_Ballad, and Jacobite Literature of Scotland._
WHEN attempting to reach an exhaustive explanation of the causes and
influences which have contributed to the development of the mind and
character of a nation, everything which has affected their civilisation,
and especially whatever has been mainly produced by the people
themselves, demands the careful attention of the historian. It is
admitted on all hands that the ballad literature and national songs of
Scotland are of this character. For centuries these compositions have
exercised an influence on the feelings and sentiments of the people.
The songs associated with the national music, and with the popular
tunes and dances, are essential elements of the national life, and have
long been a source of real enjoyment to the people. But the field of
Scottish ballad and song is wide and varied, and cannot be treated in
minute detail here, my aim being to ascertain and indicate the bearing
of this class of writings on the life of the nation. And yet if one
must try as far as possible to escape the error of forming imperfect
and unjust estimates of the national character, it is necessary to
look at this branch of literature, as it contains real evidence of the
states of feeling, of the opinions, and of the manners of the people.
Some account of the origin, the progress, and the value of our ballad
literature was given in the eleventh chapter of this work, and its
influence upon the Reformation was noticed in the thirteenth and in
the twenty-first chapters;¹ in the present chapter the exposition
is continued till past the midde of the eighteenth century, and thus
includes the Jacobite ballads as well as compositions of a satirical
turn, and the popular songs of the people, beginning with those of a
historical and satirical description, and closing with the popular or
lyric songs.
¹ Mackintosh’s _History of Civilisation in Scotland_, Volume
I., pages 441‒451, _seq._; Volume II., pages 22‒24, 331‒340,
_et seq._
The disturbed state of the nation from the death of James VI. to
the Union, was unpropitious to literary culture of any kind. Yet the
opinions and the sentiments of the contending parties occasionally
sought vent in rude ballads and rhymed compositions. There are ballads
on the Covenanting armies and battles, and on some of the events of
the long struggle from the Restoration to the Revolution, after which
the distinctive Scotch Jacobite ballads and satires begin. The greater
part of the Jacobite ballads are rather rude and coarse in phraseology,
but they gave expression to the feelings and sentiments of one of
the parties in the struggle; indeed, the Jacobite ballads and songs
embodied a kind of creed of the party, and, historically, they are
valuable.
It was reported that Argyle was the first who raised fire in the Civil
War, by burning the house of Airlie, in June, 1639, thus originating
the ballad “The Bonnie House of Airlie.” It was long popular, and
there are several versions of it extant. Argyle being intent on the
destruction of the house, was represented as working with his own
hands in “knocking down the doorposts and the headstone of Airlie.”
The ballad opens thus:――
“It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
When the corn grew green and yellow,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airlie.
The Earl o’ Montrose has written to Argyle,
To come in the morning early,
An’ lead his men by the back o’ Dunkeld,
To plunder the bonnie house o’ Airlie.
The lady looked o’er her window sae hie,
And oh, but she looked weary,
And there she espied the great Argyle,
Come to plunder the bonnie house o’ Airlie.
‘Come down, come down, Lady Margaret,’ he says,
‘Come down and kiss me fairly,
Or before the morning clear day-light,
I’ll not leave a standing stane in Airlie.’”¹
¹ Another version contains a pointed reference to a blemish
in Argyle’s eyes, and has two additional verses. It is
conjectured by Maidment “that the grim chief of the Campbells
had been a rejected suitor, and that the lady treated by him
in so base a manner preferred the Loyalist lover of Airlie
to the Covenanting lord of Lochow.”――Maidment’s _Scottish
Ballads_, Volume I., pages 272‒274.
The lady replied that she would not submit, even though he should carry
out his threat.
The short satirical ballad, called “Leslie’s March to Long-Marston
Moor,” is curious, and contains a few hits at the prevailing feeling
of the Covenanters:――
“Stand till it, and fight like men,
True gospel to maintain;
The parliament’s blyth to see us a’ coming.
When to the Kirk we come,
We’ll purge it each room
From popish relics and a’ such innovation,
That the world may see,
There’s none in the right but we,
O’ the sons of the auld Scottish nation;
And the kist fu’ o’ whistles, that mak sic a cleiro,
Our pipers brave shall have them a’,
Whate’er comes o’ it.”¹
¹ _Ibid._, Volume I., page 293.
The aversion of the Presbyterians to the organ in churches was emphatic;
and they were also very sure of the truth of their own opinions, and
determined to maintain them.
The battle of Philiphaugh was fought on the 13th of September, 1645,
when Montrose was completely defeated by a portion of the Covenanting
army, under the command of David Leslie. This battle terminated the
short and brilliant career of Montrose. The ballad gives an account
of the battle from the Covenanters’ standpoint, and expressed their
feeling of exultation:――
“Sir David from the borders came,
Wi’ heart and hand came he,
Wi’ him three thousand bonny Scots,
To bear him company.”
After describing the movements of the army and the battle pretty
accurately, the ballad concludes with these words:――
“Now let us a’ for Leslie pray,
And his brave company,
For they have vanquished great Montrose,
Our cruel enemy.”
Montrose escaped from the field; but five years afterwards he fell
into the hands of his enemies, and perished upon the scaffold. From
time to time various writers have attempted to make him a hero, and
a contemporary ballad, entitled “The Gallant Grahams,” contains a
lamentation over his final discomfiture and cruel end. This ballad
enumerates the deeds of the Grahams at some length, and gives
particulars of the military achievements of Montrose, and of several
of his companions in arms who fought for the royal cause; and concludes
with the following lines on the last exploit of Montrose:――
“Montrose again, that chieftain bold,
Back into Scotland fair he came,
For to redeem fair Scotland’s land,
The pleasant, gallant, worthy Graham.
At the water of Carron he did begin,
And fought the battle to the end;
And there were killed for our noble King
Two thousand of our Danish men.¹
* * * * *
“Then woe to Strachan and Hacket both,
And, Lesly, ill death may thou die,
For ye have betrayed the gallant Grahams,
Who aye were true to Majesty.
And the Laird of Assaint has seized Montrose,
And led him into Edinburgh town,
And frae his body taken the head,
And quartered him upon a trone.
“And Huntly’s gone the self-same way,
And our noble King is also gone;
He suffered death for our nation,
Our mourning tears can ne’er be done.
But our brave young King is now come home,
King Charles the Second in degree;
The Lord send peace into his time,
And God preserve his Majesty.”²
¹ “The Danish men” were Montrose’s foreign auxiliaries, but in
all they did not exceed six hundred men.
² Scott’s _Minstrelsy_, Volume II., pages 187‒194. At the
present time, John Skelton, writing on the death of Montrose,
says, among other and very fine touches:――“When at length his
doom was read to him in the crowded house, he lifted up his
face without any word speaking.” He lifted up his face! A
grand speech――eloquent in its solemn simplicity. A silent
protest――a silent appeal. Was it with him as with an old
martyr?
“And looking upward, full of grace,
He prayed, and from a happy place,
God’s glory smote him on the face.”
The opposing parties in religion and in politics often assailed each
other in satirical rhymes, in pasquils, and in lampoons, which were
printed on broadsheets and circulated through the country. But this
class of composition generally was extremely coarse and profane, and
hardly fit for publication in the present day. On both sides they could
scarcely find language abusive and vulgar enough in which to describe,
traduce, and stigmatise each other; nevertheless, without entering into
long details on this subject, a few illustrations of it as explicative
of the spirit of the times in some of its modes seem requisite. In 1638,
a pasquil against the bishops appeared, written in a sort of rhyme,
beginning thus, “St. Andrews is an atheist, and Glasgow is a gouke,”
and so on touching the rest of the bishops. On the other hand, some
of the Episcopal party produced a satire on the General Assembly of
1638――a curious performance consisting of two parts, and opening with
the following description of the meeting of the Assembly:――
“From Glasgow Raid to which made meeting,
Huge troops from all quarters came fleeting,
With dags and guns in form of war,
All loyal subjects to debar;
Where bishops might not show their faces,
And mushroom elders filled their places;
From such mad pranks of Catharus,
Almighty God, deliver us.”¹
¹ _A Book of Scottish Pasquils_, edited by Mr. Maidment, page
29, 1868.
The Assembly and its leading members were caricatured at length, and
sometimes with effect, but with extreme coarseness and vulgarity.
Henderson, the moderator of the Assembly, was called a pope, and
some of the covenanting nobles were severely dealt with, and also the
small gentry: “From beggars, beggar-makers, from all bold and blood
undertakers, from hungry calepoles, knighted loons, from perfumed
puppies and baboons, from caterpillars, mothes and rats, horse-letches,
state blood-sucking brats,” the writer prayed to be delivered from
all such. Another lampoon, called “The New Litany,” assailed the
Covenanters in a similar strain. The author prayed that he might be
preserved from all the actions of the party then contending against
the King:――
“From the long prayers of devote sisters,
From master madcaps’ rotten glisters,
From sermons made to blow the fire,
From bishops that betray the cause,
And advocates that write the laws;
From the table, nay tables three,
Of lords, barons, and ministry――
From their decrees and all new glosses,
And from all conspiracy and treason.
* * * * *
“From pupil, pastor, tutor, flock,
From gutter Jennie, pulpit Jock,
From covenanting tage and rage,
From horsruber, scudler, scold, and hage,
From tinker, treulerd, slouene, and sluit,
Dick, Jack, and Tom, long-tail and coitt,
Drunkard, thief, and whore――infamous
rascals by the score.”¹
¹ _Ibid._, pages 53, 57.
