(1465?-1530?)
A picturesque figure in a picturesque age is that of William Dunbar,
court minstrel to James IV., and as Sir Walter Scott declared, "a poet
unrivaled by any that Scotland has ever produced." Little of his
personal history is known. Probably he was a native of East Lothian,
a member of the family of the Earl of March, and a graduate of St.
Andrews University about the year 1479. After his college days he
joined the order of Franciscans and became a mendicant friar,
preaching the queer sermons of his time, and begging his way through
England and France. Yet in these pilgrimages the young scholar learned
useful habits of self-denial, saw new phases of human character, and
above all enjoyed that close communion with nature which is the need
of the poet. Over and over there is a reflection of this life in that
fanciful verse, which has caught the color of the morning hours when
the hedgerows are wet and the grass dewy, when the wild roses scent
the roadside and the lark is at matins--verse full of the joy of life
and the hope of youth.
After some years of this vagabond life, Dunbar left the Franciscans
and attached himself to the court, where he speedily became a
favorite. His day was one of pageant and show, of masque and
spectacle, and into its gay assemblage of knights and courtiers,
ladies and great nobles, Dunbar fitted perfectly. When an embassy was
sent to England to negotiate the royal marriage with Margaret Tudor,
Dunbar went along, being specially accredited by the king. He became a
favorite with the young Princess, and a poem written in honor of the
city of London, and one descriptive of the Queen's Progress, afford a
faithful and valuable memorial of this mission. History is fortunate
when she secures a poet as her scribe. Dunbar is principally known by
his three poems 'The Thistle and the Rose,' 'The Golden Targe,' and
'The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins.'
The first of these is an allegory celebrating the nuptials of the
king. It suggests of course the allegories of Chaucer; but Dunbar's
muse is his own, and the poem springs fresh and clear from native
fonts. The poet represents himself as awakened by Aurora on a spring
morning and told to do homage to May. Through the symbolism of the
court of Nature, who crowns the Lion and Eagle, commissions the
Thistle and Rose as her handmaidens, and orders their praises sung by
the assembled birds of earth, the political significance of the
allegory appears. But 'The Thistle and the Rose,' which is thus made
to illustrate the union between the two great houses of Scotland and
England, is far more than the poem of an occasion. It is full of the
melody and fragrance of spring, saturated with that sensuous delight
which at this bountiful season fills the veins of Nature. Here Dunbar
is no longer the court laureate, but the begging friar, wandering
through the green lanes and finding bed and board under the free
skies.
'The Golden Targe' is more artificial in construction. It is another
allegory, descriptive of an encounter between Cupid and Reason, who is
defended by a golden targe or shield from the attacks of love. Here
again the rural landscape forms a background to his mimic action.
Amazons dressed in green fight the battle of Cupid, and vanquish
Reason, then magically vanish and leave the poet to awake from his
dream. 'The Golden Targe' was a poem to be read in the royal presence,
when the court assembled after a day's hunting or an afternoon of
archery; but it is filled with the ethereal loveliness which only the
true poet beholds.
It is in 'The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins' that Dunbar touches the
note of seriousness, which characterizes his race and his individual
genius. This satire is not so unsparing an indictment as the vision of
Piers Ploughman, and yet it provokes inevitable comparison with the
older poem. In a dream the poet sees heaven and hell opened. It is the
eve of Ash Wednesday, and the Devil has commanded a dance to be
performed by those spirits that had never received absolution. In
obedience to this command the Seven Deadly Sins present a masque
before his Satanic Majesty, and it is in the description of this
grisly performance that Dunbar reveals a new aspect of power. The
comedy here is not comic, but grotesque and horrid. The vision of the
Scot is the vision that came to the poets of the 'Inferno' and
'Paradise Lost,' and it shows that his imagination was capable of the
loftiest flights.
After the melancholy day of Flodden Field, the Scottish laureateship
ceased to exist, but it is remarkable that so prominent a man as
Dunbar should so completely have disappeared from contemporary view
that his subsequent career and the time of his death are matters of
doubt. His period is given as between the years 1465 and 1530, but
these dates are only approximate.
Had Dunbar held his genius in hand as completely as did Chaucer, his
accomplishment would doubtless have been greater than it was. Yet his
place in literature is that of one of the most important poets of the
fifteenth century, the age of Caxton and bookmaking, the time of that
first flush of radiance which ushered in the full day of Spenser and
Shakespeare.