From Russia with Marshak…

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This blog post on Russian translator Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak was written by Visitor Services Assistant Jim Andrews.

  Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak


I think it would be true to say that the majority of non-English-speakers who have delved into the works of Robert Burns will have done so through translations. Our Russian-speaking guests will be familiar with the work of Robert Burns through the translations of Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak. I have met Russian visitors who had come to us carrying a copy of Marshak’s translations. I first came across Marshak at secondary school: our Russian teacher, a Burns enthusiast, thought it might be fun to have us learn “Scots Wha Hae” in Russian. As I recall, we did not share his notion of fun.

Usually translators, however talented they may be at what they do, remain in the shadow of the original authors. Not so with Marshak. In Russia he is certainly more famous than our Robert Burns. He is an author in his own right, best known for his children’s literature. As a translator, he has provided Russian-speakers with access to a vast swathe of English literature, from Shakespeare’s sonnets, through the Romantic poets of the 18th and 19th centuries (as well as Burns, he translated Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth among others), and on to the works of Rudyard Kipling and A. A. Milne. His translations of Shakespeare’s sonnets are widely considered to be virtual classics of Russian literature in their own right.

His life story is every bit as interesting as Burns’s, though very different. He lived through the Russian Revolution and the Stalin era. Being a Jew in Russia at that time could have been a problem for Marshak. However, his prodigious talent was recognised and he eventually became head of the children’s branch of the Soviet state publishing house. And, along with our Robert Burns, he shares the distinction of having had his face appear on Soviet postage stamps.

Unfortunately some things can get “lost in translation”. Inevitably the flavours of the Scottish dialect are lost, as Marshak quite understandably used standard literary Russian. However, there is another aspect of Marshak’s work which has to be taken into account. In the Soviet Union writers did not have the freedom to write whatever they wanted: the Soviet government imposed a doctrine of “socialist realism” for all forms of artistic endeavour. This also covered translations of foreign authors, whose works either had to conform to this doctrine or could be “adjusted” to conform. Burns fell into the latter category and it has to be admitted that Marshak did some adjusting. Soviet ideology did not tolerate religion of any kind and all references to religion were purged or altered, making Burns seem humanist, even anti-clerical. Burns’s Scottish patriotism was watered down and his egalitarian ideals were emphasised. Essentially the Soviet reader of Marshak’s translations had to see communist ideology reflected in Robert Burns’s work, whether Burns would have liked it or not. Nonetheless, his translations earned him recognition here in Scotland: in 1960 he was made an honorary president of the Robert Burns World Federation.

                  A translation by Marshak

Of course, the Soviet Union is no more. Although a translator working today would provide a quite different, perhaps more authentic interpretation of Burns, Marshak’s translations are actually of an extremely high literary quality and remain the definitive translations (though not the only ones – some earlier translations were done during the tsarist era and they also were adjusted to make them politically correct, though in rather different ways). Burns remains a popular literary figure in Russia, but today’s visitor from Russia still sees Burns through very different eyes.


The Kilmarnock Edition

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The following blog post was written by RBBM’s Learning Officer as a guest blog for Museums Galleries Scotland –

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Few objects associated with Robert Burns are as well-known, or as instrumental to his fame, as the ‘Kilmarnock Edition’. Published on the 31st July 1786 by John Wilson of Kilmarnock, Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect was the first volume of poetry and song to be written by the man who was to later become Scotland’s National Bard. Containing some of his best-loved works including Tae a Mouse, The Cotter’s Saturday Night and The Holy Fair, it is one of the items in the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum’s collection treasured most by both staff and visitors.

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The Robert Burns Birthplace Museum (RBBM) is based in Alloway, South Ayrshire and is run by the National Trust for Scotland. The site consists of the Birthplace Cottage; Alloway Auld Kirk and the Brig o’ Doon (both of Tam o’ Shanter fame); Burns Monument and gardens; and of course the museum itself. The site is one of three in the ‘Burns Group’, also comprising of the Bachelors’ Club where the young Robert set up his own debating society, and Souter Johnnie’s Gallery, once the home of John Davidson (on whom Burns may have based the character Souter Johnnie in Tam o’ Shanter), and now an art gallery and craft shop showcasing local work.

