ROBERT BURNS. MAN. POET AND MASON
Presented by William Buxton, PM
W.M. BR.,
As an introduction, please listen to the words and this song, which I have chosen among many which seem to me, enclose and reflect Burns' character.
CONTENTED WI LITTLE AND
CANTIE WI MAIR
TUNE: Lumps o Puddins
Composed on 18th November 1794. this song was regarded by Burns as a self-portrait and when he sat to Alexander Reid the following summer for his portrait miniature, he had some idea of linking it to this song 'in order that the portrait of my face and the picture of my mind may go down the stream of Time together.'
Contented wi little, and cantie wi mair, joyful
Whene'er I forgather wi Sorrow and Care.
I gie them a skelp, as they’re creepin alang. smack
Wi a cog o guid swats and an auld Scottish sang.cup. ale
I whyles claw the elbow o troublesome Thought; sometimes clasp
But Man is a soger, and Life is a taught, soldier, fight
My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur touch, dare
A towmond o trouble, should that be my fa', twelvemonth, fate
A night o guid fellowship sowthers it a': shoulders
When at the blythe end o our journey at last,
Wha the Deil ever thinks o the road he has past?
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way; stumble, stagger
Be't to me. Be’t frae me, e’en let the jade gae! go
Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is: - 'Welcome, and welcome again!'
It is not easy for anyone anymore to write unedited lines on Robert Burns. More so for someone like myself who is starting to study Robert Burns, his life and works, and which is becoming fascinating to me.
Burns is a Scottish national phenomenon who has transcended the frontiers of his country through many, many Burns admirers around the world, descendents from Scots who keep up the traditional Burns night or Burns supper in the eve his of birthday on the 25th of January every year, which I could better describe, if you wish, during our festive board.
There is so much I would like to say about Burns, and so much more that could be said, that in benefit of time. a chronology of his life is appendixed to this presentation for those who are interested in biographical information.
He was a workaholic, not an alcoholic, and his prolific work in poetry during his short lived 36 years resembles that of Mozart in music in many ways.
As a mason, Robert Burns joined St. David's Lodge N° 174 Tarbolton on July 4, 1781; passed and raised in the same Lodge in October, 1781 and was elected Deputy Master on July 27,1784 at St. James Lodge, Kilwinning Tarbolton.
Imagine Burns and Mozart together. This perfectly could have happened as they were born within a difference of 3 years and died within a difference of 5. Mozart 1756-1791/ Burns 1759-1796. They were contemporaries so had they many things in common.
Both were men, and masons and genius, each in his own creativeness. Music and poetry. Mozart is more universal because music is a common language to all mankind. whatever part of the world they come from. Poetry is restricted to the people who speak the language in which it was written.
Both were romantic, lascivious, hedonist though they went through the revolutionary tide sweeping Europe at the time of the trench revolution in 1789. They went through much suffering with health problems. Both died young, as if God concentrated all their creativity in a few years, and took them in an early age so that youthful images of them could be left for the future generations.
I will now refer to the words expressed by Irving Smith, Sheriff of North Strathclyde and an erudite Burnsian, for his power of synthesis, at the 1995 supper T West Sound.
The world admittedly admires the gift of words, but Robbie Burns was a man who spoke in the language of a little people, and what he said is lost in any translation, and the world aims at ripeness, old age, accomplishment, host of friends. If you die a done man as did Robert Burns at the age of 37, you have hardly been given time for that ripeness that is all. But at this season, the tide that is the commemoration of him, begins to be at the flood and washes on the shores not just that are of Scotland, but of the world; the symbols are aye the same. the tartan, the pipes, the haggis. John Barleycorn, laughter, emotion. But symbols do not survive unless they symbolize something worthwhile. Bear with me while I suggest to you what I think make this tribute to Robbie Burns worthwhile. The man deserves commemoration, what he said deserves it. The way he said it, deserves it. And his values deserve commemoration with everyday, with every week. month, year, century that passes. I' m not concerned with the place names, with the chronology of this short life. You will find it in the appendix of the paper recently handed out to you. I am concerned with its characteristics, what manner of man he was, his origins, decent, but humble, some brief success. (The emphasis on brief.) Here is a man as the Old divine saw him within him, the stub of greatness, but all to often the feet set in clay. Here are \ inconsistencies .Here is a man who walked more than once the valley of the shadow of compromise. Who could be everything by turns and nothing long, who could be radical and reactionary. Jacobin and Jacobite, lover and lecher, nationalist and internationalist, realist and romantic, who drained from the glass of life, the rich red wine of experience aye sometimes to the very dregs.
