Mauchline and its Characters at the time of Rabbie Burns

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No. 1. Historical—Religious Struggles &c.
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 29th May 1858

Mauchline derives its name from the Gaelic magh, a plain, and linne, a pool, the town being situated on a plain, traversed by a streamlet, with three cascades falling into little pools. Like many other places of greater note, it seems to have had its origin at an early period of Scottish history. The parish to which it gives its name was formerly of much greater extent, comprising, besides its present area, the adjoining districts of Sorn and Muirkirk. George Chalmers, the celebrated antiquarian, gives a detailed account of its ancient history. "At the commencement of the reign of William, in 1165," says he, "Walter, the son of Alan, granted to the monks of Melrose the lands of Mauchline, with the right of pasturage in his wide-spreading forest on the upper branches of the Ayr, extending to the boundaries of Clydesdale; and the Stewart also gave the same monks a carrucate [roughly 120 acres] of land; all which was confirmed to them by King William, at the request of the donor. The monks of Melrose planted at Mauchline a colony of their own order, and this establishment continued a cell of the monastery of Melrose till the Reformation. The monks afterwards acquired great additional property in the district, and contributed greatly to the settlement and cultivation of it. They obtained ample jurisdiction over their extensive estates of Mauchline, Kylesmure, and Barmure, which were formed into a regality, the courts whereof were held at Mauchline. This village was afterwards created a free burgh-of-barony by the charter of James IV., in 1510". The learned antiquary then goes on to tells us that, among other changes produced by the Reformation, the lands and barony of Mauchline, and the parish kirk, with its tithes and other property, were dissolved by act of Parliament, in 1606, from the Abbey of Melrose, and the whole created into a temporal lordship in favour of Hugh, Lord Loudoun. In 1631, the parish of Muirkirk was detached from the lands of Mauchline, and five years later the district of Sorn was also erected into an independent parish. Thus Mauchline was reduced to less than a fifth of its former magnitude. In the conflagration of the Register Office, in Edinburgh, the charter which Mauchline possessed as a burgh-of-barony was destroyed, and it was never renewed.
Like most places in the south-west of Scotland, Mauchline has its traditions respecting that troubled period of our national history, when our forefathers had to struggle first against Popish, and afterwards against Prelatic, tyranny, in defence of the dearest interests of the human heart, civil and religious liberty. In 1544 the good George Wishart was invited to preach in Mauchline Church, by a number of the parishioners, who were beginning to see their way out of the darkness of Romanism. The Sheriff of Ayr, however, got notice of the intended meeting, and sent off a body of troops, who took possession of the church and prevented all ingress. Indignant at this outrage, the people, with Hugh Campbell of Kingcleugh[sic], at their head, would have forced an entrance, had not Wishart dissuaded them, saying—"It is the word of peace I preach unto you, and the blood of no man shall be shed for it this day. Christ is as mighty in the field as in the church, and He himself, when He lived in the flesh, preached oftener in the desert and by the sea-side, than in the Temple of Jerusalem." Yielding to his prudent advice, the people moved off to a moor at a short distance from the town, and there, with a stone dyke for a pulpit, he preached for upwards of three hours with wonderful power and effect. The Campbells seem to have been zealous advocates of the Reformation; the ruins of their old Castle of Kingcleugh, mantled over with ivy, is still pointed out where, it is said, the great Knox once preached. Alexander Peden, too, who belonged to the neighbouring parish of Sorn, found a frequent hiding-place among the rocky caves on the banks of the Ayr, near Mauchline, and more than one such place of refuge is pointed out as "Peden's Cove." The following tradition, among others of a like kind, is told concerning this extraordinary man, whose far-seeing sagacity gave him, in his own day at least, the representation of being acquainted with the mysteries of futurity:—Having, on one occasion, when pursued by a party of dragoons, sought refuge in Garfield, near Mauchline, the owner of the house, a smith by trade, refused even the shelter of his loft. "Weel, weel, poor man," said the prophet of evil, "you will not let me have the shelter of your roof, but that same house will be your judgment and ruin yet." Shortly after the gable of the house fell in, and killed both the smith and his son, so at least says Howie, the author of the "Scots Worthies".

[Meg]

Mauchline is a fantastic place to visit (and the Castle Cafe great for coffee/lunch) and my favourite place to spend time is the kirkyard. A lot of Burns friends and foes (like Holy Willie) are buried there. There’s even a Mauchlineware museum if it’s raining. Highly recommended.

Meg

[hahaya2004]

No. 2. Peden's Pistol—Battle of Mauchline Moor—Five Covenanters Martyred
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 05th June 1858

In closing our remarks on Alexander Peden, it may not be altogether uninteresting to mention, that we observed the other day in the hands of Mr Green, gunsmith, Mauchline, an antique-looking pistol which belonged to the prophet, and which he carried about with him in his wanderings, to be used in any desperate emergency. It is now in the possession of Mr Murray, Carston, Ochiltree (a descendant of Peden's). We believe this family distinguished themselves at the Battle of the Whir. We have already had occasion to mention Mauchline Moor. At the period of which we are writing, it was an extensive tract of barren moor-land, but it has since been brought almost entirely under the dominion of the plough, and only a small patch of moss remains to mark where it stood. On the 10th of June, 1648, Mauchline Moor was the scene of a skirmish between the King's troops and the Covenanters. Conflicting statements, however, have been given both of the number of the combatants and the result of the engagement.
It would appear that a large number, probably between 2000 and 3000, of the country people had assembled on the moor, for the purpose of holding the Communion. Though there were amongst the company 200 recusant recruits, whom religious scruples had driven to disobey their commanding officers, and though, no doubt, several others would have arms, on account of the unsettled state of the times, there is little reason for believing with the King's party, that the whole meeting had been instigated for insurrectionary purposes by the Marquis of Argyle, and was awaiting the appearance of an auxiliary force from the English Republican Army. This seems at any rate to have been the impression of the Duke of Hamilton, who instantly despatched General Middleton, with 600 men, to disperse the gathering. Leaving the half of his troops at Stewarton as a reserve, he advanced to Mauchline with 300 horse. Alarmed at the unexpected approach of the King's troops, the people, who were, for the most part, peaceably inclined, sent forward the Earl of Loudon and the eight ministers who were in attendance, to seek permission for the company to separate without interruption. This Middleton granted, probably for the sake of the Earl of Loudon, who was in favour with King Charles, and whose eldest son, with the title of Lord Mauchline, had command of a regiment of his Majesty's horse. Some maintain, however, that terms were granted solely on condition that the multitude should instantly disperse, and the revolted recruits be delivered up, and that the men of Kyle and Cunningham alone complied by betaking themselves to their homes; so that Middleton was perfectly justified in attacking the Lanarkshire men who remained on the field. The Covenanters, on the other hand, accuse that General of perfidiously breaking his plighted troth, when, on the Monday after, he made an attack on a number of their party who still lingered about the moor. Confused by the charge of the dragoons, and thinking themselves the victims of treachery, the Covenanters at first fled. But, checked in their flight by the waters of the Ayr, they rallied, and turned with desperate courage on their pursuers. It would appear that at this juncture, the gallant Captain Paton, who suspected how things would turn out, came to the aid of the Covenanters with a party of Fenwick men, which made the contest more equal. So hard were the dragoons now pressed by their antagonists, that, after a brief struggle, in which much blood was shed on both sides, they drew off and left the conventiclers to pursue their way homewards without further molestation. The General himself had a hard fight for his life with a brawny blacksmith, who gave him several wounds. Captain Paton performed, as usual, prodigies of valour, and the country people affirm that he slew 18 men with his own hand. Many years afterwards, there was found imbedded in the moss, what was thought to have been the military chest of the Royalists, which they had thrown away in their confusion—a circumstance this, which favours the opinion that the advantage lay on the side of the Covenanters.
In the reign of James VII., five men were hanged at Mauchline town-head for their adherence to the Covenant. Of the individual histories of these men we know little; but some particulars are related concerning one of them at least. Peter Gillies, of Muiravonside, in Stirlingshire, was subjected to considerable loss and danger, for having, in 1674, allowed a Presbyterian minister to preach in his house, and in 1682 narrowly escaped being apprehended by a party of soldiers, whom the curate of the parish had sent to seize him on a charge of non-conformity. In a second attempt, however, which they made three years afterwards, they were more successful, obtaining both the object of their search and another Covenanter, named John Bryce, of West Calder, who was on a visit at the time. After threatening to shoot Gillies before the eyes of his wife, who was just recovering from child-birth, they departed, taking with them everything in the house that was of any value. Tying the two men together, the soldiers drove them before them like cattle. After a few miles journey, they bound a napkin over Gillies' eyes and made him kneel, as if he was about to be shot. With fiendish cruelty they kept him in this dreadful situation for half an hour; but finding that he was not thus to be moved from his principles, they ordered him to rise, and proceeded on their journey. From Middlewood in Ayrshire, Gillies wrote an affectionate letter to his wife, commending her to the protection of that God, in whose service he was about to lay down his life. They were then marched off to Mauchline, and next day, a jury of 15 soldiers being empannelled[sic], and an indictment served against them to compear before General Drummond, Commissioner of Justiciary, within the Tolbooth[sic] of Mauchline, they were, after a mock trial, sentenced to be hanged, along with three others, at the townhead of Mauchline, on the 6th of May. The soldiers, assisted by two countrymen, made a grave for them, on the spot where they were executed, and into this the five were thrown without either coffin or shroud. In respect for these martyred sons of the Covenant, the town's-people have since erected to their memory a plain but respectable-looking monument, on which is engraved the following quaint inscription:—

"Bloody Dumbarton, Douglas, and Dundee,
Moved by the Devil and the Laird of Lee,
Dragged these five men to death with gun and sword,
Not suffering them to pray, nor read God's word.
Owning the Word of God was all their crime:
The Eighty-five was a saint-killing time."


No. 3.—Burns and the Worthies will appear in our next.

