THE CHARACTERISTICS OF BURNS.
He was a truly independent democrat. The love of liberty was the basic
element of his character. His fundamental philosophy he expressed in the
unanswered and unanswerable questions:
Why should ae man better fare,
And a' men brothers?
_Epistle to Dr Blacklock._
If I'm designed yon lordling's slave,
By Nature's law designed,
Why was an independent wish
E'er planted in my mind?
_Man was Made to Mourn._
To the Right Hon. John Francis Erskine he wrote: 'The partiality of my
countrymen has brought me forward as a man of genius, and has given me a
character to support. In the Poet I have avowed manly and independent
sentiments, which I trust will be found in the Man.'
Referring to the fact that his father's family rented land from the
'famous, noble Keiths,' and had the honour of sharing their fate--their
estates were forfeited because they took part in the rebellion of
1715--he says: 'Those who dare welcome Ruin and shake hands with Infamy,
for what they believe sincerely to be the cause of their God and their
King, are--as Mark Antony in Shakespeare says of Brutus and
Cassius--"Honourable men."'
Though his father was not born in 1715, he undoubtedly got from his family
the principles of independence and the love of liberty which he afterwards
taught to his sons, and which Robert propagated with so much zeal.
In a letter to Mrs Dunlop he wrote: 'Light be the turf upon his breast who
taught, "Reverence thyself."'
To Lord Glencairn, after expressing his gratitude, he said: 'My gratitude
is not selfish design--that I disdain; it is not dodging after the heel of
greatness--that is an offering you disdain. It is a feeling of the same
kind with my devotion.'
In many of his letters he expresses the same sentiments. In his Epistle to
his young friend, Andrew Aiken, he advises him, among other things,
To gather gear by every wile
That's justified by honor;
Not for to hide it in a hedge,
Nor for a train attendant;
But for the glorious privilege
Of being independent.
In a letter to Mr William Dunbar, dealing with his consciousness of his
responsibility for his children, he wrote, 1790: 'I know the value of
independence; and since I cannot give my sons an independent fortune, I
shall give them an independent line of life.'
Writing to Mrs Dunlop about his son--her god-son--Burns said: 'I am myself
delighted with the manly swell of his little chest, and a certain
miniature dignity in the carriage of the head, and the glance of his fine
black eye, which promise the undaunted gallantry of an independent mind.'
In 'A Man's a Man for a' That' he says:
Ye see yon birkie, ca'd 'a lord,'
Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that. blockhead
For a' that, and a' that,
His ribband, star, and a' that,
The man o' independent mind
He looks and laughs at a' that.
In the same great poem he crystallises a fundamental truth in the immortal
couplet:
The rank is but the guinea stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that. gold
To Mrs Dunlop he wrote in 1787: 'I trust I have too much pride for
servility, and too little prudence for selfishness.'
To Mrs M'Lehose he wrote in 1788: 'The dignifying and dignified
consciousness of an honest man, and the well-grounded trust in approving
heaven, are two most substantial foundations of happiness.'
To Mrs Dunlop he wrote in 1788: 'Two of my adored household gods are
independence of spirit and integrity of soul.'
To Mrs Graham he wrote in 1791: 'May my failings ever be those of a
generous heart and an independent mind.'
To John Francis Erskine he wrote in 1793: 'My independent British mind
oppression might bend, but could not subdue.'
In the 'Vision' the message he says he received from Coila, the genius of
Kyle, the part of Ayrshire in which he was born, was:
Preserve the dignity of Man, with soul erect.
Burns has been criticised for meddling with what his critics called
politics. The highest messages Christ gave to the world were the value of
the individual soul, and brotherhood based on the unity of developed
individual souls. His highest messages were understood by Burns more
clearly than by any one else during his time, and Burns was too great a
man to be untrue to his greatest visions. His poems are still among the
best interpretations of Christ's ideals of democracy and brotherhood.
The supreme aim of Burns was to secure for all men and women freedom from
the unnatural restrictions of class or custom, so that each individual
might have equal opportunity for the development of his highest element of
power, his individuality, or self-hood--really the image of God in each.
God gave him the vision of the ideal: 'Why should ae man better fare, and
a' men brothers?' and he tried to reveal the great vision to the world to
kindle the hearts of men.
