--Doig a queerish figure, and something of a
pedant--Bell a joyous fellow, who sings a good song.--Forrester a
merry, swearing kind of man, with a dash of the sodger.
_Tuesday Morning._--Breakfast with Captain Forrester--Ochel
Hills--Devon River--Forth and Tieth--Allan River--Strathallan, a fine
country, but little improved--Cross Earn to Crieff--Dine and go to
Arbruchil--cold reception at Arbruchil--a most romantically pleasant
ride up Earn, by Auchtertyre and Comrie to Arbruchil--Sup at Crieff.
_Wednesday Morning._--Leave Crieff--Glen Amond--Amond river--Ossian's
grave--Loch Fruoch--Glenquaich--Landlord and landlady remarkable
characters--Taymouth described in rhyme--Meet the Hon. Charles
Townshend.
_Thursday._--Come down Tay to Dunkeld--Glenlyon House--Lyon
River--Druid's Temple--three circles of stones--the outer-most
sunk--the second has thirteen stones remaining--the innermost has
eight--two large detached ones like a gate, to the south-east--Say
prayers in it--Pass Taybridge--Aberfeldy--described in rhyme--Castle
Menzies--Inver--Dr. Stewart--sup.
_Friday._--Walk with Mrs. Stewart and Beard to Birnam top--fine
prospect down Tay--Craigieburn hills--Hermitage on the Branwater, with
a picture of Ossian--Breakfast with Dr. Stewart--Neil Gow[298] plays--a
short, stout-built, honest Highland figure, with his grayish hair shed
on his honest social brow--an interesting face, marking strong sense,
kind openheartedness, mixed with unmistrusting simplicity--visit his
house--Marget Gow.
Ride up Tummel River to Blair--Fascally a beautiful romantic
nest--wild grandeur of the pass of Gilliecrankie--visit the gallant
Lord Dundee's stone.
Blair--Sup with the Duchess--easy and happy from the manners of the
family--confirmed in my good opinion of my friend Walker.
_Saturday._--Visit the scenes round Blair--fine, but spoiled with bad
taste--Tilt and Gairie rivers--Falls on the Tilt--Heather seat--Ride
in company with Sir William Murray and Mr. Walker, to Loch
Tummel--meanderings of the Rannach, which runs through quondam Struan
Robertson's estate from Loch Rannach to Loch Tummel--Dine at
Blair--Company--General Murray--Captain Murray, an honest tar--Sir
William Murray, an honest, worthy man, but tormented with the
hypochondria--Mrs. Graham, _belle et aimable_--Miss Catchcart--Mrs.
Murray, a painter--Mrs. King--Duchess and fine family, the Marquis,
Lords James, Edward, and Robert--Ladies Charlotte, Emilia, and
children dance--Sup--Mr. Graham of Fintray.
Come up the Garrie--Falls of
Bruar--Daldecairoch--Dalwhinnie--Dine--Snow on the hills 17 feet
deep--No corn from Loch-Gairie to Dalwhinnie--Cross the Spey, and come
down the stream to Pitnin--Straths rich--_les environs_
picturesque--Craigow hill--Ruthven of Badenoch--Barracks--wild and
magnificent--Rothemurche on the other side, and Glenmore--Grant of
Rothemurche's poetry--told me by the Duke of Gordon--Strathspey, rich
and romantic--Breakfast at Aviemore, a wild spot--dine at Sir James
Grant's--Lady Grant, a sweet, pleasant body--come through mist and
darkness to Dulsie, to lie.
_Tuesday._--Findhorn river--rocky banks--come on to Castle Cawdor,
where Macbeth murdered King Duncan--saw the bed in which King Duncan
was stabbed--dine at Kilravock--Mrs. Rose, sen., a true chieftain's
wife--Fort George--Inverness.
_Wednesday._--Loch Ness--Braes of Ness--General's hut--Falls of
Fyers--Urquhart Castle and Strath.
_Thursday._--Come over Culloden Muir--reflections on the field of
battle--breakfast at Kilravock--old Mrs. Rose, sterling sense, warm
heart, strong passions, and honest pride, all in an uncommon
degree--Mrs. Rose, jun., a little milder than the mother--this perhaps
owing to her being younger--Mr. Grant, minister at Calder, resembles
Mr. Scott at Inverleithing--Mrs. Rose and Mrs. Grant accompany us to
Kildrummie--two young ladies--Miss Rose, who sung two Gaelic songs,
beautiful and lovely--Miss Sophia Brodie, most agreeable and
amiable--both of them gentle, mild; the sweetest creatures on earth,
and happiness be with them!--Dine at Nairn--fall in with a pleasant
enough gentleman, Dr. Stewart, who had been long abroad with his
father in the forty-five; and Mr. Falconer, a spare, irascible,
warm-hearted Norland, and a nonjuror--Brodie-house to lie.
