ROBERT BURNS

A Play

By John Drinkwater

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1925

[Pg iv]

COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

All dramatic rights in this play are reserved by the author.

The music for Robert Burns has been composed by Frederick Austin, and the play may not be performed without this.

The Riverside Press CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

[Pg v]

FOR DAVID

[Pg vi]

THE CHARACTERS IN THE ORDER OF THEIR APPEARANCE ARE

Nell Robert Burns Holy Willie Landlord at the Inn Tam Laurie Michael James Armour A Factor An Old Beggar A Doxy Another Beggar Woman Gavin Hamilton A Sheriff’s Officer John Anderson Mrs. Stewart of Stair The Duchess of Gordon Miss Taylor Mrs. Ferguson Mrs. Montgomery Walter Scott Mr. Robertson Professor Ferguson Dr. Blacklock Lord Muir Baliol White Sam Ogilvie Neil Simpson ‘Shy’ Duncan Meg Girl at Ellisland Jean Armour Willie Campbell Mrs. Fergus M’Pherson Mr. Fenton

[Pg 1]

ROBERT BURNS

SCENE I

A fine warm afternoon in late winter. A green hillock at the edge of a ploughland. A peasant girl, with mischief in her movement, runs on, and looks from the hillock up and down the furrows. Then she fixes her gaze on some object in the distance, and after a moment sings—

Nell:

[As the song is closing the approach of plough-harness is heard, and Robert Burns, driving, appears at the back of the scene. He sees Nell and draws the plough up.]

Burns: Nell! there’s a good lass now.

Nell: Oughtn’t you to go on with your ploughing?

Burns (turning): To please you?

Nell: That’s as may be.

Burns (coming back): Pretty Nell.

Nell: You think I’m pretty?

Burns (taking her in his arms and kissing her): Pretty, pretty Nell.

[Pg 3]

Nell (sitting on the grass): I could be pretty if you had some money.

Burns: Oh, I’ll have money yet.

Nell: But by then I shan’t be able to be pretty any more.

Burns (sitting beside her): But you are, Nell—pretty as a fair-day.

Nell: A girl wants ribbons and laces and all that. Look at my frock—why, the quality’s serving women would laugh at it.

Burns: Their ignorant pride, Nell. I don’t laugh at it—I think it’s like a queen’s dress—you make it look like that. I thought that the first day, barley-gleaning—you remember? The way you walked, and then stooping—willow rods and birds’ wings and the way a star falls. What’s a dress to all that, my dearie?

[He sings.]

Nell: And all that is for me?

Burns: You like it?

Nell: Yes, Robbie. But what was that about innocence and modesty?

Burns: That’s for the Sabbath, maybe.

Nell: It’s not the Sabbath to-day.

Burns (accepting the invitation): My pretty, pretty Nell. (As he kisses her.)

[After a long embrace, Burns repeats.]

[Pg 5]

Burns:

[As he finishes, the music announces the coming of Holy Willie, the canting parson of Scotch bigotry, upon whose appearance the lovers separate, Nell a little disconcerted, Burns returning to his plough. Holy Willie sees them, with a great gesture of disapproval. When they have gone, he sings the following part of his prayer.]

Holy Willie:

[Towards the end of the prayer, Burns has come back, and stands listening; as the prayer closes, Holy Willie turns and sees him.]

Holy Willie: Young man, young man, I do not like your ways.

Burns: I don’t like your prayer.

Holy Willie: You blaspheme against Holy Kirk.

Burns: You blaspheme against God.

Holy Willie: Beware the wrath of the ministry, young man.

[Pg 7]

Burns: Beware His wrath on holy upstarts, minister.

Holy Willie: Shameless, shameless. With your doxy there. Who was she?

Burns: A good girl, minister. All affection, and young, and kisses, and likes a song.

Holy Willie: A hussy—a woman of evil, I doubt not.

Burns: And the greatest of these is charity.

Holy Willie: Profane not that holy word.

Burns: Meditate upon it, minister.

Holy Willie: Who was the wench?

