Classic A -i L4_ 
 
 Book 
 
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 PRESENTED BV 
 
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 JOSEPH MCOOHO 
 
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 ^-C^^ *••-. 
 
 Tamo'Shanter 
 
ALL ABOUT 
 
 TAM O^ SHANTER 
 
 WITH BRIEF PAPERS ON 
 
 Alloway Kirk, ** Souter Johnny," 
 Captain Grose, etc. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN D. ROSS, LL. D. 
 
 Author of ** Scottish Poets in America" and Editor 
 
 of *' Burns' s Highland Mary" '' Burns' s 
 
 Clarinda" * Burns' s Bonnie Jean " etc. 
 
 • With an Introduction by Charles H. Govan 
 
 THE RAEBURN BOOK CO. 
 
 185 Grand Street 
 
 MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY 
 
 1900 
 
h 
 
 ti%> 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 J. W. F. BOWLES 
 
 BROOKLYN 
 
 
 /a 'X^ir-v. 
 
 « .». c 
 
THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 TO 
 
 HUNTER MacCULLOCH, Esq. 
 
 (ex-president of the BROOKLYN WRITERS' CLUB; AUTHOR OF 
 ROBERT burns; A CENTENARY ODE;" "FROM DAWN TO DUSK'," ETC.) 
 
 IN APPRECIATION OF HIS GENIUS AS A POET, 
 
 HIS NOBLE CHARACTER AS A MAN, AND HIS INTENSE 
 
 ENTHUSIASM FOR 
 
 Scotland and Robert Burns. 
 
 JOHN D. ROSS. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 BY CHARLES H. GOVAN. 
 
 The Story of "Tarn o' Shanter" is very much like 
 that of "Rip Van Winkle." Indeed, "Eip Van 
 Winkle" has been called ''the Dutch Tarn o' Shanter." 
 Rip was fond of the bottle. Tarn was equally fond 
 of the bottle. Rip's wife was a scold. Tarn's spouse 
 was also a scold. Rip met with a supernatural ad- 
 venture while abroad in a thunder-storm, and that is 
 precisely what befell Tam. 
 
 The hero of this poetic tale — which, like "Hal- 
 lowe'en," reflects the superstition of the Scottish 
 peasantry — was Douglas Graham, of the farm of 
 Shanter; but it is not necessary to call him by any 
 other title than the rhythmical one bestowed on him 
 by the poet. 
 
 Tipplers are like boys, never happy unless away 
 from home ; and so, one day Tam o' Shanter escaped 
 from his wife's clamorous tongue and, mounting his 
 gray mare Meg, galloped off as fast as he could to 
 
VIII. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the neighboring town of Ayr. Here the truant lost 
 no time. He was bent on a spree, which could only 
 be enjoyed to the full in the society of that choice 
 spirit, Souter Johnny — Shoemaker Johnny — his com- 
 panion in many a long carouse. So the souter was 
 beguiled from his last, and the congenial pair straight- 
 way betook themselves to their favorite inn, where a 
 warm welcome and the best of ' ' yill " awaited them . 
 When the evening closed in Tam found himself 
 snugly seated at a fireside far more dear to him than 
 his own and almost as familiar — the souter at his 
 elbow, convulsing him with the queerest stories ; a 
 jolly boniface supplying him with foaming draughts 
 of powerful Scotch ale; and a buxom landlady beam- 
 ing upon him through fragrant tobacco-mists. Never 
 was the souter more deliciously droll ; never did ale 
 taste better ; never was the landlord's laugh more 
 unctuous or the landlady's smile more gracious — she 
 was a much more agreeable woman, Tam could not 
 help thinking, than Mrs. Graham. And Tam made 
 the most of the occasion. Like the truant boy at the 
 circus, he took no thought of the reckoning to come. 
 Sufficient for the hour was the enjoyment thereof. 
 His zest was as great as though the revelry were 
 taking place under his own roof tree, with the 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX. 
 
 sanction of a compliant wife. Nay, it was greater, 
 for is it not the fruit which is forbidden that most de- 
 lights the human palate ? In his boisterous gayety 
 Tam heeded not the specter which obtruded upon the 
 feast. But we may be sure that the specter became 
 more menacing as the evening advanced ; that she 
 took on the form and manner of his objurgatory 
 spouse ; that she dropped her poison, in increasing 
 doses, into every cup ; that she jealously interrupted 
 his delightful tete-a-tete with his comely hostess ; 
 that she whispered in his ear of the long and dismal 
 ride to come, with a curtain-lecture of more than or- 
 dinary length and bitterness at the end ; and that at 
 last, when the dreaded hour of midnight arrived, she 
 pointed imperiously to the door and bade him begone ! 
 We may easily fancy the drunk but docile farmer as 
 he " stachered out " in obedience to the mandate and 
 floundered into the saddle, his jovial host standing 
 ready with a stirrup-cup ( supplementary to the doch 
 andoris); the repeated admonitions screamed from 
 the doorway by the anxious hostess ; the concerted 
 farewell ; and the parting joke flung after him by the 
 inexhaustible souter, as Meg started on her record- 
 breaking run. 
 When Tam cleared the friendly shelter of the town 
 
X. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and reached the open country, he found himself at 
 the mercy of the wildest storm that ever blew in 
 Scotland — at least in his generation. The lightning 
 flared, the thunder crashed, the rain rattled, and the 
 wind howled. The farmer's homeward course lay- 
 past the scene of many a dreadful story, told late at 
 night by smouldering peat fires to shuddering listen- 
 ers. Here an unfortunate pedler had perished 
 miserably in the snow ; a little farther on, where a 
 huge rock stood near a clump of birch trees, a drunk- 
 en "ne'er-do-weel" had broken his useless neck; 
 some distance farther on a party of hunters had one 
 day found a murdered babe ; on yet farther was an 
 abandoned well, guarded by an aged hawthorn tree, 
 where a wretched old crone had hanged herself. But 
 the most fearsome landmark of all was Kirk Allo- 
 way; a little, old, ruined church near a bridge, span- 
 ning the river Doon, over which Tam had to cross. 
 Any old wife could tell you that this was the worst 
 haunted place in all Scotland. It is probable that as 
 Tam charged headlong through the inferno of war- 
 ring elements, his confused wits busy with excuses to 
 be offered to the frowning Kate, he wished himself 
 well past this dreaded spot. Emerging at length 
 from an adjacent wood into full view of the once- 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI. 
 
 dacred edifice, he looked anxiously toward it and be- 
 held a spectacle that might well have frozen the blood 
 of any man whose veins were not superheated by 
 "guid Scotch drink." The old church was ablaze 
 with a weird light, streaming from candles held in 
 the rigid hands of dead men, who stood in open coffins 
 ranged against the walls; and through the doorless 
 doorway and the windowless casements he beheld a 
 concourse of warlocks and witches dancing like mad 
 about a long table, on which was displayed an assort- 
 ment of corpses and other cheerful objects. The 
 music proceeded from a huge black animal, the shape 
 of a dog and the size of a bear, ensconced in a win- 
 dow-seat at the eastern extremity of the kirk ; which 
 Tam knew instinctively to be the great enemy of man- 
 kind himself ^f or surely no one else could have played 
 the bagpipes with such unearthly skill. Drink had 
 made Tam insensible to fear. Instead of fleeing as 
 a sober man would have done, he rode boldly for- 
 ward. The facetiously inclined may see in this 
 another point of similarity between the heroes of 
 Burns and Irving, and declare that Tam here showed 
 the same quality that distinguished the imperturbable 
 Rip Van Winkle in his colloquy with the ghostly 
 pirates, namely, Dutch courage. The hard ride and 
 
XII. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the startling character of his adventure had partially 
 cleared his brain, but the scene before him affected 
 his senses with a new madness. 
 
 It is related of the poet Longfellow that when he 
 returned to America in the early forties, * ' he found 
 the world drunken with the grace of Fanny Elssler." 
 It was this species of intoxication which now seized 
 upon Tarn. For prominent in the dance — her beauty 
 and shapeliness accentuated by her gruesome sur- 
 roundings — was a young and graceful witch possessed 
 of extraordinary strength and agility. Her attire 
 was of the scantiest, and in her wild abandon she ex- 
 ecuted such astounding leaps, bounds, and pirouettes 
 as would have made any opera premiere, or even the 
 adored Elssler herself, turn green with envy. Tarn 
 became so enthusiastic at her performance that he 
 involuntarily applauded — and betrayed his presence. 
 Instantly the lights were extinguished, and forth upon 
 the midnight air, their phosphorescent forms gleaming 
 through the darkness, came the whole infernal host, 
 all eager to fasten their clutches on the unhappy 
 mortal who had dared to disturb their orgies. Tam 
 wheeled his horse and made for the bridge. Any one 
 versed in the folk-lore of Scotland will tell you that 
 if you are pursued under like circumstances and you 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIII. 
 
 can manage to reach the middle of a running stream, 
 you are safe — the arch-fiend himself is powerless 
 against you. The keystone of the bridge became, 
 therefore, Tam's objective point; and to it he urged 
 his sturdy mare with voice, whip, and spur. 
 
 Under the influence of terror Meg developed, a 
 speed that might easily have won her the Derby. 
 But the poor beast was not striving against earthly 
 competitors. Nannie, the athletic witch, showed her- 
 self as superior in the chase as in the dance, and 
 gained most appallingly on poor Tarn. Horse, rider, 
 and witch reached the bridge at almost the same 
 instant; and just as Meg was in the act of clearing 
 the keystone the witch caught her by the tail, which 
 instantly came off in the infernal grasp as though 
 blasted by a lightning stroke. But the mischief ended 
 here. The river Doon now lay between the baffled 
 demons and then- intended victim. The tailless Mag- 
 gie and her now thoroughly sobered master finished 
 their homeward journey in safety; and it is to be 
 hoped that, as water had proved to be Tam's sal- 
 vation on this occasion, he was partial to it ever after- 
 ward. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Tam o' Shanter. Robert Burns. . . 17 
 
 Witch Stories Relating to Allow ay Kirk, 
 
 Robert Burns. . . .27 
 
 How Tam o' Shanter Came to be Written. 
 
 Gilbert Burns. . . .33 
 
 The Real Tam o' Shanter and Souter 
 
 Johnny. Robert Chambers. . , ^5, 
 
 Tam o' Shanter. J. M. Murdoch . Sf 
 
 Captain Grose. Kay's Edinburgh Por- 
 traits. . . . .46 
 
 Captain Grose. Cunningham's Life and 
 
 Land of Burns. . . .51 
 
 Captain Grose, the Antiquary. Echo. 55 
 
 AuLD Kirk Alloway. Benjamin F. Leggett. 58 
 
 A Brief Review. Allan Cunningham. . 60 
 
 The Galloway Cutty-Sark. John Gibson 
 
 Lockhart. . . . .64 
 
 Why "Tam" was Written. John Stuart 
 
 Blackie. . . . . 6& 
 
 The Matchless Tale. Principal Shairp. 70 
 
 " Tam o' Shanter" in a Dress Suit. Robert 
 
 Ford. . . . .74 
 
CONTENTS. XV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BuRNS's Masterpiece. George Savage. 79 
 
 At Allow ay. Benjamin F. Leggett. . 82 
 
 Notes on Tam o' Shanter. John Muir. 83 
 
 The Immortal Tale of Tam o' Shanter. 
 
 Blackie's Edition of Burns. , 92 
 
 Souter Johnny's Bible. Mr. Murdoch. - 102 
 
 At Allow ay's Haunted Kirk. . 105 
 
 Thom's Statues of "Tam "and "Souter" 
 
 IN America. . . . 109 
 
 The Original Version of Tam o' Shanter. 113 
 
 The Route Pursued by Tam. James Pater son. 115 
 
 Alloway Kirk. Chambers's Journal. 119 
 
 Tam o' Shanter. Cunningham's Life and 
 
 Land of Burns. . . .123 
 
 Burns and Captain Grose. John H. Ingram. 128 
 
 Tam o' Shanter's Ride. George Eyre Todd. 131 
 
 Tam o' Shanter. Alexander Webster. . 138 
 
 A Medieval Tam o' Shanter. Glasgow 166 
 Herald. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 " Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this Buke." 
 
 GAWIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 When chapman billies leave the street, 
 And drouthy niebors, niebors meet ; 
 As market days are wearing late, 
 An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 
 While we sit bousing at the nappy, 
 An' getting fou and unco happy, 
 We think na on the lang Scots miles, 
 The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles. 
 That lie between us and our hame, 
 Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame, 
 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
 Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. 
 
 This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, 
 As he frae Ayr ae night did canter 
 (Auld Ayr, whom ne'er a town surpasses. 
 For honest men and bonnie lasses). 
 
1 8 TAM 0' SHANTER. 
 
 O Tarn ! had'st thou but been sae wise, 
 As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advise ! 
 She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, 
 A bletherin, blusterin, drunken blellum ; 
 That frae November till October, 
 Ae market-day thou wasna sober ; 
 That ilka melder wi' the miller, 
 Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; 
 That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on 
 The smith and thee gat roaring f ou on ; 
 That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, 
 Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. 
 She prophesied, that, late or soon. 
 Thou wad be found, deep drown'd in Doon, 
 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
 By Alio way's auld, haunted kirk. 
 
 Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet, 
 To think how mony counsels sweet. 
 How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, 
 The husband frae the wife despises ! 
 
 But to our tale : Ae market night, 
 Tam had got planted unco right. 
 Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, 
 
TAM 0' SHANTER. 19 
 
 Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; 
 And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
 His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; 
 Tarn lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
 The night drave on wi, sangs an' clatter ; 
 And aye the ale was grovrdng better. 
 The landlady and Tarn grew gracious, 
 Wi' favors secret, sweet and precious : 
 The souter tauld his queerest stories ; 
 The landlord's laugh was ready chorus : 
 The storm without might rair and rustle, 
 Tam didna mind the storm and whistle. 
 
 Care, mad to see a man sae happy. 
 E'en dro^vn'd himsel amang the nappy. 
 As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure. 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure 
 Kings may be blest but Tam was glorious. 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! 
 
 But pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; 
 Or like the snow falls in the river, 
 
20 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 A moment white — then melts for ever ; 
 
 Or like the borealis race, 
 
 That flit ere you can point their place ; 
 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form 
 
 Evanishing amid the storm. 
 
 Nae man can tether time nor tide, 
 
 The hour approaches Tam maun ride — 
 
 That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, 
 
 That dreary hour Tam mounts his beast in; 
 
 And sic a night he took the road in. 
 
 As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 
 
 The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; 
 The rattling showers rose on the blast ; 
 The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; 
 Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd: 
 That night, a child might understand, 
 The deil had business on his hand. 
 
 Weel mounted on his gray mare Meg, 
 A better never lifted leg, 
 Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire. 
 Despising wind and rain and fire ; 
 Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet, 
 
TAM O' SHANTEB. 21 
 
 Whiles crooning o'er an auld Scots sonnet, 
 Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, 
 Lest bogles catch him unawares ; 
 Kirk AUoway was drawing nigh, 
 Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry. 
 
 By this time he was cross the ford, 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd ; 
 And past the birks and meikle stane, 
 Whare drunken Charlie brak 's neck-bane ; 
 And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
 Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; 
 And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
 Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. 
 Before him Doon pours all his floods, 
 The doubling storm roars thro' the woods. 
 The lightnings flash frae pole to pole. 
 Near and more near the thunders roll. 
 When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, 
 Kirk Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, 
 Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing, 
 And loud resounded mirth and dancing. 
 
 Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! 
 What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! 
 
22 TAM O^SHANTER. 
 
 Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; 
 
 Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil ! 
 
 The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 
 
 Fair play, he car'd nae deils a boddle, 
 
 But Maggie stood, right sair astonished, 
 
 Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 
 
 She ventur'd forward on the light ; 
 
 And, wow ! Tarn saw an unco sight ! 
 
 Warlocks and witches in a dance ; 
 
 Nae cotillon, brent new frae France, 
 
 But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels 
 
 Put life and mettle in their heels. 
 
 A winnock-bunker in the east. 
 
 There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 
 
 A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
 
 To gie them music was his charge : 
 
 He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, 
 
 Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. 
 
 Coffins stood round, like open presses, 
 
 That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; 
 
 And (by some devilish cantrip sleight) 
 
 Each in its cauld hand held a light. 
 
 By which heroic Tam was able 
 
 To note upon the haly table, 
 
 A murderer's banes, in gibbet-airns ; 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 23 
 
 Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; 
 A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, 
 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
 Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rusted : 
 Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
 A garter, which a babe had strangled : 
 A knife a father's throat had mangled, 
 Whom his ain son of life bereft, 
 The grey hairs yet stack to the heft ; 
 Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu'. 
 Which even to name wad be unlawfu'. 
 
 As Tammie glower'd, amaz'd and curious, 
 The mirth and fun grew fast and furious ; 
 The piper loud and louder blew, 
 The dancers quick and quicker flew. 
 They reel'd, they set, they crossed, they cleekit. 
 Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, 
 And coost her duddies to the wark, 
 And linket at it in her sark ! 
 
 Now Tarn, O Tam ! had thae been queans, 
 A' plump and strapping in their teens ! 
 Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, 
 Been snaw-white seventeen hundred linnen ! — 
 
J4 TAM O' SHANTBR. 
 
 Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, 
 That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, 
 I wad ha gi'en them off my hurdies, 
 For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies ! 
 But withered beldams, auld and droll, 
 Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 
 Louping an' flinging on a crummock, 
 I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 
 
 But Tam kend what was what f u, brawlie 
 There was ae winsome wench and walie, 
 That night enlisted in the core, 
 Lang after kend on Carrick shore ; 
 (For mony a beast to dead she shot 
 And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, 
 And shook baith meikle corn and bear. 
 And held the country-side in fear) ; 
 Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, 
 That while a lassie she had worn, 
 In longitude tho' sorely scanty. 
 It was her best, and she was vauntie. 
 Ah ! little kend thy reverend grannie. 
 That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, 
 Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), 
 Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches ! 
 
TAM O'SHANTER. 25 
 
 But here my Muse her wing maun cow'r, 
 Sic flights are far beyond her power; 
 To sing how Nannie lap and flang 
 (A souple jade she was and Strang), 
 And how Tarn stood, like ane bewitch'd, 
 And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
 Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, 
 And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : 
 Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
 Tam tint his reason a' thegither, 
 And roars out: " Weel done, Cutty-sark!" 
 And in an instant all was dark : 
 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied. 
 When out the hellish legion sallied. 
 
 As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, 
 When plundering herds assail their byke ; 
 As open pussie's mortal foes, 
 When, pop ! she starts before their nose ; 
 As eager runs the market-crowd. 
 When " Catch the thief !" resounds aloud: 
 So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
 Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow. 
 
26 TAM O' SHANTEE. 
 
 Ah, Tarn! ah, Tarn! thou'll get thy fairin! 
 In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
 In vain thy Kate awaits thy coming ! 
 Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! 
 Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
 And win the key-stane o' the brig ; 
 There, at them thou thy tail may toss, 
 A running stream they darena cross. 
 But ere the key-stane she could make, 
 The fient a tail she had to shake ! 
 For Nannie, far before the rest. 
 Hard upon noble Maggie prest, 
 And flew at Tarn wi' furious ettle ; 
 But little wist she Maggie's mettle ! 
 Ae spring brought off her master hale, 
 But left behind her ain gray tail : 
 The carlin claught her by the rump. 
 And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 
 
 Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, 
 nk man, and mother's son, take heed : 
 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd. 
 Or cutty-sarks rin in your mind. 
 Think ! ye may buy the joys o'er dear. 
 Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. 
 
WITCH STORIES 
 
 Relating to Alloway Kirk. 
 
 BY ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 ' ' Among the witch stories which I have heard re- 
 lating to Alloway Kirk," said the poet in a letter to 
 Captain Grose, " I distinctly remember only two or 
 three. Upon a stormy night, amid whistling squalls 
 of wind and bitter blasts of hail — in short, on such a 
 night as the devil would choose to take the air in— a 
 farmer or a farmer's servant was plodding and plash- 
 ing homeward with the plough-irons on his shoulder, 
 having been getting some repairs on them at a neigh- 
 bouring smithy. His way lay by the Kirk of Allo- 
 way, and being rather on the anxious look-out in ap- 
 proaching the place, so well known to be a favorite 
 haunt of the devil, and the devil's friends and emis- 
 saries, he was struck aghast by discovering, through 
 the horrors of the stormy night, a light which on his 
 nearer approach plainly showed itself to proceed from 
 the haunted edifice. Whether he had been fortified 
 from above on his devout suppUcation, as is customary 
 
28 TAM O'SHANTER. 
 
 with people when they suspect the immediate presence 
 of Satan, or whether according to another custom, 
 he had got courageously drunk at the smithy, I will not 
 pretend to determine ; but so it was that he ventured 
 to go up to — nay, into the very kirk. As luck would 
 have it his temerity came off unpunished. The 
 members of the infernal junto were all out on some 
 midnight business or other, and he saw nothing but a 
 kind of kettle or caldron depending from the roof 
 over the fire, sinmiering some heads of unchristened 
 children, Hmbs of malefactors, etc., for the business 
 of the night. It was in for a penny in a pound with 
 the honest ploughman, so without ceremony he un- 
 hooked the caldron from off the fire and pouring out 
 its damnable ingredients, inverted it on his head and 
 carried it fairly home, where it remained long in the 
 family a living evidence of the truth of the story. 
 
 ' ' Another story which I can prove to be equally 
 authentic was as follows : 
 
 " On a market day in the town of Ayr, a farmer 
 from Carrick, and consequently whose way lay by 
 the very gate of Alio way kirkyard, in order to cross 
 the river Doon at the old bridge, which is about two 
 or three hundred yards farther on than the said gate, 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 29 
 
 had been detained by his business, till by the time he 
 reached Alloway it was the wizard hour, between 
 night and morning. 
 
 * ' Though he was terrified with a blaze streaming 
 from the kirk, yet as it is a well-known fact that to 
 turn back on these occasions is running by far the 
 greatest risk of mischief, he prudently advanced on 
 his road. When he had reached the gate of the kirk- 
 yard, he was surprised and entertained through the 
 ribs and arches of an old Gothic window, which still 
 faces the highway, to see a dance of witches merrily 
 footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, 
 who was keeping them all alive with the power of his 
 bagpipe. The farmer stopping his horse to observe 
 them a little, could plainly descry the faces of many 
 old women of his acquaintance and neighborhood. 
 How the gentleman was dressed tradition does not 
 say, but the ladies were all in their smocks ; and one 
 of them happening unluckily to have a smock which 
 was considerably too short to answer all the purposes 
 of that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled 
 that he involuntarily burst out with a loud laugh: 
 *' Weel luppen, Maggie wi' the short sark!" and recol- 
 lecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top 
 of his speed. I need not mention the imiversally 
 
30 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 known fact that no diabolical power can pursue you 
 beyond the middle of a running stream. Luckily it 
 was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so 
 near, for notwithstanding the speed of his horse which 
 was a good one, against he reached the middle of the 
 arch of the bridge, and consequently the middle of the 
 stream the pursuing vengeful hags were so close at his 
 heels, that one of them actually sprang to seize him, but 
 it v/as too late, nothing was on her side of the stream 
 but the horse's tail, which immediately gave way at 
 her infernal grip, as if blasted by a stroke of lightning, 
 but the farmer was beyond her reach. However the 
 unsightly tail-less condition of the vigorous steed was 
 to the last hour of the noble creature's life, an awful 
 warning to the Carrick farmers not to stay too late 
 in Ayr markets. 
 