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No. 3. Capt. Arnot and the Covenanters' Flag—Burns and Mauchline
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 12th June 1858

Before leaving the times of the Covenanters, it may be somewhat interesting to state that we have at the present day, in Mauchline, a venerable relic of that stormy period. The Mauchline Covenanters' banner, which led on to victory at Drumclog, is still preserved, though in a very dilapidated condition, and is lying at present at Netherplace, being in the possession of Major Charles Hamilton. Though we have not very satisfactory accounts on the subject, we at least know that there was a celebrated leader of the Covenanters, of the name of Captain Arnot that led a party from Mauchline, who bore this flag with them to the field, and did good service on several occasions. We read too of a body of horse from Mauchline under the same leader, having joined the fatal rising of 1666, and, at the outset of the Battle of Pentlands, having succeeded in putting a troop of Dalziel's cavalry to flight. Being unsupported, however, by the main body, the advantage was unimproved, and the fate of the day speedily turned by the activity of the enemy. It is possible that the Mauchline banner was present at this engagement also. The last occasion on which the "glorious rag' was exposed to the public view, was in the rejoicings held in the town after the passing of the Reform Bill, when it had the honour of precedence over the other flags which were borne in procession by the joyous townspeople.
We have thus seen Mauchline at two periods of its history, in the times of the Reformation, when it was the seat of a Monkish regality, and immediately subsequent to that epoch, during the struggles which our forefathers had repeatedly to maintain against "a tyrant and a bigot's bloody laws". We must now view Mauchline at a third period of its history; one to which it owes all its importance, and to which it has reason to look back with some degree of pride. A new character was destined at this time to appear on the stage, and to render the names of Mauchline and Mossgiel immortal in the annals of literature. No place, indeed, if we except "the auld clay biggin [cottage]" itself, where he first saw the light, has been rendered more hallowed by the genius of our national poet than this little village of ours. No place is more intimately associated with his name; none, we venture to say, was dearer to the bard himself. As he himself expressed it,—

"There Nature, Friendship, Love I felt,
Fond-mingling dear"

He was emphatically the Mossgiel poet, and it was by that name he was first known to fame. True, Burns was little more than three years a resident in Mauchline, but these were the three best years of his life. Before he came to Mossgiel he was too young, after he left it he was too dissipated to be of much service in the cause of literature. And what a multitude of events are crowded into the compass of those three years he spent in Mauchline! Here it was he found a spot congenial to a poetic soul, among the "banks and braes of Ballochmyle". Here lived some of his warmest and constant friends—his earliest patron, Gavin Hamilton; his sworn associate in fun and frolic, James Smith; his boon companion and regular correspondent, John Richmond. Here he afterwards gained the more illustrious friendship of Dugald Stewart, Mr Lawrie, and Dr Blacklock. Here he found subjects fur his admiration and song in the "Mauchline Belles" and the "Bonny Lass of Ballochmyle". Here he found subjects for his satire in the frailties and shortcomings of the "Unco guid." Here he won the affections of his artless Highland Mary, and formed with her a connection, by the banks of the Ayr, which death alone severed. Here he first became a husband and a father, and chose for his wife one of the "Mauchline Belles"—his own bonny Jean. Here four of his children were born, and four laid in the grave. Above all, here he wrote and first published to the world by far the greater number of those brilliant effusions of his genius which have secured his name to remotest posterity, and will last as long as the English language.
Before Burns came to Mossgiel, he was known only as a clever rhymer. A few love songs of mediocre quality were all that served to forewarn the world of the appearance of one of the greatest of modern poets. And after he left Mossgiel, the poetic fire seems to have in a great measure departed from him, and no pieces of any importance came from his hands, with the exception—but noble exceptions they are—of his beautiful lyric, "Mary in Heaven", and his glorious tale of "Tam O'Shanter". When in Mossgiel, however, his poetic fancy was constantly at work, and in the short space of 15 months appeared that brilliant flow of wit and genius which has given to his name all its present celebrity. Besides a multitude of minor pieces, to this period must be referred the following brilliant series of compositions—The Epistles to Lapraik; Simpson and Smith; Death and Doctor Hornbook; The Twa Herds; Holy Willie's Prayer; To a Mouse; Halloween; Man was made to Mourn; The Cottar's Saturday Night; Address to the Deil; The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer; The Jolly Beggars; The Vision; The Twa Dogs; The Ordination; To the Unco Guid; To a Mountain Daisy; The Holy Fair; The Calf; The Brigs of Ayr.
These are the poems on which Burns' fame principally rests, and all of them, we have good reason to believe, were composed during his residence at Mossgiel.

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No. 4. Mauchline as it was in Burns' Time
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 19th June 1858

The fame of Burns is so universal, and his name so revered, that anything connected with him, even in a remote degree, possesses an interest far beyond what it would have intrinsically and of itself. It is on this account, and in consideration, too, of the many interesting associations which unite the names of Burns and Mauchline with an inseparable bond, that we have thought it not out of place, in a series of articles like the present, to throw out a few statements regarding the external appearance of the town during the poet's stay in it, and the principal characters that at that time appeared on its humble stage. The society in which Burns moved for three years, and which must have exerted no inconsiderable influence on his susceptible mind, is not deserving, we think, to be passed over in silence and neglect.
The following account of the appearance of Mauchline, in the time of Burns, is taken down from the recollection of several aged persons who were living at that time, and who still remain the sole survivors of that generation among whom the poet walked as an equal and a fellow. We have nearly a dozen such worthies in our good town—a fact which argues strongly for the healthy situation of the place. Nearly all of them retain a vivid recollection of the personal appearance of Burns—describing him as a little, dark-complexioned man, with black eyes arid long dark hair, not very good-looking at first sight, but of such remarkable social powers, that, when kindled up in conversation, his countenance assumed a very pleasing aspect, and his manner was altogether irresistible. Though to be understood we must be particular, and to be particular we must, in some degree, be dry, we are content to be so if we can succeed in our present object—to show Mauchline as it was in 1784.
The principal alteration which has been made in the village since that period is the opening up of the New Road and Earl Grey Street. The public road between Glasgow and Dumfries, which now goes through the town by that route, passed in former times down the Netherplace avenue, and went along the Back Causeway, at that time the Main Street of Mauchline, till it reached the Cross, when it made a turn downwards to the church, and left the town by the Cowgate. Another road branched off from the Netherplace walk, and joined the Ayr road at Loudoun Street Toll-bar. As this was the quietest approach to the town from Mossgiel, it was the one generally taken by Burns; and one of our old worthies, Helen Miller, tells us that she has often met the poet on this road, and every time with a book in his hand. The Ayr and Edinburgh road always pursued the same route through the town as it does at present. The houses, too, which formed the Main Street in Burns' time have been nearly all of them taken down; but, with these exceptions, the general appearance of the town has not been greatly altered since 1784. The first object likely to attract the attention of a stranger, in taking a survey of Mauchline at the period referred to, would be the Old Church. It stood in the centre of the village, on the very spot where the present Parish Church now stands. It is described as a large, plain, sombre-looking structure, built in that primitive style of architecture so often to be met with in the old ruined churches of antiquated parishes, with the invariable appendages of belfray[sic] and burying-ground, the latter thickly strewn with flat and upright tombstones. Mauchline Church was built by the monks of Melrose in the 12th or 13th century, and served as a place of worship for 600 years. It obtained its notoriety chiefly from its being the scene of the "Holy Fair". Behind the church stood, and still stands, Gavin Hamilton's house, reckoned a very handsome one in those days, and fertile in associations regarding Burns. Close adjoining are the remains of the ancient priory, a high embattlemented building, dignified with the appellation of Mauchline Castle, and the scene of several of the poet's amours. Opposite the principal entrance to the church stood the Whiteford Arms Inn, kept by John Dove, or Dow—a favourite resort of the bards. Farther down the street, in the house now occupied by Mr Bell (for we must be minute), was Gavin Hamilton's office, in which were to be found two wild young clerks, great cronies of Burns, and one of them the celebrated John Richmond. The Cowgate, which runs up past John Dow's, is a compact little street, and was, in Burns' time, well stocked with ale-houses. Separated from the Whiteford Arms only by an intervening lane, in the house now occupied by Mr Green, gunsmith, lived James Armour, with his smart young daughter Jean—a more favourite resort of the poet's, we may well suppose, than any other house in Mauchline. The little garret-window is still to be seen, by which Burns used to make a clandestine entrance into Jeanie's room, by the help of the fair one herself. On the other side of the street stood John Thomson's tavern, in after times connected with a dark tragedy: it was long known in Mauchline as the house where Mungo Miller was murdered. Farther up the street, in the house of Mr Gibson, quarryman, another tavern was kept by a female of the name of Ann Orr. This house possesses some interest as being the place where the Mauchline Young Men's Society, of which both Robert and Gilbert Burns were members, held its meetings.
At the foot of the Cowgate, on the other side from John Dow's, stood the house of the far-famed Poosie Nancy. This woman, along with her daughter, Racer Jess, kept a lodging house for vagrants, and it was here that Burns one night, accompanied by Smith and Richmond, witnessed that rousing scene, which he has transcribed into such animated verse in the "Jolly Beggars". At the head of the street in which this worthy dame resided, and facing the Cross, stood the Sun Inn, kept by John Miller, father of two of the village "belles". This house, which was the most respectable inn in the town, stood right across the end of Earl Grey Street, occupying part of the side of the present Stamp Office. It was afterwards occupied by Mr Lindsay, now of the Black Bull, whose gardens extended to the Ballochmyle Bridge Tavern, the barn and outhouses standing beside the celebrated "palm tree", the great frequent afterwards of would-be politicians. Let us now have a look at the Cross itself. Surrounded on every side by houses, in the centre of the square stood a flight of steps led up to a curious pillar-shaped erection, which served, it seems, both as a gas-lamp and a pump. Supplying light above and water below, it would certainly have a somewhat odd appearance; but our worthy old friends who have had the advantage of personal experience on the subject, maintain that it was a great ornament to the Cross, and that, moreover, Mauchline altogether was a much superior place to what it is now. Of one side of the Cross square at least, so much might be said. The large building on the east side of the Cross, with its capacious court and extensive garden gate behind, bears evident marks of having been once in a much more flourishing condition than it is at present. This house was built in 1756 by, Mr Gibb, a gentleman of rather superior taste. It is said that, shortly after it was built, the Earl of Eglinton, who was then residing at Coilsfield, on passing through the village, found the building so massive, and the garden so well laid off, with the walls and summer house all erected in so elegant and tasteful a style, that he declared it was as fine a residence as his own Castle of Montgomery. It must, at any rate, have been a very superior building in its day. Now, however, it is in such a state of dilapidation and disrepair, that instead of being an ornament it is a disgrace to the town. Between this house and the Cross stood in former times a wooden erection of triangular form, from which were suspended a pair of scales; and in these all the butter, wool, and other commodities sold at the market were weighed, and a duty laid on them accordingly. To give an idea of the customs levied at that time on such articles, it may be stated, that for every piece of cloth, or spyndle of yarn 4d was charged, for every sack of meal or salt, 8d, for every stone of cheese or butter, 8d, for every load of kail, 8d, and for every pack of wool, 6d. 8d.—all Scots money of course. On the opposite side, the house now occupied by Mr James Lambie, was the shop of Burns' friend, John Mackenzie, "Doctor and Man-midwife", as his sign somewhat strangely informed the passers by. The adjoining shop was a grocer's, and kept by Mr Markland, father of one of the "belles". This brings us to Main Street, the first house of which is a famous one, Nanse Tinnock's, which, possessing a back entrance into the church-yard, was a favourite resort of "yill-caup [ale-cup] commentators," during intervals of sermon. On the opposite sile, at the turning of Main Street, an apartment now occupied by Mrs Isabella Paterson, a good wife who herself remembers the poet well, was the one in which Burns and his wife first "took up house". It was here the young couple lived, while the new house at Ellisland was being prepared for them. Stretching across the new road and facing the Sun Inn, was a draper's shop, kept by Burns' favourite friend, James Smith. In the street leading from the Cross to the Market-place, the second house on the left hand was occupied in one end by another of Burns' friends, to whom we have already referred more than once, John Richmond, and in the other by Mr Waddell, saddler, with whom the poet's young brother William was for some time apprenticed. Separated from this house only by an intervening lane stood an inns, kept in the time of Burns by a person of the name of Findlay whose daughters were rather famous for their beauty. A curious tradition is related concerning this house which connects it with the subject of a former article. This is said to have been the inns where General Drummond "put up", and held the mock trial of the five Covenanters who suffered martyrdom at the townhead. He was unable to procure ropes for the execution of his victims, and the townspeople refused to render him the slightest assistance in the matter. In his extremity he applied to his host, a man of the name of Fisher, and, strange to say, an ancestor of William Fisher, the notorious "Holy Willie". True to the hereditary character of his family, the old wretch replied that he would "mak a shift" [manage somehow] to provide him ropes, and actually managed to furnish Drummond with materials for the execution. The stigma, however, stuck to old Fisher all his days, and the by-name of "Mak a shift" continued in the family down to Holy Willie's time.