In England the Long Parliament got its share of buffets from the wits
of the time; and as the Covenanters became associated with the Long
Parliament, the following notice of this famous assembly may be given
here:――
“It’s full of questions and commands,
It’s armed with muskets and pikes; it fears
Naught in the world but cavaliers;
It was born in England, but begot
Between the English and the Scot;
Though some are of opinion rather,
That the devil was its father.”
Another contemporary rhyme on the Long Parliament has a slight touch of
grim humour in it:――
“O God preserve the parliament,
And grant it long to reign,
From three years’ unto three years’ end,
And then to three again.
That neither king, nor bishop lord,
So long as they are alive,
Have power to rebuke their souls,
Or hurt the members five.
For they be good and godly men,
No wicked paths they tread;
For they are pulling bishops down,
And setting up Roundhead.
For holy Burton, Baswick, Pryme,
Lord keep them in Thy bosom;
Keep him who did keep out the King,
Worshipful Sir John Hotham.
Pull down the King and Hartsford both,
And keep them down for ay;
But set Thy chosen Pym on high,
And eik my good lord Say.
For Warwick we entreat the Lord,
Be Thou his strong defence;
For Bedford, Hollis, Fairfax, Brooke,
And also his Excellence.
Bliss once again Thy parliament,
And let them sit secure,
And may their consultations,
From aye to aye endure.
Let all the people say Amen,
Then let us praises sing,
To God and to the parliament,
And all that hate the King.”
The Rising of 1666, which was terminated by the engagement of the
Pentland Hills, where the Royal army defeated the Covenanters, is
commemorated in the ballad entitled “The Battle of Pentland Hills.”
The Covenanters having been dispersed, the ballad is interesting as
an expression of the feeling of their opponents:――
“Between Dumfries and Argyle,
The lads they marched many a mile;
Souters and tailors unto them drew,
Their Covenants for to renew.
The Whigs they wi’ their merry cracks,
Gar’d the poor pedlars lay down their packs;
But aye sinsyne they do repent,
The renewing o’ their Covenant.
* * * * *
“General Dalziel held to the hill,
Asked at them what was their will,
And who gave them this protestation,
To rise in arms against the nation?
‘Lay down your arms in the king’s name,
And ye shall a’ gae safely hame;’
But they a’ cried out, wi’ ae consent,
‘We’ll fight for a broken Covenant.’
‘O weel,’ says he, ‘since it is so,
A wilful man never wanted woe.’
He then gave a sign unto his lads,
And they drew up in three brigades.
The trumpets blew, and the colours flew,
And every man to his armour drew;
The Whigs were never so much aghast,
And to see their saddles toom sae fast.
The cleverest men stood in the van,
The Whigs they took their heels and ran;
But such a raking was never seen,
As the raking of the Rullion Green.”¹
¹ Scott’s _Minstrelsy_, Volume II., pages 203‒205.
As we have seen, the oppressed people again rebelled in 1679, and in
June they defeated a party of the Royal army under Captain Graham,
at Drumclog. In the ballad on the engagement it is called “The Battle
of Loudon Hill.” The Covenanters were led by Robert Hamilton and John
Balfour of Kinloch, the latter, commonly called Burly, a vehement and
determined man. Graham was represented as ordering an attack upon the
westland men, while his officers attempted to dissuade him from it on
the ground that it would be courting certain defeat:――
“There is not one of yon men,
But who is worthy other three;
There is not one among them a’
That in his cause will stap to die.
As for Burly, him I know,
He’s a man of honour, truth, and fame;
Gie him a sword into his hand,
He’ll fight thyself, and other three.
* * * * *
“Then up he drew in battle rank,
I wat he had a bonnie train,
But the first time that bullets flew,
Ay he lost twenty o’ his men.
Then back he came the way he gaed,
I wat right soon and suddenly,
He gave command among his men,
And sent them back, and bade them flee.
Then up came Burly, bauld and stout,
Wi’s little train o’ westland men,
Who more than either once or twice,
In Edinburgh confined had been.
They had been up to Loudon sent,
An’ yet they’ve a’ come safely down,
Six troop o’ horsemen they have beat,
And chased them into Glasgow town.”¹
¹ _Ibid._, Volume II., pages 222‒225.
There is a ballad on the Battle of Bothwell Bridge, where the
Covenanters were defeated in 1679. Though none of these ballads on the
Civil War have much merit, they are comparatively free from coarseness,
and occasionally touches of feeling occur in them. The ballad on
Bothwell Bridge concludes thus:――
“Alang the brae, beyond the brig,
Many brave men lies cauld and still;
But lang we’ll mind, and sair we’ll rue,
The bloody fight of Bothwell Hill.”
