Robert Burns: How To Know Him Part 22

Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, [trifle]

To step aside is human.

One point must still be greatly dark, The moving why they do it; And just as lamely can ye mark How far perhaps they rue it.

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us; He knows each chord, its various tone, Each spring, its various bias.

Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.

As regards the questions of doctrine there were in the church two main parties, known as the Auld Lichts and the New Lichts. The former were high Calvinists, emphasizing the doctrines of election, predestination, original sin, and eternal punishment. The latter comprised many of the younger clergy who had been touched by the rationalistic tendencies of the century, and who were blamed for various heresies--notably Arminianism and Socinianism. Whatever their precise beliefs, they laid less stress than their opponents on dogma and more on benevolent conduct, and Burns had strong sympathy with their liberalism. He first appeared in their support in an _Epistle to John Goldie_, a Kilmarnock wine-merchant who had published _Essays on Various Important Subjects, Moral and Divine_. Though he does not explicitly accept the author's Arminianism, he makes it clear that he relished his attacks on orthodoxy. A quarrel between two prominent Auld Licht ministers gave him his next opportunity, and the circulation in ma.n.u.script of _The Twa Herds: or, The Holy Tulyie_ made him a personage in the district. With an irony more vigorous than delicate he affects to lament that

The twa best herds in a' the wast, [pastors, west]

That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast [gave]

These five an' twenty simmers past-- Oh, dool to tell! [sorrow]

Hae had a bitter black out-cast [quarrel]

Atween themsel, [Between]

and he ends with the hope that if patronage could be abolished and the lairds forced to give

the brutes the power themsels To chuse their herds,

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, An' Learning in a woody dance, [gallows]

An' that fell cur ca'd 'common-sense,'

That bites sae sair, [sorely]

Be banish'd o'er the sea to France; Let him bark there.

More light is thrown on Burns's positive att.i.tude in religious matters by his _Epistle to McMath_, a young New Licht minister in Tarbolton. From the evidences of the letters, we are justified in accepting at its face value the profession of reverence for true religion made by Burns in this epistle; his hatred of the sham needs no corroboration.

TO THE REV. JOHN M'MATH

Enclosing a Copy of _Holy Willie's Prayer_, which he had requested, September 17, 1785

While at the stook the shearers cow'r [shock, reapers]

To shun the bitter blaudin' show'r, [driving]

Or, in gulravage rinnin', scour; [horseplay running]

To pa.s.s the time, To you I dedicate the hour In idle rhyme.

My Musie, tir'd wi' mony a sonnet On gown, an' ban', an' douce black-bonnet, [sedate]

Is grown right eerie now she's done it, [scared]

Lest they should blame her, An' rouse their holy thunder on it, And anathem her. [curse]

I own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy, That I, a simple country bardie, Shou'd meddle wi' a pack sae st.u.r.dy, Wha, if they ken me, Can easy, wi' a single wordie, Lowse h.e.l.l upon me. [Loose]

But I gae mad at their grimaces, Their sighin', cantin', grace-proud faces, Their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces, Their raxin' conscience, [elastic]

Whase greed, revenge, an' pride disgraces Waur nor their nonsense. [Worse than]

There's Gau'n, misca't waur than a beast, Wha has mair honour in his breast Than mony scores as guid's the priest [good as]

Wha sae abus'd him: An' may a bard no crack his jest What way they've used him? [On the fas.h.i.+on]

See him the poor man's friend in need, The gentleman in word an' deed, An' shall his fame an' honour bleed By worthless skellums, [railers]

An' not a Muse erect her head To cowe the blellums? [daunt, bl.u.s.terers]

O Pope, had I thy satire's darts To gie the rascals their deserts, [give]

I'd rip their rotten, hollow hearts, An' tell aloud Their jugglin', hocus-pocus arts To cheat the crowd.

G.o.d knows I'm no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be, But, twenty times, I rather would be An atheist clean, Than under gospel colours hid be, Just for a screen.

An honest man may like a gla.s.s, An honest man may like a la.s.s; But mean revenge, an' malice fause, [false]

He'll still disdain, An' then cry zeal for gospel laws, Like some we ken.

They tak religion in their mouth; They talk o' mercy, grace, an' truth, For what? To gie their malice skouth [scope]

On some puir wight, An' hunt him down, o'er right an' ruth, [against]

To ruin straight.

All hail, Religion, maid divine!

Pardon a muse sae mean as mine, Who in her rough imperfect line Thus daurs to name thee; To stigmatize false friends of thine Can ne'er defame thee.

Tho' blotcht an' foul wi' mony a stain, An' far unworthy of thy train, Wi' trembling voice I tune my strain To join wi' those Who boldly daur thy cause maintain In spite o' foes:

In spite o' crowds, in spite o' mobs, In spite of undermining jobs.

In spite o' dark banditti stabs At worth an' merit, By scoundrels, even wi' holy robes, But h.e.l.lish spirit.

O Ayr, my dear, my native ground!

Within thy presbyterial bound, A candid lib'ral band is found Of public teachers, As men, as Christians too, renown'd, An' manly preachers.

Sir, in that circle you are nam'd, Sir, in that circle you are fam'd; An' some, by whom your doctrine's blam'd, (Which gies you honour)-- Even, sir, by them your heart's esteem'd, An' winning manner.

Pardon this freedom I have ta'en, An' if impertinent I've been, Impute it not, good sir, in ane Whase heart ne'er wrang'd ye, But to his utmost would befriend Ought that belang'd ye. [was yours]

A further fling at orthodoxy appeared in _The Ordination_, a piece written to comfort the Kilmarnock liberals when an Auld Licht minister was selected for the second charge there. The tone is again one of ironical congratulation, and Burns describes the rejoicings of the elect with infinite zest. Two stanzas on the church music will ill.u.s.trate his method.

Mak haste an' turn King David owre, [open the Psalms]

An' lilt wi' holy clangor; [sing]

O' double verse come gie us four [give]

An' skirl up the _Bangor_: [shriek, a Psalm-tune]

This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, [dust]

Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her, [No more]

For Heresy is in her pow'r, And gloriously she'll whang her [thrash]

Wi' pith this day.

Nae mair by Babel streams we'll weep, To think upon our Zion; And hing our fiddles up to sleep, [hang]

Like baby-clouts a-dryin'; Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep, [chirp]

And o'er the thairms be tryin'; [strings]

O, rare! to see our elbucks wheep, [elbows jerk]

And a' like lamb-tails flyin'

Fu' fast this day!

In the same ironical fas.h.i.+on he digresses in his _Dedication to Gavin Hamilton_ to satirize the "high-fliers'" contempt for "cold morality"

and for their faith in the power of orthodox belief to cover lapses in conduct.