The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns
It is an honour to be invited to propose the toast to the immortal memory. It is a great honour for an Englishman.
But I am also an Honorary Scot!
Some years ago I served in Northern Ireland with a Scottish Infantry Battalion, the Royal Highland Fusiliers. We
were in Bandit Country _ South Armagh – an area of roadside bombs, IED’s in hedgerows, and snipers. As an RAF
man it was my job to organise their air support.
One morning after a fatal helicopter crash by the border near Crossmaglen I had the task of recovering the
wreckage of the helicopter. As I went about my task I was protected by a cordon of young soldiers dug in around
the perimeter.
After a while, I was called over to the command post - I went over and found that I was being offered a mug of tea
by a generous young soldier. As I handed back the empty mug, and turned to go back to my task the young lad said
“Dinna worry aboot the IRA Sir! – if theys shoots you then weel shoot them. Nea worry!
Such brotherhood and generosity I thought – a Mug of tea and reassurance that my early death would be soon
avenged! I was made an honorary member of the Battalion and an honorary Scot – and I wore their head dress – the
TOS with pride. So tonight to honour their poet Robert Burns I will wear it again!
There is a club bylaw that says I should not wear a hat in the Club. But Hey! Burns was concerned about equality
and the rights of the down trodden common man – if Ladies can wear hats and skirts in the club then so shall I!
We have enjoyed some Burns this evening – The Selkirk Grace and the Address to the Haggis.
But what strange language it is!
And why are we here tonight celebrating the life and works of Robert Burns who wrote this strange stuff?
Why are we - men and women of Devon, proud Brixham people true, and incomers too, gathered here tonight to
pay homage to a Scot who was born in Alloway, in Ayrshire, Scotland, 477 miles away from here; and 256 years
away in time? Is it just because we like to share time with each other at the Yacht Club? Because we like Haggis?
Because we like Whisky?
All these may be true but what was special about Robert Burns?
Down ‘ere in Debn have our own poets, Sir Walter Raleigh, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and the English Bard
Shakespeare! And in Brixham there was Henry Francis Lyte, a poet as well as the famous Hymnsmith of Abide
with Me; and Jabez Lake whose son is recorded on our war memorial as a casualty of the Second World War. Jabez
Lake wrote “The Loss of the Pilgrim” when only 15.
Most of their work is unknown to ordinary people – unlike the popular works of Burns; the poet for everyone.
Burns started writing at the age of 15 when he fell in love with Nell; he worked with her at harvest time on the
family farm. He had heard her singing a song by a local lad who was courting her and believed that he could do
better; so it was with Nelly in mind that he wrote his first song - "Handsome Nell" –
O once I love’d a bonnie lass
Aye, and I love her stell;
And whilst that virtue warms my breast,
I’ll love my handsome Nell
This song continues for 6 more delightful verses in an easy and innocent style; clearly written by a young man – it
lacks the coarseness of some of his later work.
Burns father believed in education and spent as much as he could afford on schools and tutoring - so Burns was
actually reasonably well educated - any later suggestion to the contrary was really a marketing ploy.
The family moved from Alloway to Tarbolton when Burns was 17, and here he further improved his education – by
joining a country dancing school! This no doubt improved his knowledge of the young ladies. And with his younger
brother Gilbert he formed the Tarbolton Batchelors Club which provided the opportunity to develop his linguistic
skills in debating. We must bear in mind that this was the time of the American War of Independence, and of the
French Revolution - and Burns ideas of freedom and openness were greatly influenced by these great events.
Following his father’s death he continued to work the farm with his brother but eventually gave up and moved to
better farm near Mauchline - but even here it was hard to make a living. He felt down trodden by the world - and
believed that his family were the victims of a harsh landlord system.
It was when out ploughing one winter’s day that his plough turned up a mouse’s nest – he had accidentally evicted
another being and he readily identified with it’s now poor situation. He was prompted to write: To a Mouse.
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!
Through this poem he invited the world to feel the bond of universal fellowship with that one insignificant animal –
to understand as Burns did that life is a struggle against loss; that in the midst of living we are also dying. Towards
the end of the poem he even longed to be like the mouse – envious to have no past to regret; nor any future to fear.
But, Mousie, thou art not a lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An' leave us nought but grief an' pain,
For promised joy!
Still, thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess - an' fear!
He continued to write, - and continued to love the Lassies. In Mauchline many girls caught his eye and gave rise to
the poem - The Belles of Mauchline: These were not the bells one pulled to make them ring - but pulled no doubt
for another thing!
In Mauchline there dwell six proper young belles,
The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a';
Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess,
In London or Paris, they'd gotten it a'.
Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine,
Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw:
There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton,
But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'.