The ballad on this battle is printed in most of the collections of
ballads and songs; and there is another contemporary one, beginning “Ye
are welcome Whigs from Bothwell Bridge.” Hogg composed a modern ballad
on the battle of Bothwell Bridge, from which I quote the following
verse:――
“When rank oppression rends the heart,
And rules wi’ stroke o’ death,
Wha wadna spend their dear heart’s blood,
For the tenets of their faith.”
In the satirical rhymes and lampoons from the Restoration to the
Revolution there is ample evidence of the dissolute life of the ruling
party; but the far greater part of these compositions are unsuitable
for quotation. There is a vehement and violent satire on the Stair
family, and the famous lawyer himself is made the object of much bitter
abuse. His crooked neck is constantly alluded to; while his wife had
the reputation of being a witch. The apparent inconsistencies and
shortcomings in the career of the great President of the Session, and
of his eminent son, were mercilessly exposed and held up to scorn;
and their changes of front in politics were sharply brought out, with
damaging effect.¹
¹ _Book of Scottish Pasquils_, pages 179‒190.
A dispute, already noticed, arose between the Court of Session and
the bar, touching the question whether a party aggrieved by a sentence
of this court might lawfully appeal to the parliament of Scotland.
Many of the advocates maintained the affirmative, which greatly
offended the lords and the government, and they were dismissed from
their places, and forbidden to reside in Edinburgh, being treated as
malcontents, because they had disagreed with the lords, and ventured to
defend law and justice. But after a short time, many of them yielded,
acknowledging the error of their ways, and professed repentance. The
lords, however, did not long enjoy their victory, as shortly afterwards
parliament began to entertain appeals, though not with the aim of
checking the corruption of the judges, but because some of the chief
members of the Estates desired to have a share of the good things which
were agoing, and thus to be enabled to assist the fortunes of their
friends. In the satirical squibs on this matter, the President of the
Session received much attention; and the verses to the advocates who
stayed behind contain the following lines:――
“Even so, of advocates you’re but the Rump,
That noble faculty’s turn’d to a stump;
And so Dundonald does you much commend,
Because you are the faculty’s wrong end.
But since a Rumple president does sit,
That rumps at bar should domineer was fit;
Yet where the tail is thus in the head’s place,
No doubt the body has a sh――――en face.
Thus, thus, some men reform our laws and gown,
As tailors do, by turning upside down.”
The following lines refer to the president’s threats against the
malcontent advocates:――
“The president with his head on one side,
He swears that for treason we all shall be tried.
* * * * *
The president bids us repent of our sin,
And swears we’ll be forfeit if we don’t come in:
We answer him all, we care not a pin.”¹
¹ _Book of Scottish Pasquils_, pages 216, 218‒221.
At this period there were persons in Scotland called peats or pats,
whose function was to extract as much as could be got from the pockets
of clients, “whether rich or poor, for the purpose of perverting
justice.” On this there is a curious contemporary rhyme entitled,
“Robert Cook’s Petition against the Peats,” addressed to the Lords
of Session, which begins thus:――
“The humble petition of Master Robert Cook,
Having spent all his money in following his book,
Now humbly does show to the Lords of the seat,
That he is likely to starve unless made a peat.
Yet first he must know whose peat he must be,
The president’s he cannot, because he has three,
And for my lord Hatton,¹ his son now Sir John,
By all is declared to be peattie patron.”
¹ Mr. Charles Maitland.
And so on the rhyme proceeded, naming the different lords, and showing
that they all employed peats; and that John Hay of Murray, by virtue of
his daughter, had a peatry which yielded thousands annually; that Lord
Newbyth had hitherto run halves with the peats, but having found that
they were all cheats, he resolved that his own son, William Baird,
should be peat of the house as well as heir; that Lord Newton was
always ready to take whatever men would give, and when he was peat to
himself, avoided all the danger of sharing the half. After hearing the
petition, the bench remitted it to Lord Castlehill,¹ who, after duly
considering it, declared that the peats were grievous to the nation, as
by some inspiration they pled without speaking, and consulted without
writing.²
¹ Sir John Lockhart.
² _Book of Scottish Pasquils_, pages 224‒227.
Without attaching much importance to writings of this description, we
know from various sources of information that instances of disgraceful
judicial delinquency were then common in Scotland.
A satirical rhyme on the government of the Duke of Lauderdale, and
his wife, called “A Litany,” was written about 1671. There are several
other satires on his wife, under the name of Bessie; and it is stated
that she swayed both Church and State. “She plots with her tail, and
her lord with his pate――with a head on one side, and a hand lifted
high――she kills us with frowning, and makes us to die――the nobles and
barons, boroughs and clownes――she threatened at home even the principal
towns――but now she usurps both the sceptre and crown――and thinks to
destroy us with a flap of her gown.”¹
¹ The following lines are from the “Litany”:――
“From this huffing Hector,ᵃ and his queen of love,
From all his blank letters from above,
From a parliamentary council that does rage and rave,
From an archbishopᵇ graft on a presbyterian stock,
From the declaration built on a covenant dock,
From opposite oathsᶜ that would make a man chock.”
