as "casten for his share," display great ease and readiness of
versification, with much comic vivacity. The best of these are the
_Twa Cats and the Cheese_; the _Lure_, in which the Falconer's
"foregathering with auld Symmie" is excellently described; and the
_Monk and the Miller's Wife_, for the story of which he is indebted to
Dunbar. As a song writer we are not inclined to give Ramsay a very
high place. His mind had not those deep and energetic workings of
feeling that fitted Burns so admirably for this difficult species of
writing. He is stiff, where passion is required; and is most easy, as
usual, where he is comic. Several of his songs yet retain their
popularity; but even of these none are without some faults. We prefer
the Highland Laddie, Gie me a Lass wi' a Lump o' Land, The Carle he
came o'er the Craft, The Lass of Patie's Mill and Jenny Nettles.
His _Christ's Kirk_ is no mean effort of his muse; the idea of
continuing King James's production was good, and he has executed it
happily. Ramsay's humour must, however, be acknowledged to be inferior
to the pure, strong, irresistible merriment that shines even through
the dim and nearly obsolete language of his royal master. In the
_Third Canto_, the morning, with its effect on the crapulous
assemblage, is well painted.
_Now frae east nook o' Fife the dawn
Speel'd[32] westlins up the lift_,
Carles wha heard the cock had crawn
Begoud, &c.
An' greedy wives, wi' girning thrawn,
Cry'd lasses up to thrift;
Dogs barked, an' the lads frae hand
Bang'd[33] to their breeks,[34] like drift,
Be break o' day
[Footnote 32: Climbed.]
[Footnote 33: Started up from bed.]
[Footnote 34: Breeches.]
Of a character similar to the first two lines of the above stanza, are
the following other passages of Ramsay's works, which remind us a
little of the Italian poets;--
Now Sol wi' his lang whip gae cracks
Upon his nichering coosers'[35] backs,
_To gar them tak th' Olympian brae,
Wi' a cart-lade o' bleezing day_.
[Footnote 35: Stallions.]
_Tale of the Three Bonnets._
And ere the sun, though he be dry,
Has driven down the westlin sky,
To drink his wamefu' o' the sea.
_Fables and Tales._
Soon as the clear goodman o' day
Does bend his morning draught o' dew.
_Fables and Tales._
To sum up our opinion of Ramsay's merits as a poet--he was fortunate,
and he deserved well, in being the first to redeem the Muse of
Scotland from wasting her strength in a dead language, which, since
the _days_ of Buchanan, had been the freezing vehicle of her
exertions. He re-established the popularity of a dialect, which, since
the removal of the Scottish Court, had received no honour from the pen
of genius, but which, near two hundred years before, had been sublimed
into poetical dignity by Dunbar and the bards of that age. To Ramsay,
and to his treasures of Scottish phraseology, succeeding poets have
been much indebted; he knew the language well, and had imbibed the
facetious and colloquial spirit of its idioms. Ramsay, therefore, when
he employs his beloved dialect, manages it masterly, and, though never
lofty, he is always at his ease: Burns, in his highest flights, soared
out of it. The genius of the first was pleasing, placid, versatile, in
quest rather of knacks, and felicities of expression, than originating
bold and masculine thoughts: The genius of the latter was richer, more
original, more impressive, and formidable, but less equal, and less
careful of the niceties and tricks of phraseology. The tone of
Ramsay's mind was good-humoured composure, and facile pleasantry; of
Burns's, intensity of feeling, tenderness, and daring elevation
approaching to sublimity. Of Burns's superiority no man is doubtful;
but Ramsay's merits will not be forgotten; and the names of _both_
will be forever cherished by the lovers of Scottish poetry.
ESSAY
ON
RAMSAY'S GENTLE SHEPHERD.
BY LORD WOODHOUSELEE.
As the writings of _Allan Ramsay_ have now stood the test of the
public judgment, during more than seventy years;[36] and, in the
opinion of the best critics, he seems to bid fair to maintain his
station among our poets, it may be no unpleasing, nor uninstructive
employment, to examine the grounds, on which that judgment is founded;
to ascertain the rank, which he holds in the scale of merit; and to
state the reasons, that may be given, for assigning him that
distinguished place among the original poets of his country, to which
I conceive he is entitled.
[Footnote 36: Written in 1800.]