_Friday_--Forres--famous stone at Forres--Mr. Brodie tells me that the
muir where Shakspeare lays Macbeth's witch-meeting is still
haunted--that the country folks won't pass it by night.
* * * * *
Venerable ruins of Elgin Abbey--A grander effect at first glance than
Melrose, but not near so beautiful--Cross Spey to Fochabers--fine
palace, worthy of the generous proprietor--Dine--company, Duke and
Duchess, Ladies Charlotte and Magdeline, Col. Abercrombie, and Lady,
Mr. Gordon and Mr.----, a clergyman, a venerable, aged figure--the
Duke makes me happier than ever great man did--noble, princely; yet
mild, condescending, and affable; gay and kind--the Duchess witty and
sensible--God bless them!
Come to Cullen to lie--hitherto the country is sadly poor and
unimproven.
Come to Aberdeen--meet with Mr. Chalmers, printer, a facetious
fellow--Mr. Ross a fine fellow, like Professor Tytler,--Mr. Marshal one
of the _poetae minores_--Mr. Sheriffs, author of "Jamie and Bess," a
little decrepid body with some abilities--Bishop Skinner, a nonjuror,
son of the author of "Tullochgorum," a man whose mild, venerable manner
is the most marked of any in so young a man--Professor Gordon, a
good-natured, jolly-looking professor--Aberdeen, a lazy town--near
Stonhive, the coast a good deal romantic--meet my relations--Robert
Burns, writer, in Stonhive, one of those who love fun, a gill, and a
punning joke, and have not a bad heart--his wife a sweet hospitable
body, without any affectation of what is called town-breeding.
_Tuesday._--Breakfast with Mr. Burns--lie at Lawrence Kirk--Album
library--Mrs. ---- a jolly, frank, sensible, love-inspiring widow--Howe
of the Mearns, a rich, cultivated, but still unenclosed country.
_Wednesday._--Cross North Esk river and a rich country to Craigow.
* * * * *
Go to Montrose, that finely-situated handsome town--breakfast at Muthie,
and sail along that wild rocky coast, and see the famous caverns,
particularly the Gariepot--land and dine at Arbroath--stately ruins of
Arbroath Abbey--come to Dundee through a fertile country--Dundee a
low-lying, but pleasant town--old Steeple--Tayfrith--Broughty Castle, a
finely situated ruin, jutting into the Tay.
_Friday._--Breakfast with the Miss Scotts--Miss Bess Scott like Mrs.
Greenfield--my bardship almost in love with her--come through the rich
harvests and fine hedge-rows of the Carse of Gowrie, along the
romantic margin of the Grampian hills, to Perth--fine, fruitful,
hilly, woody country round Perth.
_Saturday Morning._--Leave Perth--come up Strathearn to
Endermay--fine, fruitful, cultivated Strath--the scene of "Bessy Bell,
and Mary Gray," near Perth--fine scenery on the banks of the May--Mrs.
Belcher, gawcie, frank, affable, fond of rural sports, hunting,
&c.--Lie at Kinross--reflections in a fit of the colic.
_Sunday._--Pass through a cold, barren country to
Queensferry--dine--cross the ferry and on to Edinburgh.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 298: Another northern bard has sketched this eminent
musician--
"The blythe Strathspey springs up, reminding some
Of nights when Gow's old arm, (nor old the tale,)
Unceasing, save when reeking cans went round,
Made heart and heel leap light as bounding roe.
Alas! no more shall we behold that look
So venerable, yet so blent with mirth,
And festive joy sedate; that ancient garb
Unvaried,--tartan hose, and bonnet blue!
No more shall Beauty's partial eye draw forth
The full intoxication of his strain.
Mellifluous, strong, exuberantly rich!
No more, amid the pauses of the dance,
Shall he repeat those measures, that in days
Of other years, could soothe a falling prince,
And light his visage with a transient smile
Of melancholy joy,--like autumn sun
Gilding a sear tree with a passing beam!
Or play to sportive children on the green
Dancing at gloamin hour; or willing cheer
With strains unbought, the shepherd's bridal day."
_British Georgics, p._ 81]
* * * * *
THE POET'S ASSIGNMENT OF HIS WORKS.