Note.—Mr Murray, of Carstairs, writes to say that our correspondent is in error in saying, in the article which appeared on June 5, that he is a descendant of Peden.

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No. 5. Mauchline as it was (continued)—Gavin Hamilton
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 26th June 1858

Our teetotal friends consider Mauchline rather a black spot on the temperance map, and point somewhat despondingly to the fact that there are 11 places for the sale of spirits, to a population of no more than 1500. If they can derive any consolation from the reflection, that there was a time when matters was still worse, they are quite entitled to that consolation in the present case. In the time of Burns, when Mauchline could not have more than 1000 inhabitants, there were no less than 13 places licensed for the sale of drink. In other words, while we have now only one public house for every 137 of the population, there were, 70 years ago, 1 for every 77. At that time, therefore, there were twice as many places for selling drink as there are now, in proportion to the number of the inhabitants. But even these figures come short of the real state of matters. The ale house was then a much more frequented place than it is at present. When the Communion Sabbath was such a scene of drink and debauchery as to entitle it to the name of "Holy Fair", what would the ordinary fairs be like? When such men as Holy Willie, who pretended to more than ordinary sanctity, did not scruple to come home every other night in a state of glorification, can we suppose that those would be much better who had no restraint on their conduct? It must also be taken into account that it was the most common thing in the world for the good folks, in those times, to make their own ale. All the publicans did so, and honest Alex. Brown, of the Main Street, brewed a boll of malt every week. Numbers too who were not publicans took it upon themselves not only to brew, but also to sell a little in a private way. On the fairs especially, which, though not so numerous, were more numerously attended than they are at present, it was the old "use and wont" of the good-wives at the Loan to sell their home-brewed ale to the country-folks who assembled at the market. On such occasions it mattered not into what house you might drop, you were sure to find plenty of the balmy liquid ready to be disposed off for your money. Good and cheap it was too. You could get two chapins [choppins] of strong ale, such as, to use an old wife's phrase, "would gar [make] your lips stick together," for 3 ½ d. The fairs in olden times were busy, important days in Mauchline. The day preceding each fair was called the "wee fair", and on it the women came with their home spun cloth to the market, and disposed of it to the best advantage. One good-wife, of the name of Janet Smith, was particularly famed for her abilities, both as a spinner and saleswoman. One of the wiles she practised on the "puir farmer bodies," when anxious to dispose of her cloth, was to declare to them solemnly that "this piece was just made for oor Rab", (by whom she meant her husband, Robert Marr), and thus make them believe that it was only as a special favour offered to them. But as somehow the most of the good dame's cloth seemed to have been made for "oor Rab", people came to suspect the truth of her story. At that time nearly all the men were weavers, and all the women spinners. The birr of the spinning wheel was to be heard in every house; but the introduction of machinery has now done away with home-manufactured cloths.
We have thus seen Mauchline as it was in the time of Burns. Let us now have a look at some of its "Characters," who have obtained a certain degree of celebrity from their connection with the poet.
The first name which naturally claims our attention is that of Gavin Hamilton. As Burns' earliest patron, his prudent adviser in times of trouble and perplexity, his constant associate in brighter and happier hours, and especially as the sagacious friend who first urged on the poet to the publication of his works, Gavin Hamilton occupies a prominent part in the brilliant but painful history of our Scottish bard. He was, when Burns first became acquainted with him, a writer, or legal practitioner, in very respectable circumstances in Mauchline. The origin of their acquaintanceship is well known. Shortly before their father's death, Robert and Gilbert Burns applied in person to Mr Hamilton regarding the farm of Mossgiel, which they intended as a retreat for the family, should the Lochlea landlord proceed to extremities with them. Gavin had but a lease of the farm himself from the Earl of Loudoun, and had built the steading as a sort of summer residence for his family. There is an old person, named George Patrick, at present living, at the advanced age of 86, in Mauchline, who remembers very distinctly this first visit of the two brothers to their future place of abode. He was then a plough boy on the farm of Mossgiel, and was in the act of driving the plough, when he observed Robert and Gilbert walking about the farm and examining it. The poet, he says, wore on that occasion, drab-coloured clothes, and had his long black hair tied, according' to the fashion at that time, in a knot behind. After expressing themselves satisfied with the appearance of the farm, they called in at Mr Hamilton's office, and a bargain was struck. Gavin did not lose sight of his tenants, and it was not long till he discovered the superior genius of the latent poet.
Captivated by his powers of conversation, he admitted him at all times a welcome guest to his table. The distinction between landlord and tenant was mutually forgot, and they lived together on the most intimate and familiar terms. Mr Hamilton, though a man of the most generous disposition and upright character, was unfortunate enough not to make his conduct square with the notions of Mr Auld, then minister of Mauchline. The consequence was a series of petty persecutions which the kirk session—some of whose members were actuated also by personal pique towards Hamilton—thought proper to instigate against him. The whole proceedings display a spirit of such meanness and tyrannical oppression as make us blush for the conduct of those who held the spiritual sway in our parish at that time. No doubt the worthy writer was somewhat lax in his religious views (an offence more strictly looked after in those days than it is now), but the whole affair seems to have been originated and carried on by personal spite. Gavin had had a dispute with Holy Willie, who was session-clerk at that time, concerning a poors'-rate, and had in consequence, it appears, absented himself from church for several days: this seems to have been the immediate cause of the prosecution. Party spirit, too, at that time ran high between the partizans [sic] of the Old and New Lights; and, as the session of Mauchline were rigid disciples of the former school, and Mr Hamilton adopted the more moderate views of the latter, this will serve, in some measure, to explain the severity which the godly elders exercised towards their offending brother.
In 1784, before the annual celebration of the Communion, it was intimated by the session that -certain of the members would be reprimanded for their neglect of public ordinances. Believing himself to be the person chiefly aimed at by this procedure, Gavin wrote an indignant letter to the session, telling them that they must be conscious of the unwarrantable nature of such a course, which could arise solely from "private pique and ill nature". On the following January he made a successful appeal for protection to the Presbytery of Ayr. The Mauchline session, however, summoned him afterwards to appear in answer to the following charges:—1. Unnecessary absence from church for five consecutive Sundays. 2. Setting out to Carrick on a Sabbath in spite of the remonstrance of the minister. 3. Habitual, if not total, neglect of family worship. 4. Writing an abusive letter to the session.
Mr Hamilton's only reply to all this was to produce an order from the Presbytery for the erasure of the session minutes of which he had complained. Determined to vindicate their conduct, the session laid the matter before the synod, but here they were again foiled. After a long hearing the case was terminated in July, 1785, when the session was obliged to grant Mr Hamilton a certificate of being free from all grounds of church censure. This result was due, in a great measure, to the eloquence of Mr Robert Aiken, of Ayr, to whom Burns afterwards inscribed the "Cottar's Saturday Night", and who exposed, with singular skill, the petty, personal motives of the prosecutors. The poet, who had been an interested spectator all the while, found the whole proceedings an excellent subject for his satiric muse, and "Holy Willie's Prayer" appeared shortly after. This poem raised again the slumbering fires of indignation yet existing in the members of the Mauchline session, and two years afterwards, when Burns was in Edinburgh, a fresh prosecution was instituted against Gavin. The new crime which had roused the ire of the session was, that Hamilton had ordered his servant, on a Sunday, to take in some potatoes which had been left out in the garden after being dug. Some ludicrous details of this matter occur in the session records. They had actually put themselves to the trouble of measuring the length of the rows of potatoes which had been dug on the morning in question, and it is gravely stated in the minutes of the session that twenty-seven feet and a half had been dug altogether. The Presbytery treated this prosecution as they had done the former, and the session, dispirited with their continued want of success, finally gave over their petty persecutions.

[Gavin Hamilton be concluded in our next.]

