Genius had few liberal patrons at that time; and the compensations rendered to those who worshipped at the shrine of the Muses, consisted in great part in patronizing invitations to big dinners or in treats in the dram shops, where poets paid for their etertainment by appearing as prodigies, or by bartering the fine gold of their wit for draughts from the Circean Cup of popular applause and brutal intoxication.
The convivial usages of the country were almost universal; and Burns, with his genial nature and love of society, easily fell a prey to the seductions of Bacchus. It was considered an insult to hospitality to sit down to dinner in the house of a friend and get up from the table sober.
It was a time when hosts were not solicitous about the results of a revel or the comfort of guests, provided that there was a plentiful supply of hot water and sugar to replenish the punch bowl.
“But what will I do for beds for all these men?” said Margaret, the Laird of Logan’s house keeper. “Keep the kettle boiling Marg’et ma Wooman,” said the Laird, “and they will a find beds for themselves” to be fechtin’ fou’ or “greetin’ fow” was regarded as the normal condition of a well dined gentleman.
It was too often alas at such shrines and amid such scenes that poor Burns kindled the torch of his inspiration. He drew from life when in his masterpiece of “Tam O’Shanter” he pictured two drunken Cronies seeking respite from care in foaming tankards of ale inn:
“Auld Ayr, wham ne’re a toon surpasses
For honest men and bonnie lassies.”
At Tam’s elbow sits Soute Johnie:
“His ancient droutly cronie:
Tam lo’ed him like a verra brither;