Part 2

At length appeared in 1725 his master-work, the Gentle Shepherd, of which two scenes had been previously printed, [the first] in 1721, under the title of Patie and Roger, and [the second] in 1723, under that of Jenny and Meggy. [In the quarto of 1721, there is likewise to be found (Sang XI.) the dialogue song between Patie and Peggy, afterwards introduced into the second act.] The reputation he had obtained by these detached scenes, and the admonitions of his friends, who perceived how easily and how happily they could be connected, induced him to re-model and embody them into a regular pastoral drama. Its success corresponded to his own hopes, and to his friends' anticipations. [In the following letter, (published for the first time by R. Chambers in his Scottish Biographical Dictionary, 1835,) it will be seen that he was engaged on this task in spring, 1724.

ALLAN RAMSAY to WILLIAM RAMSAY, of TEMPLEHALL, Esq.

"Edinburgh, _April_ 8th, 1724.

"Sir,--These come to bear you my very heartyest and grateful wishes. May you long enjoy your Marlefield, see many a returning spring pregnant with new beautys; may everything that's excellent in its kind continue to fill your extended soul with pleasure. Rejoyce in the beneficence of heaven, and let all about ye rejoyce--whilst we, alake, the laborious insects of a smoaky city, hurry about from place to place in one eternal maze of fatiguing cares, to secure this day our daylie bread--and something till't. For me, I have almost forgot how springs gush from the earth. Once, I had a notion how fragrant the fields were after a soft shower; and often, time out of mind! the glowing blushes of the morning have fired my breast with raptures. Then it was that the mixture of rural music echo'd agreeable from the surrounding hills, and all nature appear'd in gayety.

"However, what is wanting to me of rural sweets I endeavour to make up by being continually at the acting of some new farce, for I'm grown, I know not how, so very wise, or at least think so (which is much about one), that the mob of mankind afford me a continual diversion; and this place, tho' little, is crowded with merry-andrews, fools, and fops, of all sizes, [who] intermix'd with a few that can think, compose the comical medley of actors.

"Receive a sang made on the marriage of my young chief.--I am, this vacation, going through with a Dramatick Pastoral, which I design to carry the length of five acts, in verse a' the gate, and if I succeed according to my plan, I hope to tope[5] with the authors of Pastor Fido and Aminta.

[Footnote 5: Cope.]

"God take care of you and yours, is the constant prayer of, sir, your faithful humble servant,

"ALLAN RAMSAY."]

A second edition followed next year, and numerous impressions spread his fame, not only through Scotland, but through the united kingdom, and the colonies. His name became known, principally through this drama, to the wits of England, and Pope took delight in reading his pastoral, the obscurer phraseology of which was interpreted to him by Gay, who, during his residence in Scotland, had been careful to instruct himself in its dialect, that he might act as interpreter to the poet of Twickenham.

In 1726 our Poet, now a thriving bookseller, removed from his original dwelling at the Mercury opposite Niddry's-wynd, to a shop in the east end of the Luckenbooths, which was afterwards occupied by the late Mr. Creech, (whose Fugitive Pieces are well known), and, after his death, by his successor Mr. Fairbairn. With his shop he changed his sign, and leaving Mercury, under the protection of whose witty godship he had so flourished, he set up the friendly heads of Ben Jonson and Drummond of Hawthornden. Here he sold books, and established a circulating library, the first institution of that kind, not only in Scotland, but we believe in Great Britain.[6] The situation being near the Cross, and commanding a full view of the High-street, his shop became the resort of all the wits of the city; and here Gay, who is described by Mr. Tytler, as "a little pleasant-looking man, with a tyewig," used to look out upon the population of Edinburgh, while Ramsay pointed out to him the principal characters as they passed. Of this house no vestiges now remain, for as the beauty and magnificence of the High-street had been long disfigured by the cumbrous and gloomy buildings called the Luckenbooths, they were, a few years ago, completely removed, and the street cleared of that misplaced mass of deformity.

[Footnote 6: To this library Mr. Sibbald succeeded, who greatly augmented it. It is now (1819) in possession of Mr. Mackay, High-street.]