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No. 6. Gavin Hamilton (concluded)—James Smith
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 03rd July 1858

Perhaps there is no period in the life of Burns more dark and gloomy than the summer of 1786. For two years be had toiled on the ungrateful soil of Mossgiel, but disappointment and misfortune had attended all his labours. Ruin and starvation stared him in the face. To these troubles was added cause of yet keener and more bitter anguish. His own Jean, the partner of his sorrows and his guilt, had forsaken him, and chose to obey the commands of her father, rather than the entreaties of him who was her husband in the eyes of the law and of the world. Her father, too, blinded with rage towards him, whom he accused with the ruin of his daughter, had treated all the poet's manly offers of reparation with disdain. The cruel rumour had even reached the ears of the unfortunate bard that the hounds of the law were on his track, and his thoughts by day and his dreams by night were haunted with all the terrors of a jail. In utter wretchedness and desperation Burns had resolved to leave his native land for ever, and to seek for himself a grave among the plantations of the West Indies. It was in these circumstances that he found the value of Gavin Hamilton's friendship. That gentleman took the greatest interest in all Burns' affairs, and earnestly urged on him, at this time, the publication of his poems—a thing which seems never to have crossed the mind of the poet himself as a likely means of profit. The prudent counsel was immediately taken, subscription papers were forthwith circulated, and from the printing press of Kilmarnock was issued that first edition of Burns' poems which took the world fairly by surprise, upset the whole plans of the poet, and diverted his thoughts and his course from the plantations of Jamaica to the patron city of literature—the Scottish metropolis. Burns forgot not the man to whom he owed this prudent suggestion, and showed his appreciation of his kindness and friendship by dedicating to Mr Hamilton the first edition of his works. In the 'Dedication' he has given to the world his own estimation of the worthy writer. After satirising the hackneyed use in dedications of 'many a fulsome, flatterin' lie,' and disclaiming all such intention on his part, he thus characteristically concludes:—

"Sae I shall say, and that's nae flatterin',
It's just sic poet and sic patron.
The poet, some guid angel help him,
Or else, I fear, some ill ane skelp him,
He may do weel for a' he's done yet—
But only he's no just begun yet.
I readily and freely grant
He downa see a poor man want;
What's no his ain he winna tak' it,
What yince he says he winna break it;
Ought he can lend he'll no refus't
Till aft his guidness is abused;
And rascals, whiles, that do him wrang,
Even that he doesna mind it lang
As master, landlord, husband, father,
He doesna fail his part in either.
But then, nae thanks to him for a' that,
Nae godly symptoms ye can ca' that—
It's naething but a milder feature
Of our poor sinfu', corrupt nature—
That he's the poor man's friend in need,
The gentleman in word and deed,
It's no through terror of damnation—
It's just a carnal inclination."

Burns paid another compliment to Mr Hamilton in his 'Epistle to the Rev. John McMath', and also, though in an indirect way, in 'Holy Willie's Prayer'. Besides these, there is a playful epistle preserved among Burns' poems, addressed to Gavin, regarding a servant-boy whom the latter had talked of taking off his hands, but who, meanwhile, had been half-engaged by a person whom the poet calls 'Master Tootie, alias Laird McGaan', and of whom he entertained but a sorry opinion. These are all the poems which directly refer to the subject of our present notice. After Burns left Mauchline he kept up a correspondence with Mr Hamilton for some time; and several of his letters to that gentleman appear among the printed epistolary works of the poet. Gavin Hamilton lived respected for many years after in Mauchline, and died regretted. Several of his immediate descendants still reside in the village. His daughter, Williamina, widow of the late Rev. J. Todd, was removed from us only a few weeks ago, at the great age of 79. She would be seven years of age when Burns frequented the house.
Among the Mauchline 'Characters' the name of James Smith deserves a prominent place. Of all Burns' friends he had, perhaps, the closest intimacy with the poet, and was, more than any other, entitled to the honour of being called his bosom friend. His father, Robert Smith—a worthy merchant in very comfortable circumstances—was killed when his son was but a boy, by a fall from his horse, on returning from a journey to Ayr. His mother, left by this means proprietress of the house where James afterwards opened his shop, and finding her inclinations turning a second time to the joys of matrimony, bestowed her hand on a worthy gentleman of the name Lambie, who, to his other qualifications, added that of being occupant and owner of the house adjoining. James Smith was thus early consigned to the care of a stepfather; and the jealousies and strife usual in such circumstances did not fail to make their appearance in the present case. Mr Lambie was a strict, God-fearing, elder of the Kirk, and his stepson a wild young rake of a fellow; who was never out of mischief. Kind and good-natured the young lad certainly was; but then he was so perversely fond of fun and frolic, that the good old man declared there was no living with him. The irregular hours he kept too, were particularly opposed to Mr Lambie's sense of propriety. Helen Miller, who was for some time in Mr Lambie's service, tells us that often, of a morning, after some of young Smith's rambles, if the old man saw her engaged in cleaning James's shoes from the effects of last night's excursion, he would tear them from her hands, and fling them from him with the greatest fury, bid her go and tell the young vagabond to clean them himself. Young Smith would not thus, however, be broken in, and he stood up for his rights like a man. At last his mother got a female servant of the name of Christina Wilson, to whom she gave strict injunctions to look after her son and try to reclaim him, in some degree, from his irregularities. How she succeeded in her task may be conceived from the fact that it was not long till Christina, to Mrs Lambie's inconceivable horror, presented that worthy lady with a little grandson, and though she was old enough to be James's mother, no one had the slightest hesitation in pronouncing him the father of Christina's child. Smith however always maintained that he was quite innocent of any concern in the matter. After the birth of the child, Christina Wilson went to reside at Bridgend, and she used often to relate an incident which occurred during her stay there. Burns and Smith had been on a visit to Sorn, and called in at an alehouse in Bridgend, on their way home. It was proposed to send for Christina and her son, and immediately a message to that effect was sent across the street. The good lady instantly obeyed the summons, and her little boy was soon ensconced familiarly on his reputed father's knee. Burns, after bantering Smith about the connection, made a jocular appeal to the child, then little more than two years of age, saying inquiringly to him, "That's not your father, sir?" The little fellow, acute enough to see the drift of the question, stared for some time up in Smith's face, and, as if reassured by the scrutiny, answered in a decided tone, "But ye er my faether, ye er my faether". The amusement with which this natural sally was received, settling, as it did for the time, the disputed point, may be easily imagined. James Smith's son (if he be really his son, a thing that few have any doubt. about) still lives; but his recollection of this adventure are not very distinct. All he remembers of Burns is that he was a little, dark man. He is still able to exercise the functions of letter-carrier to his native village; but he seems to heir nothing from his father, but a respectable character and the name of Smith. James Smith, however, got over his youthful follies, and resolving to commence business in earnest, opened a draper's shop in his father's old house, and for a while drove a respectable trade. He is described by those who remember him as a little, dark-complexioned man, of lively manners, unfailing good humour, and great spirit and address. It may well be imagined that the Mossgiel poet would not long remain unacquainted with such a man. Congenial tastes and dispositions early drew them together, and a friendship was soon formed of the most intimate and lasting nature. Together they caroused over Nanse Tinnock's home-brewed ale, together made love with the Mauchline lasses, and together laughed at the canting hypocrisy of the 'Unco guid.' We cannot get a better notion of Smith's character than from the 'Epistles' which Burns addressed to him,—said to be the finest of that class of compositions which has appeared from our poet's pen. It commences thus:—

"DEAR SMITH,—
The slee'st, paukie thief, [artful]
That e'er attempted stealth or rief, [plunder]
Ye surely hae some warlock-brief [wizard's spell]
Owre human hearts;
For ne'er a bosom yet was prief [proof]
Against your arts.

"For me, I swear by sun and moon,
And every star that blinks aboon,
Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon,
Just gaun to see you.

"That auld capricious carlin, Nature, [shrew]
To mak' amends for scrimpit stature, [stunted]
She's turned you aff, a human creature
On her first plan;
And in her freaks, on every feature
She's wrote, the Man."

This is the only poem in which Burns mentions his friend Smith, but several letters addressed to him have found their way into the public prints.
Not prospering so well in his business in Mauchline as he desired, he removed to Avon, near Linlithgow, where he commenced a calico-printing establishment. Here, too, however, his speculations were unsuccessful, and he bade a final adieu to his native country, and found an early grave in a foreign land. It was Smith's fate to end his life where Burns at one time intended to end his—in the West Indies. His only sister, Jane, figures as one of the Mauchline belles, and is the mother of the celebrated Dr Candlish. [Robert Smith Candlish]

(John Richmond and 'Holy Willy' will appear in our next.)

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No. 7. John Richmond—'Holy Willie'
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 10th July 1858

The name of James Smith is naturally succeeded by that of John Richmond—Burns' friend and bed-fellow. We can say nothing of Richmond's early days, except that he was, when but a boy, sent to the care of some friends at Newmilns, where, it appears, he received the best part of his education. Some time after his return to Mauchline he was bound as a clerk to Gavin Hamilton for a number of years, and it was while in this situation that he formed his intimacy with the Mossgiel poet. Young Richmond was just of such a jovial, sociable disposition, as suited Burns' taste, and they were soon on the most intimate terms. Smith, Richmond, and Burns, were three inseparable companions during the poet's residence in Mossgiel. Often of a night, when Richmond was released from the office, and Smith from his shop, Burns would drop into town, and the three friends would meet in some quiet corner to pass the hours in social enjoyment. Sometimes they paid a visit to the reading club, in John McLelland's Inn, now the Loudoun Hotel; sometimes to the debating society; oftener to John Dow's, to discuss the politics or gossip of the day over a glass of ale. Burns seemed to place some reliance on Richmond's judgment, for he was in the habit of sending him, every now and again, some of his poetical effusions for his perusal and criticism. The time came, however, that Richmond must leave Mauchline to pursue his legal studies in the capital. He removed to Edinburgh some time in 1785, after he had enjoyed the poet's friendship for upwards of a year and a half. But it was not to end here. Mr Richmond had not been settled above a year in Edinburgh when, by an unexpected turn of circumstances, Burns also was led to seek a residence in the metropolis. With the exception, perhaps, of Dugald Stewart, whom Burns had visited at Catrine, Richmond was his only acquaintance in the city. To him, therefore, he first betook himself. The young writer was at that time lodging in Baxter's Close, Lawnmarket, in the house of a Mrs Carfrae, who rented him an apartment for the sum of three shillings a week. Burns was so knocked up by his journey from Mauchline that he remained in Richmond's lodgings for two days without being able to leave his bed; and when he was able to leave it, on Richmond expressing his willingness to share his apartment with him, Burns closed at once with his offer, and was duly installed as John's companion and bed-fellow. Mr Richmond endeavoured to make himself as useful to his friend as possible, in assisting him to transcribe his poems for the press. It was his practice, too, when Burns came in, jaded and worn out, from the levees of the great, to read to the poet till he fell asleep. Richmond has borne witness to the fact that Burns preserved habits of strict sobriety during his residence along with him in Edinburgh, which was about a year altogether. At length in August, 1787, Burns was absent on a visit to the south, and, on returning to the capital, he found that Richmond had taken in a stranger in his place. There was no other course left for the poet but to seek lodgings elsewhere. This, however, did not terminate their friendship. Even when he was in Dumfries Burns continued to send an occasional letter or song to his old acquaintance. Some of the originals of these pieces Richmond's daughter remembers having carried often to the school with her, and used as marks for her reading books. His course of study being finished, Mr Richmond returned to his native village, and commenced practice there as a writer. He lived to the advanced age of 84, and was to the last a sociable, 'cracky ' old gentleman. The day before his death, so eager was he for news, that on an old acquaintance entering his room, he accosted him with 'what news, James'. He left behind him an only daughter, who is still living—and living, too, in the same house where her father spent the most of his days.
None of the Mauchline Characters possesses so unenviable a notoriety as William Fisher, Burns' "Holy Willy". We have already alluded to one of his worthy ancestors, and in this case the mantle of the father fell on the son. The subject of our present notice followed the patriarchal occupation of a tiller of the ground, first of all in the farm of Blackbriggs, afterwards in Blackhill, and finally in Tongue, Auchencloigh. Of his character we need say little; no reader of Burns' poems can be a stranger to it. The poet has taken the trouble in three different compositions, to give us a full-length portrait of him. It is but fair, however, to state that his character is evidently and intentionally overdrawn. Though Burns had undoubtedly good reasons for the scorn and detestation he entertained towards Fisher, it is probable that he never intended the picture which he has given of him in his poems, as a just estimate of the man's character, "Holy Willie's Prayer" was written with the design, not of giving us a faithful representation of William Fisher's character, but of holding up to ridicule the Mauchline session, and the whole ultra-Calvanistic[sic] party to which he belonged, and of which he is made the representative. Still, it cannot be denied, that in spite of all his sanctimonious pretensions, Fisher had his failings. He could not resist the temptation of getting himself "fou" [drunk] every fair-night-- especially when the liquor did not flow at his own expense. He naturally enough too, fell into the very prevalent error of those times of mistaking cant for religion, and of considering three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces as the infallible signs of godliness. He had besides the reputation of being more inquisitive in the examination of female transgressors who came under the cognizance of the session, than seemed altogether decorous to the rest of his brethren. To crown all, he was charged with making free with the money set apart for the poor. Such is an account of this man's failings. Of his virtues, unfortunately, no details have come down to us; else we should have been very happy to have reported them. Such a character was the one most exactly calculated to draw out Burns most unmitigated detestation and contempt: The immediate cause, however, of the poet's evident antipathy to Fisher, was the prominent part which the latter took in the prosecution of Gavin Hamilton. Mr Auld seems to have been in a great measure urged on to harsh proceedings by his elders; and Fisher is said to have cultivated the good graces of his minister with the greatest diligence. When any measure was under the discussion of the session, he always endeavoured before he gave his own opinion, to discover the mind of the minister on the subject. "And what say you, Mr Auld? I'll say wi' you, Mr Auld" was a constant expression of his on such occasions. On this particular occasion, he used his influence so strongly against Mr Hamilton, and made it so much a personal question, that though the edge of the poet's satire was directed against a whole religious party, the choicest vials of his wrath were reserved for the devoted head of the luckless Fisher. "Holy Willie's Prayer," the poem to which we refer, is characterised by Sir Walter Scott, as "a piece of satire more exquisitely severe than anything Burns afterwards wrote". The spirit of self-righteousness and self-complacency, which seems to have particularly characterised the godly elder, is well brought out in these lines: —