Burns: A sweet ankle—did you notice maybe?

Holy Willie: Dare you speak so—to me?

Burns: Aye—we are all tinder, completely tinder. Some are ashamed of it, that’s all.

Holy Willie: I am not ashamed—that is, I have no cause for shame.

Burns: And some of us give praise for all good gifts—a sweet ankle, believe me, minister.

Holy Willie: Have a care of the pit, and the everlasting flames.

[Pg 8]

Burns: They’ll come or not as it may be. You’ll not be the judge, minister, there’s hope in that. And the lasses are here, and a man’s heart beats, and you can’t frown us out of it, minister. Look at us, labouring and wearing ourselves and near starving often, and are we to take nothing that bright eyes and fond lips and white young arms may offer? Who talks of profaning, minister!

[He sings.]

Holy Willie: But think of that poor young girl.

Burns: I think of her, and think, and think—goddesses, all of them.

[Pg 10]

Holy Willie: I fear you will be damned.

Burns: Then I’ll be gallantly damned, minister.

Holy Willie: A stubborn heart. She would listen, maybe, though you are deaf. Again I ask you, young man, Who was she? I will counsel her to prudent godliness. Who was she?

Burns: A sweet ankle, and an inviting waist—no, I wouldn’t trust you with her, minister.

Holy Willie: Lewd and idolatrous! Son of Belial! If thy tongue offend thee pluck it out—offensive tongue! Disgrace among us, profligate and wanton, beware the end!

[Sings.]

[He goes.]

Burns: Beware the end. Had he been a cleaner gospeller, that might be a thing to[Pg 11] consider. But the man’s rotten—who is to be preached at by such a one? But, the end. Holy Willie there maybe has the truth of it, for all he’s a false and snivelling prophet. A pretty face, and I’m all song, all springtime. Is that peace in the end? Pretty, pretty Nell. But I’ll sing a song for Scotland yet before I founder—cottar though I be. A song to remember on the highways—aye, and in Courts too. But continence, Robin, or they will consume you.

I must mend, indeed, indeed. And they are lovely, but deceivers—so positive and sly—deceivers—I’ll forswear them. I’ll be a monk, and none but John Barleycorn for merry company. Holy Willie is a bad man, but he spoke truth I fear, though by rule of the Kirk’s thumb. Forswear them, Robin.

[He sings.]

The plough, and John Barleycorn—once in a week just—or twice maybe, and I’ll be cold to all glances till wedding-time, if it comes.

[He moves back towards the plough. As he does so, Nell is heard singing, and he stops.]

[Pg 13]

Nell:

[She appears.]

Burns: Nay, I did not whistle. I must to the plough. I am all new in resolution.

Nell (singing):

Burns: I’m not courting any longer, I tell you. I’m to beware of lasses, Nell, henceforth. I’m ice, I tell you.

Nell (moving away, singing):

[She has gone. Burns makes another move to the plough, then turns suddenly, and calls—]

Burns: Nell—Nell.

Nell (singing):

[Burns whistles the rest of the tune through, and Nell is with him again.]

Nell: That black-coated, lean-bodied, yellow-faced gowk to scare you. Cracked metal like that to turn you off, a pretty man like you, Robin, with your kisses and your rhymes. A snivelling man, a watery-eyed man—and bawdy too, I know him. He’s bad Sabbath, a leering, lecherous, safe man—he would and he would not afore God—oh yes, I know him. And you’ll let him trip you up, spoil your stanzas—for shame, Robin.

Burns: You ran away, Nell, and left me alone against him.

Nell: Ran away—yes I ran away—no Master Sanctimony for me. Ask Annie Leslie.

[Pg 15]

Burns: I gave him no civil flattery—I can read him as well as you or Annie. But I fell to thinking afterwards.

Nell: To have done with courting.

Burns: Till I’m for wedding.

Nell: But I want no talk of weddings. Let that bide. Spring’s coming, and it’s a clear day, and here are we, and you’re a man, Robin, to make holy rags there look the famine he is.

Burns: It was a bad resolution.

Nell: A miserable resolution, Robin.

