CUNNINGHAM, ALLAN.—This
distinguished poet entered the world under those lowly circumstances, and
was educated under those disadvantages, which have so signally
characterized the history of the best of our Scottish bards. He was born
at Blackwood, in Dumfries-shire, 7th of
December, 1784, and was the fourth son of his
parents, who were persons in the humblest ranks of life. One circumstance,
however, connected with his ancestry, must have gratified the Tory and
feudal predilecting of Allan Cunningham; for his family had been of wealth
and worship, until one of his forefathers lost the patrimonial estate, by
siding with Montrose during the wars of the Commonwealth. A more useful
circumstance for his future career was his father’s love of Scottish
antiquarianism, which induced him to hoard up every tale, ballad, and
legend connected with his native country--a love which Allan quickly
acquired and successfully prosecuted. Like the children of the Scottish
peasantry, he was sent to school at a very early age; but he does not seem
to have been particularly fortunate in the two teachers under whom he was
successively trained, for they were stern Cameronians; and it was probably
under their scrupulous and over-strict discipline that he acquired that
tendency to laugh at religious ascetism which so often breaks out in his
writings. He was removed from this undesirable tuition at the tender age
of eleven, and bound apprentice to a stone-mason; but he still could enjoy
the benefit of his father’s instructions, whom he describes as possessing
"a warm heart, lively fancy, benevolent humour, and pleasant happy wit."
Another source of training which the young apprentice enjoyed, was the "trystes"
and "rockings" so prevalent in his day—rural meetings, in which the mind
of Burns himself was prepared for the high office of being the national
poet of Scotland. The shadows of these delightful "ploys" still linger in
Nithsdale, and some of the more remote districts of Ayrshire; and it is
pleasing to recall them to memory, for the sake of those great minds they
nursed, before they have passed away for ever. They were complete trials
of festivity and wit, where to sing a good song, tell a good story, or
devise a happy impromptu, was the great aim of the lads and lasses,
assembled from miles around to the peat fire of a kitchen hearth; and
where the corypheus of the joyful meeting was the "long-remembered beggar"
of the district; one who possessed more songs and tales than all the rest
of the country besides, and who, on account of the treasures of this
nature, which he freely imparted, was honoured as a public benefactor, and
preferred to the best seat in the circle, instead of being regarded as a
public burden. But the schoolmaster and the magistrate are now abroad; and
while the rockings are fast disappearing, the Edie Ochiltree who inspired
them is dying in the alms-house. May they be succeeded in this age of
improving change by better schools and more rational amusements!
While the youth of Allan
Cunningham was trained under this tuition, he appears also to have been a
careful reader of every book that came within his reach. This is evident
from the multifarious knowledge which his earliest productions betokened.
He had also commenced the writing of poetry at a very early period, having
been inspired by the numerous songs and ballads with which the poetical
district of Nithsdale is stored. When about the age of eighteen, he seems
to have been seized with an earnest desire to visit the Ettrick Shepherd,
at that time famed as a poet, but whose early chances of such distinction
had scarcely equalled his own; and forth accordingly he set off in this
his first pilgrimage of hero-worship, accompanied by an elder brother. The
meeting Hogg has fully described in his "Reminiscences of Former Days;"
and he particularizes Allan as "a dark ungainly youth of about eighteen,
with a boardly frame for his age, and strongly marked manly features—the
very model of Burns, and exactly such a man." The stripling poet, who
stood at a bashful distance, was introduced to the Shepherd by his
brother, who added, "You will be so kind as excuse this intrusion of ours
on your solitude, for, in truth, I could get no peace either night or day
with Allan till I consented to come and see you." "I then stepped down the
hill," continues Hogg, "to where Allan Cunningham still stood, with his
weather-beaten cheek toward me, and seizing his hard brawny hand, I gave
it a hearty shake, saying something as kind as I was able, and, at the
same time, I am sure, as stupid as it possibly could be. From that moment
we were friends; for Allan has none of the proverbial Scottish caution
about him; he is all heart together, without reserve either of expression
or manner: you at once see the unaffected benevolence, warmth of feeling,
and firm independence of a man conscious of his own rectitude and mental
energies. Young as he was, I had heard of his name, although slightly, and
I think seen two or three of his juvenile pieces."