In 1728 he printed in quarto a second volume, containing, [his portrait by Smibert, and,] with other poems, a Masque on the Marriage of the Duke of Hamilton, one of his most ingenious productions; [also the Gentle Shepherd, complete.[7]] Of this quarto an octavo edition followed next year; and so extended was now the circle of his reputation, and so universal the demand for his poems, that the London booksellers published an edition of his Works in 1731, and two years after an edition also appeared at Dublin. His collection of thirty Fables appeared in 1730, when he was in his 45th year, after which period the public received nothing from his pen. "I e'en gave o'er in good time," he says, in his letter to Smibert, "ere the coolness of fancy attending advanced years made me risk the reputation I had acquired."

[Footnote 7: ["Soon after the first edition, in octavo, of this pastoral was published, and about the time of the publication of his second volume in quarto, the 'Beggar's Opera' made its appearance, with such success that it soon produced a great number of other pieces upon the same musical plan. Amongst the rest, Ramsay, who had always been a great admirer of Gay, especially for his ballads, was so far carried away by the current as to print a new edition of his pastoral, interspersed with songs adapted to the common Scotch tunes, He did not reflect at the time that the 'Beggar's Opera' was only meant as a piece of ironical satire; whereas his 'Gentle Shepherd' was a simple imitation of nature, and neither a mimickry nor mockery of any other performance. He was soon, however, sensible of his error, and would have been glad to have retracted those songs; but it was too late; the public was already in possession of them, and as the number of singers is always greater than that of sound critics, the many editions since printed of that pastoral have been almost uniformly in this vitiated taste. He comforted himself, however, with the thought that the contagion had not infected his second volume in quarto, where the 'Gentle Shepherd' is still to be found in its original purity."

(General Biographical Dictionary, Vol. XXVI.)]

[The following letter was first published in the Scots Magazine, August, 1784: we give it verbatim et literatim.

ALLAN RAMSAY To MR. JOHN SMIBERT,[8] in BOSTON, NEW ENGLAND.

"Edinburgh, _May_ 10, 1736.

"My dear old friend, your health and happiness are ever ane addition to my satisfaction. God make your life ever easy and pleasant--half a century of years have now row'd o'er my pow; yes, row'd o'er my pow, that begins now to be lyart; yet, thanks to my Author, I eat, drink, and sleep as sound as I did twenty years syne; yes, I laugh heartily too, and find as many subjects to employ that faculty upon as ever: fools, fops, and knaves, grow as rank as formerly; yet here and there are to be found good and worthy men, who are an honour to human life. We have small hopes of seeing you again in our old world; then let us be virtuous, and hope to meet in heaven.--My good auld wife is still my bedfellow: my son, Allan, has been pursuing your science since he was a dozen years auld--was with Mr. Hyssing, at London, for some time, about two years ago; has been since at home, painting here like a Raphael--sets out for the seat of the Beast, beyond the Alps, within a month hence--to be away about two years.--I'm sweer[9] to part with him, but canna stem the current which flows from the advice of his patrons and his own inclinations.--I have three daughters, one of seventeen, one of sixteen, one of twelve years old, and no waly-dragle[10] among them, all fine girls. These six or seven years past, I have not wrote a line of poetry; I e'en gave o'er in good time, before the coolness of fancy that attends advanced years should make me risk the reputation I had acquired.

[Footnote 8: [John Smibert, who drew his first breath in the Grass-Market of Edinburgh, was the son of a dyer, and bred a coach painter: but travelling into Italy for instruction, he painted portraits, on his return, at London, till he was induced, by the fascination of Bishop Berkeley, to emigrate with him to Bermuda, and thence to New England. Smibert was born in 1684 and died at Boston, in 1751.

(Life of Ramsay by George Chalmers, in Works, Edition of 1800.)]]

[Footnote 9: Unwilling.]

[Footnote 10: A feeble ill-grown person.]