Burns was a devoted son, and a loving, considerate, respectful, and
generous brother. After his father died, Robert wrote to his cousin: 'On
the 13th current I lost the best of fathers. Though, to be sure, we have
had long warning of the impending stroke, still the feelings of nature
claim their part, and I cannot recollect the tender endearments and
paternal lessons of the best of friends and the ablest of instructors
without feeling what, perhaps, the calmer dictates of reason would partly
condemn.
'I hope my father's friends in your country will not let their connection
in this place die with him. For my part, I shall ever with pleasure--with
pride--acknowledge my connection with those who were allied by the ties
of blood and friendship to a man whose memory I shall ever honour and
revere.'
On the stone above his father's grave in Alloway Kirkyard are engraved the
words Burns wrote as his father's epitaph:
O ye, whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Draw near with pious reverence and attend!
Here lies the loving husband's dear remains,
The tender father, and the gen'rous friend;
The pitying heart that felt for human woe;
The dauntless heart that feared no human pride;
The friend of man--to vice alone a foe;
For ev'n his failings leaned to virtue's side.
John Murdoch warmly approved of this epitaph of his former pupil and
friend Robert. He wrote: '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.'
When Burns found that the Edinburgh edition of his poems had brought him
about five hundred pounds, he loaned Gilbert one hundred and fifty pounds
to assist him to get out of debt, in order that his mother and sisters
might be placed in a position of security and greater happiness. In a
letter to Robert Graham of Fintry, explaining the circumstances that led
him to accept the position of an exciseman, he first explains that
Ellisland farm, which he rented, was in the last stage of worn-out poverty
when he got possession of it, and that it would take some time before it
would pay the rent. Then he says: 'I might have had cash to supply the
deficiencies of these hungry years; but I have a younger brother and three
sisters on a farm in Ayrshire, and it took all my surplus over what I
thought necessary for my farming capital to save not only the comfort, but
the very existence, of that fireside circle from impending destruction.'
He helped with sympathy, advice, and material support a younger brother
who lived in England. His true attitude towards his own wife and family is
shown in his 'Epistle to Dr Blacklock':
To make a happy fireside clime
For weans and wife,
Is the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
The greatest dread of his later years was that he might not be able to
provide for his family in case of his death.
Burns was an upright, honest man. To the mother of the Earl of Glencairn
he wrote: 'I would much rather have it said that my profession borrowed
credit from me, than that I borrowed credit from my profession.'
To James Hamilton, of Glasgow, he wrote: 'Among some distressful
emergencies that I have experienced in life, I have ever laid it down as
my foundation of comfort--that he who has lived the life of an honest man
has by no means lived in vain.'
To Sir John Whitefoord he wrote in 1787: 'Reverence to God and integrity
to my fellow-creatures I hope I shall ever preserve.'
In a letter to John M'Murdo in 1793 he wrote: 'To no man, whatever his
station in life, have I ever paid a compliment at the expense of truth.'
In 'Lines written in Friar's Carse' he wrote:
Keep the name of Man in mind,
And dishonour not your kind.
To Robert Ainslie he wrote: 'It is much to be a great character as a
lawyer, but beyond comparison more to be a great character as a man.'
To Andrew Aiken, in his 'Epistle to a Young Friend,' he wrote:
Where you feel your honour grip,
Let that aye be your border.
In 'A Man's a Man for a' That' he expresses his faith in righteousness as
a fundamental element in character, where he says:
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Burns had a sympathetic heart that overflowed with kindness for his
fellow-men, and even for animals, domestic and wild. In a letter to the
Rev. G. H. Baird in 1791 he said: 'I am fain to do any good that occurs in
my very limited power to a fellow-creature, just for the selfish purpose
of clearing a little the vista of retrospection.'
It was the big heart of Burns that directed the writing of the first part
of that sentence, and his modesty that led to the expression of the second
part. The joy of remembering a good deed was never his chief reason for
doing it. In a 'Tragic Fragment' he wrote:
With sincere though unavailing sighs
I view the helpless children of distress.
A number of stories have been preserved to prove that while Burns was
strict and stern in dealing with smugglers, and others who made a practice
of breaking the law by illegally selling strong drink without licence, he
was tenderly kind and protective to poor women who had little stores of
refreshments to sell to their friends on fair and market days.
Professor Gillespie related that he overheard Burns say to a poor woman of
Thornhill one fair-day as she stood at her door: 'Kate, are you mad? Don't
you know that the Supervisor and I will be in upon you in the course of
forty minutes? Good-bye t'ye at present.'