Here in the last line we have a reference to Jean Armour - one of the great loves of his life. Soon Burns had a child
on the way with a girl called Elizabeth Paton – his infamy was growing and it is clear from the poem The
Mauchline Belles where one of his great interests lay. Jean Armour was for a while the girl for him and soon she
too was also pregnant;- with twins!
This episode brought Burns into conflict with the Church – he was accused of Fornication. He truly believed in God
but did not respect the church - the priest and the elders - who he believed were hypocrites. But Burns was clearly
guilty of Fornication – the evidence was growing larger by the day! He was called to the church to sit on the Cutty
Stool, an 18th century version of the naughty step, a stool of repentance, and there to receive the public rebuke of
the minister Burns often occupied the Cutty Stool.
Facing ruin and shame he came up with a plan to emigrate to Jamaica - to work on a plantation exploiting slaves –
in his words to be “a slave driver” But how could a man who so believed in Freedom contemplate crossing the
ocean to work with people enslaved. Should we now question his integrity – or was this the action of a desperate
man?
To fund his journey, and to pay off his debts and child support, he decided to get his poems published. He published
the main works of his most creative period in what is known as the Kilmarnock Edition.
This was the opening of a spectacular career – it was a runaway success and the 600 copies were soon sold out –
and he made a profit of £20!
He could now abandon his plan to emigrate, but he needed to leave Ayrshire and move to Edinburgh; then described
by some as the “Athens of the North”. Edinburgh was part of Europe’s intellectual life with many great doctors,
scientists, writers and philosophers living there. A sophisticated literary culture existed there and Burns wanted to
find his place in it. He was given a massive helping hand by Edinburgh’s leading critic, Henry Mackenzie. In
Mackenzie’s review of the Kilmarnock Edition Burns was described as a “genius of no ordinary rank” And as a
“Heaven taught Ploughman” – suggesting that he was a poorly educated country man. Burns was not insulted and
exploited the description to his advantage – he went around dressed in boots and buckskin jacket and leggings – he
was the genius who came from a farm.
He was catapulted into high society and had the fame that he craved. He was accepted by the Aristocracy and the
glitterati. He was lauded by his fellow Freemasons, who bought his new edition – the Edinburgh Edition – in great
numbers thus ensuring his success.
With success and some wealth he was now enjoying life. He drank and continued to pursue the ladies; - but he did
not write much. But he did write the piece that heralded the arrival of the Haggis tonight – The Address to the
Haggis. And through this one work he raised up the food of Rustics – the food of peasants - to become the Scottish
National Dish – and when all men and women, from the top table to the lowest of the low– eat Haggis together;
then they are all equal.
Burns was now faltering; his sponsors wanted him to return to his roots in Ayrshire where he might renew his
inspiration.
He drifted back and forth between City and country and was reconciled with Jean Armour – but he still couldn’t
settle. He toured the Highlands collecting songs and became obsessed with them – eventually he produced nearly
400 songs.
But then he did something strange – at the height of his fame he joined the Customs and Excise. He had many
claims against him and needed a steady income.
He married Jean Armour and took up farming again; so his income came from his writings, his farming and his
excise work. How strange that this man who valued freedom so highly should now become imprisoned by his late
discovered sense of duty and responsibility.
But the hard toil on the farm was breaking him again so he left and took his family to Dumfries to a new position in
Customs and Excise. But here his political views got him into trouble. As a Civil Servant he should have been more
careful but at a time when Britain and France were now at war he was heard to offer a toast to the success of the
French!
Now his integrity is in question again as he asked those who had been present and heard his gaff to keep quiet –
such hypocrisy from a man who himself had railed against hypocrisy! He came to realise that although he
championed and wanted freedom he simply could not afford it.
His loyalty was demonstrated one last time when he joined the local Militia - The Dumfries Volunteers. He even
went into debt to pay for his uniform.
But soon his health was failing and he was too ill to work. With his salary stopped he was desperate; and the
Haberdasher who had supplied his uniform on credit feared that he was dying and sued for his money.
The Bard of Caledonia was now reduced to sending begging letters to a cousin.
He died in poverty at home in Dumfries, probably the consequence of Rheumatic Fever, aged only 37.
The population of Dumfries was 5000 but 10000 attended his funeral procession. They showed their respects to the
man who has given us:
Tam O’Shanter; My Love is like a Red Red Rose; Green Grow the Rashes O’; Ae Last Kiss; To A Mouse; and
many many other fine works.
So this was the genius that was Robert Burns:
Poet – Philosopher – Philanderer – Lover - And a Drinker
Burns could not have believed that his fame would spread over centuries and over continents. He has become part
of the general oxygen – part of the common air – the people’s poet – the writer’s writer – the friends’ friend.
In Mexico it is said that you die 3 times:
The first when you take your last breath
The second time - at your funeral
And the last time - when you are forgotten
Robert Burns will not be forgotten – he is therefore immortal!
Please rise: I give you the toast; The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns