that he had received very satisfactory informa-
tion of Mr. Tennant, the master of the English
school, concerning my improvement in English
and in his method of teaching. In the month of
May following, I was engaged by Mr. Burnes,
and four of his neighbours, to teach, and accord-
ingly began to teach the little school at Alloway,
which was situated a few yards from the argilla-
ceous fabric above-mentioned. My five em-
ployers



S8 THE LIFE OF

ployers undertook to board me by turns, and to
make up a certain salary, at the end of the year,
provided my quarterly payments from the dif-
ferent pupils did not amount to that sum.

" My pupil, Robert Burns, was then between
six and seven years of age ; his preceptor about
eighteen. Robert, and his younger brother,
Gilbert, had been grounded a little in English
before they were put under my care. They both
made a rapid ^progress in reading, and a tole-
rable progress in writing. In reading, dividing
words into syllables by rule, spelling without
book, parsing sentences, &c, Robert and Gil-
bert were generally at the upper end of the
class, even when ranged with boys by far their
seniors. The books most commonly used in the
school were the Spelling Book, the New Testa-
ment, the Bible, Mason's Collection of Prose
and Verse, and Fisher's English Grammar.
They committed to memory the hymns, and
other poems of that collection, with uncommon
facility. This facility was partly owing to the
method pursued by their father and me in in-
structing them, which was, to make them tho-
roughly acquainted with the meaning of every
word in each sentence that was to be com-
mitted to memory. By the bye, this may be
easier done, and at an earlier period, than is
generally thought. As soon as they were capa-
ble



ROBERTV BURNS. 89

ble of it, I taught them to turn verse into its
natural prose order ; sometimes to substitute
synonymous expressions for poetical words, and
to supply all the ellipses. These, you know, are
the means of knowing that the pupil understands
his author. These are excellent helps to the ar-
rangement of words in sentences, as well as to a
variety of expression.

" Gilbert always appeared to me to possess a
more lively imagination, and to be more of the
wit, than Robert. I attempted to teach them a
little church-music. Here they were left far
behind by all the rest of the school. Robert's
ear, in particular, was remarkably dull, and his
voice untunable. It was long before I could
get them to distinguish one tune from another.
Robert's countenance was generally grave, and
expressive of a serious, contemplative, and
thoughtful mind. Gilbert's face said, Mirth,
with thee I mean to lives and certainly, if any
person who knew the two boys, had been asked
which of them was the most likely to court the
muses, he would surely never have guessed that
Robert had a propensity of that kind.

" In the year 176?> Mr. Burnes quitted his
mud edifice, and took possession of a farm
(Mount Oliphant) of his own improving, while
in the service of Provost Ferguson. This farm

being



90 THE LIFE OF

being at a considerable distance from the
school, the boys could not attend regularly;
and some changes taking place among the
other supporters of the school, I left it, having
continued to conduct it for nearly two years and
a half.

" In the year 1772, I was appointed (being
one of five candidates who were examined)
to teach the English school at Ayr ; and in
1773, Robert Burns came to board and lodge
with me, for the purpose of revising English
grammar, &c, that he might be better qualified
to instruct his brothers and sisters at home.
He was now with me day and night, in school,
at all meals, and in all my walks. At the end
of one week, I told him, that, as he was now
pretty much master of the parts of speech, &c,
I should like to teach him something of French
pronunciation, that when he should meet with
the name of a French town, ship, officer, or the
like, in the newspapers, he might be able to
pronounce it something like a French word.
Robert was glad to hear this proposal, and im-
mediately we attacked the French with great
courage.

" Now there was little else to be heard but
the declension of nouns, the conjugation of
verbs, &c. When walking together, and even

at



ROBERT BURNS. 91

at meals, I was constantly telling him the
names of different objects, as they presented
themselves, in French ; so that he was hourly
laying in a stock of words, and sometimes little
phrases. In short, he took such pleasure in
learning, and I in teaching, that it was difficult
to say which of the two was most zealous in the
business ; and about the end of the second week
of our study of the French, we began to read a
little of the Adventures of Telemachus, in Fene-
lon's own words,

cc But now the plains of Mount Oliphant
began to whiten, and Robert was summoned to
relinquish the pleasing scenes that surrounded
the grotto of Calypso, and, armed with a sickle,
to seek glory by signalizing himself in the fields
of Ceres and so he did; for although but
about fifteen, I was told that he performed the
work of a man.