Burns: I discard it.

Nell: You whistled and I came to ye, my lad.

Burns: Love shall keep me company with John Barleycorn, Nell,

Nell: You’re ice!

Burns: Then I’m a rogue. It was a spleen of Holy Willie’s begetting. Kiss me.

Nell: Are there kisses on the Parnassus Hill you talk of?

Burns: Immortal kisses.

[Pg 16]

Nell (in his arms): Take me with you.

Burns: I’ll take you, Nell. It shall be our Parnassus Hill.

[He sings, and, in the repetitions, Nell with him.]

THE CURTAIN FALLS

[Pg 17]

SCENE II

A late spring evening two years later. The Inn at Mauchline. The room is lamplit.

A number of villagers are seated round the room, drinking, being served by the landlord, and Nell, now the maid of the Inn. Burns is standing on a chair, singing, all joining in every other verse.

Burns:

Chorus:

Burns:

Chorus:

Burns:

Chorus:

Burns:

Chorus:

[There is general acclamation and toasting.]

Burns (jumping down from his chair, a little ‘flown’): Fill up—fill up! John Barleycorn is Scotland’s king, and shall be so for ever! Fill up! There’s a pretty Nell. How’s that for a song, landlord?

The Landlord: Very good sentiments, Robin. Let all honest men prosper, say I.

Burns: Meaning, most noble landlord, all honest men to be John Barleycorn’s liege subjects—that pay tribute, mark you. Drink up, Tam Laurie—why so doomsday, man?

Tam (a meek, hard-driven little man): It’s the cursed factors, Robin. They’ll not let a man scrape supper gruel from his toil.

[Pg 20]

Burns: Blast and misfortune to them! Craft and fat bellies—a flea on a dog’s tail is a respectable work of God beside a factor. A toast, friends, fellow-citizens of Mauchline—‘To hell with all factors.’

[The toast is drunk with enthusiasm.]

A lean but well-to-do Farmer: That’s all very well, but rents have to be paid.

Burns: Friends—another toast—‘To hell with all rents.’

[And again.]

Burns: Michael, you speak as a man the Lord prospers.

Michael: I speak as one who is diligent.

Burns: Diligent, quotha! A man left a fat inheritance and his croft all favoured by nature, and he talks diligence. Have you sweated, Michael, with your share always ringing on the stones, and your breeches letting in the cold blast behind you, and your boots full of March rain, and your belly empty, and a bare table to go home to when dark comes, and a gap in the roof above you as wide as a lassie’s embrace? Have you done[Pg 21] these things, and kept the heart true steel within you, like Tam Laurie there?

Tam: I’ve to quit come Tuesday week.

Burns: To quit, Michael—do you hear that? Do you know what quitting means? You stand out there under the sky, and your steps may as well go this way as that, for you have no door in the world, and a ditch to starve in is all you can borrow. And rents must be paid. To hell with such rents I say!

Michael: I’ll not listen to such heresies in the state. Respectable houses are not safe when tongues are loose like this. But the Lord will look to his own.

Burns: You put off settlement with the Lord as long as you can, Michael Johnson—you’ll be wise.

Michael: They say that Mr. Armour will not be put off, though.

[Burns is suddenly silenced by this, and with his parting score Michael goes, two or three of the others following him. One or two of the party are now asleep,[Pg 22] two or three others talking together, Tam sitting by himself. The landlord is smoking, and Nell cleaning pots.]

Tam: He was always bitter to poverty. Thank you, Robin, for speaking.

Nell: What’s that about Mr. Armour?

Burns: They’ve beaten me, Nell. I’ve got to go.

Nell: How’s that?

Burns (sitting at a table near to us, in dejection. Nell comes to him, still working. Some of the others at another table are playing cards): We were friends, Nell, you and I.

Nell: Good friends, Robin.

Burns: Parnassus Hill, you remember?

Nell: You and I, and love, and John Barleycorn—yes.

Burns: Then there was my Mary; she died. Then Jean came. You didn’t scold.

Nell: I knew they would come. I told you I was not for wedding.