The genius of Ramsay was original; and the powers of his untutored
mind were the gift of nature, freely exercising itself within the
sphere of its own observation. Born in a wild country, and accustomed
to the society of its rustic inhabitants, the poet's talents found
their first exercise in observing the varied aspects of the mountains,
rivers, and vallies; and the no less varied, though simple manners,
of the rude people, with whom he conversed. He viewed the former with
the enthusiasm which, in early childhood, is the inseparable attendant
of genius; and on the latter he remarked, with that sagacity of
discriminating observation, which instructed the future moralist, and
gave the original intimations to the contemporary satirist. With this
predisposition of mind, it is natural to imagine, that the education,
which he certainly received, opened to him such sources of instruction
as English literature could furnish; and his kindred talents directed
his reading chiefly to such of the _poets_ as occasion threw in his
way.
Inheriting that ardour of feeling, which is generally accompanied with
strong sentiments of moral excellence, and keenly awake even to those
slighter deviations from propriety, which constitute the foibles of
human conduct, he learned, as it were from intuition, the glowing
language, which is best fitted for the scourge of vice; as well as the
biting ridicule, which is the most suitable corrective of gross
impropriety, without deviating into personal lampoon.
A consciousness of his own talents induced _Ramsay_ to aspire beyond
the situation of a mere mechanic; and the early notice, which his
first poetical productions procured him, was a natural motive for the
experiment of a more liberal profession, which connected him easily
with those men of wit, who admired, and patronised him. As a
book-seller, he had access to a more respectable class in society. We
may discern, in the general tenor of his compositions, a respectful
demeanour towards the great, and the rich, which, though it never
descends to adulation or servility, and generally seeks for an apology
in some better endowments than mere birth or fortune, is yet a
sensible mark, that these circumstances had a strong influence on his
mind.
As he extended the sphere of his acquaintance, we may presume, that
his knowledge of men, and acquaintance with manners, were enlarged;
and, in his latter compositions, we may discern a sufficient
intelligence of those general topics, which engaged the public
attention. The habits of polite life, and the subjects of fashionable
conversation, were become familiar, at this time, to the citizens of
Edinburgh, from the periodical papers of _Addison_ and _Steele_; and
the wits of _Balfour's_ Coffee-house, _Forrester_, _Falconer_,
_Bennet_, _Clerk_, _Hamilton_ of Bangour, _Preston_, and
_Crawford_,[37] were a miniature of the society, which was to be met
with at _Will's_ and _Button's_.
[Footnote 37: To the last three of these we owe the words of some of
the best of the Scotish songs, which are to be found in the collection
published by Ramsay, called _The Tea-table Miscellany_.]
The political principles of _Ramsay_ were those of an old Scotsman,
proud of his country, delighted to call to mind its ancient honours,
while it held the rank of a distinct kingdom, and attached to the
succession of its ancient princes. Of similar sentiments, at that
time, were many of the Scotish gentry. The chief friends of the poet
were probably men, whose sentiments on those subjects agreed with his
own; and the Easy Club, of which he was an original member, consisted
of youths who were anti-unionists. Yet, among the patrons of _Ramsay_,
were some men of rank, who were actuated by very different principles,
and whose official situation would have made it improper for them,
openly, to countenance a poet, whose opinions were obnoxious to the
rulers of his country. Of this he was aware; and putting a just value
on the friendship of those distinguished persons, he learnt to be
cautious in the expression of any opinions, which might risk the
forfeiture of their esteem: hence he is known to have suppressed some
of his earlier productions, which had appeared only in manuscript; and
others, which prudence forbad him to publish, were ushered into the
world without his name, and even with false signatures. Among the
former was a poem to the memory of the justly celebrated _Dr.
Pitcairne_, which was printed by the Easy Club, but never published;
and among the latter, is _The Vision_, which he printed in the
_Evergreen_, with the signature of AR. SCOT.[38]
[Footnote 38: See _Observations on The Vision_, by William Tytler,
Esq., of Woodhouselee, in the first volume of the Transactions of
Scotish Antiquaries; where that poem, and The Eagle and Robin
Redbreast, are proved to be both written by Allan Ramsay.]
