William Dunbar - Edinburgh Literary Pub Tour

Transcription

William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Contents:
Biography.................................................................................................................................................................Page 1
Lament for the Makers (Timor Mortis conturbat me).......................................................Pages 2 - 6
Meditatioun on Wyntir..........................................................................................................................Pages 6 - 9
Dunbar and The Birth of Scottish Publishing......................................................................... Pages 9 - 10
Fight or Flyte ?....................................................................................................................................... Pages 11 - 16
Further Reading / Contacts .......................................................................................................... Pages 17 - 20
Biography:
William Dunbar (c. 1460 - 1520) : has left vivid images of Scotland during the reign of
James IV, but much of his own life remains obscure. It is certain, however, that Dunbar was
a Lowlander, from the Lothian region, and spent many years in Edinburgh. He was welleducated and studied at St Andrews, where he obtained a bachelor’s degree in 1477,
and masters degree in 1479. it is assumed that he spent the subsequent years travelling
abroad, possibly to Denmark, France, and England. Between 1500 and 1513, he received
a ‘Pensioun’ or annual salary, from James IV as a member of the royal household and may
have fulfilled clerical functions there. He was ordained in 1504, but occasionally acted as
advocate in the law courts. The last mention of him in the court record is in May 1513,
the year of the battle of Flodden, in which King James IV died. Dunbar may have survived
into the reign of James V, but there is no evidence to back it up.
Much of his poetry is addressed to the king and queen of fellow courtiers, from humble
fools to powerful officials, and there is some festive poetry, written for specific occasions,
such as royal weddings (The Thissil and the Rose for the marriage of James IV and
Margaret Tudor) and tournaments.
Much of his poetry, however, is satirical in its analyses of courtly life, and reveals an uneasy
atmosphere of envy and distrust.
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His verse is very brief and compressed, and he himself labelled his writings ‘ballatis’ and
defined himself as a Makar, a term that lays stress on the poet as a skilled and versatile
craftsman. Indeed, he experimented with many genres, elegy, panegyric, love epistle, fable,
satire, and dream poetry. He is at his most personal in The Lament for the Makers. The
last verse of that poem offers both the reader and himself a glimmer of hope, in what has
become a prayer for his immortality. Through this poem, at least, he achieved it.
Sen for the ded remeid is none
Best is that we for ded dispone
Eftir our deid that lif may we
Timor mortis conturbat me
Copyright © 2003 Scottish Literary Tour Trust. All Rights Reserved.
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
The Lament for The Makers:
I that in heill wes and gladnes,
Am trublit now with gret seiknes,
And feblit with infermite:
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Heill: health
Our plesance heir is all vane glory,
This fals warld is bot transitory,
The flesche is brukle, the Fend is sle:
Plesance: joy
The stait of man dois change and vary,
Now sound, now seik, now blith, now sary,
Now dansand mery, now like to dee:
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Fear of death disturbs me
Brukle: fragile; fend: fiend; sle: sly
Seik: sick
Dansand: dancing; dee: die
No stait in erd heir standis sickir;
As with the wynd wavis the wickir,
Wavis this warldis vanité:
Erd: Earth; sickir: securely
Wickir: willow
On to the ded gois all estatis,
Princis, prelotis, and potestatis,
Baith riche and pur of al degré:
On to the ded: into Death
Prelotis: prelates; potestatis: men
of high rank
He takis the knychtis in to feild,
Anarmit under helme and scheild;
Victour he is at all mellie:
Field: battle
Anarmit: armed;
Mellie: fighting
That strang unmercifull tyrand
Takis, on the moderis breist sowkand,
The bab full of benignite:
Tyrand: tyrant
Moderis: mother’s; sowkand: suckling; Bab: baby; benignitie: love
He takis the campion in the stour,
