CHAPTER V. MOSSGIEL, 1784-1786. S a refuge for the family in the event of the Lochlea landlord proceeding to extremities, Burns and his brother Gilbert had taken, at Martinmas 1783, another farm, only two or three miles distant from Lochlea, but in a different parish (Mauchline). This was MOSSGIEL, which was connected with so many of the most memorable facts in the poet's history. It consisted of 118 acres of cold, clayey soil, lying in a bare upland, little more than a mile from the town of Mauchline, on the road to Kilmarnock and Irvine. It was only by ranking as creditors of their father for the arrears of wages due on account of their past labours on Lochlea, that the two sons and two grown-up daughters of the late William Burnes rescued from the grip of the law a trifle of stock and 'plenishing' for the new farm. They made a fresh start in life with renewed resolutions to be unsparing of both labour and self-denial; and if circumstances had been at all favourable, they might have had little to complain of. The poet says, in his autobiography: 'I entered on this farm with a full resolution "Come, go to, I will be wise!" I read farming books; I calculated crops; I attended markets; The following letter (preserved in the Burns Monument Museum, Kilmarnock), written by the poet to his landlord, before he entered on the occupancy of Mossgiel, is of interest, as showing that he could transact ordinary business like ordinary folk. It is addressed, 'Mr Gavin Hamilton, Machline:' 'MACHLINE, Octr. 18, 1783. 'SIR-As you are pleased to give us the offer of a private bargain of your cows you intend for sale, my brother and I this day took a look of them, and a friend with us, on whose judgement we could something depend, to enable us to form an estimate. If you are still intending to let us have them in that way, please appoint a day that we may wait on you, and in short, in spite of the devil, the world, and the flesh, I believe I should have been a wise man; but the first year, from unfortunately buying in bad seed; the second, from a late harvest, we lost half of both our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and I returned, "like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in the mire."'' The last extract (p. 58) from the letter of Gilbert Burns as to his brother's life broke off with an affirmation of the sobriety of the poet's habits in his earlier years. He continues thus: A stronger proof of the general sobriety of his conduct need not be required, than what I am about to give. During the whole of the time we lived in the farm of Lochlea with my father, he allowed my brother and me such wages for our labour as he gave to other labourers, as a part of which, every article of our clothing manufactured in the family was regularly accounted for. When my father's affairs drew near a crisis, Robert and I took the farm of Mossgiel, consisting of 118 acres, at the rent of £90 per annum (the farm on which I live at present), from Mr Gavin Hamilton, as an asylum for the family in case of the worst. It was stocked by the property and individual savings of the whole family, and was a joint concern among us. Every member of the family was allowed ordinary wages for the labour he performed on the farm. My brother's allowance and mine was £7 per annum each. during the whole time this family concern lasted, which was four years, as well as during the preceding period at Lochlea, his expenses never in any one year exceeded his slender income. I was intrusted with the keeping of the family accounts, it is not possible that there can be any fallacy in this statement in my brother's favour. His temperance and frugality were everything that could be wished.' And As The two brothers entered upon their farm of Mossgiel for the crop of 1784, taking up residence in March. The steading furnished a more comfortable residence for the family than they had ever before known, for it had been built to serve as a sort of country house for the family of Mr Gavin Hamilton,* writer in and either agree amongst ourselves or else fix on men to whom we may refer it, tho' I hope we will not need any reference.-I am, Sir, your humble Servant, ROBERT BURNESS. 'P.S.-Whatever of your dairy utensils you intend to dispose of we will probably R. B.' purchase. *Gavin Hamilton was born in Mauchline in November 1751. He was the fifth son of John Hamilton, writer, and 'clerk to the regalia' there, and owner of the lands of Kype in the parish of Avondale, Lanarkshire. The father, it may be worth while noting, figures in the Mauchline, who, as first tenant from the proprietor, the Earl of Loudoun, had sublet the farm to the Burnses. We have the poet's word for it that he was now truly anxious to do well in the world. He says, as we have seen: 'I read farming books-I calculated crops-I attended markets.' 'Come, go to,' he cried, I will be wise.' 