The museum collection comprises of over 5,500 objects including 2 Kilmarnock editions. Only 612 copies of this first edition were printed, each containing 44 poems and songs written by the Bard. Although John Wilson was known for celebrating local talent, he was still reluctant to take a chance on an unknown poet from Ayrshire – in the end it was agreed that he would print the work only if Burns could raise enough advance subscriptions. The book cost 3 s each – 350 copies went directly to subscribers, and the rest quickly sold out within a month.

Reviews of the Kilmarnock edition were largely positive, although some made reference to Burns’s supposed lack of education (despite his home schooling by tutor John Murdoch and his familiarity with a range of literary and enlightenment figures including Alexander Pope, Adam Smith and Robert Fergusson). The Monthly Review in December 1786[1] also lamented Burns’s use of, ‘an unknown tongue, which must deprive most of our readers of the pleasure they would otherwise naturally create; being composed in the Scottish dialect, which contains words that are altogether unknown to an English reader…’. This seems a strange notion today, when Burns’s use of Scots is regarded by many as one of his best loved and most distinctive features.

Despite sentiments of this nature, the book began to circulate in Edinburgh, attracting positive attention from eminent society figures. Within 8 weeks, Burns was thinking of re-printing. The second edition of Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (the First Edinburgh edition), was printed by William Smellie and published by William Creech in Edinburgh on 21st April 1787. The cost of this was 5 s to subscribers and 6 to other buyers. Over 3,000 copies were published, firmly establishing Burns’s reputation and paving the way for his future success as a poet and songwriter, both during and after his lifetime.

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Today, RBBM displays a Kilmarnock edition alongside an interactive facsimile which allows visitors to browse the pages digitally, therefore preserving the original for future generations. But this is not the only item of interest we have relating to this first volume of Burns’s works.

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Above we have the printing stocks used to decorate books published by John Wilson in Kilmarnock, and below is an elaborate seat fashioned from the printing press which was used to print the first edition of Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect. It was converted into a chair during the Victorian period in an early example of ‘upcycling’, and was also famously the chair Muhammed Ali sat in when he visited Burns Cottage in 1965.[2]

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The 5,500 objects in RBBM’s collection include original manuscripts of Burns’s works, letters to and from the Bard, artefacts belonging to Burns and his family/friends, artworks, books, Burnsiana (trinkets relating to Burns), and more. Together they make up the most extensive collection of Burns related objects in the world. But none would be important today without the book of 44 poems and songs, originally sold for 3 s each, representing an Ayrshire farmer’s first step towards becoming Scotland’s National Bard.





The book that went to space…

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In November 2009, a small book containing 14 Burns poems and songs was presented to astronaut Nick Patrick by ten young Scots taking part in the Scottish Space School. This book was to make a 5.7 million mile journey the following February, completing 217 orbits of the Earth on a two week long mission to the International Space Station.

The Scottish Space School is an initiative delivered by the University of Strathclyde, designed to encourage young people to consider careers in science and engineering. These particular students were taking part in a trip to NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Texas, where they were able to hand the book over to Nick Patrick. Originally, the book was given to the Space School by Alan Archibald, a distant relative of Jean Armour, Burns’s wife. It made its out of this world trip to celebrate the Year of Homecoming in 2010 aboard NASA’s STS 130 Endeavour spacecraft.

The book is now part of our museum collection, alongside a photograph of Nick who said:

‘It was a real honour to have met such an enthusiastic group of young people, not only to continue the inspirational work undertaken by the Scottish Space School, but to also help spread the timeless poetry of Robert Burns.’