"Frae twenty-five to five-and-forty, My Muse was nowther sweer[11] nor dorty; My Pegasus wad break his tether, E'en at the shakking[12] of a feather, And through ideas scour like drift, Streaking[13] his wings up to the lift: Then, then my saul was in a low, That gart my numbers safely row; But eild and judgment 'gin to say, Let be your sangs, and learn to pray.

[Footnote 11: Unwilling.]

[Footnote 12: Shaking.]

[Footnote 13: Stretching.]

"I am, sir, your friend and servant,

"ALLAN RAMSAY."]

He now therefore intermeddled no longer with the anxieties of authorship, but sat down in the easy chair of his celebrity to enjoy his laurels and his profits. After a lapse of six years of silence, and of happiness, his ardour for dramatic exhibitions involved him in some circumstances of perplexity, attended, it is believed, with pecuniary loss. As Edinburgh possessed as yet no fixed place for the exhibition of the drama, he endeavoured to supply that deficiency to the citizens, by building, at his own expense a theatre in Carrubber's-close. Shortly after, the Act for licensing the stage was passed, which at once blasted all his hopes of pleasure and advantage; for, the Magistrates availing themselves of the power entrusted to them by the Act, shewed no indulgence to the author of the Gentle Shepherd, but, in the true spirit of that puritanism which reckons as ungodly all jollity of heart, and relaxation of countenance, they shut up his theatre, leaving the citizens without exhilaration, and our poet without redress. This was not all; he was assailed with the satirical mockery of his laughter-hating enemies, who turned against him his own weapons of poetical raillery. Pamphlets appeared, entitled, "The flight of religious piety from Scotland, upon the account of Ramsay's lewd books, and the hell-bred playhouse comedians, who debauch all the faculties of the soul of our rising generation;"--"A looking-glass for Allan Ramsay;"--"The dying words of Allan Ramsay." These maligners, in the bitterness of their sanctimonious resentments, reproached him with "having acquired wealth,"--with "possessing a fine house,"--with "having raised his kin to high degree;" all which vilifications must have carried along with them some secret and sweet consolations into the bosom of our bard. Amid the perplexities caused by the suppression of his theatre, he applied by a poetical petition to his friend the Honourable Duncan Forbes, then Lord President of the Court of Session, in order that he might obtain some compensation for his expenses; but with what success is not recorded by any of his biographers.

His theatrical adventure being thus unexpectedly crushed, he devoted himself to the duties of his shop, and the education of his children. He sent in 1736 his son Allan to Rome, there to study that art by which he rose to such eminence. In the year 1743 he lost his wife, who was buried on the 28th of March in the cemetery of the Greyfriars. He built, probably about this time, a whimsical house of an octagon form, on the north side of the Castle-hill, where his residence is still known by the name of Ramsay-Garden. [The site of this house was selected with the taste of a poet and the judgment of a painter. It commanded a reach of scenery probably not surpassed in Europe, extending from the mouth of the Forth on the east to the Grampians on the west, and stretching far across the green hills of Fife to the north; embracing in the including space every variety of beauty, of elegance, and of grandeur.[14]] This house he deemed a paragon of architectural invention. He showed it with exultation to the late Lord Elibank, telling his Lordship at the same time, that the wags of the town likened it to a "goose-pye:" "Indeed, Allan," replied his Lordship, "now that I see you in it, I think it is well named."

[Footnote 14: Chambers' Scottish Biographical Dictionary.]

Having for several years before his death retired from business, he gave himself up in this fantastical dwelling to the varied amusements of reading, conversation, and the cultivation of his garden. Being now "loose frae care and strife," he enjoyed, in the calmness and happiness of a philosophical old age, all the fruits of his many and well rewarded labours. A considerable part of every summer was spent in the country with his friends, of whom he had many, distinguished both for talents and rank. The chief of these were, Sir Alexander Dick of Prestonfield, and Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, one of the Barons of Exchequer, a gentleman who united taste to scholarship, and had patronized and befriended Ramsay from the beginning. This amiable gentleman died in 1756, a loss which must have been severely felt by our Poet, and which he himself did not long survive. He had been afflicted for some time with a scorbutic complaint in his gums, which after depriving him of his teeth, and consuming part of the jaw-bone, at last put an end to his sufferings and his existence on the 7th of January, 1758, in the 72d year of his age. He was interred in the cemetery of Greyfriars' church on the 9th of that month, and in the record of mortality he is simply called, "Allan Ramsay, Poet, who died of old age."

