DOUGLAS, GAVIN, one of the
most eminent of our early poets, was the third and youngest son of
Archibald, fifth earl of Angus, by Elizabeth Boyd, only daughter of
Robert, lord Boyd, high chamberlain of Scotland. The earls of Angus were a
younger branch of the family of Douglas, and helped, in the reign of James
II., to depress the enormous power of the main stock; whence it was said,
with a reference to the complexions of the two different races, that the
red Douglas had put down the black. Archibald, the fifth earl,
father to the poet, is noted in our history for his bold conduct
respecting the favourites of James III,, at Lauder, which gained him the
nickname of Bell-the-cat. His general force of character amidst the
mighty transactions in which he was engaged, caused him to be likewise
designated "the great earl." According to the family historian, he was
every way accomplished, both in body and mind; of stature tall, and strong
made; his countenance full of majesty, and such as bred reverence in the
beholders; wise, and eloquent of speech; upright and regular in his
actions; sober, and moderate in his desires; valiant and courageous; a man
of action and undertaking; liberal also; loving and kind to his friends;
which made him to be beloved, reverenced, and respected by all men.
Gavin Douglas, the son of
such a father, was born about the year 1474, and was brought up for the
church. Where his education was commenced, is unknown; but, according to
Mr Warton, there is certain evidence that it was finished in the
university of Paris. He is supposed, in youth, to have travelled for some
time over the continent, in order to make himself acquainted with the
manners of other countries. In 1496, when only twenty-two years of age, he
was appointed rector of Hawick, a benefice probably in the gift of his
family, which has long held large property and high influence in that part
of the country. We are informed by the family historian, that in youth he
felt the pangs of love, but was soon freed from the tyranny of that
unreasonable passion. Probably his better principles proved sufficient to
keep in check what his natural feelings, aided by the poetical
temperament, would have dictated. However, he appears to have signalized
his triumph, by writing a translation of Ovid’s "Remedy of Love." He
alludes in a strange manner to this work, in his translation of Virgil;
giving the following free reading of the well known passage in the AEneid,
where his author speaks of the Bucolics and Georgics, as having been his
former compositions:
So thus followand the floure of
poetry,
The battellis and the man translate have I,
Quhilk yore ago in myne undauntit youth
Unfructuous idelnes fleand, as I couth,
Of Ovideis Lufe the Remede did translate,
And syne of hie Honour the Palice wrate.
In those days, it does not
seem to have been considered the duty of a translator to put himself
exactly into the place of the author; he was permitted to substitute
modern allusions for the original, and, as this specimen testifies, to
alter any personality respecting the author, so as to apply to himself.
The translations of the "Remedy of Love," which must have been written
before the year 1501, has not been preserved. In the year just mentioned,
he wrote his "Palace of Honour," an apologue for the conduct of a king,
and which he therefore addressed, very appropriately, to his young
sovereign, king James IV. The poet, in a vision, finds himself in a
wilderness, where he sees troops of persons travelling towards the palace
of honour. He joins himself to the train of the muses, and in their
company proceeds to the happy place. At this point of the allegory, his
description of one of their resting places is exceedingly beautiful:
Our horses pasturit on mine pleasand
plane,
Law at the foot of ane fair grene montane,
Amid ane meid, shaddowit with cedar trees,
Safe fra all heit, thair might we weil remain.
All kind of herbis flouris fruit, and grain,
With every growand tree thair men might cheis,
The beryal streams rinnand ower stanerie greis,
Made sober noise; the shair dinnit again,
For birdis sang, and sounding of the beis.
In his last adventure, he
seems to allude to the law of celibacy, under which, as a priest, he
necessarily lay. The habitation of the honourable ladies (which he
describes in gorgeous terms) is surrounded by a deep ditch, over which is
a narrow bridge, formed of a single tree; and this is supposed to
represent the ceremony of marriage. Upon his attempting to pass over the
bridge, he falls into the water, and awakes from his dream. Of this poem,
the earliest known edition is one printed at London, in 1553, in quarto.
Another appeared at Edinburgh, in 1579, being printed "by Johne Roos, for
Henry Charteris:" both are very rare. In the preface, however, to the
Edinburgh edition, the printer mentions, that "besides the coppie printed
at London, there were copyis of this wark set furth of auld amang
ourselfis." These are totally lost to bibliographical research. There is
some probability, however, that some of them appeared before 1543, as a
work by Florence Wilson, entitled "De Tranquillitate Animi," and printed
in that year, is said to be an imitation of the Palace of Honour. Sage, in
his life of Douglas, prefixed to the edition of the AEneid, thus speaks of
the poem under our notice: "The author’s excellent design is, under the
similitude of a vision, to represent the vanity and inconstancy of all
worldly pomp and glory; and to show, that a constant and inflexible course
of virtue and goodness, is the only way to true honour and felicity, which
he allegorically describes, as a magnificent palace, situated on the top
of a very high mountain, of a most difficult access. He illustrates the
whole with a variety of examples, not only of those noble and heroic
souls, whose eminent virtues procured them admission into that blessed
place, but also of those wretched creatures, whose vicious lives have
fatally excluded them from it for ever, notwithstanding of all their
worldly state and grandeur." This critic is of opinion that the poet took
his plan from the palace of happiness described in the "Tablet" of Cebes.
There is, however, a probability of a still more interesting nature, with
which we are impressed. This is, that Bunyan must have adopted his idea of
the Pilgrim’s Progress from the "Palace of Honour." In the whole structure
of these two works, there is a marked resemblance. Both are dreams,
representing a journey towards a place superior to the nature of this
world. In the one, the pilgrim of honour, in the other, the pilgrim of
christianity, are the heroes; and both are conducted by supernatural
beings, on a march represented as somewhat trying to human strength. It is
curious, also that while the journey ends, in both cases, at a place full
of celestial glories, there is, in both cases, a limbo, or hell, by the
way side, a little before the ultimate object is reached.
In all probability, these
poems were written at his residence in the town of Hawick, where he was
surrounded with scenery in the highest degree calculated to nurse a
poetical fancy. In 1509, he was nominated to be provost of the collegiate
church of St Giles, at Edinburgh, and it is likely that he then changed
his residence to the capital. Some years before, he had contemplated a
translation of the AEneid into Scottish verse, as appears from his Palace
of Honour, where Venus presents him with a copy of that poem, in the
original, and, in virtue of her relation to the hero, requests the poet to
give a version of it in his vernacular tongue. In his preface to the work,
he thus explains the real earthly reason of his engaging in such a labour:
And that ye knaw at quhais instance
I tuke
For to translate this maist excellent buke,
I mene Virgillis volum, maist excellent,
Set this my werk full febill be of rent,
At the request of ane lorde of renowne,
Of ancestry maist nobill, and illustir baroun,
Fadir of bukis, protector to science and lair,
My special gude lord Henry lord Sinclare.
Quhilk with great instance, diverse tymes, sere
Prayit me translate Virgil or Homere,
Quhais plesure soithlie, as I undirstude,
As near conjonit to his lordship in blude;*
So that methocht his request ane command,
Half desparit this werk I take on hand,
Not fully grantand, nor says sayand ye,
Bot only to assay how it micht be.
Quhay micht gainsay a lorde sa gentil and kind,
That ever had ony courtesy in thair mynd?
Quhilk beside his innative policy,
Humanite, courage, freedom, and chevelry,
Bukis to recollect, to reid, and see,
Hes great delyte as ever had Ptolome.
*Henry, first lord
Sinclair, was grandson to lady Margaret Douglas, daughter of Archibald,
fourth earl of Douglas. He fell at Flodden.
At the urgent request of
this literary nobleman, which seems to have been necessary to get over the
diffidence of the poet himself, Douglas commenced his labours in January,
1511-12, and although he prefaced each book with an original poem, and
included the poem written by Mapheus Vigius [A learned Italian of the
fifteenth century.] as a thirteenth book, the whole was
completed in eighteen months, two of which, he tells us, were spent
exclusively in other business. The work was completed on the 22nd of July,
1513. The "AEneid" of Gavin Douglas is a work creditable in the highest
degree to Scottish literature, not only from the specific merit of the
translation, but because it was the first translation of a Roman classic
executed in the English language. [The near affinity of the languages of
England and Scotland at this time, renders any circumlocutory mode of
expressing this idea unnecessary.] To adopt the criticism of Dr
Irving—"Without pronouncing it the best version of this poem that ever
was, or ever will be executed, we may at least venture to affirm, that it
is the production of a bold and energetic writer, whose knowledge of the
language of his original, and prompt command of a copious and variegated
phraseology, qualified him for the performance of so arduous a task. And
whether we consider the state of British literature at that era, or the
rapidity with which he completed the work, he will be found entitled to a
high degree of admiration. In either of the sister languages, few
translations of classical authors had hitherto been attempted; and the
rules of the art were consequently little understood. It has been
remarked, that even in English, no metrical version of a classic had yet
appeared; except of Boethius, who scarcely merits that appellation. On the
destruction of Troy, Caxton had published a kind of prose romance, which
he professes to have translated from the French: and the English reader
was taught to consider this motley composition as a version of the AEneid.
Douglas bestows severe castigation on Caxton, for his presumptuous
deviation from the classical story, and affirms that his work no more
resembles Virgil, than the devil is like St Austin. He has, however,
fallen into one error, which he exposes in his predecessor; proper names
are often so transfigured in his translation, that they are not, without
much difficulty, recognised. In many instances, he has been guilty of
modernizing the notions of his original. The sybil, for example, is
converted into a nun, and admonishes AEneas, the Trojan baron, to persist
in counting his beads. This plan of reducing every ancient notion to a
classical standard, has been adopted by much later writers: many
preposterous instances occur in the learned Dr Blackwell’s memoirs of the
court of Augustus.
"Of the general principles
of translation, however, Douglas appears to have formed no inaccurate
notion. For the most part, his version is neither rashly licentious, nor
tamely literal. * * * Though the merit of such a performance cannot be
ascertained by the inspection of a few detached passages, it may be proper
to exhibit a brief specimen:
Facilis descensus Averni,
Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis;
Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras,
Hoc opus, hie labor est; pauci quos aequus amavit
Jupiter, aut ardens evexit ad aethera virtus,
Dis geniti, potuere. Tenant media omnia silvae,
Cocytusque sinu labens circumfluit atro.
VIRGIL.
It is richt facill and eith gate, I
the tell,
For to descend and pass on doun to hell:
The black yettis of Pluto and that dirk way
Standis evir open and patent nycht and day:
Bot therefra to return agane on hicht,
And here aboue recouir this airis licht,
That is difficill werk, there laboure lyis.
Full few there bene quhom heich aboue the skyis
Thare ardent vertew has rasit and upheit,
Or yet quhame equale Jupiter deifyit,
Thay quhilkis bene gendrit of goddis, may thidder attane.
All the midway is wildernes vnplane,
Or wilsum forrest; and the laithly flude
Cocytus with his dresy bosum vnrude
Flowis enuiron round about that place.
DOUGLAS."
Mr Warton pronounces for
judgment upon Douglas’ AEneid, that it "is executed with equal spirit and
fidelity, and is a proof that the Lowland Scotch and English languages
were then nearly the same. I mean the style of composition; more
especially, in the glaring affectation of Anglicising Latin words."
[History of English Poetry, ii. 281.]
It is not, however, in the
translation that the chief merit lies. The poet has gained much greater
praise for the original poetry scattered through the book. To an ordinary
reader, the plan of the work may be best described by a reference to the
structure of "Marmion," which is decidedly an imitation of it. To every
book is prefixed what Douglas calls a prologue, containing some
descriptions or observations of his own, and some of which afford
delightful glimpses of his personal character and habits. Those most
admired are the prologue to the seventh book, containing a description of
winter, that to the twelfth book, containing a description of a summer
morning, and that to the thirteenth (supplementary) book, which describes
an evening in June. It would appear that the author, in these and other
cases, sought to relax himself from the progressive labour of mere
translation, by employing his own poetical powers, on what he saw at the
time around him. Mr Warton speaks of Milton’s L’Allegro and Il Penseroso
as among the earliest descriptive poems produced in England. Whether he be
correct or not, we may at least affirm, that Douglas, in his prologues to
the books of Virgil, has given Scotland the credit of producing poems of
that kind, more than a century earlier.
These compositions being of such
importance in Scottish literature, it seems proper in this place to
present a specimen sufficient to enable the reader to judge of their
value. It is difficult, however, to pitch upon a passage where the merit
of the poetry may be obvious enough to induce the reader to take a little
trouble in comprehending the language. [Well do I recollect, in early
days, borrowing old Gavin’s translation from a circulating library, in
order to steal a sly march upon my class-fellows in version-making. What
was my disappointment on finding that the copy was a great deal more
unintelligible than the original, and that, in reality, he of St Giles
stood more in need of a translator than he of Mantua!] We have
with some hesitation pitched upon the following passage from the prologue
to the seventh book, which, as descriptive of nature in a certain aspect,
in this country, is certainly very faithful and even picturesque:
* * * * *
The firmament owrecast with cludis
black:
The ground fadit, and faugh [fallow] wox all the fieldis
Mountane toppis slekit with snaw owre heildis:
On raggit rockis of hard harsh quhyn stane,
With frostyn frontis cald clynty clewis schane:
Bewty was lost, and barrand shew the landis
With frostis hore, owerfret the fieldis standis.
Thick drumly skuggis [shadows] dirkinit so the hevin,
Dim skyis oft furth warpit fearful levin, [lightning]
Flaggis [flakes] of fyre, and mony felloun flaw,
Sharp soppis of sleit and of the swyppand snaw:
The dolly dichis war al douk and wate,
The low vales flodderit all with spate,
The plane stretis and every hie way
Full of fluschis, dubbis, myre, and clay.
* * * *
Owr craggis and the frontis of rockys
sere,
Hang gret yse schokkilis, lang as ony spere:
The grund stude barrane, widderit, dosk, and gray
Herbis, flowris, and gersis wallowit away:
Woddis, forrestis, with naket bewis blout,
Stude stripit of their wede in every bout:
So bustouslie Boreas his bugill blew,
The dere full dorne full in the dallis drew:
* * * * *
The watter lynnys routes, and every
lynd
Quhistlit and brayit of the southend wynd;
Pure lauboraris and byssy husbandmen,
Went weet and wery draiglit in the fen;
The silly sheep and thare little hird-gromes
Lurkis under lye of bankis, woddis, and bromes;
And utheris dautit greter bestial
Within thare stabill sesit in thare stall.
* * * *
The caller air, penetrative and pure,
Dasing the blude in every creature,
Made seik warm stovis and bene fyris’ hote,
In doubill garment clad, and welecote,
With mychty drink, and metis comfortive,
Aganis the stern winter for to strive.
Repattirit [Well solaced with victuals] wele, and by the chymnay bekit,
At evin betym doun in the bed they strekit,
Warpit my hede, kest on claithis thrynefald,
For to expell the perilous persand cald;
I crossit me, syne bownit for to sleep:
* * * *
Approaching near the breking of the
day,
Within my bed I walkynint quhare I lay
So fast declynes Cynthia the mone,
And kayis keklys on the rufe abone,
* * * *
Fast by my chalmer, on hie wisnet
treis,
The sary gled quhissilis with mony ane pew,
Quharby the day was dawing wiel I knew;
Bade bete the fyre and the candill alicht,
Syne blessit me, and in my wedis dycht;
Ane schot-windo [A kind of sliding panel in the fronts of old wooden
houses.] unschet, ane litel on char,
Persavyt the morning blae, wan, and har,
Wyth cloudy gum and rak owirquhelmyt the air;
* * * *
—Blaiknyt schew the brayis,
With hirstis harsk of waggand wyndil strayis,
The dew-droppis congelit on stibbil and vynd,
And sharp hailstanys mortfundyit of kynd,
Stoppand on the thack, and on the causay by:
The schote I closit, and drew inward in hy;
Cheverand of cald, the sessoun was sa snell,
Schafe with hait flambis to steme the freezing fell.
And as I bounit me to the fire me by,
Baith up and downe the house I did espy;
And secand Virgil on ane letteron [desk] stand,
To wryte anone I eynt my pen in hand,
And as I culd, with ane fald diligence
This nint buke followand of profound science,
Thus has begun in the chill wynter cald,
Quhen frostis dois owir flete baith firth and fald.
Lest the reader should find
that he loses the force of this description through the obscurity of the
language, it appears proper that he should have another specimen in a
different form. We shall therefore lay before him part of a prose
paraphrase executed by Mr Warton, which conveys the same ideas as the
original, though in a less pleasing form. The experiment of this version,
according to Mr Warton, must serve to show the native excellence of these
compositions. Divested of poetic numbers and expression, they still retain
their poetry, appearing like Ulysses, still a king and a conqueror,
although disguised like a peasant, and lodged in the cottage of the
herdsman Eumaeus.—We quote from the description of May, in the twelfth
prologue:
" ---- The crystal gates of
heaven were thrown open to illuminate the world. The glittering streamers
of the orient diffused purple streaks, mingled with gold and azure. The
steeds of the sun, in red harness of rubies, of colour brown as a berry,
lifted their heads above the sea, to glad our hemisphere: the flames burst
from their nostrils: while shortly, apparelled in his luminous array,
Phoebus, bearing the blazing torch of day, issued from his royal palace,
with a golden crown, glorious visage, curled locks bright as the
chrysolite or topaz, and with a radiance intolerable. The fiery sparks,
bursting from his eyes, purged the air, and gilded the new verdure. The
golden vanes of his throne covered the ocean with a glittering glance, and
the broad waters were all in a blaze at the first glimpse of his
appearance. It was glorious to see the winds appeased, the sea becalmed,
the soft season, the serene firmament, the still air, and the beauty of
the watery scene. [The original is here so much more beautiful, that we
must be pardoned an extract: The aureate phanis of his trone soverane,
With glittering glance owirspred the octiane The large fluids lemand all
of licht But with ane blink of his supernale sicht; For to behald it was
ane glore to se The stabilyt wyndys, and the calmyt se, The soft
sessoun, the firmament serene, The loune illuminate air, and firth amene,
&c.] The silver-scaled fishes, on the gravel, gliding hastily, as it
were from the heat or sun, through clear streams, with fins shining brown
as cinnabar, and chisel tails, darted here and there. The new lustre,
enlightening all the land, beamed on the small pebbles on the sides of the
rivers, and on the strands, which looked like beryl: while the reflection
of the rays played on the banks in variegated gleams; and Flora threw
forth her blooms under the feet of the sun’s brilliant horses, the bladed
soil was embroidered with various hues. Both wood and forest were darkened
with boughs; which, reflected from the ground, gave a shadowy lustre to
the red rocks. Towers, turrets, battlements, and high pinnacles of
churches, castles, and every fair city, seemed te be painted; and,
together with every bastion and story, expressed their own shape on the
plains. The glebe, fearless of the northern blasts, spread her broad
bosom. The corn crops, and the new-sprung barley, reclothed the earth with
a gladsome garment. The variegated vesture of the valley covered the
cloven furrow, and the barley lands were diversified with flowery weeds.
The meadow was besprinkled with rivulets; and the fresh moisture of the
dewy night restored the herbage which the cattle had cropped in the day.
The blossoms in the blowing garden trusted their heads to the protection
of the young sun. Rank ivy leaves overspread the wall of the rampart. The
blooming hawthorn clothed all his thorns in flowers. The budding clusters
of the tender vines hung end-long, by their tendrils, from the trellises.
The gems of the trees unlocking, expanded themselves into the foliage of
nature’s tapestry. There was a soft verdure after balmy showers. The
flowers smiled in various colours on the bending stalks. [The loukit
buttouns on the gemyt treis Owerspreadand levis of naturis
tapestryis, Soft gresy verdure eftir balmy schouris, On curland stalks
smiland to thair flouris.] Some red, &c. Others watchet like the blue
and wavy sea; speckled with red and white; or bright as gold, the daisy
unbraided her little coronet, the grapes stood embattled with banewort.
The seeded down flew from the dandelion. Young weeds appeared among the
leaves of the strawberries. Gay gilliflowers, &c. The rose buds putting
forth, offered their red vernal lips to be kissed; and diffused fragrance
from the crisp scarlet that surrounded their golden seeds. Lillies with
white curling tops, showed their crests open. The odorous vapour moistened
the silver webs that hang from the leaves. The plain was powdered with
round dewy pearls. From every bud, scion, herb, and flower, bathed in
liquid fragrance, the bee sucked sweet honey. The swans clamoured amidst
the rustling weeds, and searched all the lakes and grey rivers where to
build their nests. Among the boughs of the twisted olive, the small birds
framed their artful nests, or along the thick hedges, or rejoiced with
their merry mates on the tall oaks. In the secret nooks, or in the clear
windows of glass, the spider full busily wove her sly net, to ensnare the
little gnat or fly. Under the boughs that screen the valley, or within the
pale enclosed park, the nimble deer trooped in ranks, the harts wandered
through the thick woody shaws, and the young fawns followed the dappled
does. Kids skipped through the briars after the roes, and in the pastures
and leas, the lambs, full tight and trig, went bleating to their dams.
Meantime dame nature’s minstrels raise their amorous notes, the ring-dove
coos and pitches on the tall copes, the starling whistles her varied
descant, the sparrow chirps in the clefted wall, the goldfinch and linnet
filled the skies, the cuckoo cried, the quail twittered; while rivers,
shaws, and every dale resounded; and the tender branches trembled on the
trees, at the song of the birds and the buzzing of the bees."
The original poet concludes
with the following fine apostrophe:
Welcum the lord of licht, and lampe
of day,
Welcum fosterare of tender herbis grene,
Welcum quickener of flurest flouris schene,
Welcum support of every rute and vane,
Welcum comfort of all kind frute and grane,
Welcum the birdis beild upon the brier,
Welcum maister and ruler of the year,
Welcum wellfare of husbands at the plewis,
Welcum repairer of woddis, treis, and bewls,
Welcum depainter of the blomyt medis,
Welcum the lyf of every thing that spedis,
Welcum storare of all kind bestial,
Welcum be thy bricht beams gladand all!
As a still further
expedient for making modern readers acquainted with the beauties of this
ancient poet and honour of our country, we have ventured upon the somewhat
hazardous experiment of a versified translation; taking for this purpose
the description of a June evening, from the prologue to the thirteenth
book, and entering before hand the following protest, furnished to our
hands by the poet himself:
------ "I set my besy pane,
As that I couth, to mak it brade and plane,
Kepand no Sudroun, bot our awin language,
And speke as I lerned quhen I wes ane page: [boy]
Na yit so clene all Sudroun I refuse,
Bot some words I pronunce as nychboure dois;
Like as in Latine bene Grewe termes
sum, [As in Latin there are some Greek terms.]
So me behuffit quhilom or be dum.
From bastard Latine, French, or Inglis ois,
Quhare scant wes Scottis, I had nane uther chois;
Not that our tongue is in the selvin scant,
Bot that I the fouth of language want."
This being prefaced, here
follows the modern Anglo-Scottish version:
During the jolly joyous month of
June,
When gane was near the day, and supper dune,
I walkit furth to taste the evening air,
Among the fields that were replenish’d fair,
With herbage, corn, and cattle, and fruit trees,
Plenty of store; while birds and busy bees,
O’er emerald meadows flew baith east and west,
Their labour done, to take their evening rest.
As up and down I cast my wandering eye,
All burning red straight grew the western sky
The sun descending on the waters grey,
Deep under earth withdrew his beams away.
The evening star, with lustre near as bright,
Springs up, the gay fore-rider, of the night.
Amid the haughs and every pleasant vale,
The recent dew begins on herbs to skail,
To quench the burning where the sun had shone,
Which to the world beneath had lately gone.
On every pile and pickle of the crops,
This moisture hang, like burning beryl drops,
And on the halesome herbs, and eke the weeds
Like chrystal gems, or little silver beads
The light began to fail, the mists to rise,
And here and there grim shades o’erspread the skies;
The bald and leathorn bat commenced her flight,
The lark descended from her airy height,
Singing her plaintive song, after her wyse,
To take her rest, at matin hour to rise.
Mists sweep the hill before the lazy wind,
And night unfolds her cloak with sable lined,
Swaddling the beauty of the fruitful ground,
With cloth of shade, obscurity profound;
All creatures, wheresoe’er they liked the best,
Then went to take their pleasant nightly rest.
The fowls that lately flew throughout the air,
The drowsy cattle in their sheltered lair,
After the heat and labour of the day,
Unstirring and unstirred in slumber lay.
Each thing that roves the meadow or the wood,
Each thing that flies through air, or dives in flood,
Each thing that nestles in the bosky bank,
Or loves to rustle through the marshes dank
The little midges, [gnats] and the happy flees, [flies]
Laborious emmets, and the busy bees,
All beasts, or wild or tame, or great or small,
God’s peace and blessing rests serene o’er all.
It remains to be mentioned
that the translation of Virgil, being written at a time when printing
hardly existed in Scotland, continued in manuscript till long after the
death of bishop Douglas, and was first published at London in 1553, at the
same time with the ‘Palice of Honour.’ The work bore the following title:
"The xiii. bukes of Eneados of the famose poet Virgill Translatet out of
Latyne verses into Scottish meter, by the reverend father in God, Mayster
Gawin Douglas, bishop of Dunkel, and unkil to the erle of Angus. Euery
buke hauing hys particular prologue." A second edition was printed at
Edinburgh in 1710, by the celebrated Thomas Ruddiman, with a life by
bishop Sage. Even this later impression is now rarely met with.
The earl of Angus was at
this time possessed of great influence at court, in virtue of which he
filled the office of chief magistrate of the city. Less than two months
after Gavin Douglas had finished his translation, the noble provost and
all his retainers, accompanied king James on the fatal expedition which
terminated in the battle of Flodden. Here the poet’s two elder brothers,
the Master of Angus and Sir William Douglas of Glenbervie, fell, with two
hundred gentlemen of their name. The earl himself had previously withdrawn
from the expedition, on account of an unkind expression used by his
imprudent sovereign. He died, however, within a twelvemonth thereafter, of
grief, leaving his titles and immense territorial influence to the heir of
his eldest deceased son, and who was consequently nephew to the Provost of
St Giles. It is curious to find that, on the 30th of September, only three
weeks after his country had experienced one of the greatest disasters
recorded in her history, and by which himself had lost two brothers and
many other friends, the poet was admitted a burgess of Edinburgh. This
fact was discovered by Sibbald in the council register, with the phrase
added, "pro commune bono villae, gratis." But perhaps there is some
mistake as to the date, the register of that period not being original,
but apparently a somewhat confused transcript.
The consequences of this
fatal battle seemed at first to open up a path of high political influence
to Gavin Douglas. His nephew, being as yet very young, fell in some
measure under his tutelage, as the nearest surviving relation. The queen,
who had been appointed regent for her infant son James V., in less than a
year from her husband’s death, was pleased to marry the young earl of
Angus, who accordingly seemed likely to become the actual governor of the
kingdom. The step, however, was unpopular, and at a convention of the
nobles it was resolved, rather than obey so young a member of their own
body, to call in the duke of Albany, cousin to the late king. This
personage did not realize the expectations which had been formed
respecting him; and thus it happened, that for some years the chief power
alternated between him and Angus. Sometimes the latter individual enjoyed
an influence deputed to him in the queen’s name by the duke, who
occasionally found it necessary to retire to France. At other times, both
the queen and her husband were obliged to take refuge in England, where,
on one of these occasions, was born their only child, Margaret Douglas,
destined in future years to be the mother of lord Darnley, the husband of
queen Mary.
The fortunes and domestic
happiness of our poet appear to have been deeply affected by those of his
nephew. Soon after the battle of Flodden, the queen conferred upon him the
abbacy of Aberbrothock, vacant by the death of Alexander Stewart, the late
king’s natural son. In a letter addressed by her grace to Pope Leo the
tenth, she extols Douglas as second to none in learning and virtue, and
earnestly requests that he may be confirmed in the possession of this
abbacy, till his singular merits should be rewarded with some more ample
endowment. Soon after she conferred on him the archbishopric of St
Andrews, which, if confirmed, would have placed him at the head of the
Scottish church. But the queen and her husband were not powerful or
popular enough to secure him in this splendid situation. He was first
intruded on by one John Hepburn, who had been appointed by the chapter,
and then both he and Hepburn were displaced by the pope, in favour of
Forman, the bishop of Moray, a busy and ambitious churchman, who had been
legate a latere to pope Julius II. Douglas was at the same
time deprived of the abbacy of Aberbrothock. It appears that, although
these disputes were carried on by strength of arms on all sides, the poet
himself was always averse from hostile measures, and would rather have
abandoned his own interest than bring reproach upon his profession. The
queen, having hitherto failed to be of any service to him, nominated him,
in 1515, to be bishop of Dunkeld, and on this occasion, to make quite
sure, confirmation of the gift was, by the influence of her brother Henry
the eighth, procured from the pope. In those days, however, a right which
would suffice one day might not answer the next; and so it proved with
Gavin Douglas. The duke of Albany, who arrived in May, 1515, though he had
protected the right of archbishop Forman on the strength of a papal bull,
not only found it convenient to dispute that title in the case of Douglas,
but actually imprisoned the poet for a year, as a punishment for having
committed an act so detrimental to the honour of the Scottish church. In
the meantime, one Andrew Stewart, brother to the earl of Athole, and a
partizan of Albany, got himself chosen bishop by the chapter, and was
determined to hold out the cathedral against all whatsoever. Gavin
Douglas, when released, was actually obliged to lay a formal siege to his
bishopric before he could obtain possession. Having gone to Dunkeld, and
published his bull in the usual form at the altar, he found it necessary
to hold the ensuing entertainment in the dean’s house, on account of his
palace being garrisoned by the servants of Andrew Stewart. The steeple of
the cathedral was also occupied as a fortress by these men, who pretended
to be in arms in the name of the governor. Next day, in attempting to go
to church, he was hindered by the steeple garrison, who fired briskly at
his party: he had therefore to perform service in the dean’s house. To
increase his difficulties, Stewart had arrived in person, and put himself
at the head of the garrison. His friends, however, soon collected a force
in the neighbouring country, with which they forced Stewart to submit. The
governor was afterwards prevailed upon to sanction the right of Gavin
Douglas, who gratified Stewart by two of the best benefices in the
diocese.
In 1517, when Albany went to France
in order to renew the ancient league between Scotland and that country, he
took Douglas and Panter as his secretaries, his object being in the
former case to have a hostage for the good behaviour of the earl of Angus
during his absence. [This is alleged by Dr Henry. – History of Great
Britain.] However, when the negotiation was finished, the
bishop of Dunkeld is said to have been sent to Scotland with the news. He
certainly returned long before the governor himself. After a short stay at
Edinburgh, he repaired to his diocese, where he employed himself for some
time in the diligent discharge of his duties. He was a warm promoter of
public undertakings, and, in particular, finished a stone bridge over the
Tay, (opposite to his own palace,) which had been begun by his
predecessor. He spent so much money in this manner, and in charity, that
he became somewhat embarrassed with debt. During the absence of the duke
of Albany, his nephew Angus maintained a constant struggle with the rival
family of Hamilton, then bearing the title of earl of Arran, which formed
a great part of the governor’s strength in Scotland. In April, 1520, both
parties met in Edinburgh,
determined to try which was most
powerful. The bishop of Dunkeld, seeing that bloodshed was threatened,
used his influence with archbishop Beaten of Glasgow, who was a partisan
of Arran; when that prelate, striking his hand on his breast, asseverated,
on his conscience, that he knew nothing of the hostile intentions of his
friends. He had in reality assumed armour under his gown, in order to take
a personal concern in the fray, and his hand caused the breastplate to
make a rattling noise. "Methinks," said Douglas, with admirable sarcasm,
"your conscience clatters;" a phrase that might be interpreted either into
an allusion to the noise itself, or to what it betrayed of the
archbishop’s intentions. Douglas retired to his own chamber to pray, and
in the meantime his nephew met and overthrew the forces of the earl of
Arran. The bishop afterwards saved Beaten from being slain by the victors,
who seized him at the altar of the Blackfriars’ church. Gavin Douglas
probably entertained a feeling of gratitude to this dignitary,
notwithstanding all his duplicity; for Beaton had ordained him at Glasgow,
and borne all the expenses of the ceremony out of his own revenues.
The earl of Angus was now
re-established in power, but it was only for a short time. Albany returned
next year, and called him and all his retainers to an account for their
management of affairs. The earl, with his nephew and others, was obliged
to retire to England. The bishop of Dunkeld experienced the most courteous
attention at the court of Henry VIII., who, with all his faults, was
certainly a patron of literature. We are informed by Holingshed that
Douglas received a pension from the English monarch. In London, he
contracted a friendship with Polydore Virgil, a learned Italian, who was
then engaged in composing a history of England. It is supposed that the
bishop assisted him with a little memoir on the origin of the Scottish
nation. Here, however, our poet was suddenly cut off by the plague, in
1521, or 1522, and was buried in the Savoy church, where he had an
epitaph, inscribed on the adjacent tomb of bishop Halsay. It is painful to
think, that in consequence of the intestine divisions of his country, this
illustrious and most virtuous person died a denounced traitor in a foreign
land.
The only other poem of any
extent by Gavin Douglas, is one entitled "King Hart," which was probably
written in the latter part of his life, and contains, what Dr Irving
styles, "a most ingenious adumbration of the progress of human life." It
was first printed in Pinkerton’s collection of "Ancient Scottish Poems,"
1786.
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