'Burns,' says Allan Cunningham, was attentive as far as ploughing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, thrashing, winnowing, and selling went: he did all this by a sort of mechanical impulse; but success in farming demands more. The farmer should know what is doing in his way in the world around; he must learn to anticipate demand; and, in short, to time everything. But he who pens an ode on his sheep, when he should be driving them forth to pasture --who sees visions on his way home from market, and makes rhymes on them-who writes an ode on the horse he is about to yoke, and a ballad on the girl who shows the brightest eyes among his reapers has no chance of ever growing opulent, or of purchasing the field on which he toils.' Gilbert, who, in his brother's opinion, was much better suited for the ordinary work of the world than himself, took charge of everything. Robert, it is said, when addressed about a business matter, always turned it off with, 'Oh, talk to my brother about that.' But it does not appear that Gilbert, though an industrious and upright man, was a good farmer. A landlord, it must be admitted, is apt to unduly depreciate an unsuccessful tenant; but it is significant that Mr Alexander, subsequently proprietor of Mossgiel, used to speak of Gilbert as more a man of theory than of practical address and activity. It is not, therefore, surprising that this new speculation of the poet's proved no more fortunate than any of its predecessors. Dr Currie puts his finger on one at least of the causes of the failure. At the time,' he says, 'that our poet took the resolution of becoming wise, he procured a little book Manchline Parish Register, as he and 'Jacobina Young, daughter to the deceast John Young, merchant in Lanrick (Lanark), compeared before the Kirk-Session, produced certificates of their irregular marriage, owned their adherence, and were rebuked for their irregu larity.' Gavin, after serving his apprenticeship as a writer in his father's office, started business on his own account, and in 1775 was appointed collector of the 'stent,' or assessinent for the relief of the poor, the imposition of which by the heritors upon themselves followed the suppression of public mendicancy in 1771. Gavin Hamilton's quarrels with the kirk-session and his friendship with Burns are alluded to further on. He married Helen, elder daughter of Robert Kennedy of Daljarrock, in the parish of Colmonell, and died in 1805. of blank paper, with the purpose, expressed on the first page, of making farming-memorandums. These farming-memorandums are curious enough, and a specimen may gratify the reader.' He then presents the following snatches of verse: EXTEMPORE. O why the deuce should I repine, And be an ill foreboder? * I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine, I gat some gear wi' mickle care, I held it weel thegither; But now it's gane, and something mair— O leave novels, ye Machline belles, Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, The frank address, the soft caress, Are worse than poisoned darts of steel; The frank address, and politesse, Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. wealth In the course of the summer of 1784, the health of the poet gave *The date, April 1782, is prefixed by Currie to the extempore verses, but perhaps only under a presumption arising from the time of life indicated. Or it may be that Burns started his memorandum-book on his return to Lochlea from Irvine; 'I'm twenty-three,' and the allusion to his 'gear' being 'gane and something mair' fit in with that period. The advice to the Mauchline belles on the other hand seems to harmonise more with the period of the 'scandal' caused in the end of 1784 by the birth of Burns's illegitimate child. way to a somewhat serious extent. The movements of his heart were affected, and he became liable to fainting fits, particularly in the night-time. As a remedy, he had recourse to cold baths. A barrel of water was placed near his bedside, and into this he was obliged to plunge when threatened by his ailment. It was probably at this time that he wrote what he calls in his Common-place Book 'a prayer, when fainting fits, & other alarming symptoms of a Pleurisy or some other dangerous disorder, which, indeed still threaten me, first put Nature on the alarm.' Some editors of Burns have associated the 'Prayer' and the 'Stanzas' with the Irvine period of his life, when he wrote 'A Prayer under the Pressure of Violent Anguish,' and when nature was 'first' put on the alarm by 'that most dreadful distemper, a hypochondria or confirmed melancholy.' Referring to that period, he says also in his letter to Moore, Rhyme, except some religious pieces which are in print, I had given up.' But Burns, though generally accurate, was never pedantic when dealing with the dates of his earlier poems, and the 'print' he alludes to in this passage may be that of the Edinburgh edition, which contained the first 'Prayer.' The later production is certainly pervaded with a profounder remorse than the earlier a remorse which there is no good ground for believing he had any reason to feel when he was in Irvine. It was subsequently published under the simple designation of A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. In whose dread presence, ere an hour, If I have wander❜d in those paths As something, loudly, in my breast, Thou know'st that Thou hast formèd me Has often led me wrong. |