 "The last relation I shall give, though equally true, 
 is not so well identified as the two former with regard 
 to the scene, but as the best authorities give it for 
 Alloway, I shall relate it. 
 
 "On a summer's evening about the time nature has 
 put on her sables to mourn the expiry of the cheer- 
 ful day, a shepherd-boy belonging to a farm in the 
 immediate neighborhood of Alloway Kirk, had just 
 folded his charge and was returning home. As he 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 31 
 
 passed the kirk, in the adjoining field, he fell in with 
 a crowd of men and women who were busy pulling 
 stems of the plant ragwort. He observed that as 
 each person pulled a ragwort, she or he got astride of 
 it and called out, ' up horsie!' on which the ragwort 
 flew off, like Pegasus through the air with its rider. 
 The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort, and cried 
 with the rest, ' up horsie!' and strange to tell, away 
 he flew with the company. The first stage at which 
 the cavalcade stopt was a merchant's wine cellar in 
 Bordeaux, where without saying by your leave, they 
 quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford until 
 the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, 
 threatened to throw light on the matter, and fright- 
 ened them away from their carousals. 
 
 "The poor shepherd lad being equally a stranger to 
 the scene and liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk, 
 and when the rest took horse, he fell asleep, and was 
 found so next day by some of the people belonging to 
 the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch 
 asking him what he was, he said, such a one's herd 
 in Alio way, and by some means or other getting home 
 again, he lived to tell the world the wondrous tale. " 
 
 This letter is interesting," says Alexander Smith, 
 
32 TAM 0' SHANTEB. 
 
 "as showing the actual body of tradition on which 
 Burns had to work — the soil out of which the con- 
 summate poem grew like a flower. And it is worthy 
 of notice also how out of the letter, some of the best 
 things in the poem have come ; ' such a night as the 
 devil would choose to take the air in', being for in- 
 stance, the suggestion of the couplet, 
 
 That night a child might understand, 
 The Deil had business on his hand. 
 
 It is pleasant to know that Bums thought well of 
 'Tamo'Shanter'." 
 
HOW TAM O'SHANTER CAME 
 TO BE WRITTEN. 
 
 BY GILBERT BURNS. 
 
 When my father fewed his little property near AU- 
 oway Kirk, the wall of the churchyard had gone to 
 ruin, and cattle had free liberty of pasture in it. My 
 father with two or three neighbors joined in an appli- 
 cation to the Town Council of Ayr, who were su- 
 periors of the adjoining land, for liberty to rebuild it, 
 and raised by subscription a sum for enclosing this 
 ancient cemetery with a wall ; hence he came to con- 
 sider it as his burial place, and we learned that rev- 
 erence for it that people generally have for the burial 
 place of their ancestors. My brother was living at 
 Ellisland when Captain Grose, on his peregrinations 
 through Scotland, stayed some time at Carse House, 
 in the neighborhood, with Captain Robert Riddell of 
 Glenriddle, a particular friend of my brother's. The 
 antiquarian and the poet were ' unco pack and thick 
 thegither'. Robert requested of Captain Grose, when 
 he should come to Ayrshire, that he would make a 
 
34 TAM 0' SHANTER. 
 
 drawing of Alloway Kirk, as it was the burial place 
 of liis father, and where he himself had a sort of 
 claim to lay down his bones when they should be no 
 longer serviceable to him, and added by way of en- 
 couragement, that it was the scene of many a good 
 story of witches and apparitions — of which he knew 
 the Captain was very fond. The Captain agreed to 
 the request, provided the poet would furnish a witch 
 story to be printed along with it. " Tarn o' Shanter " 
 was produced on this occasion and was first publish- 
 ed in " Grose's Antiquities of Scotland." 
 
THE REAL TAM O' SHANTER, 
 AND SOUTER JOHNNY. 
 
 BY DR. ROBERT CHAMBERS, 
 
 The country people in Ayrshire, contrary to their 
 wont, unmythicize the narrations of Burns, and point 
 both to a real Tarn and a Souter Johnny and to a 
 natural occurrence as the basis of the fiction. Their 
 story is as follows : 
 
 The hero was an honest farmer named Douglas 
 Graham, who lived at Shanter, between Turnberry 
 and Colzean. His wife, Helen M' Taggart, was much 
 addicted to superstitious beliefs. Graham, dealing in 
 malt, went to Ayr every market day, whither he was 
 frequently accompanied by a shoe-making neighbor, 
 John Davidson, who dealt a little in leather. The 
 two would often linger to a late hour in the taverns 
 at the market town. One night when riding home more 
 than usually late, by himself, in a storm of wind and 
 rain, Graham in passing over Brown Carrick Hill, 
 near the bridge of Doon, lost his bonnet which con- 
 tained the money he had drawn that day at the mar- 
 
36 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 ket. To avoid the scolding of his wife, he imposed 
 upon her credulity with a story of witches seen at 
 AUoway Kirk, but did not the less return to Carrick 
 Hill to seek for his money, which he had the satisfac- 
 tion to find with his bonnet in a plantation near the 
 road. It is supposed that Burns when in his youth 
 living among the Carrick farmers at Kirkoswald, 
 became acquainted with Graham and Davidson, 
 studied their grotesque habits, and heard of their 
 various adventures, including that of Alloway Kirk, 
 though perhaps without learning that it was the im- 
 posture of a husband upon a too-credulous wife. 
 Douglas Graham and John Davidson, the supposed 
 originals of Tam o' Shanter and Souter Johnny, have 
 long reposed in the churchyard of Kirkoswald, where 
 the former has a handsome monument bearing a 
 pious inscription. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 BY J. M. MURDOCK. 
 
 One of Burns' innumerable gifts was the painting 
 of spooks like human beings. We do not mean the 
 actual process of painting, as that task is too hercu- 
 lean even for a great poet or the editor of a spookish 
 organ called Borderland. What we mean to imply 
 is that Bums, when dealing with devils, ghosts, 
 fairies, brownies, witches, etc., cajoles his readers 
 into the belief that the mythical habitues of AUoway 
 Kirk were flesh and blood like ourselves, and it is here 
 where the modus operandi of Burns appeals with irre- 
 sistible force to his countrymen. The poem of Tam 
 o' Shanter is of course not founded upon fact, yet the 
 manner in which the bard deals with the memorable 
 ride is so enchanting, and the players in the drama 
 are so life like, that millions flock to the route — or, 
 more accurately speaking, a portion of the route — 
 traversed by Tam, if not to look for witches and war- 
 locks, at least to explore the region and to chuckle 
 over the pandemonium in the kirk, its effect upon the 
 
38 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 hero of the occasion and his hair-breadth escape at 
 the old bridge of Doon. 
 
 It is recorded that the poet looked upon the tale as 
 his magnum opus, but with all deference to his fancy, 
 it does not deserve that place. The "Epistle to 
 Davie," the "Cotter's Saturday Night," "Is there 
 for Honest Poverty," and a few other pieces contain 
 deeper thoughts and sterner truths, while the poetic 
 art is as high if not higher ; but there will always be 
 difference of opinion as to Burns' masterpiece. The 
 great attraction of Tarn o' Shanter is its unbounding 
 humor, its unflagging interest, and its morale. To-day 
 we have literary people in abundance — the one regret 
 is that they are not fewer — whose fame, or notoriety, 
 ends at the grave. Every person who has mastered 
 the rudiments of English composition is in a hurry to 
 become famous, and the inevitable result is that few 
 reach the summit of their ambition. An interreg- 
 num in connection with this flood of puerihties and 
 inane chatter would be hailed by thoughtful men with 
 tokens of acclamation. Most authors are remem- 
 bered by one or a few pieces, but this is not the case 
 with Burns. Had Burns written only Tam o' Shanter, 
 he might not have been known beyond the confines of 
 Ayrshire. The piece displays an exceedingly humor- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 39 
 
 ous and imaginative mind. It has few appeals to the 
 heart. And, as Bums's place in literature is due to 
 his touching the hearts of his countrymen, our 
 opinion will, we feel assured, find favor with those 
 who have zealously studied the works of our national 
 poet. 
 
 Versification in the Scottish dialect is one of the 
 glories of the nation which reared Wallace and Bruce, 
 Knox and Chalmers, Scott and Carlyle ; and, tower- 
 ing above them all, Robert Burns. Poetrj^ has always 
 been a vigorous plant in Scotland; every shire has 
 its poet or poets, and this possession has done much 
 to knit Scotsmen together. It is not our intention to 
 pen a eulogy of the poetry of Caledonia. Most 
 Scotsmen are agreed as to the incomparable charm of 
 the native Doric. There is one sign of the times from 
 which Scotsmen should pray to be delivered : it is the 
 delusion that the utilization of the mother tongue, 
 either in speaking or writing, betokens vulgarism. 
 The craving for emulating England will, we fear, un- 
 less Scotsmen themselves come to the rescue, gradual- 
 ly wipe the Doric out of existence. Our drawing 
 rooms, our concert halls, our teachers' and guides' 
 institutions breathe an atmosphere distinctly English. 
 Our children when at school write and read in English, 
 
40 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 and when at home or on the playground, use the 
 Doric. This is gratifying, but it is not enough, and all 
 school boards and parents would do well to encourage 
 proficiency in home literature. We have made these 
 observations because Tarn o'Shanter is excellently 
 adapted for recitation in schools and other places. 
 According to Plato, the Greek Rhapsodist could 
 scarce recite Homer without falling into convulsions ; 
 a little girl reads the story of Red Riding Hood with 
 fear and trembling, although she knows it is false ; 
 and young and old read the account of Tam o' Shant- 
 er's ride ( compared with which John G-ilpin's was a 
 mere pleasure trot) with joy and pity ; moreover, they 
 even cross the Atlantic ocean to scratch their initials 
 on the bridge over which the Kirkoswald farmer rode, 
 because the strength of Burns's imagination triumphs 
 over their plenitude of reason. The poetry of illu- 
 sion is often the poetry of immortality. Many of the 
 finest thoughts of master minds which have been 
 given to the world have been sandwiched between 
 masses of fiction. 
 
 It requires a good deal of application and the pos- 
 session of histrionic gifts to be able to do justice to 
 Tam o' Shanter. Very few amateur reciters can show 
 the merits of Shakspeare's plays. When the reciter 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 41 
 
 of Tarn o' Shanter requires to be prorapted from the 
 front benches ; when he goes through the piece with- 
 out modulating his voice ; when he stands immovable 
 like a pyramid of Egypt, the audience is enraged that 
 such exquisite material should be in the hands of such 
 a performer. 
 
 The hero of the legend was Douglas Graham, of 
 Shanter farm, near Kirkoswald. Numerous attempts 
 have been made, and are still making, to dispute the 
 authenticity of the statement; but not a particle of 
 proof has been adduced to show that the current 
 record is unreliable. Kirkoswald is an uninviting 
 village situate a few miles from the town of Maybole, 
 the ancient capital of Carrick. It was while residing 
 in this portion of Ayrshire that Burns met with those 
 characters which he subsequently sketched. We have 
 stood by the graves of Tarn and the souter ( and the 
 churchyard is one of the quaintest in the Burns 
 country) ; we have examined the Bibles of the souter 
 and the records kept by Hugh Roger, Burns's school- 
 master; we have explored other places and things of 
 interest in the locality, and all this has been done de- 
 spite the cynical and shallow criticism of those whose 
 bigotry destroys their title to be considered judges in 
 a matter of the kind ; but we do not mean to denounce 
 
42 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 them, we only pity their narrowness of view. We 
 have yet amongst us individuals who scout the idea 
 of entering the Tam o' Shanter Inn in the High 
 street of Ayr, or going to worship at the shrines of 
 Douglas Graham and John Davidson. The poet's ac- 
 quaintance with the Kirkoswald worthies has provided 
 more pleasure to Scotsmen than many detractors are 
 aware of. It is not the reading of the tale that has 
 to be considered. The magical influence of associa- 
 tion causes thousands to leave their homes to compre- 
 hend the situation. And they do not return dis- 
 appointed. Alio way Kirk and the old bridge of Doon 
 may rank beside Bannockburn and Drumclog, and 
 although the former have become famous through im- 
 agination, the latter, although associated with real- 
 ities, are the less frequented. This maybe a reflection 
 on the sound judgment of Scotsmen, but it is none 
 the less true. 
 
 The tale, as we have indicated, is a Ben Nevis of 
 Scottish humor on which all eyes are riveted. From 
 the moment Tam mounts his mare at the High street 
 of Ayr, till the interesting spot above the waters of 
 the sparkling Doon is reached, he electrifies the mind 
 of the reader. No devil-m.a-care, fashionless, gin- 
 loving farmer ever rode quicker into immortality. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 43 
 
 The making of reputations is slow and dreary work, 
 and a reputation that is to last until the final trumpet 
 sound is heard, requires years of plodding ; years of 
 bitter regrets; years of joyful experiences. Tarn 
 o' Shanter's reputation was bought at a dear price, but 
 the price was not too exacting for the proud position 
 which he occupies to-day. Had Tam been the favor- 
 ite in the Ayrshire handicap at the Ayr meeting, he 
 could not have ridden faster; still, Maggie was not the 
 mare to put many ' ' ponies " on. Despite the ticklish 
 situations in which Tam is placed, we are compelled 
 to laugh even when we feel inclined to become 
 emotional. We are brought back to the hours of 
 childhood, to the evenings when we sat at the hearth 
 and heard some superstitious old woman recount the 
 cantrips of the witches and other phantoms of 
 romance. Nothing attracts an imaginative person so 
 much as a discourse on the vagaries of the breezy- 
 mannered creatures who dance in the pale moonlight. 
 Tam o' Shanter in the prose of a Macaulay, or a 
 DeQuincey, or a Christopher North, or a Louis 
 Stevenson, would no doubt be an interesting record ; 
 but we question if it would live. In the hands of such 
 a person as Burns, it is painted with the brush of a 
 literary Raphael ; its fine blending of colors dazzles 
 
44 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 the eye and appeals to the understanding, and the 
 older it gets the more attractive does it become. In 
 sketching what we vulgarly term the Deil, Burns dis- 
 plays a rollicking abandon; he talks as if he were 
 entertaining him to haggis at his own fireside. This 
 style would have raised the dander of our covenant- 
 ing ancestors in the wilds of Ayrshire and Galloway, 
 who could not tolerate indecorum and clowning in 
 religious concerns. At the time in which the poet 
 lived, the hypocritical parson and the indecorous 
 communion were strongly in evidence. And what 
 could be more appropriate at that stage than the 
 feigned cultivation of familiarity with such a one as 
 the Prince of Darkness, in order to show to the rant- 
 ing theologian that the enemy of mankind was not 
 so black as he was painted. His Deil is the old ortho- 
 dox one who has done his duty for thousands of years. 
 His witches, too, are wonderful creations — ugly, 
 detestable, with deviltry stamped on every feature of 
 their human forms. We shall not linger over this 
 subject ; it is apt to make us think one of the grotesque 
 monsters is seated beneath our writing desk and ready 
 for another sprint along the banks of bonnie Doon. 
 Had the rider failed to reach the keystone of the 
 bridge, the tale would have been spoiled, inasmuch as 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 45 
 
 the hissing, revengeful, hateful witches would have 
 captured a prize, and their success would have brought 
 witchery as a profession into contempt. Burns, in 
 writing the tale, went as far as he could with safety. 
 He knew what would enthuse his patrons and he 
 succeeded. If Tarn's cantrips were not followed with 
 thousands of eyes, millions have pictured the sight 
 in their imagination ; they have felt that life has been 
 rendered more pleasant by the setting in circulation 
 of such a piece of legendary history ; they have in- 
 scribed the story on the tablets of their memories as a 
 possession that shall not fade away. The rich and 
 the poor, the gentle and the simple have bowed before 
 the artist's throne, grateful for the riches bestowed 
 upon them by one whose sublime thoughts have 
 called forth the admiration of the civilized globe. To 
 such a one we must pay homage. 
 
CAPTAIN GROSE. 
 
 FROM "KAY'S EDINBURGH PORTRAITS." 
 
 Captain Grose was born in the year 1731, and was 
 the son of Mr. Francis Grose of Richmond, jeweler, 
 who fitted up the coronation crown of George the Sec- 
 ond, and died in 1769. By his father he was left an 
 independent fortune. In early life he entered the 
 Surrey militia, of which he became Adjutant and 
 Paymaster; but so careless was he, that he kept no 
 vouchers either of his receipts or expenditures. He 
 used himself to say he had only two books of ac- 
 counts, viz., the right and left hand pockets. The 
 result may be easily anticipated, and his fortune 
 suffered severely for his folly. His losses on this oc- 
 casion roused his latent talents ; with a good classical 
 education, a fine taste for drawing, encouraged by 
 his friends, and impelled by his situation, he com- 
 menced the "Antiquities of England and Wales," the 
 first number of which was published in 1773, and the 
 fourth volume completed in 1776. In 1777 he resumed 
 his pencil, and added two more volumes to his ' ' English 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 47 
 
 Views," in which he concluded the islands of Guern- 
 sey and Jersey, in 237 views, with maps of the coun- 
 ties, besides a general one. The work was reprinted 
 in eight volmnes in 1787. 
 
 The success of this work induced Grose to illustrate 
 in a similar manner, " The Antiquities of Scotland." 
 This publication, in numbers of four plates each, com- 
 menced in the beginning of 1789, and finished in 1791, 
 forming two volumes, with 190 views, and letterpress. 
 Before the plates of the latter numbers were out of 
 the engraver's hands, the author ' ' turned his eyes to 
 Ireland, who seemed to invite him to her hospitable 
 shore, to save from impending oblivion her mouldering 
 monuments, and to unite her, as she should ever be, 
 in closest association with the British Isles. The Cap- 
 tain arrived in Dublin in May, 1791, with the fairest 
 prospect of completing the noblest literary design at- 
 tempted in this country." Such are the words of Dr. 
 Ledwich, to whom Grose had applied for assistance, 
 and by whom the work was completed, in two vol- 
 umes, in 1795. But while in Dublin, at the house of 
 Mr. Hone, Grose was suddenly seized with an apo- 
 plectic fit, and died in the fifty-second year of his age, 
 upon the 12th of May, 1791. The following epitaph 
 
48 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 proposed for him, was inserted in the St. James's 
 Chronicle, May 26th: 
 
 Here lies Francis Grose. 
 
 On Thursday, May 12th, 1791, 
 
 Death put an end to 
 
 His views and prospects. 
 
 Upon occasion of his marriage, Grose took up his 
 residence in Canterbury, where he remained several 
 years, during which period his wit and vivacity made 
 him many friends. No one possessed more than him- 
 self the faculty of setting the table " in a roar," but 
 it was never at the expense of virtue or good man- 
 ners. He left several sons and daughters ; one of the 
 latter married Anketil Singleton, Esq., Lieut. -Gover- 
 nor of Sandguard Fort. His son, Daniel Grose, F.A. 
 S., Captain of the Eoyal Regiment of Artillery, was, 
 after several campaigns in America, appointed Depu- 
 ty-Governor of the new settlement at Botany Bay, 
 in 1790. 
 
 Besides the works above noticed, he published a 
 Treatise on Ancient Armor and Weapons : illustrated 
 by plates taken from the original armor in the Tower 
 of London, and other arsenals, museums, and cabinets." 
 London, 1785. Quarto. A supplement was added in 
 1789. ' 'A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. " 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 49 
 
 London, 1785. Octavo. "A guide to Health, Wealth, 
 Honor, and Riches." London, 1785. Octavo. This 
 is a most amusing collection of advertisements, 
 principally illustrative of the extreme gullability of 
 the citizens of London. A very humorous intro- 
 duction is prefixed. "Military Antiquities, respecting 
 a history of the English Army, from the Conquest 
 to the present time." Two volumes. London, 1786-88. 
 Quarto. With numerous plates. This work was 
 published in numbers. "The History of Dover 
 Castle. By the Rev. William Darrell, Chaplain to 
 Queen Elizabeth." 1781. In Quarto, the same as the 
 large and small editions of the antiquities of England 
 and Wales;" with ten views engraved from drawings 
 by Captain Grose. " A Provincial Glossary; with a 
 Collection of Local Proverbs and Popular Supersti- 
 tions." London, 1788. Octavo. "Rules for Draw- 
 ing Caricatures; the subject illustrated with four 
 copper plates; with an essay on comic painting." 
 London, 1788. Octavo. A second edition appeared 
 in 1791, Octavo, illustrated with twenty-one copper 
 plates, seventeen of which were etched by Captain 
 Grose. After his demise was published "The Olio;" 
 being a collection of Essays, Dialogues, Letters, 
 Biographical Sketches, etc. By the late Francis 
 
50 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 Grose, Esq., F. R. S. and A. S. ; with a portrait of the 
 author. London, 1796. Octavo. 
 
 There are dessertations by him in the " Archseolo- 
 gia, " the one ' 'On an Ancient Fortification at Christ - 
 church, Hants," and the other " On Ancient^Spurs." 
 
CAPTAIN GROSE. 
 
 FROM CUNNINGHAM'S "LIFE AND LAND OF BURNS." 
 
 " It's tauld he was a sodger bred, 
 And ane wad rather fa'n than fled, 
 But now he's quat the spurtle blade, 
 
 And dog-skin wallet, 
 And ta'en the — Antiquarian trade 
 
 I think they call it. 
 
 Burns met Francis Grose at the Friar's Carse, on 
 the banks of the Nith, the residence of a brother anti- 
 quarian, Mr. Riddle, and was pleased with his man- 
 ners and his wit, and listened alike to his Southland 
 jokes and his old-world lore. It is said nevertheless, 
 that though they were brothers in humor and in the 
 social cup, the haughty Englishman disliked the 
 Scot's sallies about the rotundity of his person, and 
 was mortified rather than pleased when he found him- 
 self described as a "fine, fat fudgy wight," small of 
 stature though bright in genius. It is likely that the 
 poet was not ignorant of this; and hence his jocular 
 epigram, in which he represents Satan as eager for 
 the soul of the antiquary, but dreading to encounter 
 the immense load with which he heard his sick bed 
 
52 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 creaking and groaning. Indeed, he seldom omitted 
 
 an opportunity of having a fling at him ; even in the 
 
 envelope which enclosed the inimitable Tam o' Shan- 
 
 ter to Cardonnel, another of the northern antiquaries, 
 
 he makes sarcastic inquiries. 
 