The capitane closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewté:
Campion: champion; stour: battle
Closit: locked
Bour: bower(private room)
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
He sparis no lord for his piscence,
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awfull strak may no man fle:
Art-magicianis, and astrologgis,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle:
Strak: blow
Sle: cunning
In medicyne the most practicianis,
Lechis, surrigianis, and phisicianis,
Thame self fra ded may not supplé:
Most practicianis: best practicioners; Lechis: doctors
I se that makaris amang the laif
Playis heir ther pageant, syne gois to graif;
Sparit is nocht ther faculté:
Laif: rest of us
Syne: then; graif: greif
Faculté: profession
He hes done petuously devour,
The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour,
The Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thre:
Petulously: impudently
The gude Syr Hew of Eglintoun,
And eik Heryot, and Wyntoun,
He hes tane out of this cuntré:
That scorpion fell hes done infek
Maister Johne Clerk, and Jame Afflek,
Fra balat making and tragidie:
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Piscence: strength
Holland and Barbour he hes berevit;
Allace! that he nocht with us levit
Schir Mungo Lokert of the Lea:
Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane,
That maid the Anteris of Gawane;
Schir Gilbert Hay endit hes he:
Eik: also
Tane: taken
Fell: ruthless; infek: infected
Balat: ballad
Levit: left
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
He hes Blind Hary and Sandy Traill
Slaine with his schour of mortall haill,
Quhilk Patrik Johnestoun myght nocht flee:
He hes reft Merseir his endite,
That did in luf so lifly write,
So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie:
Quhilk: which
Reft: taken away; endite: writing
Lifly: vividly
He hes tane Roull of Aberdene,
And gentill Roull of Corstorphin;
Two bettir fallowis did no man see:
In Dumfermelyne he hes done roune
With Maister Robert Henrisoun;
Schir Johne the Ros enbrast hes he:
And he hes now tane, last of aw,
Gud gentill Stobo and Quintyne Schaw,
Of quham all wichtis hes peté:
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Enbrast: embraced
Wichtis: beings
Gud Maister Walter Kennedy
In poynt of dede lyis veraly,
Gret reuth it wer that so suld be:
Dede: death
Reuth: pity
Sen he hes all my brether tane,
He will nocht lat me lif alane,
On forse I man his nyxt pray be:
Lat: let
On forse: inevitably; man: must;
pray: prey
Sen for the deid remeid is none,
Best is that we for dede dispone,
Eftir our deid that lif may we:
Sen: since; remeid: remeid
Dispone: prepare
At its heart this poem is a mournful necronomicon, a litany of the names of the great poets,
or Makars, who have passed away. They range from the very dead Chaucer (who died
in 1400, roughly 100 years before Dunbar wrote the poem) to the barely living Walter
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Kennedy, his rival from The Flyting (as Dunbar writes he is “in poynt of dede”).
But the poem is something else besides. More than merely a lament for the Makars, it is
a lament for a way of life that was changing beyond all recognition. The coming century
would see massive upheaval across the whole of Europe – and it is likely that Dunbar
sensed this coming change. The poem is also a meditation on death; it is a dirge on the
passing of his own life – and more than that, it is a petition by Dunbar to future readers
to keep his name immortal. It has succeeded on all counts. Not only that, it has helped to
immortalise a whole host of poets whom we would not otherwise have heard of.
The poem begins with the “I” voice of the author: “I that in heill wes and gladnes/ Am
trublit now with gret seiknes/ And feblit with infermité”. In the first verse, he establishes
the motive from which he is writing, which the final line confirms. He is ill, possibly dying.
The poem is given a sonorous weight with the sustained repetition of the Latin phrase
“Timor mortis conturbat me” (fear of death disturbs me). It is like a congregational response in a mass, which gives the feeling that the whole poem is like a prayer, or requiem.
But the “I” voice is soon replaced in the second verse: “Our plesance heir is all vane glory.”
Our plesance. He speaks for all of us since, after all, we all must die. From this moment on,
we read the repeated phrase not as William Dunbar’s fears – but as our own.
