THE BURNS CENTENARY.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 10595, 12 September 1896, Page 3

THE BURNS CENTENARY.

CELEBRATIONS IN SCOTLAND,

A utatue of Robert Burns was unveiled on July 18 at Irvine, and the Poet Laureate, Mr Alfred Austin, delivered the inaugural address. The statue is the gift to his native town of Mr John Spiers, a merchant in Glasgow. The ceremony took place in the presence of 12,000 spectators, and was carried through with Masonic honours. '

i The Poot Laureate, in the course of his ! address, said that the wise ancients were fond of Baying, "C«H no man happy tili he dies." Should we not ba wise iv turn were we to supplement that sagacious admonition by adding, "Call no man's fame assured till he h»a been dead 100 years"? Burns had undergone that ordeal; and it might safely be affirmed that be now stood on a pinnacle of fame from which he would never be displaced. Other poets might be the favourites of a class or a clique. Burns wag the favourite of the whole world. The secret of this universal favour was to be found in the fact that he was born in a lowly condition of life, close to mother earth, and gave utterance ta the rudimentary sentiments, the abiding Borrows, and the constant yearnings of human nature. The fascinating face of nature, the allurements, the pangs, the consolation! of love,- tbe duty of patriotism, the pleasures of good fellowship, the moral loftiness of lowly labour, and the indefeasible dignity of man—these were the themes on which Burns wae never weary of descanting, and, as they ware themes congenial to every uncorrupted human heart, we in turn were never, weary of listening to him. He hoped he was not among the "uncoguid" or the " rigidly righteous." But one would have to fling morality to the wind*, one would have to | admire what : was. not admirable, and to j. extol what evecy man's conscience told him ought not to ba extolled, were one to affirm that Burns the mau deserved a statue in every 1 Ayrshire market place. As far as conduct was ! concerned, Burns was, he feared, in almost j every respect the very reverse of what Scotchmen considered a man ought to be. What, then, was tbe reason—for there was a reason, i and he thought a sufficient reason—why all Scotchmen lovod, cherished, and even venerated the name of Robert Burns ? It was because, whatever might have been his practice, and whatover, moreover, might sometimes have been his preaching, he had in some one or other of his writings' inculcated the very virtues, extolled the very conduct, and glorified the very ideals of life and character -ih<ch they all admired, and be had dove that iv verse of unsurpassed simplicity, force, and witchery. It was said by Wordsworth, who had, he thought, written more wisely of Burns than' anyone else, that he was a man who preached from the text of hi« own errors. That was why i the sermon was no impressive, and why. for our lives, we could not help forgiving the preacher. No statesman, no soldier, iio man o> science, with a private record like/ that of Burns, could ever h&ve become the darling of a nation as Burns was theirs, AU the saints in Heaven were not bo much loved, not so much worshipped^ as that flagrant sinner who sang irresistibly of his own fins, which were sometimes; perhaps, our sins as well. They all remembered a famous passage iv English literature where tbe recording angel waa described as dropping a tear upon the damning page and blotting out the record for ever. They were all of them recording angels where Burns was concerned. He avowed his trcnagrcsiiious so frankly, so fully, so emphatically, that, even in despite of ourselves, we let fall upon the melodious confession the loving absolution of obliterating tears.

la the atteruoon a banquet took place iv the Driil Hall," ».t which the Poet Laureate proposed " The Immortal Memory of Barns."