In Ramsay's _Vision_, the author, in order to aid the deception, has
made use of a more antiquated phraseology, than that, which we find in
his other Scotish poems: but, it evidently appears from this attempt,
and from the two cantos, which he added to _King James the First's_
ludicrous satire of _Christ's Kirk on the Green_, that _Ramsay_ was
not much skilled in the ancient Scotish dialect. Indeed the Glossary,
which he annexed to the two quarto volumes of his poems, wherein are
many erroneous interpretations, is of itself sufficient proof of this
assertion. In compiling the Glossary of his Evergreen, _Lord Hailes_
has remarked, that he does not seem ever to have consulted the
Glossary to _Douglas's Virgil_; "and yet they who have not consulted
it, cannot acquire a competent knowledge of the ancient Scotish
dialect, unless by infinite and ungrateful labour."[39] A part of this
labour undoubtedly may be ascribed to _Ramsay_, when he selected and
transcribed, from the _Bannatyne manuscript_, those ancient poems,
which chiefly compose the two volumes of his _Evergreen_: and hence,
it is probable, he derived the most of what he knew of the older
dialect of his country. His own stock was nothing else than the oral
language of the farmers of the _Lothians_, and the common talk of the
citizens of Edinburgh, to which his ears were constantly accustomed. A
Scotsman, in the age of Ramsay, generally _wrote_ in English; that is,
he imitated the style of the English writers; but when he _spoke_, he
used the language of his country. The sole peculiarity of the style of
Ramsay is, that he transferred the oral language to his writings. He
could write, as some of his compositions evince, in a style which may
be properly termed English verse; but he wrote with more ease in the
Scotish dialect, and he preferred it, as judging, not unreasonably,
that it conferred a kind of Doric simplicity, which, when he wished to
paint with fidelity the manners of his countrymen, and the
peculiarities of the lower orders, was extremely suitable to such
subjects.
[Footnote 39: I am convinced, however, from a comparison of many of
Ramsay's interpretations, both in the Glossary to the _Evergreen_,
printed in 1724, and in that, which is subjoined to his _Poems_, with
the interpretations given by Ruddiman in the Glossary to _G. Douglas's
Virgil_, that Ramsay had made frequent use of the latter for the
explanation of the most antiquated words; though he does not seem to
have studied it with that care, which his duty as an editor of ancient
Scotish poetry certainly required. In proof of this, his obligations
to Ruddiman's Glossary, the reader has only to compare, with the
interpretations in that work, the following, given by Ramsay in the
Glossary to his Poems: _Bodin_, _Brankan_, _Camschough_, _Dern_,
_Douks_, _Dynles_, _Elritch_, _Ettle_, _Freck_, _Gousty_, _Moup_,
_Pawky_, _Withershins_; and the following, in the Glossary to the
Evergreen: _Crawdon_, _Galziart_, _Ithandly_, _Ourefret_, _Ruse_,
_Schent_, &c.]
From these considerations, one cannot but wonder at the observation,
which is sometimes made even by Scotsmen of good taste, that the
language of _The Gentle Shepherd_ disgusts from its vulgarity. It is
true, that in the present day, the Scotish dialect is heard only in
the mouths of the lowest of the populace, in whom it is generally
associated with vulgarity of sentiment; but those critics should
recollect, that it was the language of the Scotish people, which was
to be imitated, and that too of the people upwards of a century ago,
if we carry our mind back to the epoch of the scene.
If _Ramsay_ had made the shepherds of the Lowlands of Scotland, in the
middle of the seventeenth century, speak correct English, how
preposterous would have been such a composition! But, with perfect
propriety, he gave them the language which belonged to them; and if
the sentiments of the speakers be not reproachable with unnecessary
vulgarity, we cannot with justice associate vulgarism with a dialect,
which in itself is proper, and in its application is characteristic.
After all, what is the language of Ramsay, but the common speech of
Yorkshire during the last century?[40]
[Footnote 40: See "A Yorkshire Dialogue in its pure natural dialect;"
printed at York, 1684.]
But, as associated ideas arise only where the connection is either in
itself necessary, or the relation is so intimate, the two ideas are
seldom found disunited; so of late years, that disunion has taken
place in a twofold manner; for the language, even of the common people
of Scotland, is gradually refining, and coming nearer to the English
standard; and it has fortunately happened, that the Scotish dialect
has lately been employed in compositions of transcendant merit, which
have not only exhibited the finest strokes of the pathetic, but have
attained even to a high pitch of the sublime. For the truth of this
observation, we may appeal to _The Cotter's Saturday Night_, and _The
Vision of Burns_. In these, the language, so far from conveying the
idea of vulgarity, appears most eminently suited to the sentiment,
which seems to derive, from its simplicity, additional tenderness, and
superior elevation.