I hae been blythe wi comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinkin;
I hae been joyfu for gath'rin gear;
I hae been happy thinkin;
But a' the pleasures e're I saw.
Tho three time doubl'd fairly-
That happy nicht was worth them a'.
Among the rigs o barley.
Here in short, in this man is the mirror held up to ordinary nature. Here is an individual so characteristically human that he's been made to stand representative for the numberless generations of ordinary men and women who have run their race, have gone, and have no other memorial. But is more than just the epitome of the common man, he is the tongue and expression of that creation in which every one of us, participate. The older we become I would suggest, the more we realize there are certain basic constancies in human behaviour. It's been youth to youth since the world began, for every one of us as for everyone that's gone before us, and pray 6od for all who come after, life has become, will be and ever has been an unpredictable amalgam of laughter, and tears, of extract and remorse, of meeting and parting, of birth and death. They are all part of the slow sad music of humanity, and, Robert Burns gave to these characteristics an local habitation, and a name.
We are na fou, we're nae that fou.
But just a drappie in our e' e.
The cock may craw. the day may daw.
And aye we'll taste the barley bree!
And there is hedonism,
I lastly was with Curtis.
among the floating batteries
and there I left for witness
an arm, and a limb,
let yet my country need me
wer'nt Elliot there to lead me
I'd clutter on my stumps
on the sound of a drum.
Love of country,
By oppressions woes and pains
By your sons in servile chains,
We. (note that) we will drain our dearest veins
But they shall be free.
Love of liberty and the price to be paid by one generation on behalf of another for it.
Come to my airms, my Katie , my Katie
Come to my airms, and kiss me again brunk or sober here's to thee Katie
And blessed be the hour that I did it again
And there is lechery.
The sky was blue, the wind was still
the moon was shinnin clearly;
I set her down, wi right good will,
Among the rigs o barley.
I ken't her heart was a' my ain,
I Wd her most sincerily;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
Amang the rigs o barley.
In every one of these, the language is Scots, the locality is mossgiel, Mauchline. Old Ayre, Dumfries, but the emotion there enshrined are universal, and are elemental. The man what he said and the way he said it. and he said it in Scots, and were not considering some heaven taught ploughman. No man is an island entire unto himself. Ask not for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.
He gave to his verse his genius. but his verse is built on the old foundations that are Scottish literature. He built on the old foundations, and the old foundations were wide and they were strong and he didn't just build on the old foundations in literature. He built on the foundations that were the past of his country.
Go, go fetch to me a pint of wine and fill it in a siller tasie,
That I may drink before I go. a service to my bonnie lassie.
The boat rocks at the pier o'Lieth. full load the wind blows for the ferry,
The ship rides by the berik law and I mun leave my bonnie Mary.
That has in it all the essence of Scotland's past, struggle, devotion, parting, exile.
May I now mention his loyalties, let us forget his infidelities here and his weaknesses
His ideals were sincerity, honesty, an aversion to hypocrisy in great and small, in
Church and State.
For thus the royal mandate ran when first the human race began, the social friendly honest man
What ere he be. what ere he be
'Tis he fulfils great nature's plan
And none but he.
Of course you may say there's nothing new in that, or is there? But there is something in it that yet awaits accomplishment. Can we even hear it, and it's like, and there is much like it in Robert Burns, when it's realization is as for away as ever. We are a generation encompassed about with violence, terror, when still man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn. Can we ever hear it and it's like to often. I think not. For a' that. Here surely was and remains a great poet, a great Scot, a great man. and a great mason.
Burns works are widespread across all walks of life. He wrote poetry. Poetry to love dedicated to so many women he loved and presented him with at least half a dozen offspring before he married and as many after his marriage. Poetry for songs and ballads. Revolutionary poetry, poetry in form of epistles, epitaphs, stories. Masonry appears in many of them. Too many to be read here. but I have selected these:
SCOTS WHA HAE
TUNE: Hey Tutti Taitie
Burns visited the field of Bannockburn, near Stirling on 26th August 1787 ‘I said a fervent prayer for Old Caledonia over the hole in a blue whinstone where Robert de Bruce fixed his royal standard...-Burns introduced the tune, popularly believed to have been Bruce's march at the battle. ‘Urbani begged me to make soft verses for it: but I had no idea of giving myself any trouble on the subject, till the accidental recollection of that glorious struggle for Freedom...roused my rhyming Mania. 'The theme of Liberty was uppermost in Burns's mind, as the French Republic was then just a year old (August 1793)
Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled. Sir William Wallace (d 1305)
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led. King Robert I (1306-28)
Welcome to your gory bed
Or to victorie!