The next few verses describe the various pleasures that human beings enjoy, and the
various afflictions and infirmities. No matter your status, your wealth, your power; whether
you are a soldier armed to the teeth, or a baby at your mother’s breast; whether you are
strong, or beautiful, intelligent – death will come for you anyway. Not even our society’s
healers, our doctors, surgeons, or physicians, can save themselves. Death is the great leveller.
It is indeed a disturbing thought.
But Dunbar makes it bearable for us because he writes about it with such rare grace. It is
a pleasure to read this poem, even though its subject is utterly morbid. There are beautiful
alliterative verses that so beguile you that their terrible meaning only occurs to you after
the fact: “No stait in erd heir standis sickir:/ As with the wynd wavis the wickir/ Wavis the
warldis vanité” ((As
As with the wind waves the willow/ Waves the world’s vanity
vanity).
). This is how
fragile we are. We bend to and fro, depending on which way the wind is blowing. But
there is always that dry, deadening beat at the end of the verse to hit the message home.
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However, there is one group of professionals which may be exempt from the annihilating
hand of Death – writers. The really great ones. Those whose works survive will live on in
memory, in their work. When we read them, do we not bring them back to life? Is Dunbar
consciously after a place in history? The poem certainly indicates he was aware of his own
skill as a poet, and it is likely he would have an eye to posterity. These days we consider
that a bit uncouth, a bit presumptuous – but Dunbar seems like an uncouth kind of guy.
It is a bold, maybe even arrogant, gesture to align himself with established greats such as
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Chaucer – but why not? No-one likes to think they have lived their life in vain; we all want
to have some kind of achievement by which future generations will remember us, even if
it is just the preservation of a family name.
If this poem was only about Dunbar’s quest for ever-lasting greatness and a place in the
hallowed halls of literature, then we probably wouldn’t be reading it. Dunbar’s greatness
comes in part from his ability to shine a light through his individual circumstances, complaints and epiphanies so that he illuminates the world for all of us. In the second last
verse, Dunbar reflects on all his “brether tane” – his fellow poets who have died – and
speculates that he’s next: “I man his nyxt pray be”. And here, just when it looks like Dunbar is at his most self-interested, in the final verse all of us are swept up in his meditations:
we share his notion that, since we cannot help the dead (and we cannot help but die) the
best we can do is to prepare in our own ways, for our own deaths.
Meditatioun in Wyntir:
In to thir dirk and drublie dayis,
Whone sabill all the hevin arrayis,
With mistie vapouris, cloudis, and skyis,
Nature all curage me denyis
Of sangis, ballattis, and of plays.
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Drublie: dismal
Sabill: black; arrayis: arranges
Sangis: songs; ballattis: ballads
Whone that the nicht dois lenthin houris
With wind, with haill, and havy shouris,
My dule spreit dois lurk for shore,
My hart for languor dois forlore
For lack of simmer with his flouris.
Dule: depressed; spreit: spirit; lurk:
cower; shore: fear; Forlore: weaken
Simmer: summer; flouris: flowers
I wak, I turn, sleep may I nocht.
I vexit am with havy thocht.
This warld all owre I cast about,
And ay the mair I am in dout,
The mair that I remied have socht.
Ay: ever
Remeid: salvation
I am assayit on everie side.
Despaire sayis ay, “In time provide
And get sum thing whairon to leif,
Or with grit trouble and mischief
Thou sall in to this court abide.”
Then Patience sayis, “Be not aghast:
Haude Hope and Truth within thee fast,
Assayit: attacked
Leif: live
Grit: great
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
And let Fortoun work furth hir rage,
Whome that no rasoun may assuage,
While that hir glass be run and past.”
Rasoun: reason
And Prudence in my ear sayis ay,
“Why wad thou haud that will away?
Or crave that thou may have no space,
Thou tending to ane other place,
A journey going everie day?”