His friendly hint saved a poor widow from a heavy fine of several pounds,
while the annual loss to the revenue would be only a few shillings.
He was ordered to look into the case of another old woman, suspected of
selling home-brewed ale without licence. When she knew his errand she
said: 'Mercy on us! are ye an exciseman? God help me, man! Ye'll surely no
inform on a puir auld body like me, as I hae nae other means o' leevin'
than sellin' my drap o' home-brewed to decent folk that come to Holywood
Kirk.'
Burns patted her on the shoulder and said: 'Janet, Janet, sin awa', and
I'll protect ye.'
In 'A Winter Night' Burns reveals a deep and genuine sympathy with the
outlying cattle, the poor sheep hiding from the storm, the wee helpless
birds, and even for the fox and the wolf; and mourns because the pitiless
tempest beats on them.
Carlyle says of 'A Winter Night' that 'it is worth seven homilies on
mercy, for it is the voice of Mercy herself. Burns indeed lives in
sympathy; his soul rushes into all the realms of being; nothing that has
existence can be indifferent to him.'
The auld farmer's 'New Year Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare, Maggie,'
reveals a profound and affectionate sympathy more tender than the pity he
felt for the animals and birds that suffered from the winter storm. It is
based on long years of friendly association in co-operative achievement.
From the New Year's wish at the beginning, to the end, where he assures
her that she is no less deserving now than she was
That day ye pranced wi' muckle pride
When ye bure hame my bonnie bride;
And sweet and gracefu' she did ride
Wi' maiden air!
and tells her that he has a heapet feed of oats laid by for her, and will
also tether her on a reserved ridge of fine pasture, where she may have
plenty to eat and a comfortable place on which to rest; each verse is full
of pleasant memories.
His kindly sympathy is as appreciative as if she had been a human being
instead of a mare.
'Poor Mailie's Elegy' is a natural expression of sorrow in the heart--the
great, loving heart of Burns--for the death of the pet lamb. He says:
He's lost a friend and neighbour dear
In Mailie dead.
Thro' a' the toun she trotted by him;
A lang half-mile she could descry him;
Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him,
She ran wi' speed;
A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him,
Than Mailie dead.
So in the pathos and emotion shown for the mouse whose home his plough
destroyed at the approach of winter; for the wounded hare that limped past
him; for the starving thrush with which he offered to share his last
crust; and for the scared water-fowl that flew from him, when he regretted
that they had reason to do so on account of man's treatment of them, he
gives ample evidence of the warmth of the glow of his sympathy.
One of the most prominent characteristics of Burns was loyalty to his
native land. One of his earliest dreams, when he was a boy, was a hope
that some day he might be able to do something that would bring honour to
Scotland. In his Epistle to Mrs Scott of Wauchope-House he says:
I mind it weel, in early date,
When I was beardless, young, and blate, bashful
* * * * *
When first amang the yellow corn
A man I reckoned was,
* * * * *
E'en then a wish (I mind its power),
A wish that to my latest hour
Shall strongly heave my breast;
That I for poor auld Scotland's sake
Some usefu' plan or book could make,
Or sing a sang at least.
The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide
Amang the bearded bear, barley
I turned the weeder-clips aside
And spared the symbol dear:
No nation, no station,
My envy e'er could raise;
A Scot still, but blot still, without
I knew nae higher praise.
The boy who had such a reverent feeling in his heart for the thistle, the
symbol of his native land, that he did not like to cut it, continued
throughout his life to have a reverence for the land itself, and tried to
honour it in every possible way.
He did make the book and sing the songs that brought more lasting glory to
Scotland than any other work done by any other man or combination of men
in his time.
He wrote more than two hundred and fifty love-songs, and he refused to
accept a shilling for them, though he needed money very badly. Many of his
love-songs were the direct out-pouring of his heart, the overflow of his
love for Nellie Kirkpatrick and Peggy Thomson, the girl lovers of his
boyhood; and for Alison Begbie, Jean Armour, Mary Campbell, and Mrs
M'Lehose; but most of his love-songs were 'fictitious,' as he said they
were in the inscription on the copy of his works presented to Jean
Lorimer, the Chloris of his Ellisland and Dumfries period. They were
written mainly to provide pure language and thought for fine melodies of
Scotland composed long before his time; but the words of the songs that
were sung to them were indelicate. He wrote his unequalled songs for
Scotland's sake, and by doing so he gave to Scotland the gift of the
sweetest love-songs ever written. But for these sacred songs his patriotic
spirit resented the idea of acceptance of material reward. No higher
revelation of genuine patriotism was ever shown than this.