Burns Night on the Oder

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“A pity you didn’t have a sheet of paper and paints with you Andy. Isn’t that a great picture?”
“I’ll store it in my memory and send it on to you when I have it finished”

So went the conversation between young Andrew (Andy) S Winton and his uncle as they surveyed with some satisfaction, field of ripening crops on the latter’s farm prior to World War II. This is detailed in Mr Winton’s fascinating memoir ‘Open Road to Faraway: Escapes from Nazi POW Camps 1941-45’ (Cualann Press, 2001)


Andrew Winton was a lover of the Scottish countryside, an art student and a devoted fan of Robert Burns. It was this artist’s ability to recall scenes so vividly to memory that helped sustain him through the dark days of WWII. Drafted into the RAF, Andy became part of a bomber crew. Shot down in 1941, he was to spend the next four years in POW camps. His desire to see his beloved Scotland again drove Andy to escape no less than four times, once in 1942, twice in 44 and the fourth occasion in 1945, this occasion being a success.

That same ability to recall scenes means that – at times – Open Road to Faraway is a difficult read as the author describes scenes of horror and brutality in war-torn occupied Europe. He retells the horrors of Buchenwald where he and a fellow escapee were beaten and tortured as part of a Gestapo interrogation, or Brno, where he witnessed the brutal murder of Gypsies. Difficult to read, but captivating and compelling none the less, these horrors left their mark on young Andy who suffered flashback inspired blackouts in the years following the war.

His final escape in early 1945 saw him picked up by an advancing Russian tank column near the Oder delta on the freezing, winter Baltic. Andy, along with his escape companion Pete, were taken along, with the view that they would be useful in communicating with any British service personnel the Russians might encounter in liberated POW camps. It was during this period that a truly remarkable thing happened. For those of us in the Robert Burns world, the love that Russians have for our national Bard is well known. As a Scot, Andy was drafted once again into service, this time as a performer at a Burns Night celebration held by the Soviet troops in the tank column! As the night drave on, Andy recited ‘To a Mouse, ‘Red, Red Rose’, ‘A Man’s a Man for A That’ and then he finished off in a sung duet of ‘Ye Banks and Braes’ with a female Russian Tank Commander providing a ‘Jean’ to his ‘Robert’!

This bizarre, even slightly surreal event took place amidst the greatest horror of the 20th Century, yet, a shared love of a poet provided comfort and some shared understanding in a frozen hell. Mr Winton’s own words sum it up best:

‘…I was completely shattered. Here was I, shut in with a group of people who had travelled hundreds of miles in tanks fitted with guns, with the sole intention of wreaking vengeance on a country that had dared destroy them; and a freezing wind blowing snow from the Baltic ocean bringing everything to a standstill and kindly covering the dead and dying women and children lying in groups along the roadsides. And a sad little song with a Scottish air and words by Robert Burns, written two hundred years before, had changed the world around us!’

Writing on the glass

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The second of our guest blog posts from students at the University of Glasgow focusses on Burns’s habit of engraving poetry into glass windows… and the potential parallels with how we use social media today!

We all have things we want to say, whether they be in public or private. Robert Burns, a poet known for his way with words, was not without this urgency to express what he felt was important to him. Often saying them in a manner that was not altogether lawful, one of Burns’s tendencies was to engrave windows with his own words, both in public and private places, as a means of expressing himself. Though it is not as common for people to carve their thoughts into nearby windows today, we still have the same urge to express our views. However, for our generation the ‘windows’ are the windows of the internet, through which a large portion of society can easily express their views from a distance. Through these expressions , projected on a significantly more public level, it is questionable what, in both Burns’s case and ours, gives our words their worth.

Diamon Cutter
Robert Burns’s diamond cutter, which he used to carve poems into glass.

Three window panes featuring Burns poems were found in the Globe Inn in Dumfries, which became one of Burns’s favourite places to drink. The verses, found in one of the upstairs lodging rooms, include him expressing his views on the worth of sex and war, the final line of one poem reading: ‘I’m better pleased to make one more, | Than be the death of twenty.’ Though there was a social risk in him saying these controversial things, which likely went against society’s conventional views, there was also a physical risk of vandalizing other people’s property, meaning that the outcome of such an expression could have had lawful repercussions. So for Burns the risks were not only community-based, in endangering his reputation, but also legal. With this considered, it is clear that these words were of great worth to Burns by the risks he took in ensuring their perpetuity. He is not just writing these words to be heard, but writing them to be remembered.