And then sayis Age, “My friend, cum neir,
And be not strange, I thee requeir:
Cum, brodir, by the hand me tak,
Remember thow hes count to mak
Of all thy time thou spendit heir.”
Syne Deid casts ope his yettis wide,
Saying, “Thir open sall thee abide:
Albeit that thou wer neer sae stout,
Under this lyntall sall thou lout,
Thair is nane other way beside.”
For fear of this all day I droop:
No gowd in kist, not wine in coop,
No ladies bewtie, nor luvis bliss
May let me to remember this,
How glaid that e’er I dine or soop.
Yet, whone the nicht beginnis to short,
It dois my spreit sum pairt confort,
Of thocht oppressit with the shouris.
Cum, lustie simmer! With thy flouris,
That I may leif in sum disport.
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Requeir: require
Brodir: brother
Count: account
Deid: Death; yettis: gates
Neer: never
Lyntall: stone above a doorway;\
lout: stoop
Gowd: gold; kist: chest; coop: cup
Soop: sup
Lustie: beautiful
Disport: happiness
Meditatioun in Wyntir begins with an evocation of some thoroughly dismal Scottish
weather which echoes the poet’s dismal mood accentuated in the first line by the pounding rhythm of the alliterating /d/ – “dirk . . . drublie . . . dayis”. A quick inventory of the various vocabularies operating in the first three lines gives us a strong and immediate sense of
what is going on in the poem. There are three main lexical sets:
1) Obscurity and Darkness: dirk, drublie, sabill, mistie, cloudis, dule.
2) Negativity: drublie, denyis, lurk, shore, languor, forlore, nocht, vexit, dout.
3) Bad weather: mistie vapouris, cloudis, haill, wind, havy shouris.
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
These create an effective setting for the poem and leave the reader in no doubt as to the
psychological state of the poet. He is in no mood for “sangis, ballattis, and plays”: lighthearted activities that usually give him pleasure. We believe, rightly, that this is a poem
about the artist himself. These are pleasures we readily associate with a man of letters. But
does the poem transcend the specific complaints of Dunbar himself?
The triple rhythm (the alliterating /d/s) established in line one is echoed throughout the
poem, slowing the pace down, and providing an almost exaggerated sense of foreboding.
In line three there are three natural elements listed: “mistie vapouris, cloudis, and skyis.”
Line 5 has “sangis, ballattis, and . . . plays”. We find it too in line 7: “wind . . . haill . . . and
havy shouris.” And also in line 11: “I wak, I turn, sleep may I nocht.” Note that the groups
of three have shifted here from things to actions, turning the focus of the poem gradually
towards the narrator himself.
There are echoes throughout the poem. For example, “havy shouris” (line 7) is echoed in
“havy thocht” (line 12). The purpose of this is simply to draw our attention: we are about
to learn more of these “havy thochts”. But what is it exactly that’s making him depressed?
The next five verses present what is essentially Dunbar having a conversation with himself.
Despair, Patience, Prudence, Age and Death appear as allegorical personae. They argue, or
debate, among themselves as to the best course the poet should take in life. It’s a little bit
like talking to a careers guidance counsellor, except the advice is your own.
The use of allegory is common in medieval poetry, and is used as a way of presenting
moral positions or philosophical truths in a vivid and entertaining way. Dunbar uses allegory to sublime effect in many of his poems, including The Dance of the Seven Deadly
Sins.
By now, the poem has really stopped being about Dunbar himself – if it ever was – and by
personalising aspects of the human psyche it becomes a poem all of us can share in. Just
as we can all identify with the dreadful weather he describes, so too can we share in his
insights about the way we live our lives. This debate concerns us all.
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First up is Despair, which we may expect, as this is the dominant tenor of the poet’s mood
established in the first three verses. Despair says that he should get out and find “sum
thing wheiron to leif ” – something to keep body and soul together, something to lend
meaning to his life, otherwise he’ll end up living in a state of despair himself. The advice is
essentially a take on “the devil makes work for idle hands.” We can, of course, interpret
“provide” in a material sense: to provide for his future.