ᵃ Duke of Lauderdale. ᵇ Sharpe. ᶜ The Test.
The Revolution and the events flowing from it called forth many
satirical ballads and rhymes, especially from the party who adhered to
the banished dynasty. It is from this date that Jacobitism assumed the
form of a political creed, and became a distinctive name of a party
in the State. This party, in manifesting their opinion and feeling in
favour of the exiled family, endeavoured by all means to depreciate the
Revolution settlement, and the whole course of subsequent proceedings,
by satirising and abusing all who adhered to the new order of affairs.
Many of the Jacobite ballads and songs are rude and coarse, but some
of them are very humorous, and occasionally pathetic. They afford
important elements for the history of the period from the Revolution
to the Rising of 1745; and at that time they supplied to many of the
people the chief political and literary food within their reach.
Here it may be stated that satire is and always has been a powerful
weapon when properly wielded; but none of the Jacobite ballads or
rhymes have attained to high rank as really genuine and effective
satires. Indeed, though they are not often deficient in the elements of
contempt and scorn of a kind, they seldom or never rise to the height
of vigorous sarcasm; they never hit on the strain of that seething
and stinging roll of sarcasm which smites its victims right and left,
till they fall helpless under its piercing force. The Jacobite ballads
have more of the comic and the ludicrous elements, of homely but
effective forms of humour and wit, which together constitute their main
characteristics.
The ballad entitled “The Coronation Song,” 1689, is a comic and
ridiculous description of King William and Queen Mary. It is full
of rough humour, and excessively coarse in phraseology. William is
represented as descended from the orange tree, but it was hoped that
he will soon descend from a tree of another class――the gallows. His
personal appearance was minutely described: “he had the head of a goose,
and the legs of a crane,” and rode in Hyde Park like a hog in armour,
and in Whitehall carped like a country farmer. He had not stood to
his declaration, but had completely cheated the nation. Cromwell only
smelt at the crown through the rump; but, though there were three who
had better claims than Orange, yet he with a jump ventured his neck to
place himself upon the throne. Some of the verses are extremely profane
and vulgar, and the song concludes with this wish:――
“Then may the confusion that hither has brought us
Always attend them, until it has wrought us,
To bring back King James, as loyalty taught us――
Our gracious King again,
Our gracious King again.”
After the Revolution, the Presbyterians were assailed in popular rhymes
by the party who adhered to the banished royal family, and the Duke
of Hamilton and the Union formed ample topics for satirical rhymes and
lampoons. The Duke of Hamilton was chosen president of the Revolution
convention, which declared the throne vacant; and directly after he
was appointed royal commissioner. He has been represented as a proud,
impatient, and overbearing man; he died in 1694. He was severely
handled in a rhyme called “The Presbyterians’ Address,” beginning
thus:――
“Welcome, great Duke, with all the joy that’s due,
To the blest union of our friends and you;
The Lord has done it, is all that we can say;
But first to reverence, and next to pray.
Not free of fears, we beg in the first place,
For grace of perseverance to your grace;
For when with holy zeal we think upon,
The old malignant house of Hamilton,
Who our reforming course at first withstood,
At Langside bathed themselves and us in blood,
While the next heir the nation made consent
To the five articles in parliament.”
The story proceeded to mention other heads of the house and their fate;
and then stated that his grace had taken Bradshaw for his patron, and,
as the latter had judged the father, the former had forfeited the son,
but advises him to proceed:――
“Go on, great Duke, your hand is at the plough,
For looking back’s both sin and follow now;
Let Crawford,¹ Cardross,² Melvin, you advise,
Let Polwart³ flourish out the enterprise;
Here and hereafter both the malignants damn,
Down o’er their throats the new allegiance cram,
First fill the prisons till they’ll hold no more,
Then let the scaffolds, reeking with their gore,
Be the gam’d theatres that shall express,
Your pious princely zeal to be no less,
Than old Argyle, when he the maxim prov’d,
That it was safer to be fear’d than lov’d.
Thus we take leave, and all with one consent
Does rest your grace’s servants in the Lord.”⁴
¹ The Earl of Crawford.
² Lord Cardross, a warm supporter of the Covenant.
³ Sir Patrick Home, afterwards Earl of Marchmont.
⁴ _A Book of Scottish Pasquils_, pages 255‒257. The severest
attack of this class on the Presbyterians was the one
entitled “The Western Presbyterian’s Address to the Prince
of Orange.”