 *' Ken ye ought o' Captain Grose? 
 If he's amang his friends or foes? 
 Is he south or is he north? 
 Or drowned in the Eiver Forth? 
 Is he slain by Highland bodies? 
 And eaten like a wether haggis?" 
 
 The poet soon, indeed, discovered that Grose had but 
 little in common with himself ; he was a dry-as-dust 
 antiquary, and thought the bard received immortal 
 honor in admitting his tale of Tam o' Shanter as an 
 illustration to the ruins of AUoway Kirk. On the 
 other hand, Bums imagiued that he helped Grose 
 largely with his task when he advertised his profes- 
 sional visit to the ruined castles and abbeys in Scot- 
 land ; and no doubt his humorous epistle to his coun- 
 trymen prepared the way both for Grose and his work 
 on the Scottish antiquities. In the commencement 
 of this poem, he alarms the National pride : 
 
 " Hear, land o' cakes, and brither Scots, 
 Frae Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groat's : 
 If there's a hole in a' your coats, 
 
 I rede you tent it. 
 A chield's amang ye takin' notes, 
 
 An' faith he'll prent it. 
 
TAM O'SHANTBR. 53 
 
 In the second and third verses he introduces the 
 Captain to his countrymen, and claims their re- 
 gard to his personal appearance as well as to his 
 learned qualities: 
 
 " If in your bounds ye chance to light 
 Upon a fine, fat fodgel wight, 
 O* stature short, but genius bright, 
 
 That's he, mark weel — 
 And wow ! he has an unco slight 
 
 O cauk and keel. 
 
 By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin, 
 
 Or kirk deserted by its riggin ; 
 
 It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in 
 
 Some eldrich part, 
 Wi' deils, they say — Lord save's ! — coUeaguin, 
 
 At some black art." 
 
 He then calls on those who deal in speUs and glam- 
 or, and on the spirits which haunt ruined haUs, to 
 tremble and quake at the coming of one who can let 
 daylight in upon their dark doings, and expose and 
 expel them. His account of the antiquarian collec- 
 tion of his friend is in a happy style. Sir Walter 
 Scott, as he conducted a friend of ours through his 
 splendid armory leaned kindly on his shoulder and re- 
 peated with great unction the following verse : 
 
 ' ' He has a f outh o' auld nick-nackets : 
 Rusty aim caps and jinglin' jackets, 
 Wad baud the Lothians three in tackets, 
 
 A towmont guid ; 
 And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets 
 
 Before the flood." 
 
54 TAM O' SHANTEK. 
 
 Grose was a man of perseverence and research; his 
 work on the military antiquities of Britain will long 
 be a monument to the honor of single-handed enter- 
 prise. A work so extensive and minute, so curious 
 and instructive, so worthy of the nation and its 
 history, was to have been looked for from the crown 
 or the government, rather than a half -pay captaia 
 and an antiquary, rich in nick-nackets, rather than in 
 gold. He was born at Richmond, in the year 1731, 
 where his father was a jeweler ; he was for some time 
 in the Herald's College; served a few years in the 
 nnlitia and the cavalry ; and, quittiag knapsack and 
 sword, distiQguished himself as an antiquary ; and died 
 suddenly at a dinner-table in Dublin ia the year 1791. 
 
CAPTAIN GROSE, THE ANTI- 
 QUARY. 
 
 FROM ECHO. 
 
 On May 12, 1791, died the once-famous Francis 
 Grose, antiquary, artist, and humorist — a man whose 
 name is unknown, but who lives in the poetry of his 
 friend Burns, and in the antiquarian literature of 
 these islands. He was born in 1731, at Greenford, 
 Middlesex, and was the son of Francis Grose, a native 
 of Berne, who came to England in the eighteenth 
 century, and settled at Richmond, Surrey. He re- 
 ceived a classical education, and he studied art in 
 Shipley's drawing-school. As early as 1766 he be- 
 came a member of the Incorporated Society of British 
 Artists, and in 1768 he exhibited a drawing, "High 
 Life Below Stairs." In the next year he exhibited 
 architectural drawings in the Royal Academy. 
 
 About this time Grose held the office of Richmond 
 Herald, and subsequently he was Adjutant and Pay- 
 master of the Hampshire Militia. His system of 
 keeping the regimental accounts was an original one — 
 
56 TAM O' SHANTEB. 
 
 he put all receipts into one pocket and made all his 
 payments from another — and this soon landed him in 
 confusion and difficulty. He adopted the same sys- 
 tem when, in 1778, he was made Adjutant and Cap- 
 tain of the First Surrey or the Tangier Regiment. 
 In his own money matters he was equally careless, 
 and the fortune which his father left him soon 
 vanished. 
 
 In 1773 appeared the first volume of the work on 
 which his chief fame rests — "The Antiquities of Eng- 
 land and Wales." This was completed in four vol- 
 umes, in 1787, and still remains a standard work. 
 The drawings were made by himself, but he had 
 assistance in writing the descriptions. This work 
 completed, he visited Scotland, where at Friar's Carse 
 he made the acquaintance of Robert Burns, and the 
 two soon became cronies. Grose was immensely cor- 
 pulent, as his portrait shows, "full of good-humor 
 and good-nature and an inimitable boon companion;" 
 and in Bums he found a kindred spirit, who, how- 
 ever, did not scruple to satirize his friend. To Grose 
 the poet addressed the well-known poem which 
 begins 
 
 "Hear, land o' cakes and brither Scots." 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 57 
 
 The second verse describes the captain's personal 
 appearance and his skill with the pencil. 
 
 Bums gave serious offence to the worthy antiquary 
 by another poem, beginning 
 
 "Ken ye ought of Captain Grose?" 
 
 In the introduction to the "Antiquities of Scotland" 
 Grose says that Bums made out what was most wor- 
 thy of notice in Ayrshire, and also wrote specially for 
 him, in connection with Alio way Kirk, " Tam o' Shan- 
 ter," one of the most popular of the poet's works. 
 (See Burns's general correspondence, letter 227). 
 
 The "Antiquities of Scotland" were published in 
 1789-'91. Then the author visited the sister isle; 
 but alas! his work here was soon cut short. He 
 had not written and printed more than seven pages of 
 his "Antiquities of Ireland," when he died of apo- 
 plexy in Dublin. His remains lie in Drumcondra 
 Church. 
 
AULD KIRK ALLOWAY. 
 
 BY DR. BENJAMIN F. LEGGETT. 
 
 Oh, Alloway! Oh, Alloway! 
 Thy roofless walls are fair to day ! 
 Above thee azure skies are spread. 
 Around thee sleep the silent dead ; 
 By lichened stone and leaning slate, 
 My eager footsteps pause and wait. 
 While soft June airs around thee play, 
 Auld haunted Kirk o' Alloway ! 
 
 A dusty pilgrim at thy shrine. 
 Oh, Alloway ! what rest is mine ! 
 Within the grateful shade I lie. 
 Beneath the broad leaf-fretted sky. 
 Safe sheltered from the noonday gleam, 
 What airy shadows haunt my dream ; 
 What gray wraiths out of mist-land stray. 
 And throng thee round, Auld Alloway ! 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 59 
 
 The daisied turf is sweet to-day, 
 Around thy walls, Oh, Alio way ! 
 The minstrel's song hath lent its charm. 
 And time can never do thee harm ; 
 Though years go by, and, safe below, 
 Tarn sleeps beneath the hawthorn's snow, 
 Yet still thy world-wide fame will stay, 
 Witch-haunted Kirk o' Alloway ! 
 
A BRIEF REVIEW. 
 
 BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 Bums had become fully reconciled to Nithsdale, 
 and was on the most intimate terms with the muse 
 when he produced Tam o' Shanter, the crowning glory* 
 of all his poems. For this marvelous tale we are in- 
 debted to something like accident. Francis Grose, 
 the antiquary, happened to visit Friar's Carse, and 
 as he loved wine and wit, the total want of imagina- 
 tion was no hindrance to his friendly intercourse with 
 the poet. "Alloway's auld haunted Kirk," was men- 
 tioned, and Grose said he would include it in his illus- 
 trations of the antiquities of Scotland, if the bard of 
 Doon would write a poem to accompany it. Bums 
 consented, and before he left the table the various 
 traditions, which belonged to the ruin, were passing 
 through his mind. One of these was of a farmer, 
 who, on a night wild with wind and rain on passing 
 the old Kirk was startled by a light glimmering inside 
 the walls. On drawing near he saw a caldron hung 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 6l 
 
 over a fire, in which the heads and limbs of children 
 were swinuning. There were neither witch nor friend 
 to guard it, so he unhooked the caldron, and turned 
 out the contents and carried it home as a trophy. A 
 second tradition was of a man of Kyle, who, having 
 been on a market night detained late in Ayr, on 
 crossing the old bridge of Doon, on his way home, 
 saw a light streaming through the Gothic window of 
 Alloway Kirk, and on riding near, beheld a batch of 
 the district witches dancing merrily round their mas- 
 ter, the devil, who kept them " louping an' flinging" 
 to the sound of a pagpipe. He knew several of the 
 old crones, and smiled at their gambols, for they were 
 dancing in their smocks ; but one of them, who hap- 
 pened to be young and rosy, had on a shorter smock 
 than those of her companions by two spans at least, 
 which so moved the farmer, that he exclaimed ' ' Weel 
 luppen, Maggie wi' the short sark!" Satan stopped 
 his music, the light was extinguished, and out rushed 
 the hags after the farmer, who made at the gallop for 
 the bridge of Doon, knowing that they could not cross 
 a stream. He escaped; but Maggie, who was fore- 
 most, seized the horse's tail at the middle of the 
 bridge, and pulled it off, in her efforts to stay him. 
 The poem was the work of a single day. Burns 
 
62 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 walked out to his favorite musing path, which runs 
 towards the old tower of the Isle, along Nithside, and 
 was observed to walk hastily and mutter as he went. 
 His wife knew by these signs that he was engaged in 
 composition, and watched him from the window ; at 
 last, wearying and moreover wondering at the un- 
 usual length of his meditations, she took her children 
 with her and went to meet him ; but as he seemed not 
 to notice her she stepped aside among the broom to 
 allow him to pass, which he did with a flushed brow, 
 and dropping eyes, reciting these lines aloud : 
 
 ' ' Now Tam, O Tam ! had thae been queans, 
 A' plump and strapping in their teens ! 
 Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, 
 Been snaw- white seventeen hundred linnen ! 
 Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, . 
 That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair, 
 I wad ha gi'en them off my hurdles. 
 For ae blink o' the bonnie bur dies ! " 
 
 He embellished this wild tradition from fact as well 
 as from fancy. Along the road which Tam came on 
 that eventful night, his memory supplied circum- 
 stances, which prepared him for the strange sight at 
 the Kirk of Alio way. A poor chapman had perished 
 some winters before in the snow ; a murdered child 
 had been found by some early hunters; a tippling 
 farmer had fallen from his horse at the expense of 
 his neck, beside a ' ' meikle stane " ; and a melancholy 
 
TAM O' SHANTEB. 63 
 
 old woman had hanged herself at the bush aboon the 
 well, as the poem relates. All these matters the poet 
 pressed into the service of the muse, and used them 
 with a skill which adorns rather than oppresses the 
 legend. A pert lawyer from Dumfries objected to the 
 language as obscure. "Obscure, sir!" said Burns; 
 ' ' you know not the language of that great master of 
 your own art — the devil. If you had a witch for your 
 client you would not be able to manage her defence." 
 
THE GALLOWAY CUTTY-SARK. 
 
 BY JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART. 
 
 Grose and Burns had too much in common not to 
 become great friends. The poet's accurate knowledge 
 of Scottish phraseology and customs was of much use 
 to the researches of the humorous antiquarian ; and, 
 above all, it is to their acquaintance that we owe 
 "Tam o' Shanter." Burns told the story as he had 
 heard it in Ayrshire, in a letter to the Captain, and 
 was easUy persuaded to versify it. The poem is said 
 to have been the work of one day ; and Mrs. Burns well 
 remembered the circumstances. 
 
 To the last. Burns was of opinion that ' ' Tam o' 
 Shanter" was the best of his productions; and 
 although it does not often happen that poet and 
 public come to the same conclusion on such points, 
 I believe the decision in question has been all but 
 unanimously approved of. 
 
 The admirable execution of the piece, so far as it 
 goes, leaves nothing to wish for; the only criticism 
 has been, that the catastrophe appears unworthy of 
 
TAM O'SHANTER. 65 
 
 the preparation. Burns might have avoided this error 
 — if error it be — had he followed not the Ayrshire but 
 the Galloway edition of the legend. According to that 
 tradition, the Cutty-Sark, who attracted the special 
 notice of the bold intruder of the Satanic ceremonial, 
 was no other than the pretty wife of a farmer, residing 
 in the same village with himself, and of whose unholy 
 propensities no suspicion had ever been whispered. 
 The Galloway Tam, being thoroughly sobered by 
 terror, crept to his bed, the moment he reached home 
 after his escape, and said nothing of what had hap- 
 pened to any of his family. He was awakened in the 
 morning with the astounding intelligence that his 
 horse had been found dead in the stable, with a 
 woman's hand, clotted with blood, adhering to the 
 tail. Presently it was reported that Cutty-Sark had 
 burned her hand grievously over night, and was ill 
 in bed, but obstinately refused to let her hand be 
 examined by the village leech. Thereupon Tam, dis- 
 entangling the bloody hand from the hair of his 
 defunct favorite's tail, proceeded to the residence of 
 the fair witch, and forcibly pulling her stump to veiw, 
 showed his trophy, and narrated the whole circum- 
 stances of the adventure. The poor victim of the 
 black art was constrained to confess her guilty prac- 
 
66 TAM O'SHANTER. 
 
 tices in presence of the priest and the laird, and was 
 forthwith burnt alive under their joint auspices, 
 within water-mark, on the Solway Firth. 
 
 Such, Mr. Cunningham informs me, is the version of 
 this story, current in Galloway and Dumfriesshire; 
 but it may be doubted whether even if Burns was 
 acquainted with it, he did not choose wisely in adher- 
 ing to the Ayrshire legend, as he had heard it in his 
 youth. It is seldom that tales of popular superstition 
 are effective in proportion to their completeness of 
 solution and catastrophe. On the contrary, they, 
 like the creed to which they belong, suffer little in a 
 picturesque point of view by exhibiting a maimed and 
 fragmentary character, that in nowise satisfies strict 
 taste, either critical or moral. Dreams based in dark- 
 ness may fitly terminate in a blank ; the cloud opens, 
 and the cloud closes. The absence of definite scope 
 and purpose appears to be of the essence of the myth- 
 ological grotesque. Burns lays the scene of this 
 remarkable performance almost on the spot where he 
 w£is born; and all the terrific circumstances by 
 which he has marked the progress of Tam's midnight 
 journey, are drawn from local tradition : 
 
 " By this time he was cross the ford 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd. 
 And past the birks and meikle stane, 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 67 
 
 Whare drunken Chairlie brak's neck-bane, 
 And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
 Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; 
 And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
 Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel'." 
 
 None of these tragic memoranda were derived from 
 imagination. Nor was " Tam o' Shanter " himself an 
 imaginary character. Shanter is a farm close to 
 Kirkoswald, that smuggling village in which Burns, 
 when sixteen years old, studied mensuration, and 
 *' first became acquainted with scenes of swaggering 
 riot." The then occupier of Shanter, by name Douglas 
 Graham, was, by all accounts, equally what the Tam 
 of the poet appears — a jolly, careless rustic, who took 
 much more interest in the contraband traffic of the 
 coast, than the rotation of crops. Burns knew the 
 man well; and to his dying day Graham, nothing 
 loath, passed among his rural compeers by the name 
 of Tam o' Shanter. 
 
WHY ''TAM" WAS WRITTEN. 
 
 BY PROFESSOR JOHN STUART BLACKIE. 
 
 In the year 1790 the distinguished English anti- 
 quary, Captain Francis Grose, paid a visit to Scotland, 
 and was entertained with his usual hospitality by 
 Captain RiddeU. Here, of course, he was introduced 
 to the farmer of Elhsland ; and in their convivial quali- 
 ties and good-humor, the poet and the antiquarian 
 straightway recognized one another as brothers. In 
 the course of their confabulations Burns took the 
 opportunity of suggesting to the archaeologist that 
 there was a fine old ruined church at Alloway, on the 
 banks of the Doon, a region to which the poet owed 
 his birth, and where his father had found a burial 
 ground; and which was moreover, the traditional 
 scene of strange witch and worlock stories, than which 
 few things could be more interesting to a genial 
 antiquary like Grose. The Captain at once took the 
 hint, and promised to give special prominence to 
 Alloway Kirk in his book, if Bums would furnish a 
 witch story to give a rich seasoning to the pudding. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 69 
 
 The poet's love of frolic, and his deep-rooted patriot- 
 ism, at once jumped at the proposal. A bargain was 
 made, and the muse of Coila, in one of her most fervid 
 moments, visited the bard one forenoon as he was 
 pacing up and down his favorite walk on the banks 
 of the Nith, and before evening the great master- 
 piece of Scottish character, Scottish humor, Scottish 
 witch -lore, and Scottish imagination, "Tam o' 
 Shanter, " was produced at full length, glowing from 
 the anvil. Besides the glory of having accidently 
 been the cause of the production of this excellent 
 witch-idyl, the Middlesex antiquary had the good 
 fortune to elicit from the poet a personal description 
 of himself, which will do more to make him immortal 
 than all his antiquarian works put together. 
 
THE MATCHLESS TALE. 
 
 BY PRINCIPAL SHAIRP. 
 
 But what had Burns been doing for the last year in 
 poetic production? In this respect the whole interval 
 between the composition of the lines "To Mary in 
 Heaven," in October, 1789, and the autumn of the 
 succeeding year, is almost a blank. Three election- 
 eering ballads, besides a few trivial pieces, make up 
 the whole. There is not a line written by him during 
 this year which, if it were deleted from his works, 
 would any way impair his poetic fame. But this long 
 barrenness was atoned for by a burst of inspiration 
 which came on him in the fall of 1790, and struck off 
 at one heat the matchless tale of "Tam o'Shanter." 
 It was to the meeting already noticed of Burns with 
 Captain Grose, the antiquary, at Friar's Carse, that 
 we owe this wonderful poem. The poet and the an- 
 tiquary suited each other exactly, and they soon 
 became 
 
 " Unco pack and thick thegither." 
 
 Burns asked his friend, when he reached Ayrshire, 
 to make a drawing of Alloway Kirk, and include it in 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 7l 
 
 his sketches, for it was dear to him because it was the 
 resting-place of his father, and there he himself might 
 some day lay his bones. To induce Grose to do this, 
 Bums told him that Alloway Kirk was the scene of 
 many witch stories and weird sights. The antiquary 
 replied, " Write you a poem on the scene, and I'll put 
 in the verses with an engraving of the ruin." Burns 
 having found a fitting day and hour, when "his 
 barmy noddle was working prime," walked out to his 
 favorite path down the western bank of the river. 
 
 The poem was the work of one day, of which Mrs. 
 Burns retained a vivid recollection. Her husband had 
 spent most of the day by the river side, and in the 
 afternoon she joined him with her two children. He 
 was busily engaged "crooning to himsel'"; and Mrs. 
 Burns, perceiving that her presence was an interrup- 
 tion, loitered behind with her little ones among the 
 broom. Her attention was presently attracted by the 
 strange and wild gesticulations of the bard, who was 
 now seen at some distance, agonized with an un- 
 governable access of joy. He was reciting very loud, 
 and with tears rolling down his cheeks, those anima- 
 ted verses which he had just conceived : 
 
 " Now Tam, O Tarn! had thae been queans, 
 A' plump and strappin' in their teens." 
 
72 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 *'Iwish ye had seen him," said his wife; "he was 
 in such ecstasy that the tears were happing down his 
 cheeks." These last words are given by Allan Cun- 
 ningham, in addition to the above account, which 
 Lockhart got from a manuscript journal of Cromek. 
 The poet having committed the verses to writing on 
 the top of his sod-dyke above the water, came into 
 the house, and read them immediately in high triumph 
 at the fireside. 
 
 Thus in the case of two of Burns's best poems, we 
 have an account of the bard as he appeared in his 
 hour of inspiration, not to any literary friend bent on 
 pictorial effect, but from the plain narrative of his 
 simple and admiring wife. Burns speaks of " Tam o' 
 Shanter " as his first attempt at a tale in verse— un- 
 fortunately it was also his last. He himself regarded 
 it as the masterpiece of all his poems, and posterity 
 has not, I believe, reversed the judgment. 
 
 In this, one of his happiest flights, Burns's imagina- 
 tion bore him from the vale of Nith back to the banks 
 of Doon, and to the weird tales he had there heard in 
 childhood, told by the winter firesides. The characters 
 of the poem have been identified ; that of Tam is taken 
 from a farmer, Douglas Graham, who lived at the 
 farm of Shanter, in the parish of Kirkoswald. He 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 73 
 
 had a scolding wife, called Helen McTaggart, and the 
 tombstones of both are pointed out in Kirkoswald 
 kirkyard. Souter Johnnie is more uncertain, but is 
 supposed, with some probability, to have been John 
 Davidson, a shoemaker, who lies buried in the same 
 place. Yet, from Burns's poem we would gather that 
 this latter lived in Ayr. But these things matter 
 little. From his experience of the smuggling farmers 
 of Kirkoswald, among whom "he first became ac- 
 quainted with scenes of swaggering and riot," and his 
 remembrance of the tales that haunted the spot where 
 he passed his childhood, combined with his knowl- 
 edge of the peasantry, their habits and superstitions, 
 Burns's imagination wove the inimitable tale. 
 
^'TAM O'SHANTER" IN A 
 DRESS SUIT. 
 
 BY ROBERT FORD. 
 