Patience answers by saying: don’t worry about it. Believe in yourself, put your life in the hands
of fate. You can’t rationalise and be reasonable about everything. Go out and live the life you
want to live – and life will take care of itself
itself. Isn’t this advice a bit dangerous? Leaving it all
to Hope and Truth? What about qualifications! A good salary! Prudence has a turn and
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
counters Patience by suggesting that he’s wishing his life away by always wanting something else.
Age steps forward now, with a chilling message couched in a friendly manner – it even
calls him brother. Age beckons Dunbar, or the reader, closer. I won’t bite, it seems to say;
we’re pals, right? This over-familiarity is a little bit menacing, a little bit creepy. At least compared to the impersonal formality of the previous three. But then, Age is something we
are all well-acquainted with, though we may not often think about it. Dunbar is forced to
think now about Age, because it says: This is just to remind you, by the way, that all the time
you spend here on Earth gets added up in the end. In other words: use your time wisely.
The next verse introduces us to Death (“Deid”). Truly we’d have to be in the utter depths
of depression for this figure to appear. As usual, Death has the last word, it throws open
the gates to the afterlife and says: Look! That’s where you’re heading. Whether you live your life
well or not, it doesn’t matter because you’ll end up here anyway.
Dunbar tells us these thoughts plague him all day. Even when he’s flush with cash, or has a
drink in front of him, and not even the beauty of women, or the bliss of being in love can
take his mind off these dark thoughts. But! In the final verse there’s a glimmer of hope. The
prospect of shorter nights and better weather put more of a spring in his step, and he
can’t wait for summer to come again so he can enjoy himself better, take his mind off the
gloom of winter.
Nobody who has ever lived in Scotland – indeed nobody who has ever lived – can fail to
understand this train of thought Dunbar elucidates in this poem. The mood swings as the
days grow longer, the feeling that you’re not making the best of your life – or the opposite, that you’re worrying about things too much: the ultimate dread of death, and worse,
dying without accomplishing anything. And the whole thing kicked off by a season of grim
weather. These days the psychologists call it Seasonal Affect Disorder. Or, SAD for short.
The Birth of Scottish Publishing:
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William Dunbar was one of the first Scottish poets to benefit from a book deal –
Chepman and Myllar were the very first publishers in Scotland, and they were the first to
mass-produce the works of Scotland’s great poets. Their series of books were published
in 1508, about fifty years after the world’s first printed book – the Gutenburg Bible in
c.1455, in Mainz, Germany – and about 30 years after William Caxton established the first
printing press in England.
Prior to the invention of moveable type by Johannes Gutenberg, manuscripts were copied
by hand or printed using a cumbersome system invented by the Chinese where entire
pages would be carved by hand then inked and pressed onto paper to make multiple
copies. Gutenberg’s system allowed individual letters to be rearranged for each new page,
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
making the printing of entire books much cheaper and easier.
Androw Myllar, an Edinburgh bookseller, travelled widely in Europe and learned his
printing skills in France. He teamed up with Walter Chepman, a merchant also from
Edinburgh, and with a special licence from King James IV they established the first Scottish
press in 1507. Books were not unheard of before this, however, since many Scots went
to Europe – Germany and France especially – for their education, bringing home a huge
range of books (and, more importantly, new ideas) with them.
Difficult to believe now, but Edinburgh was once one of the centres of the publishing
industry in the United Kingdom. This grew mainly from its status as a major financial, legal
and educational centre – three of the most paper-dependent professions. Edinburgh was
home to some of the biggest names in publishing – like Oliver & Boyd, Blackwood &
Sons, Chambers dictionaries, and the Encyclopaedia Britannica. However, during the early
to mid-20th century Scottish publishing went into severe decline, with many publishers
moving to London. Today, Canongate Books in Edinburgh is one of the few publishing
successes north of the border.