Of his person, Ramsay has given us a minute and pleasant description. He was about five feet four inches high,

"A blackavic'd[15] snod[16] dapper fallow, Nor lean, nor overlaid with tallow."

[Footnote 15: Of a dark complexion.]

[Footnote 16: Neat.]

He is described by those who knew him towards the latter part of his life, as a squat man, with a belly rather portly, and a countenance full of smiles and good humour. He wore a round goodly wig rather short. His disposition may be easily collected from his writings. He possessed that happy Horatian temperament of mind, that forbids, for its own ease, all entrance to the painful and irascible passions. He was a man rather of pleasantry and laughter, than of resentment and moody malignancy. His enemies, of whom he had some, he did not deem so important as on their account to ruffle his peace of mind, by indulging any reciprocal hostility, by which they would have been flattered. He was kind, benevolent, cheerful; possessing, like Burns, great susceptibility for social joys, but regulating his indulgences more by prudence, and less impetuous and ungovernable than the impassioned poet of Ayrshire. By his genius he elevated himself to the notice of all those of his countrymen who possessed either rank or talents; but these attentions proceeded spontaneously from their admiration of his talents, and were not courted by any servilities or unworthy adulations. Never drawn from business by the seductions of the bowl, or the invitations of the great, he consulted his own respect, and the comfort of his family, by attending to the duties of his shop, which so faithfully and liberally rewarded him. His vanity (that constitutional failing of all bards) is apparent in many of his writings, but it is seasoned with playfulness and good humour. He considered, indeed, that "pride in poets is nae sin," and on one occasion jocularly challenges superiority in the temple of Fame, even to Peter the Great of Russia, by saying, "But haud, proud Czar, I wadna niffer[17] fame."--He is called by Mr. William Tytler, who enjoyed his familiarity, "an honest man, and of great pleasantry."

[Footnote 17: Exchange.]

Of learning he had but little, yet he understood Horace faintly in the original; a congenial author, with whom he seems to have been much delighted, and in the perusal of whose writings he was assisted by Ruddiman. He read French, but knew nothing of Greek. He did not, however, like Burns, make an appearance of vilifying that learning of which he was so small a partaker; he bewailed his "own little knowledge of it;" and, like the Ayrshire bard, he was sufficiently ostentatious and pedantic in the display of what little he possessed.

He composed his verses with little effort or labour; his poetry seems to have evaporated lightly and airily from the surface of a mind always jocose and at its ease. And as _it lightly came_, he was wont to say, _so it lightly went_; for after composition, he dismissed it from his mind without further care or anxiety.

In 1759 an elegant obelisk was erected to the memory of Ramsay, by Sir James Clerk, at his family-seat of Pennycuik, containing the following inscription:

Allano Ramsay, Poetae egregio, Qui Fatis concessit VII. Jan. MDCCLVIII. Amico paterno et suo, Monumentum inscribi jussit D. Jacobus Clerk. Anno MDCCLIX.

At Woodhouselee, near the [supposed] scene of the Gentle Shepherd,[18] a rustic temple was dedicated, by the late learned and accomplished Lord Woodhouselee, with the Inscription

ALLANO RAMSAY, et Genio Loci.

[Footnote 18: "According to Mr. Tytler, this supposition is founded in error; and the estate of New Hall in the parish of Pennycuik, was to a certainty the legitimate parent of the pastoral. This fact has been since farther confirmed, in a dissertation[19] from the elegant pen of Sir David Rae, Lord Justice-Clerk; a descendant of Sir David Forbes, proprietor of New Hall, and contemporary of Ramsay. Even without such respectable evidence, however, we would inevitably be led to the same conclusion, by the poet's well known acquaintance with the natural beauties of the landscape at New Hall, where he was a constant and welcome visitor; and because within the boundaries of that fine estate, there is actually to be found all the peculiar scenery, so graphically and beautifully described in the drama."