"I bless and praise Thy matchless might,
Whan thousands Thou hast left in night,
That I am here, afore Thy sight,
For gifts and grace—
A burning and a shining light
To a' this place.

What was I, or my generation,
That I should get sic exaltation—
I, wha deserve sic just damnation
For broken laws,
Five thousand years 'fore my creation,
Through Adam's cause."

Not content, with this, Burns afterwards wrote an epitaph on Holy Willie, in which he represents him as actually in the clutches of his Satanic majesty. In the "Kirk's Alarm", too, he gives him a parting hit, alluding at the same time to his reputed theft of the poor's money:—

Holy Will, Holy Will,
There was wit i' your skull,
When ye pilfered the alms o' the poor,
The timmer [material] is scant
When ye're ta'en for a saunt,
Wha should swing in a rape [rope] for an hour.

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No. 8. 'Holy Willie' continued—John Mackenzie
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 17th July 1858

That Holy Willy's character has not in general been misrepresented by public fame, is attested by several anecdotes which are floating about concerning him. One of these, at the same time that it illustrates the inveterate drinking propensities of the Mauchline elder, shows also that he was, at least, when the liquor was in, somewhat tyrannically disposed towards his dependents at home. He had one night been partaking rather freely of the good Mauchline ale—so freely, indeed, that he forgot entirely the upright, steady gait which became such a sober elder of the Kirk as William Fisher pretended to be. As he went staggering along on his way home, taking all possible assistance from the full breadth of the road, some one observed him jesticulating[sic] fiercely and shaking his fist in rather an unrighteous fashion, at some unknown object of his indignation. Curious to learn the cause of these wrathful indications on the part of the godly elder, he slipped up behind him, and overheard the following soliloquy, delivered amid sundry flourishing of the arms and clenching of the fist —" If the door's barr'd, I'll mak' it a faut; and if it's no barr'd, I'll mak' it a faut; and if there's nae faut, I'll hae a faut."
Another incident which illustrates well a different point of our hero's character, is told by a person at present in Mauchline, who has often heard it from his father, so that there can be no doubt of its truth. Holy Willie was, on one occasion, called in to exercise his functions as elder, in offering up a prayer for a sick person. Now if there was one thing more than another in which William Fisher prided himself, it was in his superior gift of prayer, and this (by the way) is doubtless the reason Burns has thrown his satire against that worthy personage, into the peculiar form in which it occurs. So after giving them a specimen of his power in this line, he turned with the greatest self-complacency to the goodman of the house, and asked, "Did ye ever hear the parallel o' that?"
The manner of his death corresponds well with what we know of his life. Alas, for all the pretensions and external godliness of the Mauchline elder, he died a drunkard's death in a wayside ditch! He had been drinking deep with his landlord in Mauchline, and was seen late at night returning by a very zig-zag route to his own house at Tongue. Not making his appearance there, however, his wife got alarmed at his absence, and taking a lantern with her, proceeded to search for him. In this conjugal task, she was assisted by the laird himself who had, it appears, got home in safety, and whose house was situated at a short distance from Tongue. As they went along he continued to beat the bushes on either side of the road with his stick, and uttered every now and then a. cry of "shoo! shoo!", saying to his companion, by way of explanation, "for we dinna ken what spot he may spring frae." Mrs Fisher was in a little rage at the laird for treating her husband in this way, "as if", she said, indignantly, "he were a hare or a paitrick [partridge]". Thus they continued their search along the road, till they came opposite the farmhouse of South Auchenbrain, where the unfortunate elder was found smothered among a pool of mud. A loaf and a whisky-bottle, from which Fisher had been regaling himself on his way home, were found at some distance. It was thought that in making for a light in the farmhouse, he had sunk into the ditch by the roadside, from which he was too far gone in intoxication to rise. Such was the end of Holy Willie.
The children are often punished for the sins of their parents, and so it was with William Fisher's son. He was on one occasion applying for a situation in Ayr, and when asked for testimonials of character by the parties to whom he made his application, he referred them to a gentleman belonging to Mauchline, who had lately settled in that quarter. This person on being applied to, said that it was little he knew about young Fisher, except that he was a son of Holy Willie's. This settled the matter at once, and the unfortunate applicant was instantly informed that his services would not be required.
Among the Mauchline friends of Burns, John Mackenzie must not be forgotten. This gentleman occupied the important office of village doctor during the poet's residence in Mauchline, being brought from Edinburgh when a young man, by Sir John Whiteford of Ballochmyle. We have already had occasion to mention, that his shop was in the house at present tenanted by Mr James Lambie, tailor and clothier. This was where he first commenced business; but he afterwards removed to the other side of the cross, to the house now occupied by Mr John Crawford; Mr Mackenzie himself, lodged in the Sun Inn, close adjoining. Being of a shrewd, liberal cast of mind, he seems early to have recognised the man of genius under the coarse, rustic garb of the Mossgiel ploughman. At any rate he was not backward in forming an acquaintanceship with the poet.
As Mackenzie was the principal medical man for a considerable distance around Mauchline, and the family physician at first of Sir John Whiteford, and afterwards of the Earl of Eglinton, as well as a man of considerable intelligence and conversational power,—he necessarily numbered among his acquaintances, most of the gentry and nobility round about. Among these was Dugald Stewart the celebrated metaphysician, who, when released from his professorial duties in Edinburgh University, passed the most of his time at Catrine House, a quiet country-seat two miles distant from Mauchline. During one of the frequent visits which Dr. Mackenzie paid to this worthy man, he spoke in such high terms of Burns, that the professor expressed a desire to see him, and requested the doctor to bring him along with him the next time he came to Catrine House. This was the origin of Professor Stewart's acquaintanceship with the poet, an intimacy from which the latter derived much pleasure, and to which he owed in a great measure his introduction to the elite of Edinburgh Society. On this first visit of the poet's to Catrine House, there happened also to be present a young scion of nobility, a former pupil of the professors, of the name of Lord Daer. Burns was highly gratified by the reception he met with on this occasion, and in a letter which he wrote to his friend Mackenzie, he has given us his estimate of the character of both the distinguished personages to whom he was then introduced. The professor he compliments in prose; but his interview with Lord Daer is made the subject of a half serious, half-playful poem, which displays great spirit, and not a little graphic power.
On another occasion, Burns sent a rhyming epistle to Mackenzie, inviting him to attend a masonic procession connected with St. James's Lodge, of which the poet was a member. In it he makes reference to a discussion which the two friends had had on some metaphysical difficulty. These are the only poems with which the subject of our present notice is connected; for it is very doubtful whether, as is believed by some, there is any allusion made to him in these lines of the Holy Fair: —

"For Peebles frae the Water-fit [river's mouth],
Ascends the holy rostrum,
See, up he's got the Word o' God,
And meek and mim [prim] has view'd it,
While Common Sense has taen the road,
And aff and up the Cowgate
Fast, fast that day."

Mackenzie had recently written on some controversial topic, under the signature of Common Sense, and it is generally believed that he is referred to under that name in this passage. What strengthens this opinion, is that on the day in question, the doctor was actually observed, after attending church and hearing some of the out-door services, to make his escape by the Cowgate, at the very time that Mr Peebles commenced his harangue. This was owing to his having received an invitation to dinner that day, with the Earl of Dumfries; and he had to pass up the Cowgate on his way to Ballochmyle, in order to join Sir John Whiteford, who was also proceeding to Dumfries House. This is the common mode of understanding the passage, though the more literal interpretation is probably the correct one. Burns may, however, have had both these significations in his mind when he wrote the lines.
When the Earl of Eglinton removed to Eglinton Castle, he took D. Mackenzie with him to Irvine; but before the doctor left Mauchline, he entered into the marriage relation with Elizabeth Miller one of the Mauchline belles; but of this more anon. Mackenzie commenced medical practise in Irvine, and so well was his worth appreciated, that he soon rose to the highest honours in the magistracy of that ancient burgh. In 1827, he retired to Edinburgh, where he died January 11th, 1837, at an advanced age.