The Scotch Jacobites satirised King William from time to time till the
end of his reign, under the names of Willie Winkie, Willie Wanbeard,
and Willie the Wage. But none of these pieces have much merit, their
humour being homely and often coarse. The Jacobites were most bitterly
opposed to the Union, and exerted themselves to the utmost to prevent
it from being brought to a successful issue. The Parliament of 1704 was
attacked and denounced in a rhyme beginning thus:――
“Our parliament is met on a hellish design,
’Gainst God and the true heir knaves do combine,
To play the game over of old forty-nine,
But unless they repent they’ll be d――――d.”
It proceeded to traduce and condemn all who in any way assisted in
changing the succession of the throne, and vehemently caricatured many
of the Scotch nobles, satirising them in the rudest strain. Indeed,
this is one of the most outrageous and scurrilous compositions of
the period. Johnston, the secretary, a son of Lord Warriston’s, was
described in the following terms:――
“Thou, Johnston, thou spawn of a villain and traitor,
A varlet by birth, education, and nature.
Old Scotland’s base cut-throat, and false England’s creature.
For which sin on and be d――――d.”¹
¹ _Ibid._, pages 379‒384.
The most of the nobles who adhered to the Government were handled in a
similar style.
Contemporary rhymes and ballads on the Union Parliament, and on
the Union itself, were numerous, and most of them emanated from the
Jacobite party. But they are all marked by the characteristics which
have already been sufficiently illustrated, and very few of them have
assumed a popular and purified form, or lived into the present age.
But many of the Jacobite songs written between the accession of the
House of Hanover and the middle of the eighteenth century, were,
and still are, exceedingly popular. The satirical songs on George I.
and the members of his family are generally humorous and homely,
such as the well-known song of “The Riding Mare,” “The Wee, Wee
German Lairdie,” “The Sow’s Tail to Geordie,” and others of a similar
character, all so full of derision and contempt that they became
national favourites――the fact of their being usually sung to old and
popular airs greatly enhancing their merit in the estimation of the
populace. The immorality of the courts of the Georges afforded ample
scope for coarse satire; and Lady Darlington, one of the mistresses
of George I., who figures under the name of the “Sow,” was a constant
theme for lampoon and satire. In person she was excessively large and
corpulent.¹
¹ The air of the song, “The Sow’s Tail to Geordie,” has always
been highly popular, and has been rendered from time to time
with innumerable variations.
The Whigs were another subject for Jacobite invective and biting song.
While the conflict of the two parties raged, and the result of the
struggle was still uncertain, the arts of ridicule, depreciation, and
jeering scorn, were more effective for stirring the passions of the
people than elevated appeals to patriotism and the better sentiments
of the mind. Hence it was not until the cause of Jacobitism was seen
to be lost past all hope of recovery, that the best and most pathetic
of their songs appeared,――it is only then that their songs begin to
manifest the touching strains and the ennobling glow of genuine poetry.
The song entitled “Awa’, Whigs, Awa’,” was long popular, though more on
account of the beauty of its air than of the merit of the song itself.
Another one entitled, “What’s the matter with the Whigs?” was written
in the early part of the reign of George I., and opens with these
lines:――
“O what’s the matter with the Whigs,
I think they’re all gone mad, sir,
By dancing one and forty jigs,
Our dancing may be dad, sir.
* * * * *
“Did you not swear, in Anna’s reign,
And vow too, and protest, sir,
If Hanover were once come o’er,
Then we should all be blest, sir?
* * * * *
“And was there ever such a King
As our brave German prince, sir?
Our wealth supplies him everything
Save what he wants――good sense, sir.
Our jails with British subjects crammed,
Our scaffolds reek with blood, sir,
And all but Whigs and Dutch are damn’d
By the fanatic crowd, sir.”
The Jacobite song entitled, “The Wind has Blawn my Plaidie Awa’,” which
is sung to the popular air “O’er the Hills and Far Awa’,” was very
popular, and has appeared in various forms. The Whigs too had their
songs, some of which were a sort of parody on the Jacobite ones; while
the English also had many Jacobite songs and rhymes. The popular song
beginning “From Caledonia’s loyal lands, where justice uncontrolled
commands,” had its counterpart in a song used by the Whigs of the
Revolution Club, in Edinburgh. It was sung to the tune of “O’er the
Hills and Far Awa’,” and opened with the following lines:――
“From barren Caledonian lands,
Where rapine uncontrolled commands,
The rebel clans in search of prey,
Came o’er the hills and far away.
Regardless whether right or wrong,
For booty, not for fame, they fight;
Banditti-like, they kill, they slay,
They plunder, rob, and run away.
* * * * *
“With them a vain pretender came,
And perjured traitors, dupes to Rome,
Resolved all, without delay,
To conquer, die, or run away.
Our sons of war, with martial frame,
Shall bravely merit lasting fame;
Great George shall Britain’s sceptre sway,
And chase rebellion far away. Amen.”¹
¹ _English Jacobite Ballads_, edited by the Rev. A. B. Grosart,
pages 176‒177.
