In a recent article in this Journal,[4] we gave our opinion of
practical sea-life, and incidentally alluded to the songs of Dibdin.
The paper excited some interest; and we may, therefore, venture to say
a little more about these celebrated songs, concerning which the
public in general has always had, and still has, a very erroneous
impression.
We commence with an assertion which will startle many--namely, that
Dibdin's songs never were, are not, and never can be, popular with
sailors. About six years ago--if we recollect rightly as to date--the
Lords of the Admiralty, considering that Dibdin's songs had always
been 'worth a dozen pressgangs,' as the common saying is, ordered that
twenty of the best songs should be printed on strong paper, and
presented to every man and boy in the royal navy. This act, however,
is not so much to be regarded as a strong evidence of the private
opinion of the nautical magnates in question--but the chief of them is
invariably a _landsman_--as of their deference to the force of public
estimation on the subject of the songs. Let it not be thought, from
the tenor of our subsequent remarks, that we ourselves are at all
prejudiced against Dibdin. So far is it the reverse, that we were
brought up from childhood 'in belief' of that gifted lyrist: our
father repeated to us in early life his finest songs, and we have
never ceased to regard him with sincere admiration. He was a man of
true genius in his peculiar walk, and it has been well and truly said
of him, that, 'had he written merely to amuse, his reputation would
have been great; but it stands the higher, because his writings always
advocate the cause of virtue: charity, humanity, constancy, love of
country, and courage, are the subjects of his song and of his praise.'
Dibdin himself was not a sailor, and his knowledge of sea-life, of
seamen, and of sea-slang, is generally attributed to the instructions
of his brother, the master of a ship. This brother was subsequently
lost at sea, and Dibdin is said to have written _Poor Tom Bowling_ as
his elegy. Dibdin's sea-lore was, therefore, altogether second-hand
and theoretical; and his songs, on the whole, present an idealised and
exaggerated embodiment of the characteristics, life, and habits of
seamen; but it is wonderful how accurately and skilfully he introduces
allusions to sea-man[oe]uvres, and how very rarely he errs in nautical
technicalities. They were written in war-time, when the nation was
excited to a pitch of frenzied enthusiasm by a succession of
unparalleled naval victories--when a prince of the blood trod the
quarter-deck, and Nelson was 'Britannia's god of war.' Their
popularity with _landsmen_ was then incredible. Everybody sang
Dibdin's sea-songs, deeming them a perfect mirror of sea-life and
seamen's character. The truth is, he has exaggerated both the virtues
and the follies of sailors to an absurd degree; and his blue-jacketed
heroes are no more to be accepted as a fair type of sailors, than are
Fenimore Cooper's Chingachgook and Leatherstocking as types of the Red
Men and trappers of North America. Herein, we conceive, is the primary
cause of Dibdin failing to enlist strongly the sympathies of real
blue-water tars; and the very same reason, with some modifications,
prevents all prose works, descriptive of sea-life, from being
favourably received by practical mariners. We have heard the
'sailoring' portions of the finest works of Cooper and others scoffed
at by seamen; and the very best book on sea-life ever written, Dana's
_Two Years before the Mast_, is held in no sort of esteem by the very
men for whose benefit the author avows he wrote it, and whose life he
has so vividly, and, as _we_ think, faithfully described. Every sailor
we have questioned concerning that book--and there are few sailors who
have not read it--declared that he 'thought nothing of it;' and that
all his messmates laughed at it as much as himself. They say that Dana
'makes too much' of everything, and that he gives false and
exaggerated notions of life on shipboard. We personally deny this; but
sailors, as a body, are such prosaic people, that they will make no
allowance whatever for the least amplification of bald matter of fact.
If the author dilates at all on his own feelings and impressions, they
chuckle and sneer; and if he errs in the least--or the compositor for
him--in his nautical details, they cry out that he is a know-nothing,
a marine, a horse-jockey, a humbug. To please seamen, any book about
their profession must be written precisely in the lucid and
highly-imaginative style of a log-book--their sole standard of
literary excellence.
Sailors are shrewd and sensitive, enough in some respects. They do not
like to be flattered, and cannot bear to be caricatured; and they feel
that Dibdin has--unconsciously--been guilty of both towards them.
According to his songs, sailors lead a life of unalloyed fun and
frolic. He tells us nothing about their slavery when afloat, nothing
about the tyranny they are frequently subjected to; and in his days, a
man-o'-war was too often literally a floating pandemonium. He makes
landsmen believe that Jack is the happiest, most enviable fellow in
the world: storms and battles are mere pastime; lopped limbs and
wounds are nothing more than jokes; there is the flowing can to
'sweethearts and wives' every Saturday night; and whenever the ship
comes to port, the crew have guineas galore to spend on lasses and
fiddles. In fine, both at sea and ashore, according to his theory,
jolly Jack has little to do but make love, sing, dance, and
drink--grog being 'his sheet-anchor, his compass, his cable, his log;'
and in the _True British Sailor_, we are told that 'Jack is always
content.' Now, Jack knows very well this is all 'long-shore palaver,
and he gives a shy hail to such palpable lime-twigs. 'Let the
land-lubbers sing it!' thinks he; 'I'll none on't!'
Dibdin takes the first sip of his _Flowing Can_ with the ominous
line--
'A sailor's life's a life of wo!'