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No. 9. James Humphrey [*]
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 24th July 1858[/b]

Though James Humphrey holds an humble position among the Mauchline "Characters" he is not altogether undeserving of notice on this place. We cannot indeed rank him among the friends of Burns; but yet he seems to have occupied no small share of the poet's attention. In fact a character like Humphrey—the village gossip, whose tongue was never at rest, whose conversation abounded in rare touches of humour, and was withal a keen hand for a debate—could not fail to attract the curious observation of Burns, who delighted to study human nature under all its aspects. The poet was amused—as every one who came in contact with Humphrey was amused—at his oddities. He enjoyed his jokes. He carried on disputes with him on ever imaginable subject, for the mere sake of hearing him talk. The New Light controversy was a favourite subject of debate between them, and Humphrey, though he acknowledged the matchless powers of debate possessed by the poet, seems to have had a very low estimate indeed of his religious views. Humphrey was by profession a stone-mason, and is said to have built the poet's outhouses on the farm of Mossgiel. He is thus described by Chambers:—"There is a zealot of a different stamp—James Humphrey by name—a working-man, and the very type of a Scottish villager, a critic of sermons, a meddler with ministers, a pertinacious, long-tongued disputant about texts—in short the 'noisy polemic' whom Burns immortalised in an epitaph. He, we have no doubt, must have afforded food for many a merry remark". There were indeed three prominent features in Humphrey's character, which peculiarly distinguished him. These were an unfailing supply of talk, an insatiable ardour for theological debate, and an inexhaustible flow of humour. Concerning his connection with Burns, there is but one incident on record—that to which he was indebted for the not very flattering designation by which he is commonly distinguished. He was one day lounging about one of the streets of Mauchline, when he observed the poet coming towards him on his way from Mossgiel. Knowing Burns to be possessed of considerable powers of wit, and that "there was nobody in the whole country-side a match for him at an argument", Humphrey began to consider how he should address him. He had been lately reading (he tells us) Quevedo's "Visions of Hell"; and so when the poet came up to him with the usual question, "Weel, Jamie, what' news?" he immediately answered, "Oh! nothing very particular on earth, but there's strange news from below". "And what may these be?" inquired Burns with a look of expectant wonder. "Why," answered the polemic "they say there's a great dispute just noo among the fallen spirits, whether to keep on wi' the auld deil [old devil], or to appoint in his place ane Rob Burns, a wild young poet frae Ayrshire. The elder part o' the assembly are for haudin' on by the auld deil, but the younger imps, that have read the poet's writings, are clean for electin' him to the office". After indulging in a hearty laugh at the poor mason's conceit, Burns went away, saying, in a rough way, that "he was a bletherin' [gabbling] bitch". Shortly after, by way of retaliation, he wrote this epitaph:—

On a Noisy Polemic
Beneath thir stanes [those stones] lie Jamie's banes,
Oh, Death, it's my opinion
Ye ne'er took sic [such] a bletherin' [gabbling] bitch
Into thy dark dominion.

The name stuck to him all his days, and in after years poor Humphrey was glad to claim it as a means of eliciting charity from strangers.
Like too many in those hard-drinking times, Humphrey was fond of his glass. An amusing story is told of him, which shows how great a slave he was to the bottle. Thomas McLelland's was a notorious rendezvous of his, and so invariable was his custom of calling in there every day for a "refresher", that a wag once offered to take up a bet with him that he could not go past the house without making his usual call for a dram. Humphrey, who had at times considerable dignity, was highly offended at this proposal, and though he did not make any reply at the time, it set him a-thinking. He began seriously to discuss the question in his mind, whether he really was such a slave to drink that he could not trust himself to pass Thomas McLelland's door without giving way to his habitual weakness. He resolved that this should no longer be said of him. He would make the attempt. He would pass the door like a man, and he would not yield to the cravings of his thirst. Away he went down the street, inflated with all the magnanimity of his weighty resolve. His steps began to falter, however, as he approached the dreaded spot; but averting his eyes as much as possible from the ale-house door, he pressed on; and with the help of this device and a strong determination, Humphrey succeeded in making his way past the scene of temptation. He was fairly at the end of the street before he ventured to turn round and give full vent to his triumph. But premature exultation is too often both the forerunner and the cause of ultimate failure. So elated was poor Humphrey with the thoughts of the self-denial of which he had shown himself capable, and of the strong will which had borne him safely through the temptation, that in the height of his exultation he exclaimed—
"Weel done guid resolution, come awa' back an' I'll gie ye a gill". And he actually retraced his steps to McLelland's ale-house, and indulged in one merry night of jollification over the idea of his having once passed that house without calling in for a glass.
Latterly drink gained so complete a mastery over him, that for days together he never left the alehouse, nor once interrupted his drunken revels to visit the folks at home. After such "outbreaks", it was his custom to carry home as a peace-offering to the wife, of whom he entertained a wholesome dread, a leg of mutton or a tempting bit of roast. On one unfortunate occasion, however, Jamie had spent all his money and so was unable to resort to the usual means of mollifying the wrath of his "better half". In these circumstances he had recourse to stratagem. Falling in with an old crony of his, James Kirkland, he persuaded him to accompany him on his way home to Goukthorn. As they approached the house, his companion, who was quite in the dark as to why his presence was required, was alarmed on seeing Humphrey throw himself down by the roadside with a groan, and roll about in a most inconceivable manner, moaning and crying aloud at the same time. His fears being somewhat relieved, when, in answer to his entreaties to know what was the matter, Humphrey informed him that "he was dreadfu' ill wi' a colic—he instantly ran into the house for Jamie's wife. She came in a state of great excitement, and after an amount of coaxing and blubbering, contrived to get her husband conveyed in safety to his bed, where, with the help of several glasses of whisky the pain was, in a great measure relieved, and Jamie after some time declared himself all right. By this device, Humphrey both saved "a flytin, [scolding]" and got a glass or two more than he had at first bargained for. The only thing which he was sorry for, was that, as he expressed it to his companion in a whisper, he thought it wadna do to try that dodge again. On another occasion when in Tarbolton, he was called off the street into the Crosskeys Inn, by a commercial traveller, who no doubt was anxious to have a crack with Burns' "bletherin' bitch". During the conversation o'er a glass, the traveller expressed a wish to have something with him that belonged to Humphrey: asked liberty to cut off one of the clear brass buttons of his coat: and, at the same time quietly slipped into his hand half-a-crown. Humphrey was so delighted in the fellow that he said "will ye no take ony mair [any more] on the same terms". In his early days, Humphrey was a member of the dissenting congregation in Mauchline, and so enjoyed the luxury of paying for a seat of his own. His unfortunate propensity to drink, however, brought him into disgrace with the ruling powers in the church. He was repeatedly warned, expostulated with, and threatened; but all was of no avail; Humphrey's "thirst" continued as insatiable as ever. Driven at length to strong measures, the session forbade him to approach the communion-table. His dignity was offended at this, and he left the church in a huff. Not content with this decisive step, he resolved further to retaliate, and sent the town-crier throughout the length and breadth of Mauchline, with this proclamation: "Seats in the meeting-house to be had cheap—cheap—cheap as dirt—apply to James Humphrey". Reduced in circumstance towards the decline of life, poor Humphrey considered himself fortunate in finding a refuge in the private hospital erected at Failford by Mr Cooper of Smithston, enjoying at the same time the usual pension of 3s a week, from a fund left by that gentleman. To eke out a scanty subsistence he had recourse to the practise of begging, and every day he was to be seen at the landing of the stage-coach in Mauchline, scraping upon an old fiddle, and asking the strangers to remember poor Jamie Humphrey—Burns' "bletherin' bitch".
To the last he retained his relish for a theological discussion. The parish minister called on him shortly before his death, and after offering up a prayer took his leave without any expectation of ever seeing him again in life. Humphrey, however, appeared to have something on his mind, and waved on the minister to come back, saying he had a question to ask him. The clergyman returned accordingly and bending over the dying man, asked him what it was he wished to say. A gleam of something of his wonted animation shot across his countenance, as turning his eyes full upon the minister, he inquired in an eager tone, "Man, what d'ye think o' the Frees?". It was just about the crisis of the Disruption, and the question of the poor polemic showed that the ruling passion was, in his case, strong in death. James Humphrey died in 1844, at the advanced age of 84.

[* Chambers spells the name "Humphry"]

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No. 10. The Mauchline Belles
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 31st July 1858

In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles,
The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a',
Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess,
In London or Paris they'd gotten it a',
Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine,
Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw;
There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton;
But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a

Though these lines are little better than doggerel, they possess some interest, as informing us of the female attractions of which our town could boast in the days of Burns. And however trifling this subject may seem in itself, it is one of no small importance as connected with the poet, for there never was a more devout admirer of the fair sex, or a more ardent lover of female society than Robert Burns. The gossip never uttered a truer prediction, than when she 'keekit in his loof' [studied his upturned palm] and thus sang the future career of Robin.

"But sure as three times three mak' nine,
I see by ilka [each] score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin',
So leeze me on thee [I'm pleased to tell you] Robin"