The Scots, and the English, languages are, indeed, nothing more than
different dialects of the same radical tongue, namely, the
Anglo-Saxon; and, setting prejudice apart, (which every preference,
arising from such associations, as we have mentioned, must be,) it
would not perhaps be difficult, on a fair investigation of the actual
merits of both the dialects, to assert the superior advantages of the
Scotish to the English, for many species of original composition. But
a discussion of this kind would lead too far; and it is but
incidentally connected with the proper subject of these remarks.[41]
It is enough to say, that the merits of those very compositions, on
which we are now to offer some remarks, are of themselves a sufficient
demonstration of the powers of that language in which, chiefly, they
are composed, for many, if not for all the purposes of poetry.
[Footnote 41: A learned writer has published, in the Transactions of
the Society of Scotish Antiquaries, a Dissertation on the Scoto-Saxon
Dialect; of which, as the work is not in every body's hands, the
reader may not be displeased with a short account. The author
maintains this proposition; that the Scoto-Saxon dialect was, at the
time of the union of the two nations, equal in every respect, and in
some respects superior, to the Anglo-Saxon dialect. He lays it down as
a principle, that three things constitute the perfection, or rather
the relative superiority, of a language: richness, energy, and
harmony. He observes, that a language is rich in proportion to the
copiousness of its vocabulary, which will principally depend, 1. on
the number of its primitive or radical words; 2. on the multiplicity
of its derivations and compounds; and, 3. on the variety of its
inflections. In all, or almost all of these respects, he shows the
superiority of the Scotish dialect of the Saxon to the English. The
Scots have all the English primitives, and many hundreds besides. The
Scots have derivatives from diminution, which the English entirely
want: e. g. _hat_, _hatty_, _hattiky_; _lass_, _lassie_, _lassiky_.
The degrees of diminution are almost unlimited: _wife_, _wifie_,
_wifiky_, _wee wifiky_, _wee wee wifiky_, &c. Both the English, and
Scots, dialects are poor in the inflections; but the Glossary to
Douglas's Virgil will shew that the Scotish inflections are both more
various, and less anomalous, than the English. Energy is the boast
both of the English, and the Scotish, dialects; but, in this author's
opinion, the Scotish poetry can furnish some compositions of far
superior energy to any cotemporary English production. With respect to
harmony, he gives his suffrage likewise in favour of the Scotish
dialect. He observes, that the _sh_ rarely occurs; its place being
supplied by the simple _s_, as in _polis_, _punis_, _sal_, &c. The _s_
itself is often supplied by the liquids _m_ or _n_; as in _expreme_,
_depreme_; _compone_, _depone_. Harsh combinations of consonants are
avoided: as in using _sel_, _twal_, _neglek_, _temp_, _stown_ or
_stawn_, for _self_, _twelve_, _neglect_, _tempt_, _stolen_. Even the
vowel sounds are, in this author's opinion, more harmonious, in the
Scots, than in the English, dialect; as the open _a_, and the proper
Italic sound of _i_. For further elucidation of this curious subject,
the Dissertation itself must be referred to, which will abundantly
gratify the critical reader. It is proper here to observe, that the
remarks of this writer are the more worthy of attention, that he is
himself an excellent Scotish poet, as the compositions subjoined to
his Dissertation clearly evince. _Three Scotish Poems, with a previous
Dissertation on the Scoto-Saxon Dialect, by the Rev. Alexander Geddes,
LL.D., Transactions of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland_, vol.
i., p. 402.]
(_Remarks on Ramsay's miscellaneous poems are here omitted._)
In the year 1725, _Ramsay_ published his pastoral comedy of _The
Gentle Shepherd_, the noblest and most permanent monument of his fame.
A few years before, he had published, in a single sheet, _A Pastoral
Dialogue between Patie and Roger_, which was reprinted in the first
collection of his poems, in 1721. This composition being much admired,
his literary friends urged him to extend his plan to a regular drama:
and to this fortunate suggestion the literary world is indebted for
one of the most perfect pastoral poems that has ever appeared.[42]
[Footnote 42: In the quarto of 1728, the following note is subjoined
to the first scene of the Gentle Shepherd:--"This first scene is the
only piece in this volume that was printed in the first: having
carried the pastoral the length of five acts, at the desire of some
persons of distinction, I was obliged to print this preluding scene
with the rest."]