 We are living in an age of daring and adventurous 
 women; viz., the divided skirt, the lady-doctor, the 
 female politician, the she football player, and many 
 more recent innovations which these will at once 
 suggest, the very mildest of which would have caused 
 our revered grannies, and grandfathers as well, to 
 hold up their hands in pious horror. And not the 
 least courageous, surely, of the modern dames with 
 pluck and courage is Miss Isabella K. Gough. Whence 
 this lady? — who was her father, who was her mother, 
 who is her sister, who is her brother? — we have not 
 the remotest idea. Besides, it is Miss Gough's action, 
 and not herself, that interests us meantime. What 
 has she done? Nothing base, nothing demanding 
 police investigation, let me answer at once. The 
 lady's intentions have been quite honorable and above 
 suspicion. She has offended unwittingly, only, by 
 attempting the impossible. She has tried to put ' ' Tam 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 75 
 
 o' Shanter " into a dress suit! To abandon metaphor, 
 and speak in plain terms, she has attempted a trans- 
 lation of Burns's immortal poem into modern English ; 
 and who that knows the rugged native grandeur of 
 the original will not guess the result ! Why, it is the 
 funniest little book of the season ; Mark Twain has 
 produced nothing so entertaining these last ten years. 
 A friend sent me a copy with his New-Year's-Day 
 greetings, and I have not been greeting, but laughing 
 almost every hour since it arrived. Translations of 
 Burns's poems and songs are not new to me, and I 
 liave learned by experience how to take the fun out 
 of them, and grow fat on it. They are deUghtfully 
 amusing and stimulating at all times. The less success- 
 ful as translations, the more entertaining as literature. 
 Only a year ago Alexander Corbett, of Boston, Mass., 
 TJ. S., sent us over his "Select Poems of Burns, Trans- 
 lated into English," which was value for any measure 
 of quinine and iron tonic. In Mr. Corbett' s well- 
 intentioned work, instead of "Whistle o'er the lave 
 o't," the reader was injoined to "Whistle the re- 
 mainder." A wise counsel, if this had been the first 
 poem in the book, and the translator had taken the 
 advice to himself. But it was otherwise. He did not 
 see the fun he was making, and gave us more such. 
 
76 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 ? ?» 
 
 both fore and aft. The "blast o' Jan war' win , 
 
 which stimulates the early part of ' ' There was a Lad,'* 
 
 he modified into "A gleam of wintry sun," and good 
 
 old ' ' John Anderson, My Jo, " was rouged and set out 
 
 in this fashion : — 
 
 ' ' John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 When we were newly wed, 
 
 Your hair was like the raven, 
 
 Your cheeks were round and red." 
 
 Not Mr. Corbett, of Boston, but another — a French- 
 man — a year or two ago made efforts in a similar way, 
 and " Willie Brewed a Peck o' Maut," when retrans- 
 lated literally into English, read as follows : — 
 
 " Oh, Willie has brewed a peck of malt 
 
 And Rob and Allan came to sample it. 
 During all that night three hearts more joyous 
 
 You would not have found in Christianity. 
 We were not very drunk, we were not very drunk ; 
 
 We had just a little drop in the eye ; 
 The cock can sing, the day show itself, 
 
 But we will taste the liquor of barley." 
 
 Nobody may expect anything more grotesque than 
 that outside of a Christmas pantomime, except perhaps 
 in the writings of the one and only M'G-onnigall, or in 
 Miss Isabella K. Gough's translation of "Tam o* 
 Shanter." This is included in a beautifully got-up 
 little book of sixty odd pages, issued by Messrs. David 
 Bryce & Son, Glasgow, having eight clever illustra- 
 tions by Mr. Thomas Faed, the celebrated Galloway 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 77 
 
 artist, and with a reduced facsimile of the poet's (I 
 mean Burns's) original MS. of the poem reproduced 
 on each alternate page — Scotch and English in juxta- 
 position. It is a marvel. Let us quote the first 
 opening lines : — 
 
 *' When pedlar fellows cease to cry their wares. 
 And thirsty neighbors meet to drown their cares, 
 When drawing to a close is market day, 
 And country folks begin to take the way ; 
 While at the foaming cup we sit and quaff. 
 Primed by the ale at every jest to laugh, 
 We think not of the weary, long Scots miles. 
 The marshes, waters, frequent gaps and stiles 
 That lie between us and our distant homes. 
 Where sullen, sulky, knowing why we roam. 
 Sits our good dame, with brows like gath'ring storm, 
 Nursing her rising wrath to keep it warm. 
 This painful truth found honest Tam o' Shanter, 
 As he from Ayr one market night did canter. 
 (No other town has yet surpassed old Ayr 
 For gallant, honest men and maidens fair)," 
 
 Than these last two lines in contrast with — 
 
 ' ' Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses 
 For honest men and bonnie lasses, 
 
 nothing more eloquent and convincing could be ad- 
 vanced — were it necessary — to demonstrate to any 
 one, either the weakness of the Enghsh language in 
 comparison with the Scotch, or the utter inadequacy 
 of the former tongue as a medium through which to 
 express the latter. " Tam o' Shanter " in a dress suit, 
 forsooth ! Had Miss Gough been gifted with even a 
 
78 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 very mild sense of humor she would have tumbled off 
 in a fit of laughter at the penultimate line there and 
 persevered no further. But thanks to the amiable 
 lady's sublime dulness in respect to a joke she plods 
 perseveringly to the bitter end, and we have the 
 reward. Only one morsel more of her translation 
 here, however, and take it slow, please — with water : 
 
 "Now, Tam, O Tam! had these been damsels fair, 
 Eosy and strapping, that were dancing there, 
 Instead of flannels, grimy, greasy, black. 
 Fine snow-white linen would have graced each back ! 
 These, my knee-breeches, though my only pair. 
 That once were velvet plush, of good blue hair, 
 I would have gladly given them off my haunches 
 Even for one glimpse of those seductive wenches. 
 But withered beldams, ugly, old, and droll. 
 True gallows hags, whose looks would wean a foal, 
 Leaping and flinging, clinging to a stick, 
 I wonder did not turn thy stomach sick." 
 
 It may be that Miss Isabella K. Gough will not secure 
 immortal fame as a translator of Burns into English. 
 But when she produces anything again one-half as 
 funny as " Tam o' Shanter " in a dress suit, it is my 
 earnest cry and prayer that I shaU not miss seeing it. 
 
BURNS'S MASTERPIECE. 
 
 BY GEORGE SAVAGE, OF BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. 
 
 The ability and versatility of Kobert Burns as a poet 
 are strikingly shown in "Tarn o'Shanter," and even 
 Shakspeare does not surpass him in power to present 
 gay scenes and then the weird, the mysterious, and 
 the supernatural. The author of so many joyous 
 songs and of the "Cotter's Saturday Night " — so im- 
 pressive in its religious tone and the glowing picture 
 it gives of domestic life and fireside happiness — ap- 
 pears in "Tam o' Shanter" in a new light. Mr. 
 Lockhart's statement (doubtless true) that "the poem 
 was the work of one day " seems almost incredible 
 when we consider its length, scope, and merits. ' ' Tarn 
 o' Shanter " will ever be among the living characters 
 depicted by Burns. The poem deals so graphically 
 with a subject peculiarly fascinating to almost every 
 mind that it will always awaken special interest. It 
 is indeed simply natural to enter into ' ' Tam o' Shan- 
 ter's " joys, to go with him on his perilous ride on that 
 ever-memorable night and to feel for him and " noble 
 
8o TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 Maggie" in the trying experiences which awaited 
 them. 
 
 "Tarn o' Shanter" is a fine example of sustained 
 strength, and of exceptional descriptive powers. The 
 poet fully prepares us for the changes of scene and 
 action which Tam and his gray mare experienced. 
 The opening stanzas contain words of prophecy and 
 warning, show us Tam in his most convivial mood 
 and happy in the congenial and seductive campanion- 
 ship of Souter Johnny, ' ' his ancient, trusty, drouthy 
 crony," and Burns completes the picture in four ad- 
 mirable lines : — 
 
 "As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure : 
 Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious 
 O'er a' the ills of life victorious ! " 
 
 The soliloquy which follows is unsurpassed and may 
 well be repeated here : 
 
 ' ' But pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ; 
 Or like the snowfall in the river, 
 A moment white — then melts forever ; 
 Or like the borealis race, 
 That flit ere you can point their place ; 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form. 
 Evanishing amid the storm." 
 
 The poet then ushers Tam into the darkness of mid- 
 night and makes him the plaything of the angry 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 8 1 
 
 elements. From the hour Tarn was weel mounted 
 on his gray mare, Meg, to the end of the composition 
 Burns carries us forward with an irresistible impulse ; 
 and at the close we remember Tam and his faithful 
 mare with lively thoughts of "the hellish legion" 
 which pursued them. 
 
 ' ' Tam o' Shanter " affords ample proof of the genius, 
 imagination, and poetic talents of Eobert Burns and 
 deservedly ranks among the best poems of its kind in 
 the whole range of literature. 
 
AT ALLOWAY. 
 
 BY DR. BENJAMIN F. LEGGETT. 
 
 Foot sore and weary by thy roofless walls, 
 While folded shadows sweet with meadow bloom 
 Wave airy hands across each lichened tomb, 
 
 What peace and rest upon the pilgrim falls ! 
 
 From shaded haunts the tender mavis calls, 
 Far off the hills in summer beauty loom, 
 And near the daisies print the turf with bloom ; 
 
 While every scene the eager soul enthralls : 
 
 A mellow song breathes through the tasseled pine, 
 The open windows seem again to glow, 
 
 With gruesome lights the hollow walls .to shine, 
 While airy shadows waver to and fro — 
 
 Is this a dream amid the drowsy noon? 
 
 Or whence those hoof -beats from the Brig o' Doon? 
 
NOTES ON TAM O'SHANTER. 
 
 BY JOHN MUIR, F. S. A. SCOT. 
 
 Douglas Graham, of Shanter, a farm on the Kirkos- 
 wald coast, in Ayrshire, has been so long associated 
 in the public mind as the original of Burns's eques- 
 trian hero in the most wonderful ride in modern 
 poetry that it is hardly worth while to bring forward 
 another claimant with any great hope of having his 
 claims recognized or even considered. Occasionally, 
 in the correspondence of the daily newspapers, abor- 
 tive efforts are made to unsaddle Tam in order that 
 Maggie may gallop through the Elysian fields of poesy 
 with the rightful rider on her back. One Thomas 
 Reid is well known to the curious in such matters as 
 a claimant for the honor of having been the prototype 
 of the hero of Burns's inimitable tale. But Thomas, 
 although his case is strongly supported by testimonials 
 as to his bibulous habits, has not been successful in 
 winning the sympathy of the public, a misfortune 
 upon which Thomas may be said to look with indif- 
 ference now J however much it may have concerned him 
 
84 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 while alive ; for, as his supply of usquebaugh depended 
 on the security of his reputation as the indubitable 
 Tarn, we may rest assured that the goodman was not 
 indifferent to his claims to a distinction with which 
 his whole life was bound up, and which ultimately 
 caused his end. As I am responsible for having 
 brought forward Reid, I may as well quote the obitu- 
 ary notice from the Scots Magazine for 1823, which 
 caused the controversy on the subject when I inno- 
 cently printed the following in a Glasgow newspaper : 
 
 August 9, 1823. — At Lochwinnoch, Thomas Reid, 
 laborer. He was born 21st October, 1745, in the 
 clachan [sic] of Kyle, Ayrshire. The importance 
 attached to this circumstance arises from his being the 
 celebrated equestrian hero of Burns's poem, ''Tam o' 
 Shanter." He has at length surmounted the "mos- 
 ses, waters, slaps, and stiles " of life. For a consider- 
 able time by -past he has been in the service of Major 
 Harvey, of Castle Semple, nine months of which he 
 has been incapable of labor, and to the honor of Mr. 
 Harvey, be it named, he has, with a fostering and 
 laudable generosity, soothed, as far as was in his 
 power, the many ills of age and disease. He, however, 
 still retained the desire of being ' ' f u' for weeks the- 
 gither." 
 
 Possibly few of my readers have ever heard of Tarn 
 Skelpit, another claimant. We ourselves only made 
 the acquaintance of Mr. Skelpit some few years ago. 
 This gentleman is under the disadvantage of having 
 been born at some place considerably south of the 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 85 
 
 Tweed. Our own impression is that he is a Londoner, 
 pure and simple; and may, as a boy, have carried 
 crumpets and muffins to Samuel Pickwick, Esq., or 
 even have acted as stable hand to Mr. Weller, Sr., 
 but he certainly never "rode the gray mare Meg." 
 He was first introduced to the reading public by a 
 London publisher who caters for those whose biblio- 
 mania takes the form of a passion for cheap paper- 
 cover editions of the classics. We quote the following 
 lines, in which Tam is described as careering on his 
 mad journey : 
 
 Tam Skelpit on thro' dub and mire, 
 Despising wind and rain and fire ; 
 Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet, 
 Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet. 
 
 With reference to the obituary notice quoted from 
 the Scots Magazine, and reprinted by me in the Glas- 
 gow Herald, the following interesting letter from James 
 W. Shand-Harvey, Esq., of Castle Semple, Lochwin- 
 noch, appeared: 
 
 My attention has been called to letters which have 
 recently appeared in your columns (on the 7th and 
 9th ult.) with regard to this worthy. Two obituary 
 notices have been referred to by your correspondents, 
 one taken from a volume of the Scots Magazine of 
 1823, and the other from the Glasgow Courier of 19th 
 August of the same year. They show that Thomas 
 Reid, laborer, died at Lochwinnoch on the 9th August, 
 1823. Attention is called to this occurrence, because 
 
86 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 he was the famous " Tarn o' Shanter." I have found 
 a similar announcement in Blackwood's Magazine for 
 September, 1823, Vol. XIV., page 375. It runs as 
 follows : 
 
 ' ' Died, at Lochwinnoch, 9th August, 1823, Thomas 
 Reid, laborer. He was born on the 21st October, 1745, 
 in the clachan of Kyle, Ayrshire. The importance 
 attached to this circumstance arises from his being the 
 celebrated equestrian hero of Burns's poem " Tam o' 
 Shanter." He has at length surmounted the ' mosses, 
 waters, slaps, and stiles' of life. For a considerable 
 time by-past he has been in the service of Major Har- 
 vey, of Castle Semple, nine months of which he has 
 been incapable of labor. He, however, still retained 
 the desire of being ' fu' for weeks thegither '." 
 
 It is worthy of remark that there is no hesitation or 
 doubt expressed in these three notices with regard to 
 this individual being the real prototype of ' ' Tam o' 
 Shanter." Another curious point is they all make 
 mention of the "clachan of Kyle." What do these 
 words signify? Clachan, as is well known, means a 
 small village in which there is a parish church ; else- 
 where it is called kirk-town. It is derived from Gael, 
 clachan^ a circle of stones, as churches were erected 
 in the same places which in times of heathenism had 
 been consecrated for Druidical worship, Kyle, with 
 Car rick and Cunninghame, were the three ancient 
 divisions of Ayrshire. 
 
 ' ' Kyle for a man, 
 Carrick for a coo, 
 
 Cunninghame for butter and cheese, 
 And Galloway for woo." 
 
 It would appear as if a mistake had been made with 
 regard to the birthplace of Thomas Reid, but it looks 
 such a curious and incomprehensible error that it is 
 difficult to understand how it could have been allowed 
 to pass unnoticed in the pages of Blackwood, the Scots 
 Magazine, and the Glasgow Courier. In the preface 
 of the second edition (1858) of a little pamphlet en- 
 titled " The Real Souter Johnny," a poem by the late 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 87 
 
 Mr. Porteous, Maybole, printed by Hugh Henry, Ayr, 
 it is stated that the heroic Tarn was Douglas Graham 
 "without controversy." Evidently the writer must 
 have been unaware of the notices already referred to. 
 It would be interesting to ascertain if they have ever 
 been challenged in the pages of the publications in 
 which they appeared, or elsewhere. Perhaps some 
 of your numerous readers who take an interest in 
 Burnsiana will make inquiry as to this ; for it would 
 be passing strange, indeed, if it turned out they had 
 never been taken notice of till your correspondent, 
 Mr. John Muir, set the ball arolhng. 
 
 In support of the view that Thomas Reid might 
 have been the real " Shanter," I would mention that 
 I have before me as I write a pony's hoof made into a 
 snuff-box. It is shod with a band of iron. On the 
 iron is engraved — "Shoe made from Tam o' Shanter 's 
 knife." On the silver mountings of the lid is the 
 following : 
 
 " For ev'ry hoof he ca'd a shoe on, 
 The smith and Tam got rantin' fu' on. 
 J. R. Lee-Harvey, Castle Semple, July, 1824." 
 
 I have always understood that the hoof was that of 
 a favorite pony which had belonged to one of my 
 predecessors, J. R. Lee-Harvey. The knife with which 
 it was shod was given to him, when quite a small boy, 
 by Thomas Reid, who was then working here as a 
 laborer, and considered at that time by many to be 
 the real "Tam." I hardly think Colonel Harvey 
 would have allowed the shoe to be engraved and 
 nailed on the hoof unless there had been reasonable 
 ground for believing that Thomas Reid was the 
 "Shanter." My grieve John Nelson tells me that he 
 remembers his father, who was here in the same posi- 
 tion before him, saying that Thomas Reid was the 
 real "Tam," that he was a tall, thin man, and worked 
 here as a hedger, and John Nelson can point out the 
 hedges which he was told by his father had been 
 planted by Thomas Reid. His great expression to 
 
88 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 show his pleasure with anything was to say it was 
 glorious, and he was notorious as being a confirmed 
 tippler. 
 
 I am, of course, aware that in the various editions 
 of Burns's poems Douglas Graham is referred to as 
 the original " Tam o' Shanter; " but it is quite possible 
 that Thomas Reid might have been a laborer on the 
 farm of Shanter when the poem was written, which 
 was, I think, about 1790. It might have been that 
 Burns did not like to call attention to Douglas Graham 
 in too direct a fashion ; or perhaps for rhythmic pur- 
 poses the laborer's name suited his muse better than 
 that of the farmer, so he adopted ' ' Tarn " as the name 
 of the hero of his celebrated poem. 
 
 From what I have been able to gather from several 
 old people about here, I think it is clear that Thomas 
 Reid came originally from Shanter, or its neighbor- 
 hood. Admitting for argument's sake that he was 
 not the real " Tarn," it is quite possible that after the 
 absorption of much whiskey he brought himself and 
 others to believe that he was that individual. I hope 
 some of your readers will be able to throw some light 
 on this point ; but I think it will be difficult to prove 
 that the paragraphs in Blackwood, the Scots Magazine^ 
 and the Glasgow Courier were correct, and that the 
 mortal remains of the celebrated "Tam" lie buried in 
 the old churchyard at Lochwinnoch. 
 
 James W. Shand-Harvey. 
 
 I find in an old note-book of mine this information 
 about "Souter Johnny": ''One John Lauchlan, a 
 shoemaker in Ayr, was the person destined by Burns 
 to immortal remembrance as Souter Johnny. He died 
 in 1819 and was buried in Alio way kirkyard, about 
 three miles from Ayr, and was laid a few graves from 
 that of the venerable father of the poet. When the 
 weight of years deprived him of the resources of in- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 89 
 
 dustry, having no relatives in a position to provide a 
 home and pillow of ease for the decline of his life, he 
 retired to a charitable institution. There, however, 
 he only slept. The kindness of many friends supplied 
 him with all the other comforts he required, and his 
 son, now grown up, would have taken him to his 
 home, but he was contented as he was, and knew that 
 his ' auld banes ' would soon be removed where they 
 would give no pain to himself, nor trouble to his 
 friends." In Blackwood for the month of November, 
 1823, I find the following obituary notices connected 
 with the name of Burns. Strange enough, they are 
 both on one page: — "Lately, on her passage from 
 India, Jane, eldest daughter of James Burns, Esq., 
 youngest son of the Ayrshire poet; " and next, " 2nd 
 October. — At Doon Foot Mill, Mr. David Watt, miller, 
 in the 68th year of his age. He was schoolfellow 
 with the celebrated Robert Burns, and was the last 
 person baptised in Alio way Kirk." 
 
 Thomas Carlyle, in his celebrated essay on Burns 
 which is known wherever the English language is 
 spoken and the songs of Burns sung, gives his opinion 
 of "Tarn o' Shanter" in terms which do not equal 
 the warmth of his general appreciation of the life and 
 works of the poet. 
 
90 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 ' ' Tarn o' Shanter, " he says, ' ' is not so much a poem, 
 as a piece of sparkling rhetoric ; the heart and body 
 of the story still lies hard and dead. He has not gone 
 back, into that dark, earnest, wondering age, when 
 the tradition was believed, and when it took its rise ; 
 he does not attempt, by any new modeling of his 
 supernatural ware, to strike anew that deep mys- 
 terious chord of human nature, which once responded 
 to such things ; and which lives in us too, and will 
 forever live, though silent now, or vibrating with far 
 other notes, and to far different issues. Our German 
 readers will understand us, when we say, that he is 
 not the Tieck but the Musaus of this tale. Externally 
 it is all green and living; yet look closer, it is no firm 
 growth, but only ivy on a rock. The piece does not 
 properly cohere: the strange chasm which yawns 
 in our incredulous imaginations between the Ayr 
 public-house and the gate of Tophet, is nowhere 
 bridged over, nay the idea of such a bridge is laughed 
 at; and thus the tragedy of the adventure becomes 
 a mere drunken phantasmagoria, or many-colored 
 spectrum painted on ale- vapors, and the farce alone 
 has any reality. We do not say that Burns should 
 have made much more of this tradition ; we rather 
 think that, for strictly poetical purposes, not much 
 was to be made of it. Neither are we blind to the 
 deep, varied, genial power displayed, in what he has 
 actually accomplished ; but we find far more ' Shak- 
 spearean ' qualities, as these of ' ' Tam o' Shanter " have 
 been fondly named, in many of his other pieces — may 
 we incline to believe that this latter might have been 
 written, all but quite as well, by a man who, in place 
 of genius, had only possessed talent." 
 
 It is doubtful whether to the ordinary reader Carlyle 
 has made his meaning any clearer by contrasting 
 Burns with Tieck and Musaus, the latter of whom, in 
 his method of treating subjects borrowed from folk- 
 lore, our critic thinks he resembles. We may here 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 91 
 
 state that the " Volksmarchen " of Ludwig Tieck 
 possess all these qualities which Carlyle points out 
 as wanting in similar compositions by Burns and 
 Musaus. 
 
THE IMMORTAL TALE OF 
 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 FROM BLACKIE'S EDITION OF BURNS. 
 