"I had a small bothy upon
the hill, in which I took my breakfast and dinner on wet days, and rested
myself. It was so small that we had to walk in on all-fours; and when we
were in we could not get up our heads any way but in a sitting posture. It
was exactly my own length, and, on the one side, I had a bed of rushes,
which served likewise as a seat; on this we all three sat down, and there
we spent the whole afternoon; and, I am sure, a happier group of three
never met on the hill of Queensberry. Allan brightened up prodigiously
after he got into the dark bothy, repeating all his early pieces of
poetry, and part of his brother’s to me." . . . . "From that day forward I
failed not to improve my acquaintance with the Cunninghams. I visited them
several times at Dalswinton, and never missed an opportunity of meeting
with Allan, when it was in my power to do so. I was astonished at the
luxuriousness of his fancy. It was boundless; but it was the luxury of a
rich garden overrun with rampant weeds. He was likewise then a great
mannerist in expression, and no man could mistake his verses for those of
any other man. I remember seeing some imitations of Ossian by him, which I
thought exceedingly good; and it struck me that that style of composition
was peculiarly fitted for his vast and fervent imagination."
Such is the interesting
sketch which Hogg has given us of the early life and character of a
brother poet and congenial spirit. The full season at length arrived when
Allan Cunningham was to burst from his obscurity as a mere rural bard, and
emerge into a more public sphere. Cromek, to the full as enthusastic an
admirer of Scottish poetry as himself, was collecting his well-known
relics; and in the course of his quest, young Cunningham was pointed out
as one who could efficiently aid him in the work. Allan gladly assented to
the task of gathering and preserving these old national treasures, and in
due time presented to the zealous antiquary a choice collection of
apparently old songs and ballads, which were inserted in the "Remains of
Nithsdale and Galloway Song," published in 1810. But the best of these,
and especially the "Mermaid of Galloway," were the production of
Cunningham’s own pen. This Hogg at once discovered as soon as the
collection appeared, and he did not scruple in proclaiming to all his
literary friends that "Allan Cunningham was the author of all that was
beautiful in the work." He communicated his convictions also to Sir Walter
Scott, who was of the same opinion, and expressed his fervent wish that
such a valuable and original young man were fairly out of Cromek’s hands.
Resolved that the world should know to whom it was really indebted for so
much fine poetry, Hogg next wrote a critique upon Cromek’s publication,
which he sent to the "Edinburgh Review;" but although Jeffrey was aware of
the ruse which Cunningham had practised, he did not think it worthy
of exposure. In this strange literary escapade, the poet scarcely appears
to merit the title of "honest Allan," which Sir Walter Scott subsequently
bestowed upon him, and rather to deserve the doubtful place held by such
writers as Chatterton, Ireland, and Macpherson. It must, however, be
observed in extenuation, that Cunningham, by passing off his own
productions as remains of ancient Scottish song, compromised no venerated
names, as the others had done. He gave them only as anonymous verses, to
which neither date nor author could be assigned.