There were specinl celebrations of the eentenai'y of the death "of Robert Burns at Dumfries snd Glasgow oa July 21. At Dumfries, where the poet died, there was a great proceasiou of members of Burns clubs and other bodies, and & large number of wreaths were placed on tba mausoleum in St. Michael* Churchyard, Lord Rosebery himself taking the wreaths, and laying them upon the tomb. In the afternoon, a conversazione, attended by 5000 persons, was held in the Doll Hall, where Lord Rosebery delivered a speech referring iv most appreciative terms to tne work and character of the poet. Not. Scotland alone, but mankind, he said, owed Burns a general debt; hut the debt of Scotiaud was a special one,, for Barns in exaltiug their race hallowed Scotland and , the Scottish tongue. Before his time Scotland' had been scarcely recognised ; it had lapied into obscurity, and eicept for an occasional riot or Jacobite rising its existence was almost forgotten. The Scottish dialect was in danger of extiuctiim. Barns at that juncture started to his feet, and reasserted Scotland's claim to a national existence. Bis Scottish notes rang through the world, ami he preserved the Scottish language forever. Nothing was more melancholy in all biography th»n the end of the brilliant poet, thu delight of all society, from the highest to the lowest, sitting brooding in silence over the drama of- his s^eat life—the bitterness of vanished homage, the gnawing doubt of fame, the distressed future of his wife and children all perplexed him. Few rsen could bear the strain of a poet's temperament through many years, and when Burns was dying, at the early age of 37, he made that famous prediction," A hundred years after this they will think niair o' me." How true this had become ! Burns had become the patron saint of Dumfries, and he hid borne silofc the banner of the essential equality of man. Burns statues were hardly annuals. Burns clubs sprang up like mushrooms after rain. Editions of Burns were as the Bands of the sea. Whatever Barns might have contemplated in his prediction, whatever dream he might have entertained of his worth, must have fallen utterly uhort of the reality as they kuew it that day. -

In the evening Lord Kosebery delivered an address in St. Andrew's Hall, Glasgow, on Burns. He said it must be a joy and pride to sea their champion Scotsman receive the admiration and affectUm of .humanity— : to see, as he had seen that .day.af Dumfries, long processions bringing hom&ge and tribute to the conquering dead. The thoughts and sympathy of men were that day dicected to Robert Burns. What pleasanter or more familiar occupations could there, ba'for* Scotsmen thaa discussing Burns ? The clue to Burns's extraordinary hold on mankind was a complicated one. Ha personally believed that,the onuses were, like most causes, simple. The secret, as it seamed to him, lay in two. words—lnspiration and Sympathy. He wm a peissofc, bom in a pottage, struggling wit'i i:esper*te effort against pauperism, then snatching at scraps of learning in the intervals of toil; a heavy, silent lad, proud of bis ploughing, All of & sudden he broke out into exquisite, song, like s. nightingale from the brushwood, and continued singing as sweetly, with nightingale pauses, till he died. . The poetry was only a fragment 'of Burns. As a man he was far mote wonderful than his work. Burns was an oi'itor, baviug wonderful quickness of comprehension and readiness ot eloquence. If his talents were universal, his sympathy was not lfss so. He placed all creation, especially tha suffering and despised part of. it, under bin protection. The oppressor in every Bhape, even in the comparatively iDiiocent embodiment of the factor and the sportsman,l tie regarded With direct and personal hostility; but, above all, he saw tha charm of home and he recognised it as a basis of all society. He was the great master, the universal Samaritan, to whom the wounded, the weary, and the sore coulfl go and find sympathy. Burns was suspected of being a politician ; but he should not be claimed for any party.. A poetwaß tiever a politician,, and a politician was never a poet. Burns's politic* were entirely guided by imagination, for he was at ones a Jacobite and a Jacobin. THE QUBEN OF BCTOMANIA's POEM. A poem written by the Queen of Roumania was read at the Burns centeuary celebration at Dumfries on ■ July 21. Here are three verses from it :— Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, whaui Bruce has aften led, Scots, your Burns is not yet dead; His wondrous nonj?.has never fled. Who'd laugh like thee and sing like thee, And fecht at hame sac can tie, O I And meet the Devil and Dundee On the braes o' Killiekrankie, 0 ! O Burns! Thou joy of my yoiiug heart Thou lark ! thou soul of Nature's song! A spark of thee and of thine art HatU wandered with me far and long.