 And here, one day between breakfast and dinner, 
 he composed "Tarn o' Shanter." The fact is hardly 
 credible, but we are willing to believe it. Dorset only 
 corrected his famous ' ' To all ye ladies now on land, 
 we men at sea indite," the night before an expected 
 engagement, a proof of his self-possession ; but he had 
 been working at it for days. Dry den dashed off his 
 "Alexander's Feast" in no time, but the labor of 
 weeks was bestowed on it before it assumed its present 
 shape. " Tam o' Shanter " is superior in force and 
 fire to that ode. Never did genius go at such a gallop 
 — setting off at score, and making play, but without 
 whip or spur, from starting to winning post. All is 
 inspiration. His wife with her weans a little way 
 aside among the broom watched him at work as he 
 was striding up and down the brow of the Scaur, and 
 reciting to himself like one demented : 
 
 " Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans." 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 93 
 
 His bonnie Jean must have been sorely perplexed — 
 but she was familiar with all his moods, and like a 
 good wife left him to his cogitations. It is " all made 
 out of the builder's brain;" for the story that sug- 
 gested it is no story at all, the dull lie of a drunken 
 dotard. From the poet's imagination it came forth a 
 perfect poem, impregnated with the native spirit of 
 Scottish superstition. Few or none of our old tradi- 
 tionary- tales of witches are very appalling ; they had 
 not their origin in the depths of the people's heart. 
 There is a meanness in their mysteries, the ludicrous 
 mixes with the horrible ; much matter there is for the 
 poetical, and more perhaps for the picturesque, but 
 the pathetic is seldom found there, and never — for 
 Shakespeare we fear was not a Scotsman — the sublime. 
 Let no man therefore find fault with " Tarn o' Shan- 
 ter, " because it strikes not a deeper chord. It strikes 
 a chord that twanges strangely, and we know not 
 well what it means. To vulgar eyes, too, were such 
 unaccountable on-goings most often revealed of old ; 
 such seers were generally doited or dazed — half -born 
 idiots or ne'er-do-weels in drink. Had Milton's Satan 
 shown his face in Scotland, folk either would not have 
 known him, or thought him mad. The devil is much 
 
94 TAM O' SHATTER. 
 
 indebted to Bums for having raised his character 
 without impairing his individuahty : 
 
 "O thou! whatever title suit thee, 
 Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, 
 Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, 
 
 Closed under hatches, 
 Spairges about the brunstane cootie, 
 
 To scaud poor wretches ! 
 
 "Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, 
 An' let poor damned bodies be ; 
 I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, 
 
 Ev'n to a deil, 
 To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, 
 
 An' hear us squeel ! " 
 
 This is conciliatory ; and we think we see him smile. 
 We can almost believe for a moment, that it does give 
 him no great pleasure, that he is not inaccessible to 
 pity, and at times would fain devolve his duty upon 
 other hands, though we cannot expect him to resign. 
 The poet knows that he is the Prince of the Air : 
 
 "Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame; 
 Far kend an' noted is thy name ; 
 An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame, 
 
 Thou travels far; 
 An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame 
 
 Nor blate nor scaur. 
 
 "Whyles, ranging like a roar in lion, 
 For prey, a' ' holes an' comers tryin' ; 
 Whyles on the strong- wing'd tempest fly in', 
 
 Tirlin' the kirks; 
 Whyles, in the human bosom pryin', 
 
 Unseen thou lurks." 
 
TAM O'SHANTEE. 95 
 
 That is magnificent — Milton's self would have 
 thought so — and it could have been written by no man 
 who had not studied Scripture. The Address is seen 
 to take ; the Old Intrusionist is glorified by ' ' tirling 
 the kirks; " and the poet thinks it right to lower his 
 pride. 
 
 "I've heard my reverend Grannie say, 
 In lanely glens ye like to stray ; 
 Or where auld, ruin'd castles, gray, 
 
 Nod to the moon, 
 Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way 
 
 Wi' eldritch croon. 
 
 "When twilight did my Grannie summon 
 To say her prayers, douce, honest woman ! 
 Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin, 
 
 Wi' eerie drone; 
 Or, rustlin' through the boortrees comin' 
 
 Wi' heavy groan. 
 
 " Ae dreary, windy, winter night, 
 The stars shot down wi' sklentin' light, 
 Wi' you mysel', I gat a fright, 
 
 Ayont the lough ; 
 Ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight, 
 Wi' waving sugh." 
 
 Throughout the whole Address, the elements are so 
 combined in him, as to give the world " assurance o' 
 a deil; " but then it is the Deil of Scotland. 
 
 Just so in "Tam o' Shanter." We know not what 
 some great German genius like Goethe might have 
 made of him; but we much mistake the matter, if 
 " Tam o' Shanter" at AUoway Kirk be not as exem- 
 
96 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 plary a piece of humanity as Faustus on May-day 
 Night upon the Hartz Mountains. Faust does not 
 well know what he would be at; but Tarn does; and 
 though his views of human life be rather hazy, he 
 has glimpses given him of the invisible world. His 
 wife — but her tongue was no scandal — calls him 
 
 * * * " askellum, 
 A blether in, blusterin, drunken blellum ; 
 That frae November till October, 
 Ae market-day thou wasna sober, 
 That ilka melder wi' the miller. 
 Thou sat as lang as thou had siller ; 
 That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on. 
 The smith and thee gat roaring fou on. 
 That at the Lord's house ev'n on Sunday, 
 Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday, 
 She prophesied, that late or soon. 
 Thou wad be found deep drown' d in Doon; 
 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk. 
 By AUoway's auld, haunted kirk." 
 
 That is her view of the subject; but what is Tam's? 
 The same as Wordsworth's : "He sits down to his 
 cups, while the storm is roaring, and heaven and 
 earth are in confusion ; the night is driven on by song 
 and tumultuous noise; laughter and jests thicken as 
 the beverage improves upon the palate; conjugal 
 fidelity archly bends to the service of general bene- 
 volence; selfishness is not absent, but wearing the 
 mask of social cordiality; and while these various 
 elements of humanity are blended into one proud and 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 97 
 
 happy composition of elated spirits, the anger of the 
 tempest without doors only heightens and sets off the 
 enjoyment within. I pity him who cannot perceive 
 that in all this, though there was no moral purpose, 
 there is a moral effect. 
 
 ' Kings may be blest but Tam was glorious, 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.' 
 
 What a lesson do these words convey of charitable 
 indulgence for the vicious habits of the principal actor 
 in the scene and of those who resemble him ! Men 
 who, to the rigidly virtuous, are objects almost of 
 loathing, and whom therefore they cannot serve. The 
 poet, penetrating the unsightly and disgusting sur- 
 faces of things, has unveiled, with exquisite skill, the 
 finer ties of imagination and feeling that often bind 
 those beings to practices productive of much unhap- 
 piness to themselves and to those whom it is their 
 duty to cherish ; and as far as he puts the reader into 
 possession of this intelligent sympathy, he qualifies 
 him for exercising a salutary influence over the minds 
 of those who are thus deplorably deceived." 
 
 We respectfully demur from the opinion of this wise 
 and benign judge, that ' ' there was no moral purpose 
 in all this, though there is a moral effect." So strong 
 was his moral purpose and so deep the moral feeling 
 
98 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 moved within him by the picture he had so vividly 
 imagined, that Burns pauses, in highest moral mood, 
 at the finishing touch, 
 
 " Kings may be blest but Tamwas glorious; " 
 
 and then, by imagery of unequaled loveliness, illu- 
 strates a universal and everlasting truth : 
 
 "But pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; 
 Or like the snow falls in the river, 
 A moment white — then melts for ever; 
 Or like the borealis race, 
 That flit ere you can point their place ; 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form, 
 Evanishing amid the storm. " 
 
 Next instant he returns to Tam; and humanized 
 by that exquisite poetry, we cannot help being sorry 
 for him ' ' mountin' his beast in sic a night. " At the 
 first clap of thunder he forgets Souter Johnny — how 
 ' ' conjugal fidelity archly bent to the service of gen- 
 eral benevolence " — such are the terms in which the 
 philosophical Wordsworth speaks of 
 
 ' ' The landlady and Tam grew gracious, 
 Wi' favors secret, sweet, and precious; " 
 
 and as the haunted ruin draws nigh, he remembers 
 not only Kate's advice but her prophecy. He has 
 passed by some fearful places ; at the slightest touch 
 of the necromancer, how fast one after another wheels 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 99 
 
 by, telling at what rate Tarn rode ! And we forget 
 that we are not riding behind him, 
 
 *' When glinunering thro' the groaning trees, 
 Kirk Alio way seem'd in a bleeze ! " 
 
 We defy any man of woman born to tell us who 
 these witches and warlocks are, and why the devil 
 brought them here into Alio way Kirk. True 
 
 ' ' That night, a child might understand, 
 The deil had business on his hand ; " 
 
 but that is not the question — the question is what 
 
 business ? Was it a ball given him on the anniversary 
 
 of the Fall! 
 
 ' ' There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast ; 
 A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large. 
 To gie them music was his charge ; " 
 
 and pray who is to pay the piper? We fear that young 
 witch Nannie ! 
 
 *' Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain. 
 And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main ; " 
 
 and this may be the nuptial night of the Prince — for 
 the tyke is he — of the fallen angels ! 
 
 How was Tam able to stand the sight, ' ' glorious " 
 and "heroic " as he was, of the open presses? 
 
 "Coffins stood round like open presses. 
 That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
 And (by some devilish cantraip slight), 
 Each in its cauld hand held a light." 
 
 LofC. 
 
lOO TAM O'SHANTER. 
 
 Because, show a man some sight that is altogether 
 miraculously dreadful, and he either faints or feels no 
 fear. Or say rather, let a man stand the first glower 
 at it, and he will make comparatively light of the 
 details. There was Auld Nick himself,- there was no 
 mistaking him, and there were 
 
 " Wither'd beldams, auld and droll, 
 Eigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 
 Louping an' flinging — " 
 
 to such dancing what cared Tarn who held the candles. 
 He was bedeviled, bewarlocked and bewitched, and 
 therefore 
 
 "... able 
 To note upon the haly table, 
 A murderer's banes in gibbet aims ; 
 Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; 
 A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, 
 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
 Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red rusted ; 
 Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
 A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
 A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 
 Whom his ain son o' hfe bereft. 
 The gray hairs yet stack to the heft." 
 
 This collection has all the effect of a selection. The 
 bodies were not placed there; but following each 
 others' heels, they stretched themselves out of their 
 own accord upon the haly table. They had received 
 a summons to the festival, which murderer and 
 murdered must obey. But mind ye, Tarn could not 
 
TAM O'SHANTBR. lOI 
 
 see what you see. Who told him that that garter 
 had strangled a babe? That that was a parricide's 
 knife? Nobody— and that is a flaw. For Tarn looks 
 with his bodily eyes only, and can know only what 
 they show him ; but Burns knew it, and believed Tarn 
 knew it too ; and we know it, for Burns tells us, and 
 we believe Tarn as wise as ourselves ; for we almost 
 turn Tam — the poet himself being the only real war- 
 lock of them all. 
 
 You know why that Haly Table is so pleasant to 
 the apples of all those evil eyes? They feed upon the 
 dead, not merely because they love wickedness, but 
 because they inspire it into the quick. Who murdered 
 his father but at the instigation of that ' ' towzie tyke, 
 black, grim and large"? Who, but for him, ever 
 strangled her new-born child? Scimitars and toma- 
 hawks ! Why, such weapons never were in use in 
 Scotland. True. But they have long been in use in 
 the wilderness of the western world, and among the 
 orient cities of Mahoun, and his empire extends to 
 the uttermost parts of the earth. 
 
SOUTER JOHNNY'S BIBLE. 
 
 Mr. Murdoch, of the Ayrshire Post, Ayr, writing 
 in the issue of that journal of date November 17, 
 1893, says: "Ah! what an interesting story the Book 
 could tell ! Think how often the Book has been taken 
 from the shelf and read at the ingle ! Think how 
 often it has been carried to the house of worship and 
 studied with that enthusiasm characteristic of Scots- 
 men! Think of the joys and the sorrows it has wit- 
 nessed in its owners' home! No wonder a Bums 
 enthusiast waxes sentimental. Sentiment for the 
 landmarks and relics of Scotland is often disparaged, 
 but sentiment, nevertheless, has torn down thrones 
 and municipalities. It is a beautiful specimen of the 
 family Bible, and well "thoomed." The "brods" 
 are of leather said to have been tanned by Tam o' 
 Shanter's "ancient, trusty, drouthy cronie." The 
 Book consists of the Old Testament, Apocrypha, New 
 Testament, and Psalms. It appears to have been 
 printed in 1762 by Alexander Kincaid, His Majesty's 
 printer, Edinburgh. On the front leaf is the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 103 
 
 ' ' ' This Bible, price seven shillings and sixpence, 
 bought in the year 1768. John Davidson augh this 
 Book. Written in the year 1769.' 
 
 " Between the end of the Old Testament and the be- 
 ginning of the Apocrypha there is the following 
 written in a beautiful hand ; and on comparing the 
 writing with that of Hugh Eodger, Bums's school- 
 master at Kirkoswald, I found a strong resemblance, 
 particularly in regard to the capital D's. 
 
 " ' John Davidson was baptised February 11, 1728. 
 Ann Gillespie, spous to John Davidson, was baptised 
 July 11, 1731. John Davidson and Ann Gillespie was 
 married July 31, 1763. Margrate Davidson was born 
 June 5, 1764. Agnas Davidson was born February 
 5, 1767. Matthew Davidson was born August 14, 
 1769, old stile, on Friday, at three of the clock in the 
 afternoon, in the third hour, about the middle of it 
 being under the plannet Venus and the Sine Virgo 
 being the sixth hour, and being the twenty-fourth day 
 of the age of the ' 
 
 The last word cannot be read, but it is probably 
 moon. Over the page and written in various hands is : 
 
 ' ' ' Ann Davidson was born December 11, 1772. John 
 Davidson was born December 11, 1772, years, old stile. 
 John Davidson was born July, 1804. James Davidson 
 was born May 13, 1806. Jennat Davidson was born 
 June 6, 1808. Hannah Davidson was born November, 
 1813. William was born December 25, 1815. Matthew 
 Davidson, August, 1820. Thomas Davidson was born 
 on Whitsunday, Anno Domine, 1824.' 
 
 " Souter Johnny was not a paragon of virtue, and 
 some of the goody-goody class of persons may wonder 
 
104 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 why a possession of his should be valued so high. 
 Without Tam and the Souter we would have been 
 poorer in poesy to-day ; we would have been without 
 some of the noblest thoughts of a master mind." 
 
 Writing to the editor of this volume in April, 1894, 
 the same journalist says : 
 
 " William and Matthew Davidson, grandsons of the 
 Souter, and both shoemakers in Kirkoswald, died last 
 year, and to show that they were in satisfactory 
 circumstances, I append an extract from the list of 
 Ayrshire wills: — Matthew Davidson left £1751.13.8; 
 William Davidson left £1155.0.8." 
 
 It is stated on reliable authority that the relic is to 
 become the property of a nephew of deceased William 
 Davidson. His name is Mr. John Davidson, Wood- 
 side, Beith. 
 
AT ALLOWAY'S HAUNTED KIRK. 
 
 By the roadside at the foot of the narrow steps 
 which ascend to AUoway's ancient kirk-yard, two 
 people, who may be called the Ramblers, stumbled 
 upon a blind beggar and a wide-awake dog. It was 
 a dog remarkable in many ways ; it was white on a 
 muddy day, sleek and well-nourished, intelligent and 
 altogether unlike the cowed animal tethered to the 
 blind by a leading string. The Eamblers having be- 
 stowed a "collection" and received thanks glibly 
 wagged off tongue and tail, mounted the steep steps 
 to explore. They saw right in front of them a pic- 
 turesque figure meditating among the tombs. Simul- 
 taneously a whispered desire to sketch the old man 
 passed between the misguided visitors, when the in- 
 tended subject of pen-and-pencil attentions slowly 
 raised his voice and his long forefinger. We stood 
 beside the grave of the poet's relatives — a swift look 
 at the tombstone had already intimated as much 
 to the Ramblers, but they murmured thanks for the 
 information. After a minute or so Tam o' Shanter 
 stalked on to an ancient, dilapidated stone and again 
 
lo6 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 lifted his voice in monotone ; the coarse Tarn o' Shan- 
 ter bonnet was drawn well down over one side of his 
 wrinkled brow, his gray-blue eye proclaimed the true 
 Scot ; the increasing flow of carefully chosen descrip- 
 tive language gradually enlightened the Ramblers 
 who had innocently believed his appearance to be 
 accidental ; it dawned on them that they were in the 
 hands of a guide, and a character. On he stalked 
 through the slippery places ; he was in his element, 
 his tongue rolled out with precision the histories of 
 the grass-grown graves with only a rude device partly 
 visible as the key to his harangue. Here was the 
 burial-place of this and that noble family ; one dead 
 and gone dame's fate elicited an emphatic opinion 
 from him. "It wis a great peety, she wis a fine 
 leddy. Ye noo staun foment the grave o' Souter 
 Johnny, deed div ye," said the old man, "an' noo tak' 
 a look ahint ye at the kirk. " The Ramblers did so; 
 they saw a great tree at the side of the ruined kirk 
 wall, and, half in and half out of the church a stone 
 baptismal font which had received its water from a 
 little stream outside. ' ' Rabbie Burns wis bapteezed 
 oot o' it, an' jist anither bairn efter him, deed wis 
 he," quoth the latter-day Tam o' Shanter. The Ram- 
 blers gazed curiously in at what had once been Alio- 
 
TAM O' SHANTBR. I07 
 
 way Kirk, and heard as in a dream who had last 
 " meenistered " therein; but all of a sudden a change 
 was observed to come over the guide, he drew him- 
 self up to the limit of his inches, swung his long arms 
 to and fro pendlumwise and began to recite " Tam o' 
 Shanter " in the drollest way imaginable. One Ram- 
 bler's mind was debating on what the consequences 
 of stopping the swinging arms would be ; the other 
 was thinking how strange it was for this old char- 
 acter, in whom mischief -loving Rabbie Burns would 
 have gloried, to be repeating the imaginative lines of 
 Scotland's dearest poet within a stone's cast of where 
 the genius was received into the visible church by the 
 sprinkling of water. In the midst of these natural 
 thoughts the voice ceased with a snap, and the arms 
 stopped with a jerk, and the eye, the eye under the 
 Tam o' Shanter's droop, took an expression which 
 meant toll or — a bit of Tam's mind. An irresistible 
 desire to laugh outright at this jump from the poetry 
 to the prose of life seized the Ramblers, but was 
 sternly repressed. Tam's horny hand was crossed 
 with silver and he took up his meditative position once 
 more among the tombs. Farther down the road a 
 little time was spent in the whitewashed kitchen 
 where the Ploughman-Poet was born. The table was 
 
I08 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 richly carved — with initials; the window ledge — such 
 a tiny window — was spluttered with ink from visit- 
 or's pens ; the chairs, at least one of them, had cord 
 tied so that it might not be sat upon. Verily a sim- 
 ple, but hallowed place! Driving towards Ayr, a 
 little later, the eyes of the Ramblers fell on a small 
 but interesting procession hobbling and chuckling 
 homeward. It consisted of a blind beggar, a frisky 
 dog, and Tam o' Shanter. The three were in solemn 
 league and covenant ! 
 
THOM'S STATUES OF ''TAM" AND 
 ^'SOUTER" IN AMERICA. 
 
 Two of the characters — Tain o' Shanter and Souter 
 Johnny — made famous by the poet Burns and now 
 immortalized in stone, grace the vestibule of the Free 
 Public Library in Paterson, N. J., U. S, A., where 
 they will in all probability remain for many years to 
 come. These famous statues are larger than life, and 
 occupy positions on each side of the doorway leading 
 to the library readiug-room ; sitting in. highbacked 
 chairs, just as they did at the entrance to the old inn 
 at Ayr. They are carved out of solid blocks of sand- 
 stone, and are artistic to the finest detail. The story 
 of the statues is no less interesting than that of Burns 's 
 original characters. 
 
 They were carved by James Thorn, a Scottish 
 sculptor. Thom was born in Ayr, Scotland, in 1790. 
 His father was a poor laboring man and could ill 
 afford to send his boy to the district schools. James, 
 therefore, at a very tender age, was apprenticed to a 
 stonecutter and was compelled to begin work shaping 
 
no TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 square building stones cut from the stone quar- 
 ries of his native country. He served seven years as 
 a stonecutter, but toward the latter part of his ap- 
 prenticeship he began to carve his since famous Tarn 
 o' Shanter group, which was done as a labor of art 
 and love, and in admiration of Bums. The group 
 had been completed for a long time, but Thorn lived 
 in comparative obscurity in his native town until it 
 got favorable mention, and from that time he at- 
 tracted public attention. 
 
 After a great deal of urging Thorn sent the group 
 to London to be exhibited in the large towns of Eng- 
 land. The statues were finally shipped to New York 
 in care of an agent, who was to remit the proceeds of 
 the exhibit to those from whom Thom had received 
 loans. This was in 1834. The statues attracted 
 considerable attention in New York, and were sent to 
 other large cities. But the remittances, at first large, 
 failed at last to reach London, and Thorn's creditors 
 became anxious. The sculptor was then sent to 
 America in 1836 to look after the statuary. He ar- 
 rived none too soon. The agent had become a prof- 
 ligate, and after appropriating all he could gather, he 
 had sold some of the pieces and was about to dispose 
 of the remainder. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. Ill 
 
 Thorn came upon the rascal in Paterson, and by 
 process of law compelled him to restore the pieces sold 
 and some of the profits of the exhibition. Remitting 
 the cash to his creditors, the sculptures he placed in an- 
 other agent's hands, and again " Tam " and his cronies 
 went on their travels. They were shipped to Charles- 
 ton, and while en route the figures of the landlord 
 and his wife went overboard from the deck of the 
 vessel, and only "Tam" and the "Souter" were left. 
 
 Thom remained in Paterson. He liked the town 
 because, as he said, it reminded him in some respects 
 of the green fields of his native place. '' Tam " and 
 ' ' Souter " came back to him, and for a long time they 
 stood in a corner of the tavern at Little Falls, about 
 four miles from Paterson and where Thom sometimes 
 made his home. 
 
 Roswell L. Colt, a wealthy Patersonian, who owned 
 a great deal of real estate at that time, advanced 
 money to Thom to enable him to work a quarry of 
 sandstone he had found at Little Falls, and took the 
 statuary as security at Thom's request. He set "Tam " 
 and " Souter" on the porch of the Roswell Mansion on 
 Colt's Hill. That was over fifty years ago. Thom 
 was never able to redeem the pieces, and as his 
 originals they are greatly prized, although he must 
 
112 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 have reproduced them, as a second group, probably- 
 made from Little Falls sandstone, was exhibited as 
 his work in Philadelphia and Washington. This group 
 was finally given to the Fair mount Park Association, 
 where it remains to-day as the property of the Park 
 Art Association. 
 
 But prosperity proved Thom's adversity. Success 
 was too much for him. He took to strong drink, bad 
 habits, and dissipation ; and his property passed away 
 from him, and in a miserable lodging-house in New 
 York, almost if not quite penniless, he died in 1850. 
 Thorn left a son who is said to be quite famous as a 
 painter. He visited this country several years ago, 
 but finally returned to Scotland. 
 
 The statues now in the library were given to the 
 trustees by Morgan G. Colt and Mrs. De Grasse B. 
 Fowler, a son and daughter of Thom's benefactor. 
 