The reading public in the 15th and 16th centuries wasn’t what we have today. For a start,
the ability to read was not as widespread: it would have been mostly scholars, lawyers
and clergymen who formed the market for books. The publication of poetry so early in
the history of printing in Scotland is considered unusual since the publishing industry in
the 16th century catered primarily for the religious and legal institutions, not for private
entertainment. In fact, it is thought that the main purpose for setting up the Chepman and
Myllar press was to publish a handbook containing the daily service for Roman Catholic
priests.
But from 1508 Chepman and Myllar published a great deal of Dunbar’s poetry along
with other major contemporary works, including several by Robert Henryson and Blind
Harry’s Wallace. His inclusion in the Chepman and Myllar books certainly assisted in
gaining Dunbar a wider readership for his work and preserving his name for posterity.
Some of these books survive only in fragments, whole parts lost forever, while others
remain complete. You can view electronic images of the Chepman and Myllar publications
and read more about the early history of Scottish publishing at the Scottish National
Library website: www.nls.uk/digitallibrary/chepman/books.htm
10
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Fight or Flyte:
Nobody does insults like the Scots.
Maybe it’s the guttural consonants, the rapid staccato accent of the Scottish accent that
makes insulting people sound so wonderfully and lavishly abusive. Maybe it’s the quick wits
and the sharp retorts learned in the school playground. Maybe it’s a survival mechanism
we’ve adapted in a culture that seems to delight in putting others down. Maybe it’s all the
practice we get on the football terraces.
Whatever it is, the Scots are world champions. These days we have slagging matches, 600
years ago they called it flyting. (Which is not the same as flirting, though sometimes it’s
hard to tell.)
The Makars developed flyting into an art-form which reached its pinnacle in The Flyting
of Dunbar and Kennedy, a long tirade of abuse written by William Dunbar directed at
his poetic rival Walter Kennedy. Flyting was a test of verbal dexterity, a duel with words
instead of swords, razor sharp wit instead of just razors. And Dunbar – one of Scotland’s
literary heavyweights – remains the unbeaten champion.
Take this for starters:
Revin, raggit ruke, and full of rebaldrie,
Scarth fra scorpione, scaldit in scurrilitie
I se the haltane in thy harlotrie
And into uthir science no thing slie,
Of every vertew void, as men may sie;
Quytclame clergie and cleik to the ane club,
Ane baird blasphemar in brybrie ay to be;
For wit and woisdom ane wisp fra the may rub.
Raven, ragged rook, and ridden with rudeness
Spawn of a scorpion, scolded in scurrilousness
I see you arrogant in your baseness
And skilled in no other knowledge,
Devoid of every virtue, as men may see;
Disclaim your education and stick to the one trade,
A blaspheming bard will always resort to bribery;
The slightest thing would rob you of your wit and wisdom.
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Nasty – but it pays to read it in the Scots. No English translation can really do justice.
Further on, we learn that Kennedy has thrown down the gauntlet, which Dunbar readily
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
accepts:
Thou speiris, dastard, gif I dare with the fecht:
Ye! dagone dowbart, thairof haif thow no doubt.
Quhairevir we meir, thairto my hand I hecht
To red the rebald rymyng with a rowt.
Throw all Bretaine it sal be blawing owt
How that thow, poisonit pelour, gat thy paikis;
With ane dog-leich I schepe to gar the schowt,
And nowther to the tak knyfe, swerd nor aix
You ask me, you coward, if I dare fight with you:
Yes! worthless villain, have no doubt.
Wherever we meet, I give you my word,
To purge your perverted poetry with a punch.
Through all Britain it shall be well-known
How you, poisonous monster, got a beating;
With a dog-leash I’m going to make you scream
And not to take to you a knife, sword or axe
As well as casting doubt on Kennedy’s poetic abilities, Dunbar creatively insults his
appearance, informing him that :
Thow hes ane perrilous face to play with lambis.