Burns was a sensitive and very shy man. He is commonly supposed to have
been just the opposite. He was brought up in a home at Mount Oliphant
where he rarely associated with other people. Months sometimes passed
without an evening spent in any other way than in reading and discussions
of the matter read by his father, Gilbert, and himself; so in boyhood and
early youth he was reserved. When he began to go out among other young men
his comparatively developed mind, his very unusual stores of
knowledge--not merely stored, but classified and related--and his
extraordinary power of eloquence made him at once a leader and a
favourite, so he soon overcame his reserve and shyness with young men. It
was not so with young women. He had been trained to wait for introductions
to them. He was walking past Jean Armour, when she was at the town pump at
Mauchline getting water to sprinkle the clothes on the bleaching-green,
without speaking to her, and she spoke to him, recalling a remark she
heard him make at the annual dance on the evening of the fair. He was
twenty-five, and she was eighteen. He would have passed close to her in
respectful silence if she had not spoken.
Sir Walter Scott wrote: 'I was told, but did not observe it, that his
address to females was extremely deferential.'
Scott did not mean to suggest a doubt about what he was told, but just to
intimate that he had not had opportunity to observe the fact. Scott met
Burns only once in company, and Scott was a boy at the time.
He dearly and reverently loved Alison Begbie when he was twenty-one. She
was the first woman whom he asked to become his wife. She was a servant in
a farm-house on the banks of Cessnock Water, in the neighbourhood of
Lochlea farm. He was twenty-two when he asked her to marry him, and he was
so shy, even at that age, that he could not propose when he was with her.
She did not accept his offer. Few women of his acquaintance would have
refused to accept his written proposal. Probably none of them--not even
Alison Begbie--would have refused him if he had been able to overcome his
shyness, and had proposed in person instead of by letter.
He wrote five letters to Alison Begbie, and definitely asked her to marry
him in the fourth letter. In the first he said: 'I am a stranger in these
matters, as I assure you that you are the first woman to whom I ever made
such a declaration, so I declare I am at a loss how to proceed. I have
more than once come into your company with a resolution to say what I have
just now told you; but my resolution always failed me, and even now my
heart trembles for the consequence of what I have said.'
The following copies of the letter containing his proposal (the fourth),
and of his reply to her refusal, if read carefully, should reveal several
admirable characteristics of Burns.
'LOCHLEA, 1781.
'MY DEAR E.,[2]--I have often thought it a peculiarly unlucky
circumstance in love that, though in every other situation in life,
telling the truth is not only the safest, but actually by far the
easiest way of proceeding, a Lover is never under greater difficulty
in acting, or more puzzled for expression, than when his passion is
sincere, and his intentions are honourable. I do not think that it is
very difficult for a person of ordinary capacity to talk of love and
fondness which are not felt, and to make vows of constancy and
fidelity which are never intended to be performed, if he be villain
enough to practise such detestable conduct; but to a man whose heart
glows with the principles of integrity and truth, and who sincerely
loves a woman of amiable person, uncommon refinement of sentiment,
and purity of manners--to such a one in such circumstances I can
assure you, my Dear, from my own feelings at this present moment,
_Courtship_ is a task indeed.
There is such a number of foreboding fears, and distrustful anxieties
crowd into my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to
write to you, that what to speak or what to write I am altogether at
a loss.
'There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
invariably keep with you, and that is, honestly to tell you the plain
truth. There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be used by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion as Virtuous Love. No, my
dear E., I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such
detestable practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to
admit me for your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through
life, there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater
transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any
arts unworthy of a man, and, I will add, of a Christian. There is one
thing, my Dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this:
that you would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory
refusal, or cure me of my fears by a generous consent.
'It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when
convenient. I shall only add further, that if a behaviour regulated
(though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of Honour and
Virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest
endeavour to promote your happiness; if these are qualities you would
wish in a friend, in a husband, I hope you shall ever find them in
your real friend and sincere lover.'
After her refusal he wrote:
'LOCHLEA, 1781.
'I ought in good manners to have acknowledged the receipt of your
letter before this time, but my heart was so shocked with the
contents of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to
write to you on the subject. I will not attempt to describe what I
felt on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, again and
again, and though it was in the politest language of refusal, still
it was peremptory; you "were very sorry you could not make me a
return, but you wish me--what without you I can never obtain--you
wish me all kinds of happiness." It would be weak and unmanly to say
that without you I never can be happy; but sure I am, that sharing
life with you would have given it a relish that, wanting you, I can
never taste.