Burns: Jean is a mother.

Nell: You?

Burns: Yes.

[Pg 23]

Nell: You’ll wed her then, so why grieve? She’s good, and she’s comely.

Burns: I love her, Nell, and I’d be proud of her. But I’m not to wed her.

Nell: But that’s not honest, Robin.

Burns: They won’t let me.

Nell: Who won’t?

Burns: That’s what Michael meant. Mr. Armour. He’s forbidden it. I’m not genteel enough. He says I’m profligate. He’s right I dare say. But that, it’s bitter, that. He’d rather have his girl be shamed alone than be shamed by wedding me. And I can’t pay as I’m ordered (he shows her a paper), so it’s jail or leaving Scotland. John Barleycorn is all now. Fill my pot, Nell.

[Nell does so, and brings it to him.]

Nell: What will you do?

Burns: I came here to forget it. I’m going. Jamaica—that’s a world’s journey off, Nell. Jean, and Scotland—I’m losing both.

[He sings.]

[As he is ending the song, three men come to the door. One is James Armour, Jean’s father, another a Factor, and with them is Holy Willie. The Factor goes to the counter and drinks.]

Armour: So you can sing in the midst of the desolation you’ve caused.

Burns: It was no happy song, Mr. Armour.

Armour: There’s a warrant coming down the road for you.

Burns: But I cannot pay, I told you. I’ll work for Jean, but you’ll not let me.

Armour: I will not. I want no creeping seducer for a son-in-law.

Burns: That’s—I’ll not say what it is, Mr. Armour. Ask Jean. She loves me. We’re proud of it, if you would let us be.

Armour: Proud of it, you Barbary sheep![Pg 25] The girl’s a scandal to my name, but she’s not for you. Let her be proud of it alone.

Holy Willie: I told you of this, young man. I preached the light to you.

Burns: Good counsel from you would corrupt the saints, minister. Why won’t you let me wed Jean, Mr. Armour?

Armour: I came to give no reasons, Robert Burns. I came to see you knew the choice rightly. You can pay, or you can feel handcuffs, or you can go where you’ll never offend honest Scots eyes with the sight of you more.

Holy Willie: And whichever you choose, you’ll first do penance in kirk for an incontinent sinner. It is the kirk’s will.

Burns: Let him that is without sin, minister—but let that go. Again, Mr. Armour, I ask it in good faith, let me take Jean to church. There’ll be no penance in that, but hope and goodwill, I promise it.

Armour: You’ve no virtue, but if you were made of it, I’ld say no still. You’ve not rank enough for the Armours.

Burns: Rank, rank, rank! Then destroy[Pg 26] her and destroy me, and ask your holy friend here to pray God to show you your own black and proud and silly heart. Fill up my pot, Nell.

[As she does so, the Factor is about to leave, but seeing Tam Laurie, goes across to him.]

The Factor: Have you found that money, Laurie?

Tam: It’s not for finding.

The Factor: It’s for spending, it seems.

Tam: I’ve had but two pots, and not to my score.

The Factor: Tuesday week then. I hope you’ll have joy of your travels.

Tam: It’s a poor thing to fleer at a man that’s beaten.

Burns (crossing, pot in hand): A dirty thing, Master Factor, a thing that makes old Nickie-ben laugh down among the sulphur the minister is so fond of gabbing about. And before I’m gone, I’ll stand up and prophesy among you. Mr. Armour, you’re a little man, in a little place, and for your peddling bit of[Pg 27] dignity and self-esteem you’ll break your girl’s heart and ruin me. Minister, you’ll sit on the Lord’s right hand till He turns round and catches you there. And you, Factor, will sit on a lord’s right hand till he turns round and finds your fingers in his pocket. And you’re all upright pillars of repute, praise the Lord, Amen. And Tam here is a pauper, and I’m forfeit, and before the God that you blaspheme with your devil’s work, we’ll take our chance at the day of judgment against the lot of you. He’ll have mercy on us, for we are sinners, but I doubt he’ll take no notice of you at all, and you’ll find it a wide place to wander in and learn your lesson.