You’ve got a dangerous face for playing with lambs
Perhaps because his face is:
Lyk as the gleddis had on thy gulesnowt dynd
As if buzzards had dined on your yellow snout
He also suggests Kennedy might be a werewolf:
Mismaid monstour, ilk mone owt of thy mynd
Misshapen monster, every month you’re out of your mind
And it’s not just Kennedy that gets his share of the abuse, The Flyting has a swipe at
speakers of the Gaelic:
12
Thy trechour tung has tane ane helang strynd –
Ane lawland ers wald mak a bettir noyis
Your treacherous tongue has taken a Highland accent –
A Lowland arse would make a better noise Here too:
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Thow art but gluntoch
You’re nothing but a hairy highlander
And:
Ersche katherene, with thy polk briek and rilling
Gaelic marauder, with your tartan bag and your tattered shoes
But he saves his best insults for last. The poem ends with a virtuoso display of invective,
though some of the insults to our ears are just plain odd (e.g. button biter?):
Mauch-muttoun, byt buttoun, peilit gluttoun, air to Hilhous,
Rank beggar, ostir-dregar, flay-fleggar in the flet,
Chittirlilling, ruch rilling, lik-schilling in the milhous,
Baird rehatour, theif of nator, flas tratour, feyindis gett,
Filling of tauch, rak-sauch – cry-crauch, thow art oursett!
Muttoun-dryver, girnall-ryver, yadswyvar – fowll fell the!
Herretyk, lunatyk, purspyk, carlingis pet,
Rottin crok, dirtin dok – cry cok, or I sall quell the!
Maggoty mutton, button biter, bankrupt glutton, heir to Hillhouse
Foul beggar, oyster-dredger, flea-frightener in the hallway
Chitterlilling, rough boot, greedy scavenger in the millhouse
Abominable poet, thief by nature, false traitor, born of a fiend
Lump of grease, gallows bird - give up, you are beaten!
Sheep-driver, grain-thief, horse-shagger – a curse on you!
Heretic, lunatic, pick-pocket, old hag’s fart,
Rotten old ewe, filthy arse – give up or I shall knock you down!
Old Flyting is characterised by language which is heavily consonantal and strongly
alliterative, and makes liberal use of internal rhyme. It’s also very rude.
13
But what characterises this strange skill is that while it remains adversarial, almost
gladiatorial, at heart there lies a warmth and a strong bond of friendship between the
two poets. Of course, being pals as well as rivals isn’t unheard of. But taken a bit further,
the notion of being able to hold two opposing and contradictory ideas or feelings at the
same time is at the heart of Scottish culture. It’s like saying: “I support the Scottish football
team – but I can’t stand Scottish football.” Or “We’ve got the best culture in the world,
we’re such a talented bunch of people, wha’s like us! – but I’m emigrating to Australia
‘cos Scotland’s rubbish.” Consequently, our literature is full of it, perfectly embodied today
in the Glasgow Zen of Alan Spence at the opposite end of the railway line from Irvine
Welsh’s Leith terminus, both of whom embrace contrasting yet compatible aspects of
contemporary Scottishness.
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Arguably, the Scots were the best at flyting, though it was a tradition which by no means
stopped at the Border. A hundred years or so after Dunbar, another William – Mr
Shakespeare – was developing a reputation as a writer with a wicked way with words.
Many of his plays demonstrate his skill with a put-down:
From the perfunctory :
I saw the man today, if man he be.
(All’s Well That Ends Well)
to the vicious:
He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, ill faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere,
vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
(Comedy
Comedy of Errors)
Errors
the utterly ridiculous:
You lisp and wear strange suits!
(As You Like It)
the withering:
Away, you three inch fool.
(The
The Taming of the Shrew)
Shrew
and the nearly beautiful:
You have such a February face, so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness.
