BURNS' FAREWELL TO MASONS
by Rob Morris
Light and Shadows of Freemasonry - 1852
IT was in the latter part
of the gloomy 1786, that Robert Burns, the poet and the
Mason, gathered up his thoughts, he had but little else to
gather up, preparatory to leaving Scotland forever. Forever!
terrible word to the expatriated terrible to the poor
exile, who turns toward his country as the Jews turned
themselves three times a day praying with their faces toward
Jerusalem. Terrible in the highest degree to such a man as
Burns, who to the most exalted patriotism added the keenest
appreciation of home joys and social pleasures. Disappointment
had set its mark upon Robert Burns. The indulgence of
passions that raged within him as the pentup fires rage
beneath the sealed crater of the volcano, had brought to him its
legitimate consequences in the upbraidings of conscience, the
forfeiture of friendship, and, worst of all, the loss of
self-respect. The restraints of Freemasonry had
been neglected, while its social joys were most keenly
relished; in other words, our tenets had been faithfully
sustained, while our cardinal virtues were neglected. The use
of the Compasses had never blessed his hands. The fine
genius, the unequalled gifts that enabled Robert Burns to
conceive and execute The Cotter's Saturday Night, could
not confine him into the ordinary channels of prudence, and
even then he was a doomed man. Heavy debts had accumulated
upon him, such as in that barren, unenterprising country
there was but little chance of his ever being able to cancel.
He had been summoned to find security for the maintenance of two
children, whom he was forbidden to legitimate by a lawful
marriage, and as he disdained to ask, or tried in vain to find
pecuniary assistance in this his hour of need, there was no
other alternative remaining for him but a Scottish jail or a
flight from Scotland. He had chosen the latter. After much
trouble the situation of assistant overseer on an estate in
Jamaica had been secured for him by one of his few remaining
friends. In his own bitter language,
"He saw misfortune's
cauld nor'west
Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
A jillet brak
his heart at last
Ill may she be!
So, took a birth afore the
mast
An awre tne sea.'
He had said farewell o all the
friends, they were not many, and to the scenes very many and
very dear to their poet's heart. This he did while skulking from
covert to covert under all the terrors of a Scottish jail.
His chest was on the road to Greenock. He had composed the
last song he should ever measure in Caledonia. It is fraught with
solemn thoughts and words, as the reader will see:
"The
gloomy night is gathering fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant
blast,
You murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving
o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The
scattered coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest with
care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr. The autumn mourns her
ripening corn,
By early winter's ravage torn;
Across her
placid azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill
runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy
wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonny
banks of Ayr. 'Tis not the surging billows' roar,
'Tis not
that fatal deadly shore;
Tho' death in every shape appear,
The
wretched have no more to fear:
But round my heart the ties are
bound,
That heart transpierced with many a wound;
These bleed
afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonny banks of
Ayr. Farewell old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors
and winding vales,
The scene where wretched fancy
roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!
Farewell my friends,
farewell my foes,
My peace with these, my love with those;
The
bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell the bonnie banks of
Ayr."
And now, all other remembered subjects having been
marked by the tears of the poet, the poet himself being on the
road to the port of Greenock to the ship that should witness
his last glance at his native land, his heart turned lovingly,
involuntarily, towards Masonry. For Robert Burns was a
Freemason, prepared first in heart. In none of the vast folios
where stands the vast catalogue of our brethren, ancient or
modern, is there a character shaped more truly by Masonic
skill than his. No where one, who in the expressive language
of the Ancient Constitutions would "afford succor to the
distressed, divide bread with the industrious poor, and put
the misguided traveler into the way," more cheerfully than
Burns. He understood right well "that whoever from love of
knowledge, interest, or curiosity desires to be a Mason, is to
know that as his foundation and great corner stone, he
is firmly to believe in the eternal God, and to pay that
worship which is due to him as the great Architect and Governor
of the Universe;" and Robert Burns governed
himself accordingly. There is many a record in the Lodge books
of Scotland that gives prominence to his Masonic virtues; and in
the higher Lodge, the Grand Lodge of heaven, we have reason to
hope the Grand Secretary's books also bear his name. None lament
the weaknesses in his character more than his brethren, but be
those defects in number and in extent what they may, his brethren
protest in the name of their common humanity, against the
inhuman judgments that have been pronounced against him. If the
royal dignity, the divine partiality, the unlimited wisdom of
a Solomon, First Grand Master of Speculative Masonry, could not
preserve that prince of peace from the errors of the passions,
who shall dare too cruelly to judge the son of an Ayrshire
cotter, nurtured in penury and debarred the most
ordinary relaxations of his age. "Let him that thinketh he
standeth take heed lest he fall." Lovingly then turned the
heart of Brother Burns towards Freemasonry. The happy
hours, the honest friends, the instructive lessons, the lofty
desires! let the brother who reads this sketch endeavor to place
himself in the condition of the poor exile,
self-expatriated and almost friendless, and he will
understand the keenness of his pangs! There came up a vision
of his last Masonic night. The presence of the Grand Master and
his noble Deputy; of a gallant array of gentlemen,
the chiefest in all the land; and himself with them first
among the equals of those who "meet upon the level" to "part upon
the square "- there was the cue - it was enough - sitting down
by the roadside, he pencilled upon the back of an old letter his
Masonic farewell. How many a remembrance of Grand Lodges and
Subordinate Lodges and social meetings among Masons, is attached
to these well-known lines:
"Adieu! a heart-warm fond
adieu!