In the same year that
Cromek’s "Remains" were published (1810), Allan Cunningham abandoned his
humble and unhealthy occupation, and repaired to the great arena of his
aspiring young countrymen. London was thenceforth to be his home. He had
reached the age of twenty-five, was devoted heart and soul to intellectual
labour, and felt within himself the capacity of achieving something higher
than squaring stones and erecting country cottages. On settling in London,
he addressed himself to the duties of a literary adventurer with energy
and success, so that his pen was seldom idle; and among the journals to
which he was a contributor, may be mentioned the "Literary Gazette," the
"London Magazine," and the "Athenaeum." Even this, at the best, was
precarious, and will often desert the most devoted industry; but
Cunningham, fortunately, had learned a craft upon which he was not too
proud to fall back should higher resources forsake him. Chantrey, the
eminent statuary, was in want of a foreman, who combined artistic
imagination and taste with mechanical skill and experience; and what man
could be better fitted for the office than the mason, poet, and
journalist, who had now established for himself a considerable literary
reputation among the most distinguished writers in London? A union was
formed between the pair that continued till death; and the appearance of
these inseparables, as they continued from year to year to grow in
celebrity, the one as a sculptor and the other as an author, seldom failed
to arrest the attention of the good folks of Pimlico, as they took their
daily walk from the studio in Ecclestone Street to the foundry in the
Mews. Although the distance was considerable, as well as a public
thoroughfare, they usually walked bareheaded; while the short figure,
small round face, and bald head of the artist were strikingly contrasted
with the tall stalwart form, dark bright eyes, and large sentimental
countenance of the poet. The duties of Cunningham, in the capacity of
"friend and assistant," as Chantrey was wont to term him, were
sufficiently multifarious; and of these, the superintendence of the
artist’s extensive workshop was not the least. The latter, although so
distinguished as a statuary, had obtuse feelings and a limited
imagination, while those of Cunningham were of the highest order: the
artist’s reading had been very limited, but that of the poet was extensive
and in every department. Cunningham was, therefore, as able in suggesting
graceful attitudes in figures, picturesque folds in draperies, and new
proportions for pedestals, as Chantrey was in executing them, and in this
way the former was a very Mentor and muse to the latter. Besides all this,
Cunningham recommended his employer’s productions through the medium of
the press, illustrated their excellencies, and defended them against
maligners; fought his battles against rival committees, and established
his claims when they would have been sacrificed in favour of some inferior
artist. Among the other methods by which Chantrey’s artistic reputation
was thus established and diffused abroad, may be mentioned a sketch of his
life and an account of his works, published in "Blackwood’s Magazine" for
April, 1820, and a critique in the "Quarterly" for 1820; both of these
articles being from the pen of Allan Cunningham. The poet was also the
life of the artist’s studio, by his rich enlivening conversation, and his
power of illustrating the various busts and statues which the building
contained, so that it was sometimes difficult to tell whether the living
man or the high delineations of art possessed most attraction for many
among its thousands of visitors. In this way also the highest in rank and
the most distinguished in talent were brought into daily intercourse with
him, from among whom he could select the characters he most preferred for
friendship and acquaintance.
Among the illustrious
personages with whom his connection with Chantrey brought him into
contact, the most gratifying of all to the mind of Cunningham must have
been the acquaintance to which it introduced him with Sir Walter Scott. We
have already seen how devout a hero-worshipper he was, by the visit he
paid to the Ettrick Shepherd. Under the same inspiration, while still
working as a stone-mason in Nithsdale, he once walked to Edinburgh, for
the privilege of catching a glimpse of the author of "Marmion" as he
passed along the public street. In 1820, when Cunningham had himself
become a distinguished poet and miscellaneous writer, he came in personal
contact with the great object of his veneration, in consequence of being
the bearer of a request from Chantrey, that he would allow a bust to be
taken of him. The meeting was highly characteristic of both parties. Sir
Walter met his visitor with both hands extended, for the purpose of a
cordial double shake, and gave a hearty "Allan Cunningham, I am glad to
see you." The other stammered out something about the pleasure he felt in
touching the hand that had charmed him so much. "Ay," said Scott moving
the member, with one of his pawky smiles, "and a big brown hand it is." He
then complimented the bard of Nithsdale upon his ballads, and entreated
him to try something of still higher consequence "for dear auld Scotland’s
sake," quoting these words of Burns. The result of Cunningham’s immediate
mission was the celebrated bust of Sir Walter Scott by Chantrey; a bust
which not only gives the external semblance, but expresses the very
character and soul of the mighty magician, and that will continue through
late generations to present his likeness as distinctly as if he still
moved among them.