In glancing therefore at what little we know of the history and characters of these six village maidens, thus distinguished by the name of the Mauchline belles; let no one scorn their humble origin and obscure lot. It was their destiny to add to the few pleasant moments in the troubled life of the greatest of our sons of song.
It is a curious instance either of poetic license, or—what is more probable—of poetic delusion in regard to female charms, that, of the six young women, whom Burns chose to designate as the Mauchline belles, and whom he has described by such epithets as 'fine, 'braw,' divine,'—there was only one who could be considered a 'beauty'; that of the rest, one was blind of an eye, another strongly marked with small-pox, and the other three possessed of no more than ordinary attractions; and finally, that he should have given his decided preference to that one of them who was the plainest and least attractive of all. They were all however, of excellent character, moving in a respectable sphere of society, and most of them possessed of good strong sense and a comparatively well-educated mind.
Miss Helen Miller who is the first-mentioned of the belles in the above lines, was the eldest daughter of Mr John Miller, of the Sun Inn. She would have been almost considered a beauty, had it not been for an unfortunate defect in one of the visual organs—she was blind of one eye. This defect, however, she very dexterously concealed by a habit which she had of blinking with the damaged organ, so that it was hardly noticed by a stranger. Besides being possessed with a more than ordinary share of personal attractions, Miss Miller was rendered still more attractive by the prospects which she had of a considerable dowry in the event of her entering the marriage relation. She was blessed with one of those affectionate brothers who go out to India, work hard, make a fortune, come home with a broken constitution and spend the rest of their lives in giving presents to their friends and settling marriage portions on their sisters.
Alexander Miller left his native country a penniless lad, and returned to it with an independent fortune, and laden with the spoils of India. Besides a considerable amount of hard cash, he brought along with him as presents to his friends abundance of rich stuffs,—silks and carnbrics—from the looms of the East. Poor fellow! he brought with him also, what he would have given all his fortune to have left behind him in India—a ruined constitution, and a total blindness. When he arrived in Mauchline his sight was completely gone! What a commotion the news of his landing made in his native village. Voyages to India were few and far between in those days, and the friend to whom you bade farewell, on the eve of such a voyage, you had little expectation of ever seeing again. Judge then of the excitement caused in the breasts of the peaceful villagers, when the news spread like wild-fire from mouth to mouth, that 'young Sandy Miller was hame frae the Indies'. Their wonder and interest suffered, of course no abatement, when they were informed that he had brought along with him a native of that far distant country—a real, live, black boy from the Indies. When the young Asiatic made his appearance in the streets of Mauchline, none of whose quiet-living inhabitants had probably ever seen a blackskin before, he drew wondering crowds after him, who watched his notions with all the curiosity they would have bestowed on some strange animal in a menagerie. Miller made a present of him to Sir John Whitefoord, who had him sent to the parish-school, held then under the east loft of the old church. Under the care of Mr Noble, a gentleman well remembered to this day in Mauchline, the young Indian acquired the elements of a sound Christian education. An old worthy, who was attending the school at that time, tells us that on the falling of the first hail-shower that winter, the good-natured schoolmaster let out all the boys to see it, in honour of their black companion, who then saw hail for the first time in his life. The little fellow, it is said, was dreadfully disappointed, when, running to pick up the little 'sweeties', as he supposed them to be, he found them melt away between his fingers. After having received a good education, the young black was, at the age of 17, admitted into the church, by the rite of baptism. On that occasion, our informant tells us, the old church was crowded to the door by earnest on-lookers, eager to see the black man baptized. After several questions had been put to him, he was asked to hold up his right hand to take the vows, and the water being sprinkled on his face, he was received into the membership of the church. He took the name of John Cartwright—the Christian name from Sir John Whitefoord, the surname from his lady. The connection which all this digression has with our subject is, that Sandy Miller's money raised his sisters to a higher position in the estimation of the world than they had occupied before. We have already said that Dr. Mackenzie was a lodger in the Sun Inn; and it appears that he at this time began seriously to pay his addresses to Miss Miller. He was received favourably, the match was approved of by the parents, and in due time Helen Miller became Mrs Mackenzie, in which capacity she shared all the honours and successes of her husband.
Miss Jane Markland, who is next mentioned by the poet, was the daughter of a respectable draper in Mauchline. Though Burns has described her as divine,' she was more a neat, than a handsome woman. Her beauty consisted in a good figure and a pleasant manner. Concerning Miss Markland we have little information except that, after her father's affairs became somewhat embarrassed, she was considered to have obtained a good match in a Mr Findlay, an exciseman in Tarbolton. On the promotion of her husband to a superior post in Greenock, she went with him to that place, and for anything we know to the contrary lived there for the rest of her day.
Miss Jane Smith, who is next in order, was, as we have already said, the only sister of James Smith, Burn's bosom friend. She was a little, dark-eyed, lively creature, though like the rest of the belles her beauty was not of a very high order. She was possessed of considerable wit, and was a clever, managing woman. Mr Candlish, a teacher of languages, who had been engaged to give her lessons, succeeded in gaining her affections, and as a natural consequence, (for Miss Smith was free as the wind to act as she pleased)—her hand. It would appear that Mr Candlish afterwards removed with his wife to Edinburgh, where he continued to teach till his death, when Mrs Candlish took up the same profession and taught with great success. She was thus enabled to give her family a good education, and had the happiness of seeing one of her sons rise to a very high position among the great men of the times. We allude of course to Dr. Candlish of Free St. George's Edinburgh. Mrs Candlish was the latest survivor of the belles, having died but a year or two ago.
The Miss Betty who ranks next among the belles, was another daughter of Mr John Miller's. She might perhaps have been what Burns styles her, braw, if her face had not suffered severely from the ravages of smallpox. That the two Misses Miller were on terms of friendship with the poet is shown from a circumstance told us by Matthew Leerie one of our surviving 'worthies'. He remembers his father, who was a mason, going one morning at an early hour to knock out a door in one of the rooms, of the Sun Inn. He was about to commence operations immediately, when Mrs Miller made her appearance, and forbade him on any account to do so, for, said the good wife, 'ye wad disturb our twa lasses, who were awa' last night at Mossgiel seeing that nice young lad Robin Burns'. However others may have looked upon the poet, Mrs Miller seems to have entertained a good opinion of him, when she thus expressed herself after her two daughters had been at a 'rocking'[a friendly visit] the night before at Mossgiel. Miss Elizabeth Miller, after her sister left Mauchline became post-mistress to the village, and was married to a Mr Templeton, draper, who came from Auchinleck to succeed James Smith. She died on the birth of her first child.
Miss Christina Morton was the most attractive of all the belles. Possessed of a remarkably handsome person, an agreeable manner, and what would be still more attractive to some—a fortune of £500 or £600 entirely at her own disposal, she would certainly be a highly eligible match. Her beauty was of the full, ripe, rosy cast, and she is said to have been a young woman of great propriety of demeanour and sweetness of manner. According to some accounts, she had a share in procuring for Burns his first interview with Jean Armour. Miss Armour attended a music-class where John Blane, Burn's ploughman was also a pupil. Blane took in hand to convey to her a request from Burns that she would grant him an interview, and when she expressed a feeling of delicacy about going without a female companion, Miss Morton volunteered to accompany her. The meeting took place and the destiny of Jean Armour was fixed from that day.
In Blackie's edition of Burns it is said that Miss Morton entertained a secret attachment for the poet, and was much affected when his preference for Miss Armour became evident. It is said also that on that occasion she left Mauchline and engaged with a farmer in New Cumnock to assist in harvest operations, privately assigning as a reason that 'there were so many clashes [so much gossip] going about Robert Burns and her, she wished to be out of the way'.
Whether there is any truth in this statement or not we cannot say. She was afterwards married to a Mr Paterson, a draper and spirit-merchant in Mauchline—not, as is erroneously stated in all the editions of Burns, a farmer in Ochiltree. She lived to a very advanced age, retaining to the last traces of remarkable beauty.


Jean Armour deserves a fuller notice than can be given in this place. We shall therefore glance at her life in our next.

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No. 11. The Mauchline Belles (continued)—Jean Armour
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 07th August 1858

Of all the Mauchline belles the poet's 'bonny Jean' naturally claims the highest share of our attention. Though inferior to most of her compeers in personal attractions, the fact that, in the poet's estimation at least, she surpassed them all, and that she was chosen by him to share the joys and sorrows of his troubled but brilliant career, is sufficient to give her a decided pre-eminence over all the other belles. While their names will sink into forgetfulness, that of Jean Armour, enshrined in the history, and consecrated by the genius, of our national bard, will enjoy a deathless fame.
Jane, or Jean Armour, was the daughter of a respectable master-mason, or builder, in the village of Mauchline. Her father, douce James Armour, was a quiet, sober man, who, by giving his close and unremitting attention to his business, succeeded in gaining the esteem and patronage of the more respectable class of the community, as well as of the gentry round about. The principal charge, however, of a family of eleven sons and daughters, devolved not upon her father—for his business engagements left him but little time to spend in the domestic circle—but on her mother, a person of quite a different caste of character. Mrs Armour appears to have been a woman of a light-hearted, almost thoughtless disposition, not very remarkable for her depth of mind or superiority of judgment, and indulgent to her children to a degree which did more honour to her heart than her head. Herself fond of music, it was a great object of her ambition—to the neglect, perhaps, of more important things—to see her children proficients in that art; and her house was the favourite resort of all lovers of the song and the dance. Perhaps it is to the effects of her mother's injudicious training that we must trace, in some degree, the grievous errors into which Jean Armour was led in the early part of her life—the clandestine interviews she encouraged her lover to seek, her facileness in yielding to the temptations of youth, her irresolution and weakness of moral purpose, by which, on one fatal occasion, she had almost driven the poet to distraction. In after years no doubt she obtained the mastery, in a great measure, over the effects of her defective education; but it required a long life of suffering and trial to obliterate the traces of Mrs Armour's injudicious training.
In person Jean Armour was rather above the middle height, of dark complexion, and irregular features; but her fine figure, her jet-black eyes sparkling with animation, her pleasing address and her gentle disposition, rendered her an object of considerable attraction, and quite entitled her to the name of 'bonny Jean.' Besides, she was an uncommonly fine singer and a graceful dancer—a natural talent for these accomplishments having been perfected by an almost constant practice. Her voice was a brilliant treble, and rose, without effort, as high as B natural. To close our description of her, she was just what the poet has himself described her at the commencement of their acquaintanceship,

"A dancin', sweet, young, handsome queen,
0' guileless heart."