Dear Brothers of the mystic tie!
Ye favored, ye
enlightened few,
Companions of my social joy!
Though I to
foreign lands must hie
Pursuing fortune's sliddry ba',
With
melting heart and brimful eye
I'll mind you still though far
awa'. Oft have I met your social band
And spent the
cheerful festive night;
Oft honored with supreme
command
Presided o'er the sons of light;
And by that
hieroglyphic bright,
Which none but craftsmen ever saw!
Strong
memory on my heart shall write. These happy scenes though far
awa'!
May freedom, harmony, and love
Unite you in the
grand design
Beneath the Omniscient eye above,
The glorious
Architect divine!
That you may keep the unerring line
Still
rising by the plummet's law
Till order bright completely shine
-
Shall be my prayer when far awa'. And you farewell!
whose merits claim
Justly that highest badge to wear!
Heaven
bless your honored, noble name,
To Masonry and Scotia dear!
A
last request permit me here,
When yearly ye assemble a',
One
round, I ask it with a tear,
To him, the bard, that's far awa' !
*
It pleased God at this crisis to turn the destination of
Robert Burns and to spare to Scotland and the world, this
affectionate heart. By a train of circumstances,
almost miraculous, certainly unprecedented, he was brought
unexpectedly to the notice of the literary circles of Edinburgh,
then as now, the most classic and critical in the world, and
with one consent that society placed him foremost in the ranks of
his country's poets. Fame and profit then flowed nightly unto
him. His pen was put into constant requisition, his company
everywhere sought after, and his talents met with their due
appreciation. The Masonic order added its judgment to that
of an approving nation. The Most Worshipful Grand Master
Charters, with every member of the Grand Lodge of Scotland,
visiting a Lodge in which Burns happened to be
present, graciously gave as a toast, "Caledonia,
and Caledonia's bard, Brother Burns!"-which rang through the
whole assembly with multiplied honors and repeated
acclamations. But he is gone. On the 21st of July,
1796, Robert Burns died. More than ten thousand persons
accompanied his remains to the grave. "It was an impressive and
mournful sight," writes a spectator, "to see men of all
ranks and persuasions, and opinions, mingling as brothers, and
stepping side by side down the streets of Dumfries, with the
remains of him who had sung of their loves and joys,
and domestic endearments, with a truth and tenderness which
none perhaps have since equalled." He is gone, and here in
a distant land, an humble admirer of his genius, addresses
his memory in the following lines:
AMERICA'S MASONS TO
ROBERT BURNS.** The sun is uprising on Scotia's far
hills
Day's labor is opening, the Grand Master wills,
But
Lodge-lights are gleaming in cheerfulness yet,
Afar in the
west where we Masons have met. There's song for the tuneful, kind
words for the kind,
There's cheer for the social, and light
for the blind:
But when we uprising, prepare us to go,
With
one heart and feeling, we'll sing thy Adieu. A melting
farewell, to the favored and bright,
A sorrowful thought, for
the sun set in night,
A round to the bard whom misfortunes
befell, -
A prayer that thy spirit with Masons
may dwell. When freedom and harmony bless our design,
We'll
think of thee, Brother, who loved every line:
And when gloomy
clouds shall our Temple surround
Thy brave heart shall cheer
us where virtues were found. Across the broad ocean two
hands shall unite,
Columbia, Scotia, the symbol is bright!
The
world one Grand Lodge, and the heaven above.
Shall witness the
triumph of Faith, Hope and Love And thou sweetest Bard, when
our gems we enshrine,
Thou jewel the brightest, most
precious, shalt shine,
Shall gleam from the East, to the far
distant west,
While morning shall call us, or evening
shall rest.
* The fifth verse unworthy of the
connection and highly unmasonic, which is appended to the
above in some of our American Manuals, was not written by
Buras. ** AIR "Flow gently, Sweet Aston."
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