The acquaintanceship thus
auspiciously commenced, was not allowed to lie idle; and while it
materially benefited the family of Cunningham, it also served at once to
elicit and gratify the warm-hearted benevolence of Sir Walter. The event
is best given in the words of Lockhart, Sir Walter Scott’s son-in-law and
biographer. "Breakfasting one morning (this was in the summer of 1828)
with Allan Cunningham, and commending one of his publications, he looked
round the table, and said, ‘What are you going to make of all these boys,
Allan?’ ‘I ask that question often at my own heart,’ said Allan, ‘and I
cannot answer it.’ ‘What does the eldest point to?’ ‘The callant would
fain be a soldier, Sir Walter—and I have half a promise of a commission in
the King’s army for him; but I wish rather he would go to India, for there
the pay is a maintenance, and one does not need interest at every step to
get on.’ Scott dropped the subject, but went an hour afterwards to Lord
Melville (who was now president of the Board of Control), and begged a
cadetship for young Cunningham. Lord Melville promised to inquire if he
had one at his disposal, in which case he would gladly serve the son of
honest Allan; but the point being thus left doubtful, Scott, meeting Mr.
John Loch, one of the East India directors, at dinner the same evening, at
Lord Stafford’s, applied to him, and received an immediate assent. On
reaching home at night, he found a note from Lord Melville, intimating
that he had inquired, and was happy in complying with his request. Next
morning Sir Walter appeared at Sir F. Chantrey’s breakfast-table, and
greeted the sculptor (who is a brother of the angle) with ‘I suppose it
has sometimes happened to you to catch one trout (which was all you
thought of) with the fly, and another with the bobber. I have done so, and
I think I shall land them both. Don’t you think Cunningham would like very
well to have cadetships for two of those fine lads?’ ‘To be sure he
would,’ said Chantrey, ‘and if you’ll secure the commissions, I’ll make
the outfit easy.’ Great was the joy in Allan’s household on this double
good news; but I should add, that before the thing was done he had to
thank another benefactor. Lord Melville, after all, went out of the Board
of Control before he had been able to fulfil his promise; but his
successor, Lord Ellenborough, on hearing the circumstances of the case,
desired Cunningham to set his mind at rest; and both his young men are now
prospering in the India service."
By being thus established
in Chantrey’s employ, and having a salary sufficient for his wants, Allan
Cunningham was released from the necessity of an entire dependence on
authorship, as well as from the extreme precariousness with which it is
generally accompanied, especially in London. He did not, however, on that
account relapse into the free and easy life of a mere dilettanti writer.
On the contrary, these advantages seem only to have stimulated him to
further exertion, so that, to the very end of his days, he was not only a
diligent, laborious student, but a continually improving author. Mention
has already been made of the wild exuberance that characterized his
earliest efforts in poetry. Hogg, whose sentiments on this head we have
already seen, with equal justice characterizes its after progress. "Mr.
Cunningham’s style of poetry is greatly changed of late for the better. I
have never seen any style improved so much. It is free of all that
crudeness and mannerism that once marked it so decidedly. He is now
uniformly lively, serious, descriptive, or pathetic, as he changes his
subject; but formerly he jumbled all these together, as in a boiling
caldron, and when once he began, it was impossible to calculate where or
when he was going to end." Scott, who will be reckoned a higher authority,
is still louder in praise of Cunningham, and declared that some of his
songs, especially that of "It’s hame, and it’s hame," were equal to Burns.