From the Revolution to the suppression of the last Rising, rhymes,
ballads, and songs were the common outcome of the rhymers of the street,
the alehouse, the club, and the festive board, or it might be of the
farm-house, or the cot among the valleys and hills. It was a time when
men of strong passions and feelings, rude humour, homely and coarse
wit, could express themselves in language intelligible to all ranks of
the nation. The Jacobites always eagerly endeavoured to gain the ear
and enlist the favour of the people. Accordingly they were constantly
appealing to the lighter emotions, the selfish feelings, and the
passions, under the guise of a mass of rough and vulgar humour, and
coarse satire, thrown at the new dynasty, and at the Whigs――the alleged
authors of the ruin and all the woes of the nation.
But after the Battle of Culloden, a higher strain was struck. The
bitterness of the sense of defeat, of suffering, of sorrow, and
lamentation, filled the souls of the Jacobites, and inspired them with
a mournful and yet noble resolution to yield to their fate, and to make
the best of the changed circumstances. Having referred in a preceding
chapter to the sentiments expressed after Culloden, it is only
necessary to give one or two illustrations in concluding this brief
account of the Jacobite songs and ballads.
The following lines are from the ballad called “The Lament of Old
Duncan Skene of the Clan Donochie:”――¹
“Thy foes they were many, and ruthless their wrath,
Thy glens they defaced with ravage and death,
Thy children were hunted and slain on the heath,
And the best of thy sons are no more.”
¹ Mackay’s _Jacobite Songs and Ballads_, page 247.
The song entitled “The Highlander’s Farewell,” is exceedingly pathetic.
It was composed in Gaelic, and the following quotation is from an
English translation:――
“O where shall I gae seek my bread?
O where shall I gae wander?
O where shall I gae hide my head?
For here I’ll bide nae langer.
The seas may row, the winds may blow,
And swath me round in danger,
My native land I must forego,
And roam a lonely stranger.
The glen that was my father’s own,
Must be by his forsaken;
The house that was my father’s home,
Is levell’d with the bracken.
Ochon, ochon, our glory’s o’er,
Stolen by a mean deceiver,
Our hands are on the broad claymore,
But the might is broke forever.
Farewell, farewell, dear Caledon,
Land of the Gael no longer,
A stranger fills thy ancient throne,
In guilt and treachery stronger.
Thy brave and just fall in the dust,
On ruin’s brink they quiver;
Heaven’s pitying e’e is clos’d on thee,
Adieu, adieu, for ever!”¹
¹ Mackay’s _Jacobite Songs and Ballads_, pages 251‒252. In
passing from the subject. I may mention that Mr. Robert
Malcolm edited a collection of Jacobite songs and ballads,
published at Glasgow in 1829; while Hogg’s _Jacobite Relics_,
first and second series, are well worth careful perusal.
For all this the Highlanders soon betook themselves to other forms of
energy, and as already mentioned, they have done good service to the
empire since the collapse of their memorable and last Rising in Britain.
The Lowland Scottish ballad literature embraces a wide and rich field,
ranging over and engrossing almost every element of poetry, save
the purely religious. The songs and ballads, of course, present all
degrees of merit and variety, of love and pathos, of keen feelings,
of wild passions, and of glowing emotions; but only a few examples
may be presented here, as every reader can easily go himself to the
fountain-head. Perhaps the ballad called “The Lament of the Border
Widow,” is among the most touching of the pathetic class. It has been
supposed to relate to the execution of Cockburn of Henderland, who was
hanged over the gate of his own tower, by the order of the King, in
1529. In its present form it was obtained from recitation, and printed
in Scott’s Minstrelsy:――
“My love he built me a bonnie bower,
And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flouer,
A brawer bower ye ne’er did see,
Than my true love he built for me.
There came a man, by middle day,
He spied his sport, and went away,
And brought the King that very night,
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.
He slew my knight, to me sae dear;
He slew my knight, and poin’d his gear;
My servants all for life did flee,
And left me in extremitie.
I sew’d his sheet, making my mane,
I watched the corpse, myself alane,
I watched his body, night and day;
No living creature came that way.
I took his body on my back,
And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;
I digg’d a grave, and laid him in,
And happ’d him with the sod sae green.
But think na ye my heart was sair,
When I laid the moul’ on his yellow hair;
O think na ye my heart was wae,
When I turned about away to gae.
Na living man I’ll love again,
Since that my lovely knight is slain.
Wi’ a lock of his yellow hair,
I’ll chain my heart for ever mair.”
The simple and natural pathos of these lines is inimitable, and at once
touches the heart.
There are not only pathos, genuine feeling and fire in many of the
national songs, but also in some of them good sense and shrewd judgment
of the world. A song by the author of “Tullochgorum,” the Rev. John
Skinner, presents in a brief compass a kind of philosophy of life. It
is entitled, “John o’ Badenyon,” and I tempted to quote it:――
“When first I came to be a man of twenty years or so,
I thought myself a handsome youth, and fain the world would
know.