'Your uncommon personal advantages, and your superior good sense, do
not so much strike me; these possibly in a few instances may be met
with in others; but that amiable goodness, that tender, feminine
softness, that endearing sweetness of disposition, with all the
charming offspring of a warm, feeling heart--these I never again
expect to meet with in such a degree in this world. All these
charming qualities, heightened by an education much beyond anything I
have ever met with in any woman I ever dared to approach, have made
an impression on my heart that I do not think the world can ever
efface. My imagination had fondly flattered itself with a wish--I
dare not say it ever reached a hope--that possibly I might one day
call you mine. I had formed the most delightful images, and my fancy
fondly brooded over them; but now I am wretched for the loss of what
I really had no right to expect. I must now think no more of you as a
mistress, still I presume to ask to be admitted as a friend. As such
I wish to be allowed to wait on you, and as I expect to remove in a
few days a little farther off, and you, I suppose, will perhaps soon
leave this place, I wish to see you or hear from you soon; and if an
expression should perhaps escape me rather too warm for friendship,
I hope you will pardon it in, my dear Miss ---- (pardon me the dear
expression for once),
'R. B.'
Those who say that these letters 'have an air of taskwork and constraint
about them' should remember that Burns formed the style of his
letter-writing when but a boy from a book containing the letters of
leaders of Queen Anne's time, which was given to him by his uncle. His own
letters on all subjects are written in a dignified style. It is worth
noting that Motherwell, who criticised the style of the letters, says of
them: 'They are, in fact, the only sensible love-letters we have ever
seen.'
Though naturally a very shy man, he grew to be happier as his powers
developed. In his teens and young manhood he had fits bordering on
despondency. But he passed through them and became more buoyant in spirit,
and, though poor, was contented.
In 'My Nannie O' he wrote:
Come weel, come woe, I care na by,
I'll tak what Heaven will sen' me.
In 'It is na, Jean, thy Bonnie Face,' he said:
Content am I if Heaven shall give
But happiness to thee.
This shows that consideration for others was one of his sources of
happiness.
In his 'Epistle to James Smith' he wrote:
Truce with peevish, poor complaining!
Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning?
E'en let her gang!
Beneath what light she has remaining
Let's sing our sang.
Dr John M'Kenzie of Mauchline, in 1810, thirteen years after the death of
Burns, described a visit made to see his father when he was ill. In it he
says: 'Gilbert, in the first interview I had with him at Lochlea, was
frank, modest, well-informed, and communicative. The poet seemed distant,
suspicious, and without any wish to interest or please. He kept himself
very silent in a dark corner of the room; and before he took any part in
the conversation, I frequently detected him scrutinising me during my
conversation with his father and brother.
'But afterwards, when the conversation, which was on a medical subject,
had taken the turn he wished, he began to engage in it, displaying a
dexterity of reasoning, an ingenuity of reflection, and a familiarity with
topics apparently beyond his reach, by which his visitor was no less
gratified than astonished.'
Burns lived next door to Dr M'Kenzie after he was married the second time
to Jean Armour. They were great friends. Burns wrote a masonic poem to
him, and called him 'Common-sense' in 'The Holy Fair.'
In the letter from which the above quotation is made, Dr M'Kenzie says
Robert took his characteristics mainly from his mother, and that Gilbert
resembled his father.
Burns looked like his mother, and inherited his temperamental
characteristics mainly from her.
Burns had a definitely religious tendency as one of his strong
characteristics when he was a child. In the sketch of his life that he
wrote to Dr Moore, of London, when he was twenty-eight years old, he says
that as a boy he possessed 'an enthusiastic idiot-piety. I say idiot-piety
because I was then a child.'
He wrote several religious poems while living on Lochlea farm and on
Mossgiel farm. 'The Cotter's Saturday Night' was written at Mossgiel.
Throughout his life his religious tendency was one of his characteristics.
This will be considered more fully in the chapter on 'Burns's Great Work
for Religion.'
Burns was the warm, personal friend of the best people in every district
in or near which he lived. He must have been a good man who could count
among his friends such men and women as the following: Lord Glencairn, Mrs
Dunlop, the Earl of Eglintoun, Dr Moore, Dr M'Kenzie, Gavin Hamilton, Hon.