Now's the day. and now's the hour:
See the front o battle lour. look menacingly
See approach proud Edward's power - Edward II (1307-27)
Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave? -
Let him turn. and flee!
Wha for Scotland's King and Law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw.
Freeman stand, or Freeman fa'.
Let him follow me!
By Oppression's woes and pains.
— By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins.
But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow! -
Let us do. or die!
MY LUVE IS LIKE A RED, RED ROSE
This is an amalgam of several old ballads and illustrates Burns s genius for reworking folk material and producing a poetic gem of the first rank. It was first published by Pietro Urbani in April 1794.
O, my luve is like a red. red rose.
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like the melodie. ~
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass.
So deep in luve am I.
And I will luve thee still, my dear.
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry. my dear,
And the rocks melt wi the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho it were ten thousand mile!
MASONIC SONG
TUNE: Shawn-boy: or Over the water to Charlie
Written to celebrate the poet's admission as an honorary member of Lodge St John Kilwinning, Kilmarnock on 26th October 1786.
Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie
To follow the noble vocation,
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station!
I’ve little to say, but only to pray.
(As praying's the ton of your fashion);
A prayer from the Muse you well may excuse.
(‘Tis seldom her favourite passion) -
‘Ye Powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide.
Who marked each element's bonier,
Who formed this frame with beneficent aim.
Whose sovereign statute is order.
Within this dear mansion, may wayward Contention
Or withered Envy ne'er enter!
May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
And brotherly Love be the centre!'
THE FAREWELL
TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON
TUNE: Good-night, and Joy be wi you a'
Burns became an apprentice freemason in July 1781, and was ‘passed and raised’ on 1st October that year. He became Depute-Master on 27th July 1784. It is thought that this song was written for the meeting on 24th June 1786. well before the publication of the Kilmarnock Edition, when Burns was still set on emigrating to Jamaica.
Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu;
Dear Brothers of the Mystic Tfc!
Ye favoured, ye enlighten'd few,
Companions of my social joy!
Tho I to foreign lands must hie.
Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba'; slippery
With melting heart and brimful eye.
Ill mind you still, tho far awa.
Oft have I met your social band,
And spent the cheerful, festive night:
Oft, honour d with supreme command,
Presided o'er the Sons of Light:
And by that Hieroglyphic bright.
Which none but Craftsmen ever saw!
Strong Mem'ry on my heart shall write
Those happy scenes, when far awa.
May Freedom, Harmony, and Love,
Unite you in the Grand Design,
Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above -
The glorious Architect Divine.
That you may keep th' Unerring Line,
Still rising by the Plummet's Law,
Till Order bright completely shine,
Shall be my pray'r when far awa.
And you, farewell! whose merits claim
Justly that Highest Badge to wear:
Heav'n bless your honour'd, noble name,
To Masonry and Scotia dear!
A last request permit me here
When yearly ye assemble a',
One round, I ask it with a tear.
To him, the Bard that's far awa.
Two hundred and five years, and five months ago, exactly in January 1795 on the very same day in which he wrote a desperate letter to a friend asking for a loan of three guineas, he sent to his publisher five verses . The publisher didn't think they were worth printing for another ten years. You and I might have thought differently.
A MAN'S A MAN FOR A* THAT
TUNE: For a' that
Sent to Thomson in January 1795. The intense contempt of rank has made this a revolutionary song with a central place in the psalmody of radicalism.
Is there for honest poverty
That hings his head, an a' that? hangs
The coward slave, we pass him by -
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an a' that,
Our toils obscure, an a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that. gold
What though on hamely fare we dine.
Wear hoddin grey. an a' that? coarse woolen cloth
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine -
A man's a man for a' that.
For a' that, an a' that,
Their tinsel show, an a' that,
The honest man, tho e'er sae poor,
Is king o men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie ca'd "a lord.' fellow
Wha struts, an stares, an a' that?
Tho hundreds worship at his word.