cc Thus was I deprived of my very apt pupil,
and consequently agreeable companion, at the
end of three weeks, one of which was spent
entirely in the study of English, and the other
two chiefly in that of French. I did not, how-
ever, lose sight of him ; but was a frequent visit-
ant at his father's house, when I had my half-
holiday, and very often went accompanied with
one or two persons more intelligent than my-
self,



912 THE LIFE OF

self, that good William Burnes might enjoy a
mental feast. Then the labouring oar was
shifted to some other hand. The father and
the son sat down with us, when ^ve enjoyed a
conversation, wherein solid reasoning, sensible
remark, and a moderate seasoning of jocularity,
were so nicely blended as to render it palatable
to all parties. Robert had a hundred questions
to ask me about the French, &c.; and the father,
who had always rational information in view,
had still some question to propose to my more
learned friends, upon moral or natural philosophy,
or some such interesting subject. Mrs. Burnes
too was of the party as much as possible -,

' But still the house affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear,
Devour up their discourse 1

and particularly that of her husband. At all
times, and in all companies, she listened to him
with a more marked attention than to any body
else. When under the necessity of being absent
while he was speaking, she seemed to regret, as
a real loss, that she had missed what the good
man had said. This worthy woman, Agnes
Brown, had the most thorough esteem for her
husband of any woman I ever knew. I can by
no means wonder that she highly esteemed him ;
for I myself have always considered William

Burnes



ROBERT BURNS. 93

Burnes as by far the best of the human race that
ever I had the pleasure of being acquainted
with and many a worthy character I have
known. I can cheerfully join with Robert in
the last line of his epitaph (borrowed from
Goldsmith),

' And ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side/

u He was an excellent husband, if I may
judge from his assiduous attention to the ease
and comfort of his worthy partner, and from
her affectionate behaviour to him, as well as her
unwearied attention to the duties of a mother.

* c He was a tender and affectionate father ;
he took pleasure in leading his children in the
path of virtue ; not in driving them, as some
parents do, to the performance of duties to
which they themselves are averse. He took
care to find fault but very seldom ; and there-
fore, when he did rebuke, he was listened to
with a kind of reverential awe. A look of dis-
approbation was felt -, a reproof was severely so :
and a stripe with the tawz, even on the skirt of
the coat, gave heart-felt pain, produced a loud
lamentation, and brought forth a flood of tears.

" He had the art of gaining the esteem and
good-will of those that were labourers under

him.



94 THE lF*E Of

him. I think I never saw him angry but twice :
the one time it was with the foreman of the
band, for not reaping the field as he was de-
sired ; and the other time, it was with an old
man, for using smutty innuendoes and doubles
entendres. Were every foul-mouth'd old man
to receive a seasonable check in this way, it
would be to the advantage of the rising genera-
tion. As he was at no time overbearing to infe-
riors, he was equally incapable of that passive,
pitiful, paltry spirit, that induces some people
to keep booing and booing in the presence of a
great man. He always treated superiors with a
becoming respect ; but he never gave the small-
est encouragement to aristocratical arrogance.
But I must not pretend to give you a descrip-
tion of all the manly qualities, the rational
and Christian virtues, of the venerable William
Burnes. Time would fail me. I shall only add,
that he carefully practised every known duty,
and avoided every thing that was criminal ; or,
in the apostle's words, Herein did he exercise
himself, in living a life void of offence towards
God and towards men. O for a world of men
of such dispositions ! We should then have no
wars. I have often wished, for the good of
mankind, that it were as customary to honour
and perpetuate the memory of those who excel
in moral rectitude, as it is to extol what are
called heroic actions : then would the mauso-
leum



ROBERT BURNS. 95

leum of the friend of my youth overtop and
surpass most of the monuments I see in West-
minster Abbey.

" Although I cannot do justice to the cha-
racter of this worthy man, yet you will per-
ceive, from these few particulars, what kind of
person had the principal hand in the education
of our poet. He spoke the English language
with more propriety (both with respect to dic-
tion and pronunciation), than any man I ever
knew with no greater advantages. This had a
very good effect on the boys, who began to
talk, and reason like men, much sooner than
their neighbours. I do not recollect any of
their contemporaries, at my little seminary, who
afterwards made any great figure as literary
characters, except Dr. Tennant, who was chap-
lain to Colonel Fullarton's regiment, and who
is now in the East Indies. He is a man of ge-
nius and learning 5 yet affable, and free from
pedantry.

<e Mr. Burnes, in a short time, found that he
had over-rated Mount Oliphant, and that he
could not rear his numerous family upon it.
After being there some years, he removed to
Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton, where, I
believe, Robert wrote most of his poems.



But



96 THE LIFE OP

" But here, Sir, you will permit me to
pause. I can tell you but little more relative to
our poet. I shall, however, in my next, send
you a copy of one of his letters to me, about
the year 1783.* I received one since, but it is
mislaid. Please remember me, in the best man-
ner, to my worthy friend Mr. Adair, when you
see him, or write to him.

" Hart-street, Bloomsbiiry-square,
London, Feb. 22, 1799."



As the narrative of Gilbert Burns was written
at a time when he was ignorant of the existence
of the preceding narrative of his brother, so this
letter of Mr. Murdoch was written without his
having any knowledge that either of his pupils
had been employed on the same subject. The
three relations serve, therefore, not merely to
illustrate, but to authenticate each other. Though
the information they convey might have been
presented within a shorter compass, by reducing
the whole into one unbroken narrative, it is
scarcely to be doubted, that the intelligent
reader will be far more gratified by a sight of
these original documents themselves.

Under
* Sec Vol. ii. p. 1.



ROBERT BURNS. 97

Under the humble roof of his parents, it ap-
pears indeed that our poet had great advan-
tages 5 but his opportunities of information at
school were more limited as to time than they
usually are among his countrymen, in his con-
dition of life j and the acquisitions which he
made, and the poetical talent which he exerted,
under the pressure of early and incessant toil,
and of inferior, and perhaps scanty nutriment,
testify at once the extraordinary force and acti-
vity of his mind. In his frame of body he rose
nearly to five feet ten inches, and assumed the
proportions that indicate agility as well as
strength. In the various labours of the farm he
excelled all his competitors. Gilbert Burns
declares, that in mowing, the exercise that tries
all the muscles most severely, Robert was the
only man that, at the end of a summer's day,
he was ever obliged to acknowledge as his mas-
ter. But though our poet gave the powers of
his body to the labours of the farm, he refused
to bestow on them his thoughts or his cares.
While the ploughshare under his guidance
passed through the sward, or the grass fell un-
der the sweep of his scythe, he was humming
the songs of his country, musing on the deeds
of ancient valour, or rapt in the illusions of
Fancy, as her enchantments rose on his view.
Happily the Sunday is yet a sabbath, on which
man and beast rest from their labours. On this

VOL. I. H day,



98 THE LIFE OF

day, therefore, Burns could indulge in a freer
intercourse with the charms of nature. It was
his delight to wander alone on the banks of the
Ayr, whose stream is now immortal, and to
listen to the song of the blackbird at the close of
the summer's day. But still greater was his
pleasure, as he himself informs us, in walking
on the sheltered side of a wood, in a cloudy
winter-day, and hearing the storm rave among
the trees ; and more elevated still his delight,
to ascend some eminence during the agitations
of nature, to stride along its summit, while the
lightning flashed around him, and, amidst the
howlings of the tempest, to apostrophize the
spirit of the storm. Such situations he declares
most favourable to devotion " Rapt in enthu-
siasm, I seem to ascend towards Him who walks
on the wings of the wind /" If other proofs
were wanting of the character of his genius,
this might determine it. The heart of the poet
is peculiarly awake to every impression of beauty
and sublimity j but, with the higher order of
poets, the beautiful is less attractive than the
sublime.

The gaiety of many of Burns's writings, and
the lively, and even cheerful colouring with
which he has portrayed his own character, may
lead some persons to suppose, that the melan-
choly which hung over him towards the end of

his



ROBERT BURNS. 99

his days, was not an original part of his consti-
tution. It is not to be doubted indeed, that this
melancholy acquired a 'darker hue in the pro-
gress of his life; but, independent of his own
and of his brother's testimony, evidence is to be
found among his papers, that he was subject
very early to those depressions of mind, which
are perhaps not wholly separable from the sensi-
bility of genius, but which in him arose to an
uncommon degree. The following letter, ad-
dressed to his father, will serve as a proof of
this observation. It was written at the time
when he was learning the business of a flax-
dresser, and is dated

Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781.

" HONOURED SIR*

" I HAVE purposely delayed writing, in
the hope that I should have the pleasure of see-
ing you on New-year's day j but work comes so
hard upon us, that I do not choose to be absent
on that account, as well as for some other little
reasons, which I shall tell you at meeting. My
health is nearly the same as when you were here,
only my sleep is a little sounder, and, on the
whole, I am rather better than otherwise, though
I mend by very slow degrees. The weakness of
my nerves has so debilitated my mind, that I
dare neither review past wants, nor look for-

H 2 ward



100 THE LIFE OF

ward into futurity ; for the least anxiety or per-
turbation in my breast, produces most unhappy
effects on my whole frame. Sometimes, indeed,
when for an hour or two my spirits are a little
lightened, I glimmer a little into futurity; but
my principal, and indeed my only pleasurable
employment, is looking backwards and forwards
in a moral and religious way. I am quite trans-
ported at the thought, that ere long, perhaps
very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the
pains and uneasinesses, and disquietudes of this
weary life ; for I assure you I am heartily tired
of it ; and, if I do not very much deceive my-
self, I could contentedly and gladly resign it. *

' The soul, uneasy, and confin'd at home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come/

" It is for this reason I am more pleased with
the 1,5th, 16th, and 17th verses of the 7th chap-
ter of Revelations, than with any ten times as
many verses in the whole Bible, and would not
exchange the noble enthusiasm with which they
inspire me for all that this world has to offer.*

As



* The verses of Scripture here alluded to, are as fol-
lows :

15. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and
serve him day and night in his temple ; and he that sitteth
on the throne shall dwell among them.

16. They



ROBERT BURNS. 101

As for this world, I despair of ever making a
figure in it. I am not formed for the bustle of
the busy, nor the flutter of the gay. I shall
never again be capable of entering into such
scenes. Indeed I am altogether unconcerned at
the thoughts of this life. I foresee that poverty
and obscurity probably await me, and I am in
some measure prepared, and daily preparing to
meet them. I have but just time and paper to
return you my grateful thanks for the lessons of
virtue and piety you have given me, which were
too much neglected at the time of giving them,
but which, I hope, have been remembered ere
it is yet too late. Present my dutiful respects to
my mother, and my compliments to Mr. and
Mrs. Muirj and, with wishing you a merry
New-year's-day, I shall conclude.
" I am, honoured Sir,
" Your dutiful son,

" Robert Burns. v

" P. S. My meal is nearly out j but I am go-
ing to borrow, till I get more."

This



16. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any
more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat,

17. For the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne
shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains
of waters; and God shall wipe away all tears from their
eyes.



102 THE LIFE OF

This letter, written several years before the
publication of his poems, when his name was as
obscure as his condition was humble, displays
the philosophic melancholy which so generally
forms the poetical temperament, and that buoy-
ant and ambitious spirit which indicates a mind
conscious of its strength. At Irvine, Burns at
this time possessed a single room for his lodg-
ing, rented perhaps at the rate of a shilling
a-week. He passed his days in constant labour
as a flax-dresser, and his food consisted chiefly
of oatmeal sent to him from his father's family.
The store of this humble, though wholesome
nutriment, it appears was nearly exhausted, and
he was about to borrow till he should obtain a
supply. Yet even in this situation, his active
imagination had formed to itself pictures of
eminence and distinction. His despair of mak-
ing a figure in the world, shews how ardently
he wished for honourable fame; and his con-
tempt of life, founded on this despair, is the
genuine expression of a youthful and generous
mind. In such a state of reflection, and of
suffering, the imagination of Burns naturally
passed the dark boundaries of our earthly hori-
zon, and rested on those beautiful representa-
tions of a better world, where there is neither
thirst, nor hunger, nor sorrow, and where hap-
piness shall be in proportion to the capacity of
happiness.