Henry Erskine, the Duchess of Gordon, Right Rev. Bishop Geddes, Robert
Graham of Fintry, Robert Riddell, Robert Aiken, the Earl of Buchan, Prof.
Dugald Stewart, Dr Candlish, Sir John Whitefoord, John Murdoch, Dr
Blacklock, Dr Hugh Blair, Alex. Cunningham, Rev. Archibald Alison, Sir
John Sinclair, Rev. John M'Math, and the best ministers of the 'New
Licht,' or progressive class; the leading professors in Edinburgh
University, and the leading schoolmasters in his neighbourhood. In fact,
he was loved and respected by leaders of all classes except the 'Auld
Licht' preachers. He lives on and becomes more popular as he becomes
better known.
His one characteristic that would most fully represent him and his work
for God and humanity is his propelling tendency to be a reformer of
conditions. He accepted no existing conditions as good enough. He saw
quickly and clearly the defects of conditions as they existed, and he
never hesitated to attack any evil that he could help to overthrow. He
saw that individual freedom and pure religion were vital and essential
elements of human progress and happiness. He saw with unerring vision the
lack of freedom and of vital religion in the lives of the people; so to
make all men free, to give all children equal opportunity to develop the
best in their souls, and to purify religion from superstition, hypocrisy,
bigotry, and kindred evils that were blighting it, became his highest
purposes.
What was the character of Burns in the estimation of the leading people of
his own time? On replying to a request that he would use his influence in
favour of Burns for an appointment Sir John Whitefoord wrote: 'Your
character as a man, as well as a poet, entitles you, I think, to the
assistance of every inhabitant of Ayrshire.'
Sir John owned the Ballochmyle estate near Mauchline, and was one of the
leading country gentlemen of Ayrshire in his time.
Mr Archibald Prentice, editor of the _Manchester Times_, was the son of a
prominent man who lived about half-way between Mauchline and Edinburgh, at
Covington, in Lanarkshire. Mr Prentice, senior, was a great admirer of
Burns, as were leaders everywhere. Mr Archibald Prentice, writing about
his father's affectionate respect for Burns, said; 'My father, though a
strictly moral and religious man himself, always maintained that the
virtues of the poet greatly predominated over his faults. I once heard him
exclaim with hot wrath, when somebody was quoting from an apologist,
"What! do _they_ apologise for _him_! One half of his good, and all his
bad divided among a score of them, would make them a' better men!"
'In the year 1809 I resided for a short time in Ayrshire, in the
hospitable house of my father's friend Reid, and surveyed with a strong
interest such visitors as had known Burns. I soon learned how to
anticipate their representations of his character. The men of strong minds
and strong feelings were invariable in their expressions of admiration;
but the _prosy_, consequential _bodies_ all disliked him as exceedingly
dictatorial. The men whose religion was based on intellect and high moral
sentiment all thought well of him; but the mere professors [of religion]
"with their three-mile prayers and half-mile graces" denounced him as
worse than an infidel.'
The progress of religious reformers has always been a thorny one. The
Master, Christ Himself, was crucified by the 'Auld Lichts' of His time,
and they stoned Stephen to death. So, through the centuries unprogressive
theologians have persecuted and often murdered the religious reformers,
who saw the evils in theology, and wished to remove them from the creeds
that blighted men's souls. They burned Latimer in England; and Luther in
Germany was saved by the action of his friends by shutting him in Wartburg
Castle for protection. Religious reformers in the time of Burns were not
burned or stoned to death, but they were persecuted and prosecuted before
the Church Courts by men who did not approve of their higher visions of
truth. Burns himself was regarded as unorthodox, but his creed is much
more in harmony with the religious thought of to-day than it was with the
creed of the 'Auld Licht' preachers. One of the marvels of human
development through the ages has been that the bigoted theologians of each
succeeding century resented the attempts of men with clearer vision to
reform their creeds.
Men who truly believe in God cannot believe that any creed made by men can
be infallible; they should know that from generation to generation
humanity consciously grows towards the Divine, and that as they climb they
see in the clearer spiritual air new visions of higher meaning in regard
to life and to vital religion, revealing to each man new conceptions of
his duty to God and to his fellow-men.
Lovers of Burns reverence his memory because he was so great and so wise a
reformer, and did so much to make men truly free, and to make religion a
more vitally uplifting agency in the hearts of men.