The _pastoral drama_ is an invention of the moderns. The first who
attempted this species of poetry was _Agostino de Beccari_, in his
_Sacrificio Favola Pastorale_, printed in 1553. _Tasso_ is supposed to
have taken the hint from him; and is allowed, in his _Aminta_,
published in 1573, to have far surpassed his master. _Guarini_
followed, whose _Pastor Fido_ contends for the palm with the _Aminta_,
and, in the general opinion of the Italians, is judged to have
obtained it. _Tasso_ himself is said to have confessed the superior
merit of his rival's work; but to have added, in his own defence, that
had _Guarini_ never seen his _Aminta_, he never would have surpassed
it. Yet, I think, there is little doubt, that this preference is
ill-founded. Both these compositions have resplendent beauties, with
glaring defects and improprieties. I am, however, much mistaken, if
the latter are not more abundant in the _Pastor Fido_, as the former
are predominant in the _Aminta_. Both will ever be admired, for beauty
of poetical expression, for rich imagery, and for detached sentiments
of equal delicacy and tenderness: but the fable, both of the _Aminta_,
and _Pastor Fido_, errs against all probability; and the general
language and sentiments of the characters are utterly remote from
nature. The fable of the _Aminta_ is not dramatic; for it is such,
that the principal incidents, on which the plot turns, are incapable
of representation: the beautiful _Silvia_, stripped naked, and bound
by her hair to a tree by a brutal satyr, and released by her lover
_Amyntas_;--her flight from the wolves;--the precipitation of
_Amyntas_ from a high rock, who narrowly escapes being dashed in
pieces, by having his fall broken by the stump of a tree;--are all
incidents, incapable of being represented to the eye; and must
therefore be thrown into narration. The whole of the last act is
narrative, and is taken up entirely with the history of _Amyntas's_
fall, and the happy change produced in the heart of the rigorous
_Silvia_, when she found her lover thus miraculously preserved from
the cruel death, to which her barbarity had prompted him to expose
himself.
Yet, the fable of the _Aminta_, unnatural and undramatic, as it is,
has the merit of simplicity. That of the _Pastor Fido_, equally
unnatural and incredible, has the additional demerit of being
complicated as well as absurd. The distress of _Amyntas_, arising from
an adequate and natural cause--rejected love, excites our sympathy;
but the distress in the _Pastor Fido_ is altogether chimerical; we
have no sympathy with the calamities arising from the indignation of
_Diana_, or the supposed necessity of accomplishing the absurd and
whimsical response of an _oracle_. We cannot be affected by the
passions of fictitious beings. The love of a _satyr_ has nothing in it
but what is odious and disgusting.
The defects of these celebrated poems have arisen from the erroneous
idea entertained by their authors, that the province of this species
of poetry was not to imitate nature, but to paint that chimerical
state of society, which is termed the _golden age_. _Mr. Addison_,
who, in the Guardian, has treated the subject of pastoral poetry at
considerable length, has drawn his critical rules from that absurd
principle; for he lays it down as a maxim, that, to form a right
judgment of pastoral poetry, it is necessary to cast back our eyes on
the first ages of the world, and inquire into the manners of men,
"before they were formed into large societies, cities built, or
commerce established: a state," says he, "of ease, innocence, and
contentment; where plenty begot pleasure, and pleasure begot singing,
and singing begot poetry, and poetry begot singing again:" a
description this, which is so fantastical, as would almost persuade
us, that the writer meant to ridicule his own doctrine, if the general
strain of his criticism did not convince us it was seriously
delivered. Is it necessary to prove, that this notion of pastoral
poetry, however founded, in the practice of celebrated writers, has no
foundation in fact, no basis in reason, nor conformity to good sense?
To a just taste, and unadulterated feelings, the natural beauties of
the country, the simple manners, rustic occupations, and rural
enjoyments of its inhabitants, brought into view by the medium of a
well-contrived dramatic fable, must afford a much higher degree of
pleasure, than any chimerical fiction, in which Arcadian nymphs and
swains hold intercourse with Pan and his attendant fauns and satyrs.
If the position be disputed, let the _Gentle Shepherd_ be fairly
compared with the _Aminta_, and, _Pastor Fido_.