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.
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.
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]
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.
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]
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