(Gentle Shepherd, edition of 1828.)]

[Footnote 19: Sir John Sinclair's Statistical account of Scotland; Vol. XVII., appendix.]

REMARKS ON THE WRITINGS OF ALLAN RAMSAY.

BY W. TENNANT.

Of Ramsay's Poems, the largest, and that on which his fame chiefly rests, is his _Gentle Shepherd_. Though some of his smaller poems contain passages of greater smartness, yet its more general interest as a whole, and the uniformity of talent visible in its scenes, render it one of the finest specimens of his genius. We have no hesitation in asserting, that it is one of the best pastoral dramas in the wide circle of European literature; an excellent production in a department of writing in which the English language has as yet nothing to boast of. While other modern tongues have been enriching themselves with pastoral, the English, copious in all other kinds, continues, in this, barren and deficient. No English production, therefore, can enter into competition with the Gentle Shepherd. We must look to the south of Europe for similar and rival productions, with which it can be compared. The shepherd plays of Tasso, and Guarini, and Bonarelli, contain more invention, and splendour, and variety of incident and of dialogue, than our Scottish drama; but they have also more conceit and flimsiness of sentiment, more artifice of language, more unnatural and discordant contrivance of fable. _In its plot_, the Gentle Shepherd is simple and natural, founded on a story whose circumstances, if they did not really happen, are at least far within the compass of verisimilitude. Its development is completed by means interesting but probable, without the intervention of gods, or satyrs, or oracles, or such heathenish and preposterous machinery. _The characters_ of the Gentle Shepherd are all framed by the hand of one evidently well acquainted with rural life and manners. They are not the puling, sickly, and unimpressive phantoms that people the bowers of Italian pastoral; they are lively, stirring creatures, bearing in their countenances the hardy lineaments of the country, and expressing themselves with a plainness, and downright sincerity, with which every mind sympathizes. They are rustics, it is true, but they are polished, not only by their proximity to the metropolis, but by the influence of the principal shepherd, who, besides the gentility of blood that operates in his veins,

----also reads and speaks, With them that kens them, Latin words and Greeks.

The situations in which the persons are placed are so ingeniously devised, as to draw forth from their bosoms all those feelings and passions which accompany the shepherd, life, and which are described with a happiness and a simplicity, the truer to nature, on account of its being removed from that over-wrought outrageousness of passion which we sometimes think is the fault of modern writing. The tenderness of correspondent affections,--the hesitation and anxiety of a timid lover,--the mutual bliss on the mutual discovery of long concealed attachment,--the uneasiness of jealousy, with the humorous and condign punishment of its evil devices,--the fidelity of the shepherd notwithstanding his elevation to an unexpected rank,--the general happiness that crowns, and winds up the whole, are all impressively and vividly delineated.

With regard to _its sentiments_, the Gentle Shepherd has nothing to be ashamed of; though in a very few places coarse, the thoughts are nowhere impure; they have somewhat of the purity of Gesner, with rather more vivacity and vigour. There is no affectation; every character thinks as country people generally do, artlessly, and according to nature. With regard to _its language_, we know not whether to say much, or to say little. Much has been already said, to redeem from the charge of vulgarity a language once courtly and dignified, but now associated with meanness of thought, and rudeness of manners. We do not think it necessary, however, to stand up in defence of a dialect which has, since the days of Ramsay, been ennobled by the poems of Burns, and is eternized more lately in the tales of that mighty genius, who sits on the summit of Northern Literature, and flashes forth from behind his cloud his vivid and his fiery productions. In the use of this dialect, Ramsay is extremely fortunate; for Scottish shepherds he could have employed none other; and he wields his weapon with a dexterity which we do not think has been since exceeded. Out of his own familiar language, he is indeed heavy and wearisome; English armour is too cumbrous for him; he cannot move in it with grace and activity. We find, accordingly, that in his Gentle Shepherd the most unskilful passages are in English, without beauty or energy; whereas his Scottish has in it a felicity which has rendered it popular with all ranks, and caused his verses to pass with proverbial currency among the peasants of his native country.