THE ORIGINAL VERSION OF 
 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 Some years ago, Messrs, Adams & Francis, of Lon- 
 don, published a work entitled: "Tarn o' Shanter and 
 Lament of Mary Queen of Scots ; by Robert Burns. 
 The original manuscript reproduced by the Photo- 
 chromolith process. With an introduction by Moy 
 Thomas, Esq." The process of photolithography 
 renders it impossible that there can be any difference 
 in the minutest particular between the copy and the 
 thing itself. Where the poet hesitated, where he 
 erased, where he inserted lines, even where his hand 
 faltered, may here be seen. The large, upright, bold, 
 handwriting of Burns is well known and characteristic. 
 Some of his alterations are curious. In describing 
 the interior of Alloway Kirk, during the dance of 
 warlocks and witches, the poet wrote : 
 
 " The torches climb around the wa', 
 Infernal fires, blue bleezing a'." 
 
 The lines did not please him; he struck them out, and 
 wrote in the margin the inimitable description : 
 
114 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 " Coffins stood round, like open presses, 
 That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
 And by some devilish cantraip sleight. 
 Each in its cauld hand held a light." 
 
 And among the ghastly objects which Tam beheld on 
 the table were — 
 
 ' ' Five tomahawks wi' blude red-rusted, 
 Five scimitars wi' murder crusted ; 
 Seven gallows-pins, three hangman^s whittles, 
 A raw o' weel-seaVd doctors'' bottles ; 
 A garter which a babe had strangled, 
 A knife a father's throat had mangled." 
 
 The two lines we have printed in italics were seen to 
 detract from the horrors of the spectacle, and the poet 
 wisely expunged them. 
 
THE ROUTE PURSUED BY TAM. 
 
 On this subject, the late Mr. James Paterson, a 
 well-known antiquarian authority, has the following 
 in his "History of Ayrshire," published in 1847: 
 
 ' 'The route pursued by Tarn on the memorable night 
 of his adventure lay considerably westward from th e 
 present road. The descriptive part of this inimitable 
 poem evidently refers to a period antecedent to the 
 existing characteristics of the locality; and unless 
 aware of the circumstance, the reader will attempt in 
 vain to comprehend the landmarks so happily alluded 
 to by the poet. Various opinions are entertained as 
 to the exact line of the old road. Some assert that 
 the whole land between the Doon and Ayr being com- 
 mon property and unenclosed, there was no regular 
 highway, but a number of by-paths, which travelers 
 used to adopt as it happened to suit them. Others 
 contend that the main road diverged from the Town- 
 head or Carrick Vennel of Ayr, across by the house 
 of Burns, till it reached the Doon, which at that time, 
 it is supposed, ran into the sea near Seafield ; the road 
 from thence traversing the banks of the river until it 
 
Il6 TAM O' SHANTEE. 
 
 gained the Old Bridge at the Monument. It is pos- 
 sible that a branch road ran in this direction, crossing 
 the Doon by a ford near to where the Low Bridge 
 now stands; but, be this as it may, circumstances 
 strongly argue in favor of a more easterly direction 
 as the path pursued by Tam o' Shanter. This con- 
 jecture is not only supported by tradition, but is 
 strictly in accordance with the description of the 
 poet — 
 
 ' ' By this time he was cross the ford, 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd." 
 
 The ford across the Curtican, now called the Slap- 
 house Burn, is traceable about two hundred yards 
 west of Slaphouse. On the rising ground near to this 
 a religious house anciently existed, dedicated to St. 
 Leonard, the ruins of which were removed within 
 remembrance. The place where it stood is still called 
 Chapel Field ; and a few houses, where a cross road 
 leads to the beach, bear the name of Chapel Park 
 Cottages. A short distance beyond the ford, to the 
 
 left, the 
 
 " . . . meikle stane 
 Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane " 
 
 is pointed out as the identical stumbling-block over 
 which the unfortunate wight was precipitated. Con- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. "7 
 
 tinuing its westerly bend from the Chapel Park, the 
 road is supposed to have passed between Belleisle and 
 Summerfield ; and is said to be yet partially indicated 
 by the belt of wooding, planted after it had been 
 superseded, along the margin of a level field — formerly 
 a morass — southeast of Belleisle. The connection of 
 the line, however, is lost in cultivation — modem im- 
 provement having wrought an entire change on the 
 face of the district ; but that it passed through the 
 lands of Greenfield or of Montcharles is apparent 
 from the words of the poet : 
 
 "And through the whins and by the cairn 
 Where hunters fand the murdered bairn." 
 
 Little more than half a century since, the now fertile 
 lands of Greenfield — in which the cairn, marked by a 
 solitary tree, is situated — were covered with whins 
 and brushwood. The cairn is an ancient tumulus ; 
 the tenant, the late Mr. Gird wood, having digged up, 
 some years ago, a number of urns and other remains 
 of mortality. From the vicinity of the cairn the road 
 appears to have proceeded in the direction of the 
 Doon, and traversing the high banks above the river, 
 wound past the kirk of Alloway on the south, where 
 it gained the "Auld Brig," rendered famous by the 
 
Il8 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 poet. This supposition is obviously confirmed by the 
 
 subsequent lines: 
 
 ' ' And near the thorn ^ aboon the well, 
 Where Mungo's mither hanged hersel'. 
 Before him Doon pours all his floods, 
 The doubling storm roars thro' the woods." 
 
 Tam had passed the cairn, was nearing the thorn, 
 and before him Doon "pour'd a' his floods." If the 
 road had traversed the river's banks nearly the whole 
 way from Ayr, as asserted by some, the words ' ' be- 
 fore him " would be inapplicable, because Tam would 
 have been, by the time he passed the cairn, proceeding 
 in a parallel line with the water. The cairn, besides, 
 would have been so far distant from his path as to 
 inspire no feeling of terror. Mungo's Well is in the 
 inmaediate vicinity of the kirk, on the sloping bank 
 of the river. It may not, perhaps, be generally known 
 that St. Mungo was the patron saint of Alio way. 
 The poet probably indulged his satirical humor in 
 attributing self-destruction to the mother of the saint. 
 In no other direction than from the south, as we have 
 supposed, could the adventurous hero of the tale have 
 had a view of the 
 
 " . . winnock-bunker in the east. 
 There sat auld Nick in shape o' beast." 
 
 The churchyard, extending on the north and west to 
 a much greater degree than at present, would have 
 completely precluded his approach. 
 
ALLOWAY KIRK. 
 
 PROM CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL, 1833. 
 
 Alloway Kirk, with its little enclosed burial-ground, 
 stands beside the road from Ayr to Maybole, about 
 two miles from the former town. The church has 
 long been roofless, but the walls are pretty well pre- 
 served, and it still retains its bell at the east end. 
 Upon the whole, the spectator is struck with the idea 
 that the witches must have had a rather narrow stage 
 for the performance of their revels, as described in 
 the poem. The inner area is now divided by a parti- 
 tion-wall, and one part forms the family burial-place 
 of Mr, Cathcart of Blairston. The " winnock-bunker 
 in the east," where sat the awful musician of the 
 party, is a conspicuous feature, being a small window 
 divided by a thick mullion. Around the building are 
 the vestiges of other openings, at any of which the 
 hero of the tale may be supposed to have looked upon 
 the hellish scene. Within the last few years the old 
 oaken rafters of the Kirk were mostly entire, but they 
 have now been entirely taken away, to form in various 
 shapes, memorials of a place so remarkably signalized 
 
120 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 by genius. It is necessary for those who survey the 
 
 ground in reference to the poem, to be informed, that 
 
 the old road from Ayr to this spot, by which Burns 
 
 supposed his hero to have approached AUoway Kirk, 
 
 was considerably to the west of the present one; 
 
 which, nevertheless, has existed since before the 
 
 time of Burns. Upon a field about a quarter of a 
 
 mile to the northwest of the Kirk is a single tree 
 
 enclosed within a pahng, the last remnant of a group 
 
 which covered 
 
 " . . . . the cairn 
 Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn ; " 
 
 and immediately beyond that object is 
 
 " . . . . the ford, 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd " 
 
 (namely a ford over a small burn, which soon after 
 joins the Doon), being two places which Tam o' Shan- 
 ter is described as having passed on his solitary way. 
 The road then made a sweep towards the river; and, 
 passing a well which trickles down into the Doon 
 (where formerly stood a thorn on which an individual, 
 called in the poem "Mungo's mither," committed 
 suicide), approached Alloway Kirk upon the west. 
 These circumstances may here appear trivial, but it 
 is surprising with what interest any visitor to the 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 121 
 
 real scene will inquire into and behold every part of 
 it which can be associated, however remotely, with 
 the poem of "Tarn o' Shanter." The churchyard 
 contains several old monuments, of a very humble 
 description, marking the resting-places of undis- 
 tinguished persons, who formerly lived in the neigh- 
 borhood and probably had the usual hereditary title 
 to little spaces of ground in this ancient cemetery. 
 Among those persons, rests William Burnes, father 
 of the poet, over whose grave the son had piously 
 raised a small stone, recording his name and the date 
 of his death, together with the short poetical tribute 
 to his memory which is copied in the works of the 
 poet. But for this monument, long ago destroyed 
 and carried away piecemeal, there is now substituted 
 one of somewhat finer proportions. But the church- 
 yard of Alloway has now become fashionable with 
 the dead, as well as the living. Its little area is ab- 
 solutely crowded with modern monuments, referring 
 to persons many of whom have been brought from 
 considerable distances to take their place in this 
 doubly-consecrated ground. Among these is one to 
 the memory of a person named Tyrie, who, visiting 
 the spot some years ago, happened to express a wish 
 that he might be interred in Alloway churchyard; 
 
122 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 and, as fate would have it, was interred in the spot he 
 had pointed out within a fortnight. Nor is this 
 all ; for even the neighboring gentry are now con- 
 tending for departments in this fold of the departed, 
 and it is probable that the elegant mausoleum of rank 
 and wealth will soon be jostling with the stunted 
 obelisks of humble worth and noteless poverty. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 FROM CUNNINGHAM'S "LIFE AND LAND OF BURNS." 
 
 "So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
 Wi' mony an eldrich skreech and hollow." 
 
 The scene of this most vivid and varied of all poems 
 is on the banks of the Doon; and the story is em- 
 bellished from tradition by the genius of the poet. It 
 has, so far, a foundation in truth ; but men without 
 fancy have striven to find for every image and inci- 
 dent a real and substantial origin, as if all the bright 
 threads of the magic web of the story were spun from 
 a veritable distaff, and the characters and incidents 
 which compose it had come, like sitters to a portrait 
 painter, to have their likenesses transferred to the 
 poet's canvas. A cupful of truth will color an ocean 
 of fiction ; Bums only emblazoned his tale with a few 
 localities, to give it the air of the district, and never 
 imagined that he was writing a story 
 
 "Whose accuracy all men durst swear for." 
 
 Yet I have met with men, and critical ones, who 
 averred that they had tippled with the real and 
 original Tam o' Shanter, in the company of the miller 
 
124 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 and the smith ; had heard the souter tell his queerest 
 stories, when the landlord laughed and the landlady 
 was condescending; and more, than that, assert that 
 this poem, written on the banks of Nith, was con- 
 ceived on those of Doon ; and that they knew the 
 scenes where the characters of the drama dwelt ; and 
 were intimate with Nanny, who wore the sark of 
 Paisley harn, and had heard more of her spells than 
 Burns had related. These men no doubt believed 
 what they asserted ; but they were ignorant of the 
 ways of the muse ; they were unacquainted with her 
 secrets of composition ; and as fancy was unknown to 
 them, they supposed that Bums, like a portrait 
 painter, could not paint truly without individual 
 models. Well may we exclaim, with the poet of 
 another isle — 
 
 " What an imposter genius is! " 
 The very scene which the poet's fancy has so 
 strangely peopled, is seen through the poetic medium 
 of a thunder-storm, and by a man excited by super- 
 stition and liquor. All that gives air and force to the 
 tale is matter of imagination. Of the reaUties em- 
 bellished by the muse, something, however, may be 
 said. I allude not to the Howff in the town of Ayr, 
 where Tam merrily prepared himself for the road ; 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 125 
 
 nor to Doon, with all her floods spanned by a solitary 
 arch ; but I mean the storm of rain and fire through 
 which he galloped, and the images of fear and terror 
 which in quick succession prepared him for the blazing 
 Kirk and its infernal inmates. " I seem to gain, in 
 buffeting with the wind, " says Sir Walter Scott, in 
 his inimitable diary for 1825, "a little of the high 
 spirit with which in younger days I used to enjoy a 
 Tam-o'-Shanter ride through darkness, wind, and 
 rain ; the boughs groaning and cracking over my head, 
 the good horse free to the road and impatient for 
 home, and feeling the weather as little as I did. 
 
 ' The storm around might rair and rustle, 
 We didna mind the storm a whistle.' " 
 
 If the intrepid poet of Marmion had taken a mid- 
 night gallop over the suspicious way where the stout 
 farmer of Kyle rode, he might have thought less of the 
 fire and storm than of the place where the pedler per- 
 ished in the snow, the stone which broke the neck of 
 tipphng Charlie, the cairn where hunters found the 
 murdered child, and the haunted bush on which the 
 mother of poor Mungo hanged herself. All these 
 touching circumstances are, it is said, matters of tra- 
 dition or of certainty ; and had they not existed, the 
 poet would have suppHed their place with something 
 
126 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 of the like spirit to stimulate Tarn, and prepare us for 
 the infernal jubilee. 
 
 Of Tarn o' Shanter there are few copies existing in 
 the handwriting of Burns; the only one which con- 
 tains variations is in the library of Abbotsford. A 
 relic so sacred was duly esteemed by its great posses- 
 sor ; he loved to show it to literary visitors and point 
 out two additional lines which distinguished his copy 
 from all others. I shall put them into their place; 
 they will be easily discovered among their companions, 
 for few who read them can fail to have the poem by 
 heart. 
 
 ' ' Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
 E'en drown'd himsel' amang the nappy. 
 As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure. 
 The cricket raised its cheering cry. 
 The kitten chased its tail in joy. 
 Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious, 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious." 
 
 A poem which Campbell, Wordsworth, and Scott 
 have praised, and on which Cooper has employed his 
 pencil, requires no further commendation. It was 
 written on Nithside, as a bribe to induce Grose to 
 admit Alloway Kirk among his antiquities of Scot- 
 land ; he composed it in one happy stroll, during a 
 twilight interview with the muse, and in such an 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 1 27 
 
 ecstasy, that the tears were running down his cheeks. 
 It bears all the marks of an impassioned fit and is the 
 best and most finished of all his larger poems. 
 
BURNS AND CAPTAIN GROSE. 
 
 BY JOHN H. INGRAM. 
 
 "Tarn o' Shanter," the humorous masterpiece of 
 Burns, was written for and published in Captain 
 Grose's " Antiquities of Scotland." It is believed to 
 have been modeled on a little-known poem by Allan 
 Eamsay ; to whom, indeed, some of the phraseology 
 as well as the ideas are due, whilst the metre is the 
 same in both pieces. The story told of its rapid pro- 
 duction must be regarded with suspicion ; this account 
 of the composition, ascribed to Mrs. Burns is pic- 
 turesque, but scarcely credible ; nor does the added 
 testimony of Mr. McDiarmid count for much. The 
 bard's own allusions in various extant letters to his 
 favorite poem are almost conclusive as to the story 
 having cost him no little time and labor. In April, 
 1791, writing to Mrs. Dunlop to announce the birth 
 of a son, he said, "on Saturday morning last Mrs. 
 Burns made me a present of a fine boy— rather stouter, 
 but not so handsome as your godson was at his time 
 of life. Indeed, I look on your little namesake to be 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 129 
 
 my chef d'oeuvre in that species of manufacture, as I 
 look on ' Tarn o' Shanter ' to be my standard perform- 
 ance in the poetical line. 'Tis true, both the one 
 and the other discover a spice of roguish waggery that 
 might perhaps be as well spared ; but then they also 
 show, in my opinion, a force of genius, and a. finishing 
 polish, that I despair of ever excelling." 
 
 The fact that we are indebted to Grose for the pro- 
 duction of " Tam 0' Shanter" should cause all admirers 
 of its author to hold the English Captain's memory in 
 respect. Captain Francis Grose, a jeweler's son, 
 was born at Richmond, Surrey, in 1731, and died sud- 
 denly of apoplexy, at Dublin, on the 12th of May, 1791, 
 just three weeks after the publication of his book 
 containing the poet's chef d'oeuvre. Grose, through 
 extravagance or carelessness, got rid of his fortune, 
 and by the time he was thirty was pretty well re- 
 duced to poverty. For a livelihood he turned his 
 attention to literature, and became an author of 
 artistic and antiquarian works. Between 1773 and 
 1788 he produced eight quarto volumes on ' ' The An- 
 tiquities of England and Wales," illustrated by about 
 six hundred views from his own drawings. He then 
 proceeded to Scotland to obtain material for a con- 
 tinuation of his work, and at Mrs. Riddell's residence, 
 
I30 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 Friar's Carse, met Burns. The poet and the anti- 
 quarian became fast friends; the former dedicated 
 several humorous verses to the glorification of the 
 immense figure and merry face of the latter. Grose, 
 indeed, was even more famed for his corpulency than 
 for his joviality or literary talents. To induce the 
 antiquarian to furnish an account and an illustration 
 of Alloway Kirk, Burns promised to write a poetic 
 legend in connection with the place; and "Tam o' 
 Shanter" was the result. The bard presented this 
 masterpiece to Grose for publication in his projected 
 work on "The Antiquities of Scotland," and therein 
 it eventually appeared. 
 
 Burns gave Grose a letter of introduction to Dugald 
 Stewart, and the contents go far to prove that the 
 poet saw and recognized something more in the an- 
 tiquarian than merely a jovial boon companion. 
 "Stewart," he tells Grose in a letter alike honorable to 
 all parties concerned, " is a man after your own 
 heart; " his "principal characteristic is your favorite 
 feature — that sterling independence of mind which, 
 though every man's right, so few men have the cour- 
 age to claim, and fewer still the magnanimity to 
 support." 
 
TAM O' SHANTER'S RIDE. 
 
 BY GEORGE EYRE-TODD. 
 
 Never is a man more conscious of his manhood than 
 Avhen, with bridle in hand and a good horse under 
 him, he takes the road at a gallop. As his steed 
 stretches out and the hoof -beats quicken, as the mile- 
 stones fly past and the cool air rushes in his face, he 
 casts care to the winds, his pulse beats stronger, he 
 rejoices to breathe and to live. The pride and the 
 pleasure of this experience has ever appealed to the 
 poets, and the ringing of horse-hoofs echoes through 
 the vei-se of all ages : in the warrior chants of Israel ; 
 through the sounding Virgilian lines; to the rever- 
 berating rhythm of the "Ride from Ghent to Aix.'^ 
 But the maddest, most riotous gallop of all is, per- 
 haps, that of the gray mare Meg and her master from 
 Ayr to the Shanter farm. Burns was never more 
 fortunate in his subject than when thus fulfilling his 
 promise of providing a legend for "Alio way's auld 
 haunted kirk." He did not, it is true, with the nice 
 precision of the Augustan laureate, trim his verse to 
 
132 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 a mechanical imitation of sound; but the wild rush 
 and deftness of the movement of the poem — ^the quick 
 succession of humor on pathos, scene upon scene, the 
 ludicrous, the startling, the horrible — carry away the 
 breath, and suggest more vividly than any mere 
 measuring rhythm, the mad daring of that midnight 
 ride. 
 
 There is a little, old-fashioned, deep-thatched inn 
 etill standing where the street leads southwards out 
 of Ayr. Under its low, brown-raftered roof, it is yet 
 easy to imagine how the veritable hero, Tam, may 
 have sat with his cronies " fast by the ingle, bleezing 
 finely," while "the night drave on wi' sangs an' 
 clatter," and the storm outside hurled itself fruitlessly 
 against the little deep-set window. It would need all 
 the liquor he had imbibed to fortify the carouser for 
 that fourteen-mile ride into Carrick. A midnight 
 hurricane of rain and wind would be no pleasant en- 
 counter on that lonely road, to say nothing of the 
 eerie spots to be passed, and at least one point more 
 than a trifle dangerous. But Tam o' Shanter was a 
 stout Ayrshire farmer; and, moreover, he was ac- 
 customed to face worse ragings than those of the 
 elements ; so it may be supposed that, when he had 
 hiccupped a last good-by to his friends, and, leaving 
 
TAM O'SHANTBR. 133 
 
 the warm lights of the inn streaming into the street 
 behind him, galloped off into the blackness of the 
 night, it was with no stronger regret than that he 
 must go so soon. HaK a mile to his right, as he 
 bucketed southward along the narrow road, he 
 could hear the ocean thundering its diapason on the 
 broad beach of sand, and at the places where he 
 crossed the open country, its spray would strike his 
 cheek and fly inland with the foam from Maggie's bit. 
 Sometimes, when the way led through belts of beech 
 and oak woods, the branches would roar and shriek 
 overhead, as they strove with maniac arms against 
 the tempest. 
 
 The old road to Maybole, and that which Tarn o* 
 Shanter took, ran a little nearer the sea than the one 
 which did duty in Burns's time, and still serves its 
 purpose ; and about a mile out of Ayr it crosses the 
 small stream at the ford where ' ' in the snaw the 
 chapman smoored," at which, on the newer road, a 
 curious adventure is said to have befallen the poet's 
 father. There was formerly no bridge across this 
 stream ; and the legend runs that William Burnes, a 
 few hours before the birth of his son, in riding to Ayr 
 for an attendant, found the water much swollen, and 
 was requested by an old woman on the farther side 
 
t34 TAM O' SHANTEB. 
 
 to carry her across. Notwithstanding his haste he 
 did this; and a little later, on returning home with 
 the attendant, he was surprised to find the woman 
 seated by his own fireside. It is said that when the 
 child was born it was placed in the gipsy's lap, and 
 ehe, glancing into its palm, made a prophecy, which 
 the poet has turned in one of his verses : 
 
 He'll ha'e misfortunes great and sma', 
 But aye a heart aboon them a' ; 
 Hell be a credit till us a' — 
 
 Well a' be proud o' Robin. 
 
 If all gipsy predictions were as well fulfilled as this 
 of the poet, the dark-skinned race would be far sought 
 and courted. 
 
