BURNS CLUB.

Evening Star, Issue 9471, 16 August 1894, Page 2

BURNS CLUB.

, The monthly meeting of the Dunedin Burns Club was held in the Choral Hall last night before a packed attendance. The president (Dr Stenhouse) was in the chair. The programme, as usual, was composed of Scottish items, and was apparently greatly appreciated by the audience, who were lavish in the applause they bestowed on the performers. The choir, conducted by Mr J. B. Ferguson, sang three* part songs-r' Caller herrin',' ' When the kye come name,'and 'The gallant weaver.' 4 Miss J. L. Matheson was .recalled .for her singing of 'Going to market,' replying with a nice rendering of ' 'Twas within a mile'; Miss Dow was heartily applauded for her rendition of ' Afton Water'; Mrs Todd was listened to with much pleasure in her singing of ' Bonnie Jeannie o' the Clyde'; Miss Hood was not heard to advantage in ' The banks of Allan water'—her voice was very husky; Mr G. M. Campbell, who has a very serviceable voice, was warmly applauded for his singing of '..My Nannie's awa 5 ; Mr J. Ovens was recalled for *A Scotchman born'; and Mr Scoular gave an acceptable rendering of 'Jessie,.the flower of Dunblane.', A quartet, Miss Smellie, Miss Matheson, Mr M'Donald, and Mr Cooper, contributed ftoslyn Castle,' which met with a fair amount of appreciation. Miss Wright acted as accompanist. The Rev. Mr Gibson, who is at present supplying the pulpit of Knox Church, gave a short address early in the evening. He had been, he said in all the other colonies) and he had not had the good fortune to find so large a gathering in connection with the Scottish poet's name as he saw there that night. Ho was not sure whether that augured that there was in Dunedin a large poetic soul in the public and large interest in the works of Burns, but if it did not mean that it meant something near it—a capacity for enjoying what could afford so great a pleasure as the works—the sougs, as well as the other poetical works —of Scotland's greatest poet. He hoped that those present, who showed their enthusiasm and appreciation of Burns by coming out to the meetings every month, would give themselves to the reading of Burns's works. His experience in the other colonies was that if a person quoted a few lines from Burns, or if he did not attempt such a high flight but descended to the lower level of telling a good Scotch story, be had almost always to explain the joke. The young people, and a good many old people too, did not understand the dialect iii which the choicest anecdotes were told. The fact was that some people did not take the trouble to learn tlie language of Burns. Some people said he wrote in a foreign dialect, that the true English dialect was the dialectof Tennyson and Browning and other distinguished poets, and that to ask them to go to Burns, Allan Ramsay, Tanuahill, or any other Scottish poet, was asking too much. As an answer to that he (the speaker) would say that when they came to think of it there was really no decided, distinct, and definite English dialect apart irdm the Scottish dialect. The Scottish dialect was the dialect of Great Britain, and not that low-born thing, the dialect of the Cockneys of Londdu. It was Scotland that conquered England and not England that conquered Scotland. Scotland gave England a king, and England was under the rule of the Scottish at present. He had heard several dialects in England—the Cockney, as expressed in Mrs 'Euery 'Awkius ; ho had heard tho Cornish dialect, and also the Lancashire, Which ho hoped he would never hear again. (Laughter.) He had also heard a dialect in the north of Scotland that would stagger any Englishman, in Aberdeen he heard another dialect, and in Ayrshire there was yet another. They would see, then, that no part of Great Britain could claim the exclusive right to call itself the possessor of the English tongue. The speaker theu recited Burns's poem 'The Mouse,' in which, he said, they had the Ayrshire dialect. Therefore, if anyone objected to Burns because his poems were written in a strange dialect, they might turn round and say that it was as good a dialect as any other they would find in the country, and that if people want to know good poetry and appreciate it they must take the trouble to understand the dialect. In was in that way they would obtain the key to an understanding of, and a better appreciation of, the beauties of Burns's poems. It was not such a great and difficult task after all, and the result would be that they would find in tho poet Burns a man who, before almost any other poet of his day, was true to nature in what he sang and in what he wrote. That was the touch that made the whole world feel kin with Robbie Burns. And he was the first of a large number of poets distinguished at the "end of the last century and the beginning of this who M r ent to Nature for their chief inspiration. He went and he saw the hills, and the floods of his native land, the mountain and the stream, and he saw the mouse he spoke of in his poem and the ploughshare turning up the wee daisy. He saw also the Afton Water, the banks and braes of bonnie Doon, Dumfries, and other places, and he saw somebody they had all heard of—he saw the de'il once. He described all these things, these sights and scenes, at first sight, and they therefore found in his poems a freshness, a vigor, and a spontaneity that they would go a long way before they found in any other poet. Another thing that characterised Burns's poetry was that not only was the poet true to nature, but he was true to Scotland —the most patriotic poet Scotland ever had. Scottish feeling, sentiment, and pride of independence came to the top of his poetry just in the way the cream came to the top of the milk, and that Scottish sentiment was what made the Scottish people relish Burns eo much wherever they might be—whether on the banks of the Amazon, the Mississippi, the Ganges, or scattered throughout the immense plains of the Australian continent. Then, Burns was always true to himself, and that made him great. He would not hide his faults, and ho felt what they all felt—that to err was human, to forgive divine. (Applause.) In his poetry the man showed his very heart—he hid nothing, he excused nothing, but always warned (especially the young) against his own faults. It was because Burns had admitted these faults that some people had turned their backs upon him, but he (the speaker) had no sympathy with any kind of piety that turned its back on Robert Burns. If anyone of a pious turn of mind asked him to turn his back on Robert Burns because he was a great sinner, he would say he might as well turn his back on King David. Both David, the sweet singer of the psalms of Israel, and Burns, the sweet singer of Scotia's lays, were great sinners at times, and he would like to see the man or the woman who was not a sinner at heart. But both men did not excuse their sins; they warned others against them, and Burns when dying acknowledged his mistake. No man should throw a stone at him; he was judged by another, and they should look to his virtues, to his splendid qualities of independence, for he was a man who would never bow to the proudest in Edinburgh or anywhere else. The lecturer concluded by saying that the best way to hold Burns's memory green was to enter on an earnest study of his works, and, if possible, to try and imitate him.—(Applause.) On the motion of Mr J. J. Ramsay (Hyde) a hearty vote of thanks was accorded the Rev. Mr Gibson for his address and the ladies and gentlemen who took part in the musical programme for T4jo hall was afterwards cleared for dancing, which was kept up for an hour.