The origin of Burns' intimacy with Miss Armour has been variously related. It would appear that on Mauchline race-day it was customary for young men to invite those girls they chose, off the street, into an humble ball-room, to have a dance with them. Burns and Jean Armour were both engaged in this way in the same dance, but not as partners, when not a little merriment was occasioned by the poet's dog—possibly his favourite Luath—tracking his master's footsteps through the room. Burns made a playful remark to his partner, which was overheard by Jean that 'he wished he could get some of the lasses to like him as weel as his dog did.'
Shortly after this the poet had occasion to pass through the public green, where Jean Armour was engaged bleaching some clothes. Burns was this time also accompanied by his dog, and the animal, anxious apparently to bring himself and his master into notice, thought there was no better way of doing this than by running with his dirty paws over the clothes, which Jean's fair hands were busy spreading out on the green. The dog was instantly ordered back to his master's feet; but his object was accomplished, and some badinage was interchanged between the young pair, in the course of which Jean archly inquired 'if he had got any of the lasses yet to like him as well as his dog.' They seem both, on this occasion, to have been favourably impressed with one another; for it was not long after this till Burns obtained the private interview with her which we have already referred to in our article on Miss Morton.
At a rocking held at Mossgiel, a lad named Ralph Sillar, sang a number of songs in rather a superior style, Burns on retiring for the night to his sleeping apartment in the stable-loft, asked John Blane, his bed-fellow, what he thought of Sillar's singing. 'Oh!' answered Blane, who pretended to be a connoisseur in the fine art, 'I would not give Jean Armour for a score of him.' 'You are always talking of this Jean Armour,' said Burn, 'I wish you would contrive to bring me to see her'. Blane readily promised to do so, and the very next night they set out for Mauchline for that purpose. Burns went into a public-house immediately under the singing-school of which Blane and Miss Armour were both pupils, and waited there till the class was dismissed. Blane found Jean not averse to grant an interview to the poet, of whose talents she had heard, and her only objection was removed by Miss Morton offering to accompany her. From this time forward, their intimacy gradually ripened into a strong mutual attachment, which death alone was able to terminate.
In the prosecution of this intimacy Burns was sometimes assisted by a woman of the name of Catherine Govan, who acted occasionally as 'black-fit' or go between to the lovers. George Patrick, her son, of whom we have already had occasion to speak, tells us that he remembers having often seen the poet come into his mother's house, to get her to assist him in procuring a meeting with Jean. One evening he remembers in particular, his mother was sitting sewing at a table at which a lighted candle was placed, when Burns entered the room. His face was flushed, and his manner excited; and, knocking over in his hurry both table and candlestick, he said with a hasty impatient jesture[sic], 'Come awa', Kate, I want to speak tae' ye.'
Jean Armour had been for considerably more than a year 'the goddess of the poet's idolatry,' when, in the spring of 1786 it appeared that the fruits of their imprudence could no longer be concealed. Yielding to the wishes of his partner in guilt, Burns granted her a written acknowledgment, sufficient in the eye of Scottish law to make them husband and wife. The poet was at that time in anything but flourishing circumstances, and Jean's father thought that marriage in such a state of matters only made the thing worse. On this occasion the manliness and generosity of the poet's nature was conspicuous. He frankly admitted the hopelessness of his present circumstances; but declared that he was willing to support his wife in the plantations of Jamaica, or by descending to the drudgery of a common labourer's life at home. Mr Armour would listen to none of these proposals. Jean was a favourite daughter and her parents still entertained hopes of a more respectable settlement in life for her, in spite of all that happened. Many distressing scenes occurred between the parties. The poor girl, after an agony of doubt and hesitation, yielded to her father's stern demand, and delivered up her marriage lines, which were speedily consigned to the flames. The state of Burns' mind on hearing that Jean had thus cast him off, can hardly be imagined. No one but himself can do anything like justice to the tempest of feeling which possessed him. He thus writes to a friend in the height of the crisis:—'Poor ill-advised Armour came home on Friday last. You have heard the particulars of that affair, and a black affair it is. What she thinks of her conduct now, I do not know. One thing I do know, she has made me completely miserable. Never man loved, or rather adored a woman more than I did her, and to confess a truth between you and me I do still love her to distraction, though I won't tell her so, if I were to see her, which I don't want to do. My poor, dear, unfortunate Jean! How happy have I been in thine arms! It is not the losing of her that makes me so unhappy, but for her sake I feel most severely. I foresee, she is on the road to, I fear, eternal ruin. May God Almighty forgive her ingratitude and perjury to me, as I from my very soul forgive her, and may his grace be with her and bless her in all her future life! I can have no nearer idea of the place of eternal punishment, than what I have felt in my own breast on her account. I have tried often to forget her. I have went unto all kinds of dissipation and riots; mason-meetings, drinking matches, and other mischiefs, to drive her out of my head; but all is in vain. And now for a grand cure. The ship is on her way home that is to take me out to Jamaica. Then, farewell, dear old Scotland! and, farewell, dear ungrateful Jean! for never, never will I see you more!'


[NOTE.—We must own we were rather taken by surprise, when we saw in last week's paper, a letter bearing the signature 'Veritus,' which put forth some most extraordinary views regarding the character of William Fisher. The writer of that letter, whom we presume, from the general tone in which he writes, to be no other than a descendant of Holy Willie's, is not content with merely denying the more weighty charges brought against the character of his deeply-injured ancestor. He endeavours to represent Fisher as a pattern of moral courage to brave the poet's wrath in discharge of duty.' The incompatibility of such views, with several well known and established facts in the life of Holy Willie, is too apparent to need any comment. But to make us believe that all the world has hitherto been in a delusion regarding the character of William Fisher, surely some more logical and more feasible reasons must be brought forward, than those 'Veritus' furnishes us, in support of his extraordinary statement. Fisher's drinking propensities we never heard questioned before. Every person we consulted in Mauchline on the subject—and there are numbers still surviving in the village who recollect Fisher quite distinctly—agree in this point. It is also the general opinion in Mauchline, that he WAS really guilty of making free with the poors'-money. Chambers too, it may be remarked, in his edition of Burns, styles Fisher 'a convicted larcenist.' But in truth, we have not brought forward a single accusation against the Mauchline elder, but what is to be found in every account of him given in any of the editions of the poet's works. The few original anecdotes regarding Fisher, which were inserted in our article, were furnished by persons who lived in the times of which they spoke, and in whose testimony we have perfect confidence. We shall say nothing of the remarks which 'Veritus' pleases to make on the characters of Gavin Hamilton and Burns. Does he imagine that, by endeavouring to cast a slur upon these honoured names, he will raise in any respect our estimation of Holy Willie?]

The letter:
31st July 1858

WILLIAM FISHER.
To the Editor of the A. & S. Herald.
Sir,—Having read, in your paper of the 10th current, an article entitled "Mauchline and its Characters", containing an erroneous account of the life and character of William Fisher, farmer, first in Mid Montgorswood[sic], and subsequently in Briggs, and Tongue, Auchencloigh, I crave space to place the character of a much-maligned man in its true light. That William Fisher got " fu' every fair night," or was ever in the habit of doing so, I flatly deny; but that he was the victim of those whom he had befriended I acknowledge, for they required to drug his ale with brandy before they could intoxicate him; and those same persons who could shake the hand of friendship with him at parting, could say, when he was gone, " see the auld white-headed b——r how he's rinnin'." Yes running, for he had oversat his regular time of being home; and when he was found next morning among the snow, dead from cold and that malignant draught, his pockets were crammed with "fairin's" [small gifts] for his boy, and presents for his wife. That there ever was a substantial charge preferred against him for "making free with the poor's- money" is equally false. He was a man who had not a motive for so doing, for he was always a few hundreds before the world; and, when he died left upwards of three hundred pounds, besides the stock and plenishing of a large farm.
Burns' motive for writing "Holy Willie's Prayer" was a strong one: he had been repeatedly before Mr Auld's session for outraging both the laws of God and man, and but ill brooked the caustic reproofs of his superiors in morals, though, perhaps, inferior in intellect. William Fisher was the leading member of session, and perhaps the only one who had enough of moral courage to brave the poet's wrath in the discharge of duty. Gavin Hamilton, on the other hand, was a "boon companion" in wickedness of the "Bacchanalian Bard," and everybody knows what kind of a man he was; and we need not wonder at such an ebullition of wounded pride, and such a wanton abrogation of human responsibility, when we consider how such men winced under the reins of strict Calvinism. At this distant period when Burns is only known through his writings, which are but the distillations of his imagination, not the healthful action of his heart, we are apt to form a too high estimate of his character. Dissociate Burns from his moral conduct and we ignore the man; and we must measure a man by his actions, not by his theories. Yes, the man who could pour forth such floods of feeling for the fading of a daisy, and the imaginary sorrows of a " poor maillie", could desert his own home and carouse with the lowest of the low, till, pierced by the sting of remorse, he would, in the agony of an excited imagination, write what he would be, but had not the moral courage to make himself.
I believe that were Burns living now he would not be tolerated in society, even as he was not tolerated then; and his advocacy of a notorious scoundrel, and the scandalising of the character of a religious enthusiast, casts a cloud upon his fame which the light of ages will never dispel.
VERITUS.


A Second Letter:
07th August 1858

WILLIAM FISHER AGAIN
To the Editor of the A. & S. Herald.
Sir,—I have been much interested, and amused, by the perusal of "Mauchline and its Characters"; but I certainly felt indignant at the audacity of that letter, in defence of Holy Willie, which found its way into your impression of last week.
"Veritus", whoever he is, has written naught but a tissue of falsehoods that are unworthy of a reply. The writer of "Mauchline and its Characters" has withheld many stories, current in this neighbourhood, which, if known, would have added a deeper tinge to the blackness of Fisher's character. For instance, he might have told of his conduct at the funeral of his neighbour, Highbriggs, in March, 1800; how he officiated there—and how that, after the service, he went across to his own house and emptied his well-filled pouches of burial bread—"fairin's for his boy"—how he went back and joined the procession to the Sorn kirk-yard, and returned with the friends and relatives to condole with the widow at the "dreggy", or after-service; and how he again officiated, and again appropriated some more funeral bread—"presents for his wife". It was perhaps the custom in those days for holy men to appropriate funeral bread—it would keep them in mind of their latter end; and if done from this motive, by a religious enthusiast, men like "Veritus" would never call it theft; though, in the eyes of sinners, "it might cast a cloud on the fame" of such men that the "ha'penny candle" of "Veritus" "will never dispel".
Chambers in his edition of Burns says—"Sad to tell, of the two zealous elders who rebuked Burns, one put a period to his own life, and the other died in a drunken fit, after being 'a convicted larcenist'".
Elizabeth Breakenridge often told that, while she was servant to "Holy Willie", his little boy used to rin [run] for the milk luggie [small wooden dish] when he saw his faither comin' hame frae the kirk, on the Sunday afternoons, to get the bawbees [halfpennies] he brought wi' him. In course of time such weekly "fairin's" would help the holy man up with the £300.
Worldly men are but too apt to put a bad interpretation on the conduct of such saints, "much maligned" though they be. I think Fisher must have been gifted with a high degree of moral courage, or else he never would have associated with people who would drug his ale, and blaspheme against his white head.
"Veritus" has, indeed, an original method of purifying the sainted Willie's character. Will the blackening of Burns, or his patrons, whitewash Willie? If Willie bore the cross, let us hope he now wears the crown. Though no marble mausoleum be erected over his tomb, let us hope that "Veritus" will make a pilgrimage to the spot where the ashes of the holy man lies, and there let him wallow in the mire, and vomit his filthy vituperations where they can soil none but himself.
VERITAS
Sorn, 2nd August, 1858


A Third Letter:
07th August 1858

Another correspondent writes:—I know nothing of the way in which the matter may be viewed by the immediate descendants of that gentleman resident here; or, indeed, whether they deem it worth while to think of it at all; but I do know that among the bulk of the villagers, who were daily witnesses of their beneficent, Christian lives—but one feeling has been excited, and that a painful as well as an indignant one—by what is considered a cruel, outrageous and unfounded attack on the memory of their ancestor. I have conversed on this subject with several who have spent their whole lives in Mauchline, (among others with Mr ——, who probably knows more about the place and its history than any body in it), and they unanimously concur in saying, that so far from having ever heard that the character and conduct of Mr Gavin Hamilton were such as to deserve the opprobrious epithets so lavishly heaped on them by your correspondent, he was invariably described to them, by those who knew them, as a singularly upright, benevolent, frank, and kind-hearted man. In some small matters of form, he might not have been so straitlaced as some of his neighbours; but in every thing truly essential to the character of a Christian and an honest man, that of Gavin Hamilton was unimpeachable.—Yours, &c.,