[Outside is heard the sound of music and song, coming from a band of Beggars passing along the road.]

Burns (going to the window, and looking out): Listen to them—vagabonds, unwashed, thieves perhaps, and kiss who kiss can. But they’re free, and they’re honester than your sort, righter commanders. (Opening the door.) Come in, come in—a pot apiece for a song,[Pg 28] my hearties—come and teach the gentlemen to say their grace.

[The Beggars crowd at the door.]

Armour: You think we’ll stay with you and your dirty rapscallions. By your leave—

[He, the Factor, and Holy Willie move to go.]

Burns: No, no—persuade them friends. (Tam and the others, Nell and the Landlord assisting, hold them back, while Burns cries to the Beggars.) Come in—come in—serve them, Nell, my dear, full pots all round.

[He locks the door, and Nell hands round the full pots.]

Armour: This shall be a case for the Justice.

Burns: Justice is a blind wench, Mr. Armour—and it would be a bonny jest for the parish, wouldn’t it? I think we shall swallow it. Now, you jolly beggars, drink and sing.

[The First Beggar, an old man in soldier’s rags, a girl in his arms, sings.]

[He is followed, after drinking and laughter, by the girl in his arms, who sings.]

[Then comes a dark, tragic woman, who has been sitting apart.]

[As she finishes, the First Beggar, leaving his doxy, goes up to her and sings.]

[At the conclusion she sinks into his arms, and there is an altercation between the two Beggar women, the Old Beggar quieting them, and then there are cries from all to Burns.]

Now, Master, a song for a song, a taste of your quality, good liquor makes good tunes, a song, a song!

Burns (leaps on to the table with): Here’s for you, then, my hearties.

[And sings.]

[This is received with an uproar of acclamation. The doxy climbs up on to the table beside Burns, and shouts above the din, ‘A chorus, a chorus, and then for the road!’ and they sing in chorus.]

[The Beggars depart, to the music that brought them, Burns exchanging farewells as they pass through the door. The villagers follow them, except one lying in a drunken sleep on the floor. Burns, Armour, Holy Willie, the Factor, Tam, the Landlord, and Nell are all[Pg 36] that remain. The room is now in confusion, filled with fumes, the floor stained with liquor, tankards lying about, a litter of straw and oddments of rags left by the Beggars.]

Burns: And that, your reverences, is life too. They’ll all come to the Day of Judgment with the rest of us. Miserable sinners, God bless them. Is there anyone to say God bless you, think you?

Armour: Let us pass.

Burns: Aye, in a moment. That tune has just put another rhyme to shape—I’ld have you hear it before you go.

Holy Willie: You heard what Mr. Armour told you. There’s a warrant coming this way. Now for the reckoning.

The Landlord (coming forward): Aye, the reckoning.

Burns (his hand going uselessly to his pockets): Yes, landlord. How much is it?

The Landlord: Four shillings and a penny.

Burns: Four—not a penny even. There now. Wouldn’t one of you gentlemen—?

[Pg 37]

Holy Willie: For shame, young man.

Burns: It was a good mumming, worth it surely. Mr. Armour, it would be an act of grace—a soul might almost be saved for four shillings and a penny.

The Landlord: Let it be, let it be. I’d have none of their pence. Wipe it out, Nell.

[Nell cleans the slate.]

Burns: That’s honour for you, true bred out of Elysium. I have it all in my head now. You with your rank and your rents and your holy purses and your grand little airs, listen.

[To the tune of ‘I am a bard of no regard,’ he sings, in a passion of conviction now.]

[While he sings, a man of bearing and authority has come in and taken a seat quietly at the back, unobserved. He now comes forward.]

Burns: Mr. Hamilton. A respectful good-even to you.

[Pg 39]

Gavin Hamilton: Well sung, Robert. A new one?

Burns: Yes, Mr. Hamilton.

Hamilton: I hear of trouble.

Burns: These gentlemen could tell you.

Hamilton: No doubt. They would find it an agreeable narrative. I know them.