To align this with the modern means we have of expressing oneself through social media, we are faced with some similar risks. In the action of speaking out today, we are faced with more social risks: our anxiety is more concerned with how many likes/retweets/shares we get. We want people to know the things that we have to say. Because of this, it often seems as if our words only gain value, rather than having value in the first instance. Through using social media as a tool to express ourselves, we are not only putting ourselves out there but also, and perhaps more importantly, seeking a response from them. Unlike Burns’s expressions engraved on window panes, we are more concerned with who likes what we have to say than what we are actually saying.

Robert Burns Birthplace Museum, Alloway.
A pane of glass engraved by Robert Burns

‘Sound be his sleep and blythe his morn,
That never did a lassie wrang;
Who poverty ne’er held in scorn,
For misery ever tholed a pang.’

I don’t know what motivated Burns to engrave those windows, and I don’t know why people post what they post on social media, but from these comparisons it is clear that expression in society has shifted. The internet is at our fingertips today, and is as permeant as a pane of glass. However, as I write more words of my own onto the glass of the internet, I wonder how we would use our words if all the ‘expressions’ we engrave on the ‘walls’ of social media, were instead inscribed on the windows of our own homes. How then would you value what you had to say, if it not only altered your view to the outside world, but also altered the world’s view of you?

By Kathryn Thomson

How should we celebrate Burns?

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In the summer of 1801, nine gentlemen arranged to meet in an Ayrshire alehouse to remember a friend and a poet. They dined on sheep’s head and haggis, proposed a number of commemorative toasts, and heard an ode specially written for the occasion. The presence of the poet was suggested by a portrait presented to the group for the dinner, and the room they occupied was in fact the very spot where their friend was born, 42 years before. When they had finished they resolved to meet on the poet’s birthday the following year. What had taken place was the world’s first Burns Supper.

The format of the Burns Supper has remained essentially the same over 200 years but what other ways can we celebrate Burns in the 21st century? If Burns died today, how would we celebrate his life and work? And what can we learn from the commemoration of other writers or public figures?

In order to answer some of these questions, I think it is important to look at the original Burns Supper and where its inspiration lay. At the time, it was not unusual to remember a famous person or event by holding a dinner. The life of famous men like the politician, Charles James Fox (1749 – 1806), was remembered in ‘Fox dinners’, which took place annually from 1808 – 1907. The Battle of Trafalgar (1805) is still commemorated in ‘Trafalgar Suppers’, patriotic affairs which have a strong naval theme. Although the first Burns Supper took the same idea, it was moulded by the peculiarities of Burns’s life and work in a way unlike any other writer.

Firstly, there was an emphasis on conviviality. It was noted in a minute of the Supper that, ‘The party was such as Burns himself would have joined with heartfelt satisfaction’ with an interesting mix of local notables, including intimates of Burns to whom he had dedicated two of his earliest published works. Secondly, there was a strong creative element. The organizer, Reverend Hamilton Paul (1773-1854), is described (albeit in his own minute) as ‘Chaplain & Laureate’. Paul composed the ode that was recited at the first supper, and was subsequently called upon to write a ‘Birthday Ode’ the following year ‘in praise of the Bard of Coila’. Thirdly, the work of Burns and the meal itself became organically linked. Haggis was chosen as the main dish presumably because of Burns’s poem To a Haggis which was duly read. Sheep’s head has a less obvious Burns connection although this may have been a nod to his mock elegy, The death and dying words of Poor Mailie. The supper was washed down by a series of toasts each of which was ‘drank by three times three’ (perhaps of significance to freemasons; Burns was one). Whisky may have been the drink of choice – there are certainly many references to ‘barley-brie’ in the poems and songs of Burns – but is more likely that claret or a sweet wine such as ‘Malaga’, used to toast old times in Burns’s first version of Auld Lang Syne (December 1788), accompanied the dinner. Finally, the presence of Burns was conjured by the location for the supper – the birthroom of the poet which had since become part of the ‘Burns Head’ tavern – and a portrait of the poet ‘painted on wood [and] intended as a signpost to the cottage’. Therefore, conviviality, creativity, food and drink referencing the work of Burns, and the presence of the poet were all hallmarks of the original Burns Supper.