 A few strides beyond the stream his gray mare had 
 to carry Tam past a dark, uncanny spot— ''the cairn 
 whare hunters fand the murder 'd bairn." It was 
 covered then with trees, and one of them stiU stands 
 marking the place. To the left of the old road here, 
 and hard by the newer highway, lies the humble cot- 
 tage, of one storey, where Robert Burns was born. 
 It has been considerably altered since then, having 
 been used until recently as an alehouse, and further 
 accommodation having been added at each end. But 
 enough of the interior remains untouched to allow of 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 135 
 
 its original aspect being realized. The house is the 
 usual "but and ben," built of natural stones and clay, 
 and neatly whitewashed and thatched. In the ' ' but, " 
 the apartment to the left on entering from the road, 
 there is little alteration ; and it was here, in the re- 
 cessed bed in the wall, that the poet first saw light. 
 The plain deal dresser, with dish-rack above, remains 
 the same ; and the small, square, deep-set window still 
 looks out behind, over the fields his father cultivated. 
 An old mahogany press with drawers still stands next 
 the bed; the floor is paved with irregular flags; and 
 the open fireplace, with roomy, projecting chimney, 
 occupies the gable. An extra door has been driven 
 through the southeast comer to allow the profane 
 crowd to pass through, and a larger window has been 
 opened toward the road, that they may see to scratch 
 their names in the visitor's book ; but the rest of the 
 apartment toward the back is little changed, if any, 
 since the eventful night when 
 
 " . . .a blast o' Janwar win' 
 Blew hansel in on Robin." 
 
 The hour of his ride was too dark, however, for the 
 galloping farmer to see so far over the fields. A 
 weirder sight was in store for him. A few hundred 
 yards farther on, when, by a well (which is still flow- 
 
136 TAM O'SHANTKE. 
 
 ing) he had passed the thorn (now vanished) where 
 "Mungo's mither hanged herser," just as the road 
 plunged down along the woody banks of Doon, there, 
 a little to the left, 
 
 ' ' . . . glimmering thro' the groaning trees 
 Kirk Alloway seem'd in a bleeze." 
 
 The gray walls of the little kirk are standing yet 
 among the graves, though the last rafters of the 
 ruined roof were carried off long since to be carved 
 into mementoes. The tombs of Lord Alloway 's family 
 occupy one end of the interior, and a partition wall 
 has been built dividing off that portion ; but otherwise 
 the place remains unchanged. The bell still hangs 
 above the eastern gable, and under it remains the 
 little window with a thick muUion, the ' ' winnock 
 bunker " in which the astonished farmer, sitting on 
 his mare, and looking through another opening in the 
 side wall, saw the queer musician ensconsed. A more 
 eerie spot on a stormy night could hardly be imagined, 
 the trees shrieking and groaning around, the Doon 
 roaring in the darkness far below, while the thunder 
 crashed overhead, and the lurid glare of lightning 
 ever and again lit up the ruin. But with the un- 
 earthly accessories of warlocks and witches, corpse 
 lights and open coffins, with the screech of the pipes 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 137 
 
 and grotesque contortions of the dancers, the place 
 must pass comparison in horror. Yet, inspired by 
 *'bold John Barleycorn," the farmer looked eagerly 
 in on the revels till, fairly forgetting himself in the 
 height of his admiration, with his shout of "Weel 
 done, Cutty Sark ! " the lights went out, the pipes 
 stopped, and the wrathful revelers streamed after 
 him like angry bees. A few bounds of his mare down 
 that narrow, winding, and rather dangerous road 
 would carry Tam to the bridge, and the clatter of 
 terrified Maggie's hoofs, as she plunged off desperately 
 through the trees, seems to echo there yet. All the 
 world knows how she carried her master in safety 
 across the keystone of the bridge at the cost of her 
 own gray tail. The feat was no easy one, for the 
 single arch (still spanning the river there) was high 
 and steep and narrow. Beyond the Doon the old road 
 rises inland, covered deep with ash and sauch trees, 
 to the open country; and Tam, pale and sober no 
 doubt, but breathing freer, had still twelve long miles 
 before him to the far side of Kirkoswald in Carrick, 
 where sat his wife, 
 
 " Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
 Nursing her wrath to keep it warm." 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 FROM "BURNS AND THE KIRK " BY ALEXANDER WEBSTER. 
 
 "Tarn o'Shanter" may be regarded as the sequel 
 to " The Holy Fair." The purpose of the latter is the 
 exposure of the gross desecration recurrent in the 
 precincts of the house of G-od, and of the profana- 
 tion of the Sacrament by sensuality, hypocrisy, 
 and revelry ; the inner intention of the former being 
 an exposure of the baleful superstition regarding su- 
 pernatural evil beings, fostered by the Church in the 
 name of religion. " Tam o' Shanter " shows a dese- 
 cration of the kirk itself by the midnight dance 
 therein of "warlocks and witches" to the music of 
 the devil. In ' ' The Holy Fair " we are not taken into 
 the Kirk, nor does the devil appear on the scene, 
 though " Black Russell" speaks loudly of the "vast, 
 unbottomed, boundless pit, fiU'd fou o' lowan brum- 
 stane." The carnival goes on outside the kirk, though 
 within touch of it. But in "Tam o' Shanter" we are 
 shown the interior of the kirk, with "AuldNick" 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 139 
 
 piping in the " winnock-bunker in the east," president 
 of the witches' orgie. One may easily imagine the 
 orgie taking place in the Kirk of Mauchline, on the 
 night of the Holy Fair. To have placed it there 
 would only have been to extend the Fair, and have it 
 taken up, as the night wore on and the day revelers 
 had gone, inside the kirk, by creatures from the 
 *' boundless pit." The revel, so placed, would have 
 been a fitting sequel to the profanity of the Fair, and 
 some of "the godly," searching for another "jar," 
 might have been represented as seeing it. But the 
 scene was not so planned by Burns ; and we take it as 
 we find it, and see in it a parable of superstition of 
 the most instructive kind. 
 
 The poem originated in a friendly bargain of the 
 author with Captain Grose, the antiquary; Burns 
 undertaking to supply a witch or ghost story relating 
 to Kirk AUoway if the Captain would include the 
 kirk in his work on Scottish Antiquities. Burns set 
 to work to fulfil his part of the compact on a bright 
 autumn day in 1790. He was then at Ellisland, and 
 went out with writing materials to "a broomy ridge 
 by the river side "which was "a much-frequented 
 haunt " of his, and wrote the poem in " one continuous 
 fit of inspiration." It was a wondrous day's work! 
 
I40 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 It is told as "an ascertained fact" that his wife 
 (anxious, no doubt, to know what engrossing theme 
 detained him so long) discovered him in "an agony 
 of laughter, reciting aloud certain lines of the poem 
 which he had just conceived, the tears in the mean- 
 time rolling down his cheeks ; and that she withdrew 
 from the neighborhood for a moment, along with 
 her children, that they might not interrupt his 
 ecstasy." 
 
 Whatever rank we may give this poem relatively 
 to the other poems of Burns, it must ever appear to 
 us as a marvelous production ; and whether we enter 
 into the spirit of its humor, or hush our mirth at the 
 thrilling touch of its passages of sublime pathos, we 
 feel recreated and instructed on reading or listening 
 to the reading of the poem. 
 
 The tale, as is well known, turns upon the tarrying 
 of its hero by the change-house "ingle bleezing 
 finely," enjoying "the reaming swats, that drank 
 divinely." The "unco sight" of "warlocks and 
 witches in a dance," the catastrophe to his mare, the 
 narrow escape of Shanter himself from the witchly 
 clutch — all arise out of the too -freely-quaffed "nappy," 
 and the moral is obvious. But it has been charged 
 against Burns that his poems and songs encourage 
 
TA»I O' SHANTER. 14I 
 
 drinking; and that even where, as in this poem, he 
 makes plain the dangers of drink, he throws such a 
 glamor over the act of getting f ou that it is attrac- 
 tive. It may be said here, in passing, that in such 
 poems as "Scotch Drink," "The Earnest Cry," etc., 
 Bums only drew drinking pictures true to life in his 
 day, and sang the common feeling with regard to 
 drink. And when he becomes the advocate of drink 
 it is of the social glass, with which there is flow of 
 sympathy, and not of sensuous solitary drinking for 
 the love of drink. And in his songs of drink it is the 
 same, the drinking is permeated with good fellowship. 
 In fact, it is the fellowship and not the drinking that 
 he glorifies. 
 
 In "Tam o' Shanter" he paints the drinking-scene 
 graphically. There is a coziness and cantiness and 
 jollity about it which is catching; but the feeling is 
 plainly delusive. Tam ' ' was glorious, o'er a' the ills 
 o' life victorious;" but it was in sensuous stupidity. 
 The souter's "queerest stories," the landlady's 
 *' favors," " the landlord's laugh," were but " phan- 
 tasmagoria and many-colored spectra " that deluded 
 as they delighted. With all their jollity, Tam and 
 ' ' his ancient, trusty, drouthy crony " are fools, and 
 that is made evident enough. They sit between land- 
 
142 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 lord and landlady as in a snare, and the wiles of the 
 * ' nappy " are plied 'round about them till sense and 
 cash are gone. Happy as they are, we are made to 
 feel that they are so at the expense of everything 
 truly manly ; that the brain of the drinker is debased 
 while it is dazzled. Though there is a true touch of 
 humanity in their comradeship, their indulgence of 
 sensuous appetite dehumanizes; and we see that if 
 they meet as men they part as sots. There is not a 
 single word or suggestion in the poem that is drink- 
 enticing. Even the invocation of ' ' John Barleycorn " 
 tells against his power. The scorn of dangers which 
 he inspires is an illusion. To say nothing of the wife 
 left in the neglect which begets wrath, or of the unco 
 sight in the bleezing kirk, or even the moral at the 
 end of the poem, all of which tell against drinking — 
 that piece of natural and exquisite pathos introduced 
 as anti-climax to Tam's gloriousness is enough to show 
 the folly of such glory : 
 
 ' ' But pleasures are like poppies spread, " etc. 
 In " Tam o' Shanter " (whatever may be the case in 
 other pieces) the moral drift is reformatory. The 
 poet honestly describes the drinking custom, credits 
 it with all the sensuous enjoyment belonging to it ; 
 but confronts it with higher things, reveals its subter- 
 
TAM O' SH ANTES. 143 
 
 ranean connections, and passes a judgment against it 
 which is impressed with divine sanction. 
 
 But all the other scenes in the drama only lead up 
 to the great scene in " Alio way's auld haunted kirk." 
 It was the kirk which the poet had in his mind's eye 
 all the while, according to the bargain with Captain 
 Grose. Most cunningly and profoundly is the scene 
 laid therein, and with a deep religious purpose. The 
 auld haunted kirk furnished him with a habitation 
 wherein to place on view the objects which supersti- 
 tion, supported by religious authority, set up before 
 the imagination. He knew well how orthodoxy made 
 an ally of the devil and his imps, and held the people 
 in terror through them. He was aware of the way in 
 which the underworld had been peopled with all 
 manner of evil spirits, and how even the air of com- 
 mon life had been filled with bodiless creatures of 
 malignant influence. He knew how terrified most 
 people were in the darkness, how they trembled at 
 any strange sound, how completely they were the 
 victims of their own ignorant fears. And he realized 
 how much the Church was to blame for this, how it 
 had prevented the investigation of natural phenomena, 
 hindered the exercise of reason, and rooted its author- 
 ity in superstition. He perceived how ' ' preachers 
 
144 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 of the Gospel " had used the fear of the devil as a 
 strong inducement to the outward observances of 
 religion," and how they had enhanced their authority 
 by " their supposed ability to counteract this fearful 
 adversary." And so he felt that something effective 
 needed to be done to deliver men from these supersti- 
 tions. 
 
 In his "Address to the Deil " he plainly spoke a 
 liberating word, and delivered the soul from ' ' the 
 hangman's whip." In "Tam o' Shanter " he pursues 
 the same purpose, and boldly seats the devil in the 
 kirk, with all his hellish brood around him, to show 
 religion the objects of its superstition. 
 
 The placing of the " towzie tyke" in the winnock- 
 bunker in the east of the Auld Kirk to superintend 
 the dance of "warlocks and witches " was no mere 
 fiction imagined to scare one in whose " noddle " the 
 " swats reamed," but was a matter-of-fact gathering 
 'round the pulpit of the hellish beings of fearsome 
 creation. There was no more fitting place for the 
 humorous exposure of the progeny of superstition 
 than the kirk itself. The evil brood were born and 
 bred under Church influence, and the parentage had 
 to be brought home to it, so that it might put them to 
 dissolution. With the very sublimity of daring, 
 
TAM 'O SHANTER. 145 
 
 Burns gathered "the devil and his angels" in the 
 kirk, and with them all the terrors of death, and then 
 bade men look in to see the sight. As if emerging 
 from its own floor or oozing out of its own atmos- 
 phere, there appeared in the ' ' haunted kirk, " at the 
 call of the wizard-poet, the ugsome creatures of dark- 
 ness, the hideous things of the grave, the denizens of 
 hell, the seething spawn of superstition. The kirk 
 becomes Tophet, Hades, Gehenna, hell. Many a time 
 had the walls echoed with talk of such things, often 
 had the preacher pictured such beings to terrified 
 hearers, frequently had " the ill place " been opened 
 in imagination to clinch "the offer of salvation;" but 
 in the poem, as if the very walls had given back the 
 words, and they had become flesh, the hellish beings 
 themselves come into life in the kirk, and hold their 
 unholy revel on the sacred floor ! The Church could 
 hardly have been prepared for such an invasion ; but 
 it was the just reaction of religious superstition, and 
 it could not consistently refuse to look at the ugsome 
 creatures with whom it had made its members 
 familiar. And to look at them in the light of com- 
 mon sense was to be convicted of superstition. In 
 that light they were seen to be creatures of fancy, be- 
 gotten of ignorance and terror; and which had no 
 
146 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 existence in fact whatever. To disabuse the mind of 
 the mischievous fancy was, no doubt, one of the 
 objects that Burns had in writing this poem. He 
 knew well that religion was corrupted by it ; that the 
 darkness, which was God's as well as the light, was 
 made terrible to men through it ; that knowledge of 
 the causes of strange phenomena was hindered by it ; 
 and that the enslaving power of the clergy was main- 
 tained by it. And so he set his humor to work, and 
 made men able to laugh at the gross images of their 
 own creation. 
 
 To help us to understand the work that he had to 
 do in dissolving the fancy of witchcraft and the gen- 
 eral superstition existent regarding unknown forces 
 in action around men, we must know something of 
 the ideas then current concerning "warlocks and 
 witches." Looking back from the earliest case of real 
 importance in the prosecution of witches, Walter 
 Scott says : ' ' For many years the Scottish nation had 
 been remarkable for a credulous belief in witchcraft." 
 The idea underlying the belief was the existence of 
 the devil. He, it was thought, purchased the services 
 of persons whose bodies and souls he bought for some 
 payment or other. These were, at his command £ind 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 147 
 
 by his power, the instruments of all mischief and 
 everything termed evil. 
 
 Everything mysterious of a baleful kind was re- 
 garded as witchery. When anything inexplicable 
 happened to man or beast it was a witch who did it. 
 If a field were blighted or weeds come up in the cro p, 
 it was some spiteful warlock's doing. If a child fell 
 sick or a woman miscarried it was the effect of some 
 "evil eye." Whatever occurred by accident or mis- 
 fortune was attributed to witchcraft. Witches could, 
 by Satanic skill, take the shape of frogs, cats, hares , 
 crows, spectres of all kinds. They had, it was sup- 
 posed, power over all the elements: they could ride 
 on the winds, travel in the air, or run underground . 
 And everything was at their mercy — crops, property, 
 and life itself. By means of them the devil was able 
 to be omnipresent, and to carry out his perpetual 
 malignity against the Infinite Goodness. 
 
 The first case of witchcraft in Scotland, of which an 
 account is preserved, is that of the case of the " Earl 
 of Mar, brother of James III. of Scotland, who fell 
 under the King's suspicion for consulting with witches 
 and sorcerers how to shorten the King's days. On 
 such a charge, very inexplicitly stated, the unhappy 
 Mar was bled to death in his own lodgings without 
 
148 TAM O' SHANTEB. 
 
 either trial or conviction; immediately after which 
 catastrophe twelve women of obscure rank, and three 
 or four wizards, or warlocks, as they were termed, 
 were burnt at Edinburgh to give a color to the Earl's 
 guilt." After that, cases of witches prosecuted to 
 death are recorded in great numbers. These, as Scott 
 declares, present a " certain monotony." A curious 
 case, typical of others, occurred in Dumfriesshire 
 half-a-century or so before the birth of Burns. One 
 Bessie Kennedy was tried by the Kirk-Session of Tin- 
 wald on a charge of having cursed the horse of one 
 John Carruthers on a certain Sabbath, and wished 
 that it might shoot to dead; and, further, with hav- 
 ing, when the said John told her that his horse had 
 fallen sick through her malignity, " wished that the 
 shoot of dead might Ught on him and it both" (that 
 is, that he and it might perish by some fatal internal 
 lapse, or " schute," of the system.) The charge was 
 not proved, and Bessie was dismissed; being warned, 
 however, to exercise "greater watchfulness for the 
 future." It was cases of that kind that suggested to 
 Bums the line in "Tam o' Shanter" — "For mony a 
 beast to dead she shot." Kate Steen or Stephen, who, 
 it is thought, is the person represented under the 
 character of " Cutty Sark," was "an inoffensive but 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 149 
 
 peculiar woman; of diminutive stature and some- 
 times of strange attire ; of vagrant but industrious 
 habits ; who carried her ' rock and spindle ' with her 
 from house to house to spin ; and was kindly, or at 
 least civilly, received everywhere, from fear, per- 
 haps, of her reputed supernatural gifts as much as 
 from affection." 
 
 Now, in the fact of Katie's " peculiarity " we come 
 upon the secret of the fancy of witchcraft. If a woman 
 happened to be in any way ' ' peculiar " in feature, 
 dress, or habit she was thought to be a witch. And 
 the curious thing is that, when the peculiarity con- 
 sisted of an unusual heightening of some feature or 
 faculty; such as unusually large and bright eyes, 
 extraordinary fluency of speech, unusual skill of 
 hand, or uncommon knowledge of any kind, it was 
 set down to witchcraft. 
 
 Those who were regarded as witches mostly be- 
 longed to the lower classes ; and, when we remember 
 that it was in feudal times that the prosecution of 
 witches was most prevalent in this country, we may 
 conclude that those charged with witchcraft were 
 generally independent, far-seeing, courageous women 
 who took the liberty to reprove the evil doings of 
 those above them. They were the social protestants 
 
I50 TAM O' SHANTEB. 
 
 and insurgents of their day, impelled to speak and 
 act against the powers that kept the people down. By- 
 analyzing the reports of the trials of witches in Scot- 
 land, we find that either some of the gentry, some 
 laird or lady, or some oflBcious magnate of the law in 
 the interest of the aristocracy was the complainant ; 
 and the charge was generally that of shooting at a 
 laird, or having bewitched the laird's affections, or of 
 meddling in some way with the property of the well- 
 to- do. Walter Scott says — ' 'The gentry hated witches, 
 because the diseases and death of their relations and 
 children were often imputed to them." We may infer, 
 therefore, that those supposed to be witches were 
 women of unconmion appearance and power, more 
 talented than was usual with women of their station ; 
 women of extraordinary energy and insight, who, 
 with startling boldness or with careful but ominous 
 speech, spoke against the wrongs they saw and felt. 
 
 The same thing applies to wizards, or warlocks. It 
 appears that they were not so numerous as witches, 
 but they were generally men who had an extraor- 
 dinary insight into nature — men of humble rank 
 endowed with an extra amount of common sense, 
 curiosity, and intelligence; who delighted in the in- 
 vestigation of natural things. They were, in fact, 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 1 51 
 
 the scientists of their time. But they were dreaded. 
 They were seen to take to do with stones, plants, and 
 animals in a way that was not canny ; to explore the 
 rocks, the woods, and the pools, and to have their 
 houses full of strange things. And they were not 
 only social protestants but theological protestants : 
 heretic, infidels, men who went not to church, nor 
 held the common religious ideas. Quite a large num- 
 ber of charges against warlocks consist of such things 
 as these — "Circulating pretended prophecies to the 
 unsettlement of the State, and the endangering of the 
 King's title;" enquiring into the date of the King's 
 birth, anticipating his death, etc. We may judge by 
 that that the warlocks were simply the radicals of 
 their time; men who, when 'twas treason to think 
 and speak freely, had dared to go beyond political 
 and social orthodoxy. We find among other charges 
 the charge of "breaking and destroying crosses" 
 brought against warlocks, and that shows us that the 
 warlocks were religious reformers. There can be no 
 doubt that the enmity shown by the ecclesiastical 
 powers against " warlocks and witches" is to be ac- 
 counted for by the fact that the persons supposed to 
 be in league with Satan were heterodox in thought 
 and conduct. 
 
152 TAM O' SHANTBB. 
 
 In these days ecclesiastical authority was very 
 strict. It was ordained then by ' ' the civil magistrate " 
 ( in Aberdeen at least ) ' ' that nae man sail keep from 
 observin and keein the sermonis and prechingis on 
 the ouik days : to set Tuesday and Thursday for hear- 
 ing of the Word of God, and Christian evangell treulie 
 prechit. Maisters of households, their wyffs, bairns, 
 and servantis and other inhabitants, cum to discretion 
 of years, should be catechised every Thursday." If 
 a man had some doubt about the ' ' treulie prechingis," 
 or expressed some skeptical opinion regarding ' ' the 
 Word of God," he was liable to be regarded as a war- 
 lock ; and if a woman stayed at home to nurse a sick 
 child or to perform some needful domestic duty in- 
 stead of going to the "prechingis," she was likely to 
 be looked upon as a witch. 
 
 In fact, all who in any way spoke against or dis- 
 obeyed the ecclesiastical ordinance were liable to be 
 dragged to the stake. These ordinances were, there- 
 fore, felt to be very oppressive, and there was much 
 insubordination in connection with them. This was 
 the case especially with regard to the Sabbath, which 
 was strictly kept. The revolt against it led to the idea 
 of the " witches' Sabbath." It was thought that those 
 who were regarded as witches, not being at church, 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 153 
 
 were away having a meeting by themselves ; and there 
 is a curious confession of a woman to the effect that 
 the witches when they met were so numerous that 
 "they were told off into squads, or co vines, as they 
 were termed, to each of which were appointed two 
 oflBcers. One of them was called the maiden of the 
 covine, and was usually, like Tam o' Shanter's Nan- 
 nie, a girl of personal attractions, whom Satan placed 
 beside himself, and treated with particular attention. 
 . . . The ceremonial of the Sabbath meetings was 
 very strict. The Foul Fiend was very rigid in exact- 
 ing the most ceremonious attention from his votaries, 
 and the title of Lord when addressed by them." 
 