In best attire I stept about, with spirits brisk and gay:
And here, and there, and everywhere was like a morn in May.
No care I had, no fear of want, but rambled up and down,
And for a beau I might have passed in country or in town;
I still was pleased where’er I went, and when I was alone,
I tuned my pipe, and pleased myself wi’ John o’ Badenyon.
Now in the days of youthful prime, a mistress I must find,
For love, they say, gives one an air, and even improves the
mind:
On Phillis fair, above the rest, kind fortune fixed mine eyes,
Her piercing beauty struck my heart, and she became my choice.
To Cupid now, with hearty prayer, I offered many a vow,
And danced, and sang, and sigh’d, and swore, as other lovers
do:
But when at last I breathed my flame, I found her cold as
stone――
I left the girl, and tuned my pipe to John o’ Badenyon.
When love had thus my heart beguiled with foolish hopes and
vain,
To friendship’s port I steer’d my course, and laugh’d at
lover’s pain.
A friend I got by lucky chance――’twas something like divine;
An honest friend’s a precious gift, and such a gift was mine.
And now, whatever may betide, a happy man was I,
In my strait I knew to whom I freely might apply.
A strait soon came, my friend I tried, he laugh’d and spurn’d
my moan;
I hied me home, and tuned my pipe to John o’ Badenyon.
I thought I should be wiser next, and would a patriot turn,
Began to doat on Johnnie Wilkes, and cry’d up parson Horne;
Their noble spirits I admired, and praised their noble zeal,
Who had with flaming tongue and pen maintained the public weal.
But ere a month or two had passed, I found myself betrayed;
’Twas self and party, after all, for all the stir they made.
At last I saw these factious knaves insult the very throne,
I cursed them all, and tuned my pipe to John o’ Badenyon.
What next to do I mused a while, still hoping to succeed;
I pitched on books for company, and gravely tried to read:
I bought and borrowed everywhere, and studied night and day,
Nor miss’d what dean or doctor wrote, that happened in my way.
Philosophy I now esteemed the ornament of youth,
And carefully, through many a page, I hunted after truth:
A thousand various schemes I tried, and yet was pleased with
none,
I threw them by, and tuned my pipe to John o’ Badenyon.
And now ye youngsters everywhere, who wish to make a show,
Take heed in time, nor vainly hope for happiness below;
What you may fancy pleasure here, is but an empty name;
And girls, and friends, and books also, you’ll find them all
the same.
Then be advised, and warning take from such a man as me;
I am neither pope, nor cardinal, nor one of high degree;
You’ll meet displeasure everywhere; then do as I have done――
Even tune your pipe and please yourself with John o’ Badenyon.”
There are some points which I might illustrate in greater detail;
but, as already stated, a lengthy account of this branch of literature
does not seem necessary. Besides, in a work of this character, some
proportion must be observed in treating the various subjects which
properly comes within its range, and suggestion and stimulation may
be legitimately used where space for criticism cannot be afforded. An
appropriate conclusion to this chapter will be found in the following
lines by the late John Imlach, entitled “Auld Scotia’s Songs,” and
prefixed to Whitelaw’s Book of Scottish Song:――
“Auld Scotia’s Songs, Auld Scotia’s Songs,――the strains o’ youth
and yore,
O lilt to me, and I will list――will list them o’er and o’er,
Though mak’ me wae, or mak’ me wud, or changefu’ as a child,
Yet lilt to me, and I will list――the native woodnotes wild.
They mak’ me present wi’ the past――they bring up fresh and fair,
The Bonnie Broom o’ Cowden Knowes, the Bush aboon Traquair;
The Dowie Dens o’ Yarrow, or the Birks o’ Invermay,
Or Catrine’s green and yellow woods in autumn’s dawning day.
Now melt we o’er the lay that wails for Flodden’s day o’ dule:
And now some rant will gar us loup like daffin’ youth at Yule――
Now o’er youth’s love’s impassion’d strain our conscious heart
will yearn――
And now our blude fires at the call o’ Bruce o’ Bannockburn.
* * * * *
“O born o’ feeling’s warmest depths――o’ fancy’s wildest dreams,
They’re twined wi’ monie lovely thoughts, wi’ monie lo’esome
themes;
They gar the glass o’ memory glint back wi’ brichter shine,
On far-off scenes, and far-off friends――and Auld Lang Syne.
Auld Scotia’s Songs, Auld Scotia’s Songs――the native woodnotes
wild,
Her monie artless melodies, that move me like a child;
Sing on, sing on, and I will list, will list them o’er and
o’er――
Auld Scotia’s Songs, Auld Scotia’s Songs, the songs o’ youth
and yore.”