But although his fame commenced with his poetry, and will ultimately rest
mainly upon it, he was a still more voluminous prose writer, and in a
variety of departments, as the following list of his chief works will
sufficiently show:—
"Sir Marmaduke Maxwell," a
drama. This production Cunningham designed for the stage, and sent it in
M.S., in 1820, to Sir Walter Scott for his perusal and approbation. But
the judgment formed of it was, that it was a beautiful dramatic poem
rather than a play, and therefore better fitted for the closet than the
stage. In this opinion every reader of "Sir Marmaduke Maxwell" will
coincide, more especially when he takes into account the complexity of the
plot, and the capricious manner in which the interest is shifted.
"Paul Jones," a novel; "Sir
Michael Scott," a novel. Although Cunningham had repressed the wildness of
his imagination in poetry, it still worked madly within him, and evidently
required a safety-valve after being denied its legitimate outlet. No one
can be doubtful of the fact who peruses these novels; for not only do they
drive truth into utter fiction, but fiction itself into the all but
unimaginable. This is especially the case with the last of these works, in
which the extravagant dreams of the Pythagorean or the Bramin are utterly
out-heroded. Hence, notwithstanding the beautiful ideas and profusion of
stirring events with which they are stored—enough, indeed, to have
furnished a whole stock of novels and romances—they never became
favourites with the public, and have now ceased to be remembered.
"Songs of Scotland, ancient
and modern, with Introduction and Notes, Historical and Critical, and
Characters of the Lyric Poets." Four Vols. 8vo. 1825. Some of the best
poems in this collection are by Cunningham himself; not introduced
surreptitiously, however, as in the case of Cromek, but as his own
productions; and of these, "De Bruce" contains such a stirring account of
the battle of Bannockburn as Scott’s "Lord of the Isles " has not
surpassed.
"Lives of the most eminent
British Painters, Sculptors, and Architects," published in Murray’s
"Family Library." Six Vols. 12mo. 1829-33. This work, although defective
in philosophical and critical analysis, and chargeable, in many instances,
with partiality, continues to be highly popular, in consequence of the
poetical spirit with which it is pervaded, and the vivacious, attractive
style in which it is written. This was what the author probably aimed at,
instead of producing a work that might serve as a standard for artists and
connoisseurs; and in this he has fully succeeded.
"Literary Illustrations to
Major’s ‘Cabinet Gallery of Pictures.’" 1833, 1834.
"The Maid of Elvar," a poem.
"Lord Roldan," a romance.
"Life of Burns."
"Life of Sir David Wilkie."
Three Vols. 8vo. 1843. Cunningham, who knew the painter well, and loved
him dearly as a congenial Scottish spirit, found in this production the
last of his literary efforts, as he finished its final corrections only
two days before he died. At the same time, he had made considerable
progress in an extended edition of Johnson’s "Lives of the Poets," and a
"Life of Chantrey" was also expected from his pen; but before these could
be accomplished both poet and sculptor, after a close union of twenty-nine
years, had ended their labours, and bequeathed their memorial to other
hands. The last days of Chantrey were spent in drawing the tomb in which
he wished to be buried in the church-yard of Norton, in Derbyshire, the
place of his nativity; and while showing the plans to his assistants he
observed, with a look of anxiety, "But there will be no room for you."
"Room for me!" cried Allan Cunningham, "I would not lie like a toad
in a stone, or in a place strong enough for another to covet. O, no! let
me lie where the green grass and the daisies grow, waving under the winds
of the blue heaven." The wish of both was satisfied; for Chantrey reposes
under his mausoleum of granite, and Cunningham in the picturesque cemetery
of Harrow. The artist by his will left the poet a legacy of £2000, but the
constitution of the latter was so prematurely exhausted that he lived only
a year after his employer. His death, which was occasioned by paralysis,
occurred at Lower Belgrave Place, Pimlico, on the
29th October, 1842.
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Songs: Chiefly in the Rural Language
of Scotland
By Allan Cunningham (1813)
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Other Poems from his 1822 Book
Part 1 |
Part 2
The Songs of Scotland
In 4 volumes |