In rethinking how we celebrate Burns in the 21st century, these elements are all just as compelling as they were five years after the death of Burns but could they be interpreted in different ways?

In my opinion, the best Burns Suppers continue the warmth and friendship of the first ever supper by encouraging friends to get together and each take part in some element of organizing or performing at the supper. The intimacy and enjoyment which radiates from the minutes of the first Burns Supper is often absent today in large scale, formal suppers which formulaically trot out its component parts at the expense of fun and friendship. Liturgy has become lethargy. In modern times, ceilidhs have become more and more popular and, for me, some of the best Burns Suppers involve dancing. In this way, everyone becomes a performer which can help to make the supper less passive and less reverential. The distinction between the ‘top table’ of speakers and ‘body of the Kirk’ dissolves.

The idea of composing new poetry for a supper has largely been lost. This could be because, in Scotland at least, we are still dazzled by the brilliance of Burns. However, this seems like a lost opportunity. By making the Burns Supper a platform for new poetry, like the odes composed by Hamilton Paul, Burns Suppers could encourage new talent while honouring Burns (who often quoted other writers). Seamus Heaney’s Birl for Burns (2008) is a classic example of paying tribute to Burns with an authentic voice. The annual Walter Scott prize for historical fiction, or Developing Dylan 100 (encouraging young people to interpret the work of Dylan Thomas in new ways, such as rap, film, poetry and social media) is an excellent way of celebrating the work of old and the new. Could Burns Suppers complement a similar prize for poetry, the winning work being read across the world at all suppers?

Although the close links between Burns’s work and the format of the Burns Supper have played a large part in making the supper a ‘natural’ way of celebrating Burns, it could be argued that this has also narrowed our awareness of the breadth of all that Burns wrote. How they are performed has too. Restricting what is read at a supper to a handful of the usual poems – To a Haggis, Selkirk Grace, Tam o’ Shanter, and perhaps Holy Willie’s Prayer – does little justice to the richness and depth of the Burns canon. Equally, insisting that these are recited from memory can result that in a hastily read, meaningless parroting of Burns, particularly for those who have little knowledge of the Scots language. Although I appreciate the value of a poem remembered by the heart, why not read from a book? There appears to be a machismo in learning Burns by rote not found with other writers. This could explain why there are very few marathon reading sessions for Burns. Selecting works which mean something to the audience would be a good basis for selecting a poem or song. If you’re a doctor, why not read Death and Dr Hornbook, if it’s a junior Burns Supper then why not ventriloquise with a poem like The Twa Dogs, or The Brigs of Ayr, and if you are concerned about green issues, then why not choose The Humble Petition of Bruar Water, or To a Mouse? Widening the repertoire would do much to diversify and animate the Burns Supper.

On the matter of toasts, I think it would also be healthier to focus on the audience and contemporary issues than outdated nods to the political establishment. Too often, Burns Suppers are perceived to be bastions of cosy self-satisfaction, a reflection of ourselves rather than Burns.

Finally, the presence of Burns continues to be an important element of every Burns Supper, even today. This happens in a number of ways. Like the original Burns Supper, images of Burns abound at more traditional affairs – appearing on everything from napkins to menus to whisky glasses. Unlike the first Burns Supper, Burns is not known personally to those present so some other way of making the poet familiar is needed. The ‘immortal memory’, a eulogy on the life and work of Burns, is a core part of the Burns Supper and is a way of making Burns’s life and achievements known and appreciable. At its worst, this is a dry, dutiful hagiography of Burns; at its best, the immortal memory can make Burns one of the guests.