Such



ROBERT BURNS. 103

Such a disposition is far from being at vari-
ance with social enjoyments. Those who have
studied the affinities of mind, know that a me-
lancholy of this description, after a while, seeks
relief in the endearments of society, and that
it has no distant connexion with the flow of
cheerfulness, or even the extravagance of mirth.
It was a few days after the writing of this letter
that our poet, " in giving a welcoming carousal
to the new year, with his gay companions," suf-
fered his flax to catch fire, and his shop to be
consumed to ashes.

The energy of Burns's mind was not exhausted
by his daily labours, the^ effusions of his muse,
his social pleasures, or his solitary meditations.
Some time previous to his engagement as a flax-
dresser, having heard that a debating club had
been established in Ayr, he resolved to try how
such a meeting would succeed in the village of
Tarbolton. About the end of the year 1780,
our poet, his brother, and five other young pea-
sants of the neighbourhood, formed themselves
into a society of this sort, the declared objects
of which were to relax themselves after toil, to
promote sociality and friendship, and to im-
prove the mind. The laws and regulations
were furnished by Burns. The members were
to meet after the labours of the day were over,
once a week, in a small public-house in the

village -,



104 THE LIFE OF

village ; where each should offer his opinion on
a given question or subject, supporting it by
such arguments as he thought proper. The de-
bate was to be conducted with orjder and deco-
rum; and after it was finished, the members
were to choose a subject for discussion at the
ensuing meeting. The sum expended by each
was not to exceed three-pence j and, with the
humble potation that this could procure, they
w r ere to toast their mistresses, and to cultivate
friendship with each other. This society conti-
nued its meetings regularly for some time j and
in the autumn of 1732, wishing to preserve some
account of their proceedings, they purchased
a book, into which their laws and regulations
were copied, with a preamble, containing a
short history of their transactions down to that
period. This curious document, which is evi-
dently the work of our poet, has been discovered,
and it deserves a place in his memoirs.

f( History of the Rise, Proceedings, and Regida*
tions of the Bachelor's Club.

' Of birth or blood we do not boast,
Nor gentry does our club afford ;
But ploughmen and mechanics we
In Nature's simple dress record.

" As the great end of human society is to
become wiser and better, this ought therefore

- to



ROBERT BURNS. 105

to be the principal view of every man in every
station of life. But as experience has taught
us, that such studies as inform the head and
mend the heart, when long continued, are apt
to exhaust the faculties of the mind, it has been
found proper to relieve and unbend the mind
by some employment or another, that may be
agreeable enough to keep its powers in exercise,
but at the same time not so serious as to exhaust
them. But, superadded to this, by far the greater
part of mankind are under the necessity of
earning the sustenance of human life by the labour
of their bodies, whereby, not only the faculties of
the mind, but the nerves and sinews of the body,
are so fatigued, that it is absolutely necessary to
have recourse to some amusement or diversion,
to relieve the wearied man, worn down with the
necessary labours of life,

" As the best of things, however, have been
perverted to the worst of purposes, so, under
the pretence of amusement and diversion, men
have plunged into all the madness of riot and
dissipation ; and, instead of attending to the
grand design of human life, they have begun
with extravagance and folly, and ended with
guilt and wretchedness. Impressed with these
considerations, we, the following lads in the
parish of Tarbolton, viz. Hugh Reid, Robert
Burns, Gilbert Burns, Alexander Brown, Walter

MitcheJ,



106 THE LIFE OF

Mitchel, Thomas Wright, and William M'Ga-
vin, resolved, for our mutual entertainment, to
unite ourselves into a club or society, under
such rules and regulations, that while we should
forget our cares and labours in mirth and di-
version, we might not transgress the bounds of
innocence and decorum ; and after agreeing on
these, and some other regulations, we held our
first meeting at Tarbolton, in the house of John
Richard, upon the evening of the 11th of No-
vember, 1780, commonly called Hallowe'en, and
after choosing Robert Burns president for the
night, we proceeded to debate on this question
Suppose a young man, bred a farmer, but
without any fortune, has it in his power to marry