 The ideas originated in connection with Sabbath 
 superstition, and the Church took care to show by 
 means of them that the devil's Sabbath was as severe 
 as that of the Church. And it also prejudiced the 
 people in favor of its own practices by fostering the 
 fancy that the witches at their Sabbath meeting dug 
 up the bodies of unchristened infants in order to use 
 the materials of them for their sorceries. The moral 
 was plain — have your children christened and then 
 the witches will not get them. It is likely that the 
 idea of the witches' Sabbath rose up out of the con- 
 demned practice of walking on the Sabbath — a prac- 
 
154 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 tice which sensible and courageous people kept up in 
 spite of the censure of the Church. 
 
 It is the shame of Calvinism in this country that it 
 was the cause of the burning of thousands of inno- 
 cent and highly virtuous persons as witches. Under 
 its favor witch-hunting became a trade, and we read 
 of one Hopkins, who, along with a male and female 
 assistant, went up and down the country discovering 
 witches. His usual price was "twenty shillings a 
 town," and for that sum he and his assistants under- 
 took to hunt down all the witches in it. " His 
 principal mode of discovery was to strip the accused 
 persons naked, and thrust pins into various parts of 
 their body, to discover the witch's mark." If this 
 failed, he tied the great toes and thumbs of his victim 
 together, wrapped her in a sheet, and dragged her 
 through a pond or river. If she floated she was a 
 witch, and was put to death. He also kept the per- 
 sons put into his power waking till they were made 
 mad, or he dragged them about till, by extreme 
 weariness, and the pain of blistered feet, they were 
 glad to confess having the power of witchery. We 
 need not wonder that poor, infirm, sensitive women, 
 stripped naked and tortured, declared that they were 
 actually in league with Satan. Nor is it to be won- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 155 
 
 dered at that others who had gifts for which they 
 could not account admitted the possibility of their 
 being inspired by the devil. Admissions of the kind 
 were extorted over and over again from the hapless 
 creatures who fell under the persecution of the 
 Church. 
 
 But in order fully to comprehend what there is in 
 the "warlocks and witches" as they are shown to us 
 by Burns, dancing in "Alio way's auld haunted kirk," 
 it is necessary to know their natural history. They 
 are, as they appear in theologic thought, the servants 
 of satan. To find the origin of the idea of the devil 
 we require to go back to the region of mythology. 
 The idea of him had its birth in the experience which 
 primitive man had of a power with which he had to 
 struggle for physical life and for spiritual rightness. 
 That power which lived in the stubborn earth, and 
 against which ( as it seemed to him ) he had to work 
 in his tillage, primitive man imagined as an evil 
 power, an enemy of the sky or heaven power, the 
 malignant cause of all human suffering. That power 
 had its emissaries in all the forces with which man 
 had to struggle ; the subtle forces perpetually waging 
 war against life in all forms and conditions. Invis- 
 ible, but in continual activity, these hosts of evil 
 
156 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 operated throughout the world, making always for 
 darkness, cold, and barrenness against the kindly- 
 hosts of light, heat, and fertility. They were the 
 cause of the tempest and the blight ; winter was theirs, 
 and the inclement season ; theirs also were disease, 
 pain, and death. Such was the explanation which 
 primitive man, in his ignorance, gave of the forces 
 of Nature with which he had to struggle for food, 
 shelter, and the conditions of happy life : they were 
 evil beings, actuated by hate and malice. That ex- 
 planation occurs in all the mythologies. 
 
 On being introduced into modern theology, witches 
 took the place of demons in ancient theology. In the 
 book of Enoch we have descriptions of demons in 
 which there may be discerned the germs of later ideas 
 of the angels of the devil, witches, etc. It represents 
 them as the offspring of the sons of God, and the 
 daughters of men. It gives their number as two hun- 
 dred, and declares that they devour all which the 
 labor of men produces, injure animals, and even kill 
 and eat men. They taught sorcery and every spe- 
 cies of iniquity, and for this Jehovah sent his holy 
 angels to bind the chief demons hand and foot, and 
 cast them into the lower depth of the fire, in torments 
 and confinement to be shut up for ever. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 157 
 
 In the Talmud, which represents a large body of 
 oral tradition which grew up in the Jewish Schools 
 in Palestine and was continued long after the time 
 of Christ, we find a development of demonology. In 
 the cabalistic portion of the Talmud it is said — "All 
 the spaces of creation are filled with good and bad 
 spirits, these being divided into distinct orders having 
 chiefs over them. The number of evil spirits, it is 
 declared is incalculable. They swarm around every 
 human being: a thousand on his right hand, ten 
 thousand on his left. Their abode is a dark region 
 under the moon. Their bodies are of water, fire, and 
 air. They enjoy their meat and drink, and propagate 
 their species after the manner of men." 
 
 In the dark ages, demonology became a pseudo- 
 science. The schoolmen arranged the numbers and 
 ranks of the demons, and the districts apportioned to 
 the demon chiefs. They reckoned that the armed 
 force of Lucifer comprised nearly two thousand four 
 hundred legions, that is fourteen million, four hun- 
 dred thousand. All these were to them veritable imps 
 of Satan, creatures of flesh and blood regularly trained 
 for their hellish war. It is their ideas to which Milton 
 gave shape in "Paradise Lost." 
 
 It was common, then, for the preachers to declare 
 
158 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 that they had seen processions of damned souls, 
 mounted on horses of fire, which bore them along 
 with the speed of the whirlwind, and without a mo- 
 ment's rest, to the gates of flame. All that was to 
 terrify the people into submission to the Church. The 
 terror was carried into Protestantism. Martin Luther 
 says in his "Table Talk" — "The devils are near us, 
 and every moment ceaselessly plot against our life, 
 health, and salvation. There are numerous devils in 
 the woods, the waters, the deserts, in marshes and 
 pools, lying in wait to injure human beings. Some 
 there are in black and thick clouds occasioning thun- 
 der, lightning, hail, and storms ; they blight meadows 
 and poison the air." 
 
 John Wesley was of Luther's opinion. He said that 
 the giving up of belief in witchcraft is in effect giving 
 up the Bible. Jonathan Edwards held the same sort 
 of belief ; and Richard Baxter, whose writings were in 
 the day of Burns the usual Sabbath reading — and were 
 so tiU very lately — taught the same thing. Baxter 
 took an active interest in the witch trials of his day, 
 and believed in the confessions which the tortured 
 creatures made. "Turn or burn," Baxter said to 
 those whom he addressed. 
 
 Such then, is an outline of the natural and theo- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 159 
 
 logical history of "warlocks and witches," and by 
 which it wiU be seen how deeply the idea of those 
 beings as allies of the devil had entered into religious 
 thought. 
 
 To sanction the belief, the theologian had but to 
 quote the Levitical command, "Thou shalt not suffer 
 a witch to live." The reading of that barbarous com- 
 mand as an order given by God was the fatal cause 
 of the witch-burning in this and other countries ; but 
 the command cannot reasonably be held to have been 
 given by God. The persons called "witches" in the 
 Bible were soothsayers. Their power to foretell the 
 future and summon the shades from the world below 
 was not doubted. They were credited with all the 
 power of the Hebrew soothsayers; but they were 
 heathen, and might by their incantation seduce the 
 worshippers of Jehovah ; and so the priests ordered 
 them to be slain. The command is an illustration of 
 Hebraic religious bigotry — a piece of priestly jealousy 
 on the part of Hebrew priests. Walter Scott, though 
 he took the orthodox view of the command concerning 
 witches, admits that "there was no contract of sub- 
 jection to a diabolic power, no infernal stamp or sign 
 of such a fatal league, no revelings of satan and his 
 hags, and no infliction of disease or misfortune upon 
 
l6o TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 good men" implied in the references to witches in 
 Scripture. Indeed, it was not from the Bible that the 
 idea of witches came which caused them to be re- 
 garded as servants of the devil and burnt as such, but 
 from mediaeval speculation, based on the old nature- 
 myths of evil agencies. 
 
 Now, in working our way out of this question of 
 "warlocks and witches" there are two things to be 
 apprehended ; first, that the idea of those persons as 
 emissaries of satan is a modern survival of the old 
 idea of evil forces in nature adverse to man. That 
 superstition, taken up by orthodoxy, was formulated 
 and presented in the creeds in the now familiar dogmas 
 regarding the devil and hell. It was that superstition 
 that Burns had in view when he lit up Alloway Kirk 
 and showed the revel therein of the progeny of fanci- 
 ful speculation. 
 
 Burns did not know what evolution has revealed to 
 us. He did not know the facts that science has shown 
 of the orderliness, lawfulness, and beneficence of the 
 Power that works through nature. It is given to us 
 to see that "evil is simply a temporary passing condi- 
 tion. . . . nothing more or less than mal-adjust- 
 ment. The devil and sin and sorrow and calamity 
 and sickness and tears and death all resolve them- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. l6i 
 
 selves into this one word." But though Burns could 
 not see this, he felt deeply the moral inconsistency of 
 the idea of evil forces in nature with the idea of a 
 good God, or the Over-ruler of nature and the Father 
 of man. And he felt, too, how demoralizing in its in- 
 fluence on conduct was the superstition about "war- 
 locks and witches." While men believed that they 
 were surrounded and even possessed by beings who 
 were the almost almighty agents of the devil, it was 
 natural for them to feel that there was little use in 
 struggling against adverse powers, that there was no 
 possibility of high character open to them, that the 
 burden of devilry was one which, in their fallen con- 
 dition, they must needs carry. The devil was a most 
 convenient excuse for all sorts of immorahty : who, 
 indeed, was there to blame for evil but him ? If men 
 were the children of the devil, ought they not to do 
 justice to their parentage ? Burns saw that the devil 
 was a shelter to immorality that ought to be thrown 
 down, and that it was necessary for the Church as a 
 teacher of morality to lay the cause of evil where it 
 ought to be laid; viz., on ignorance of natural law, 
 and mal-adjustment with natural forces. The entire 
 brood of superstition flies at the touch of knowledge 
 of natural causes, and the devil himself is dissolved 
 
l62 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 in the process of human adjustment with the Power 
 that works through nature, moulding man. 
 
 The other thing to be apprehended in clearing up 
 this subject is that those who were regarded as ''war- 
 locks and witches " were the most advanced men and 
 women of their station — seers, prophets, reformers in 
 humble life ; radicals, protestants, heretics in relation 
 to the "chief priests and pharisees" of their day. 
 Had Mary Somerville, who mastered all the sciences; 
 Frances Power Cobbe, who, though deeply religious, 
 cannot take the name Christian ; Mrs. Besant, who, 
 while a devout and zealous servant of man, scorns the 
 orthodox notion of serving God, lived two hundred 
 years ago they certainly would have been burnt as 
 witches. And had Hugh Miller, of Cromarty ; Thomas 
 Edwards, of Banff; and Robert Dick, of Thurso, been 
 seventeenth-century men they would have been put 
 to death as warlocks. Above all, if Charles Darwin 
 had been a contemporary of Richard Baxter, he would 
 have been treated as the captain of the devil's host. 
 The " warlocks and witches " were simply the martyrs 
 of their day. The persecuting spirit of the Church 
 had become so degraded that it seized on anything on 
 which it could lay hands. Learning in those days 
 was just beginning to be universal; the democracy 
 
TAM O'SHANTER. 163 
 
 were commencing to think ; and the witch-hunt was 
 the sport to which the degenerate sleuth-hounds of 
 despotic power betook themselves. The whole pro- 
 ceedings against witchcraft were the clergy's retalia- 
 tion on the democratic murmurs, criticisms, and 
 insubordinations threatening to become dangerous to 
 the influence of the Church. They were the answer 
 of the presbyter (who was but priest in another form) 
 to the desire for freedom of thought and conduct de- 
 sired by the mass of the people. When woman sought 
 wisdom at the doors of the Church she was made a 
 witch. When the workman sought justice from the 
 State he was treated as a warlock. They were made 
 heretics and criminals for wanting to know, and for 
 acting according to their highest reason. The strug- 
 gling, strange, inquiring, thinking, and outspeaking 
 men and women who were treated as sorcerers were 
 actually the forerunners of the scientists of our day. 
 They were students of nature, persims of singular 
 elevation of thought, of extraordinary common sense, 
 and of unusual virtue ; the leaders and redeemers of 
 their class— nonetheless the soothsayers of the demo- 
 cracy though they were unconscious of having any 
 extraordinary gift or call. The opposition which 
 orthodoxy shows against science to-day is a survival 
 
1 64 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 of its treatment of witchcraft. It is, in fact, the old 
 witch-burning in another form. The male or female 
 heretic and reformer of to-day, who has to suffer 
 clerical and social persecution, is simply the warlock 
 or witch of yesterday. 
 
 All praise, then, to the courageous poet who wrote 
 for us the parable of "Tam o' Shanter," and in Allo- 
 way's auld "haunted kirk," showed us the forms of 
 the ecclesiastical spectres and social ghosts which still 
 haunt the thought and life of to-day, and taught us to 
 rise above superstition and slavery into the joyous 
 light of knowledge and the sweet air of manly free- 
 dom. Through the bold humor of the poem, all the 
 more effective though not openly declared, there shines 
 the deeper lesson of the piece; viz., that if men would 
 have religion and morality made true and serviceable, 
 the Church free from superstition, and the State free 
 from tyranny, and every effort of the mass of the 
 people to rise to higher life find ready aid in the pow- 
 ers that be, they must soberly, rationally, and de- 
 voutly give themselves to the pursuit of knowledge ; 
 demand that those appointed to teach shall teach what 
 is really true, that the pulpit shall stand for the high- 
 est ideas and the surest facts, and that the minister of 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 165 
 
 religion shall be one who can show men how to adjust 
 themselves more harmoniously and vitally with the 
 divine powers of life, so that mind, and heart, and 
 soul, according well, may make one miisic of realised 
 religion. And not only so, but they muat demand of 
 those who are set to rule that they rule righteously, 
 not to favor any, but to serve all. So long as the 
 people are sensual, the Church will be warranted in 
 her superstition and the State in its despotism ; but 
 when once the "Souter" and the "Farmer" become 
 in earnest for a manly morality, both Church and 
 State will be radically refomed. 
 
A MEDIEVAL TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 ORIGIN OF BURNS'S GREAT CREATION. 
 
 Burns is, of course, his own best commentator, and 
 his original prose version of the Tarn o' Shanter story, 
 as contained in the letter to Captain Grose, throws 
 the fullest light upon the poem. The letter proves 
 that Burns's great creation has a higher truth than 
 would have belonged to it had it contained more im- 
 agination and been less closely a transcript from 
 country talk. Just by reason of its fidelity and its 
 freedom from material embellishment, it possesses an 
 historical value enhancing the admiration due to its 
 luminous descriptive, narrative, and poetic power. 
 Pegasus is not the less Pegasus because the poet chose 
 to saddle and bridle him with facts. Leaving the 
 pure wit and poetry out of account altogether, and 
 considering Tam o' Shanter from a severely pedestrian 
 standpoint, you find it a condensed but brilliant 
 record of popular conceptions in demonology, witch- 
 craft, and the ethics and practise of genial good- 
 fellowship. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 167 
 
 Tarn o' Shanter, in that aspect, is not Burns's ; it is 
 Ayrshire folk-lore. It has, moreover, a moral, how- 
 ever subsidiary. The poet assures us in prose that the 
 tailless mare served long as an awful example to 
 Carrick farmers of the dangers of drink, and his 
 verse closes with a quasi -serious and immortal exhor- 
 tation on the same lines extended to the world at 
 large. 
 
 Viewed in this sub-historical light as a document 
 in folk-lore, and in its unique way a temperance lec- 
 ture, the tale will repay a momentary survey of its 
 supernatural characters. The witches, Burns scarce- 
 ly tries to make grim ; they are grotesque. They are 
 not Macbeth's sort. They are the witches of a dead 
 creed. The belief which had so suddenly, late in the 
 sixteenth century, attained such vast dimensions and 
 caused so much barbarity had lost its power in little 
 over a hundred years, and in two centuries was virtu- 
 ally extinct. The devil, the " touzie tyke, black, grim 
 and large," sitting by his " winnock-bunker in the 
 east," is rather a piece of comedy than of tragedy. 
 He is only suggested, not full drawn ; but what there 
 is of him is the devil of the late witchcraft period 
 fallen upon evil times. He is not the full-blooded 
 Puritan prince of the power of the air, and he is a 
 
I68 TAM O'SHANTER. 
 
 strangely different being from the mediaeval fiend. 
 
 So much by way of preface to a legend of Ayrshire 
 in the year 1290, which, in spite of the absence alike 
 of mare and witches, yet presents remarkable features 
 of analogy to the tale which Burns told forever in 
 1790. One must anticipate a different point of view 
 and a different treatment. There will be no witches, 
 for the thirteenth century did not take its witches 
 over-seriously. The devil will perhaps have a graver 
 object in life. But there will be, if not a Kyle or 
 Carrick, at least a Cunningham drunkard ; there will 
 be a Cunningham public-house, with its fireside ; and 
 deep potations will still have the effect of conjuring 
 up the devil — to act, however, the part of an apostle 
 of temperance reform. 
 
 Historians have to thank the " Chronicle of Laner- 
 cost " for many a solid fact and many a queer, mirac- 
 ulous tale. A first-class record — the work of at least 
 two authors ( both probably Franciscan friars in Car- 
 lisle) its earher half ending about 1296 — is well spiced 
 with marvels illustrative as often of the cantrips of 
 demons as of the power of St. Francis and the Mother 
 of Mercy. The second half, from 1296 to 1346, is so 
 much occupied with Anglo -Scottish fight and foray, 
 dealt with very competently more in the spirit of a 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 1 69 
 
 man of arms than a man of prayer, that the satellites 
 of Satan cease from troubling. The incident of 1290 
 is from the earlier half and from the miracle-loving 
 hand. The friar, through his brotherhood, had ex- 
 cellent opportunities on both sides of the Border in 
 the years of peace before the War of Independence. 
 He had gleaned his information in many fields, and at 
 least one notable confirmation of a contribution of his 
 to Irish hagiology makes it possible to hold with 
 strong probability that even his miracles are faithfully 
 reflected from the gossip of his time. 
 
 Now to our tale. " For the sake of change of sub- 
 ject," says our holy friar in his annals of the year 
 1290, "there may here be related a thing that hap- 
 pened in Cunningham, in the kingdom of Scotland, 
 which ought to terrify tavern-keepers and restrain 
 drunkards. There was once — indeed there still sur- 
 vives, although now a changed man — a certain 
 countryman of that province, William by name ; a 
 man stuffed with riches, but unduly intent upon stuf- 
 fing his stomach. Oh, how gluttony ( gula) degrades 
 and enslaves a man ! He used to slink away from his 
 own abode and into another district, because he could 
 not have them at home, and would there consume in 
 carousals and potations the goods of other men, until 
 
170 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 the hand of God laid hold of him in the following 
 fashion. Once, as he sat alone beside the fire in the 
 house of an innkeeper, he was rather devouring than 
 drinking the ale he had bought, and when all the in- 
 mates of that house were busy at their work out-of- 
 doors, there appeared to the foolish man the hideous 
 figure of a spirit of the air sitting on the opposite side 
 of the fire, with black body and ghastly face and 
 fiery eyes of horrid magnitude. At sight of whom, 
 the man of Bacchus was astonished, but, emboldened 
 by liquor which sends the unarmed to battle, he began 
 to inquire [of the figure] whose servant he was and 
 what he wanted there. The other, with apparent 
 pride, disdaining these demands, asked with a grin 
 what person could be so very ill-informed as not to 
 know him, the owner of a residence there, who for 
 thirty years past, had held the foremost rank among 
 the topers of the place. 'And to show that I do not 
 deceive you, ' he said, ' come and see what I have 
 gathered here from the gluttony of ne'er-do-weels.' 
 At once, William jumped across the fire and beheld 
 by the side of the spirit of deceit a vessel so full of 
 abominations as well-nigh to drive the fool demented. 
 'What you behold,' said the servant of iniquity, 'I 
 have collected from the vomitings of your boon com.- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. IJl 
 
 panions in your debauches.' Upon this, with his 
 
 understanding awakened, which hitherto, as Solomon 
 
 says, had not felt the rod ; and alive to his impending 
 
 danger, he of his own free will uttered a vow to the 
 
 Lord that never, under whatsoever necessity, for the 
 
 remainder of his life, would he taste strong drink 
 
 again ; which promise he still steadfastly keeps, to the 
 
 wonder of all who had knowledge of him before. He 
 
 acknowledges what he saw with his own eyes, and he 
 
 related what is told above to two men of worth and 
 
 credit with whom I was well acquainted." 
 
 The characteristics of the demon here make him 
 
 explicitly the hand of God. This is quite a normal 
 
 mediseval idea. Chaucer, in the Frere's tale, makes 
 
 a fiend say of himself and his fellows : 
 
 " For som tyrae we ben Goddes instruments 
 And menes to done his comandements." 
 
 The allegation of the devil, in our own Frere's tale, 
 
 that he was the champion toper of the district, opens 
 
 up too wide a field of investigation to pursue here. 
 
 It may mean that the toper was dead, and that this 
 
 was a devil-ghost of the '* goblin- damned " type to 
 
 which Hamlet feared his father's spirit might belong. 
 
 Chaucer's above-quoted fiend says : 
 
 " Som tyme we aryse 
 With dede bodies in ful sondry wyse. 
 
172 TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 The devil in "Tarn o' Shanter" is of quite another 
 order from that which William saw across the hearth 
 in the middle of the tavern floor. The two have in 
 coDomon the fact that each is really the subjective 
 creation of a mind inflamed by drink. Among some 
 curious points of contact is the chronicler's observa- 
 tion on the courage-bestowing qualities of ale. Auda- 
 cior ex potu is as happy as Burns's own : 
 
 " Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 
 What dangers thou canst make us scorn!" 
 
 And the picture of William, quizzing the devil as to 
 who he was and what he was after, is as whimsical 
 an incongruity as the free-and-easy greeting which 
 Burns himself addressed to Death when he fore- 
 gathered so memorably with him after a late sitting 
 at Tarbolton. 
 
 " Wi' usquebae we'll face the devil!" 
 said Burns, and the saying is here completely vindi- 
 cated. 
 
 The vessel of abominations is a realistic and posi- 
 tively Dantean touch, a very intense and powerful if 
 coarse image, which will stand comparison with any 
 in the catalogue of horrors in "Tam o' Shanter." It 
 has the closest afl&nity to the lawyers' tongues and 
 priests' hearts which the poet, on grounds not con- 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 173 
 
 vincing, revised out of his poem. The reformation of 
 William doubtless commended itself to the friar, as a 
 fact admirably fitted to furnish a very proper and 
 improving conclusion for the terrification of tavern- 
 keepers and their too-sedulous customers. Tam o' 
 Shanter, on the other hand — it would have been com- 
 plete artistic ruin to reform him and Bums ; wisely 
 and dramatically stopped short, leaving us to our own 
 imaginings, if we feel the need of an anti-climax.