Celebrating the immortal memory of Burns has extended beyond the supper table with conferences, scholarships, humanitarian awards, sheltered housing, tv and radio documentaries, parades, and even hospital beds honouring Burns and his ideals. These initiatives make remembering Burns less flash-in-the-pan and better reflect modern tastes.

credit: Cantiere Aperto WordPress 1/06/10

Looking to how other writers are celebrated, Ireland’s annual homage to James Joyce, Bloomsday re-enacts events in the novel Ulysees in a way which utilizes place, people, and performance. This involves dressing up, reenactment of the events in Ulysees, marathon readings of the novel, pub crawls, pilgrimages along the route described in the book, and the playing of music integral to the plot. Bloomsday has style: period costume is important in recapturing the atmosphere, as well as the sartorial style of the author (a literary take on dressing as Elvis). Shakespeare’s birthday is celebrated in his native Stratford-upon-Avon by a procession of local people carrying flowers from his birthplace to his grave, a route lined by flags of the world. The emphasis here is more on the local link with a real man, perhaps deliberate given the conspiracy theories surrounding authorship of plays published in the name of William Shakespeare.

credit: BBC news Larkin Toads Trail 16/07/10

In 2010, the work of Philip Larkin was remembered in Hull by a trail marked with giant fibreglass toads bearing the words of Larkin, each marking a place associated with Larkin in the city. The toads – a playful reference to Larkin’s eponymous poem – were partly designed by the community and auctioned afterwards for charity. Events which capture the public imagination, bring people together, and act in the spirit of the writer or their work are far more likely to interest those unaware of that writer and what they achieved.


At Robert Burns Birthplace Museum, our mission is to celebrate Burns 365 days a year. This is also the theme we have chosen for 2015. The centrepiece of the year is a new experience for visitors – an Express Burns Supper. Visitors are greeted by a costumed guide and bagpiper, and taken to Burns Cottage where they enjoy haggis, neeps, and tatties, and cranachan, and a few short works read around the table. They then toast the memory of Burns in the small room where he was born and where the world’s first Burns Supper took place. All in under an hour. This is a short burst of Burns for visitors to Scotland who may know nothing about him. Although we hope that the Supper will attract large numbers of visitors to the site, the real measure of success will be whether or not guests read Burns the next day. Ultimately, this would be, in the words of Hamilton Paul, the most fitting ‘tribute to the memory of departed genius’.

The Inspirations of Burns and Beatrix

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Robert Burns was not just a great poet; he was also an avid reader. Remembered by many as a lad who loved his books so much he would read at the table, we have honoured this with an artwork by Su Blackwell that represents his favourite childhood book: The Life of Hannibal. Regarding this book, Burns was to say: ‘Hannibal gave my young ideas such a turn that I used to strut in raptures up and down after the recruiting drum and bagpipe.’

Hannibal’s Wars by Su Blackwell. On display in Burns Cottage

We all remember books like this that inspired us when we were children and which have special places in our hearts. To celebrate this, each Easter we focus on a specific children’s author. This year we have selected Beatrix Potter, whose books have become some of the earliest stories we are introduced to. However, we haven’t selected Potter merely due to her fame, but also due to her love of the countryside.

peter rabbit
The countryside is central to Beatrix Potter’s tales.

Both Burns and Potter were inspired by the Scottish countryside and by the people they met there. For Burns, the Ayrshire he grew up in became his muse, but for town-bred Beatrix, her family holidays in Perthshire were to be a revelation. Staying with her family at Dalguise House, a young Beatrix honed her artistic skills in hours of painting and sketching. This in adulthood would earn her good money – not only through her stories – but through commissions for scientific illustrations. While the Lake District was the place Potter was to ultimately make her home, it was Perthshire again which helped her make her mark. On holiday with her rabbit in a house owned by a Mr McGregor, Beatrix sent a ‘picture letter’ to a friend’s son with a story of four rabbits: Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail, and Peter. Like Burns, Potter also creates characters for the animals and people that surround her. While Burns immortalised Souter Johnnie, Potter turns local washer woman, Kitty MacDonald, into Mrs Tiggy-Winkle –a mysterious washer of pocket handkins and pinnies.

mrs tiggy winkle
Mrs Tiggy-Winkle was inspired by Kitty Macdonald. Potter described her as ‘tiny body, brown as a berry, beady black eyes and much wrinkled, against an incongruously white frilled mutch. ‘

So come along to the museum from Friday 3rd to Monday the 6th of April, and see Burns Cottage transformed and alive with with inspiration from Peter Rabbit’s world. Take part in our Cadbury’s Peter Rabbit Easter Egg Trail and you’ll make the day even better with some delicious chocolate!

Find out more here!