(Much
Much Ado About Nothing)
Nothing
Impressive, but it’s better when a real person is on the receiving end. Or even an entire
nation. Samuel Johnson had plenty of things to say about Scotland and the Scots – none
of them complimentary. Such as this:
Much may be made of a Scotsman, if he is caught young.
Or this:
Sir, let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road
that leads him to England!
14
He even immortalised his loathing in his Dictionary:
Oats: a grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the
people.
One of the glories of exploring literature is that you get to hear great writers slagging
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
each other off – often centuries apart. In the 18th century Robert Fergusson published a
retort to Johnson’s famous Dictionary entry:
Mind ye what Sam, the lying loun!
Had in his Dictionar laid down?
That aits in England are a feast
To cow an’ horse an’ sican beast
While in Scots ground this growth was common
To gust the gab o’ man a woman.
(To
To the Principal and Professors of St Andrews on their Superb Treat to Samuel Johnson)
Johnson
Though never quite reaching Dunbar’s foul-mouthed triumph of slander, Ferusson does
have the pompous old windbag Dr Johnson striving to draw breath under the weight of a
delicious-sounding (if a little stodgy) menu composed entirely of Scottish food.
Robert Burns was no stranger to the flyting, either. He turned out many epigrams and
epitaphs and satires, sometimes directed at individuals, sometimes at whole groups;
sometimes he disguised his targets’ identities, sometimes he put their names in the title.
Like On Andrew Turner:
In se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An’ coost it in a corner;
But wilily he chang’d his plan,
An’ shap’d it something like a man,
An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner.
The flyting tradition in Scotland lives on. A few years ago a Herald columnist invited
contributions to his Diary of memorable insults and collected them in his book Not the
Worst of Tom Shields (1999). They included some peculiarly Scots phrases:
. . . a face like a Gregg’s Hallowe’en cake
. . . a face like a torn melodeon with the tune hingin oot.
. . . a face like a poun’ o’ knitted mince.
Some of them employ the Makar device of alliteration:
15
. . . a face that would frighten the French.
. . . a rerr face for hauntin hooses.
Not to mention rudeness:
. . . a face like a well-skelped arse.
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
. . . a face like the north end of a south-bound cow
. . . a face like a battered fart.
But curiously, even these more modern insults, or flytes, seem to belong to a past
generation. Perhaps it’s telling that we need to collect them in books. It seems a great
deal of our insults we get now from TV comedians, catch-phrases, soap-operas. Where’s
the combativeness gone? The sharp words? The razor wit? Has ribaldry succumbed to
politically correctness? Has rivalry given way to a chummy we’re-all-in-it-together-ness?
Unlikely. Not until hell freezes over, Celtic fans wear orange, Rangers fans adopt the
shamrock and everybody learns to love the English. The flyting tradition is safe.
Written By Colin Clark
16
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Further Reading
Websites
The following websites will be of general interest to the student of Scottish literature:
Scottish Literary Tour Trust
Featuring an extensive section on the Makars’ Literary Tour
http://www.scot-lit-tour.co.uk
National Library of Scotland
http://www.nls.uk/
Scottish Poetry Library
A very attractively laid out website with information on some of the major poets of the
20th century along with detailed readings of their best-known works.
http://www.spl.org.uk/index.html
SLAINTE
The name stands for Scottish Librarians Across the Internet. This excellent site features
brief, well-written biographies of many of the great Scottish writers.
http://www.slainte.org.uk/Scotauth/scauhome.htm
Scots Online
From essays to an online dictionary this is a web-based resource with everything you
could possibly need to know about the Scots language and how it is used.
http://www.scots-online.org/
Shudder at the Niffer
An essay in Scots about Scots.
http://www.fleimin.demon.co.uk/Bletherskite/Shudder_At_The_Niffer.htm
Gaelic & Scottish Connections
A resource on Gaelic language and culture, featuring poetry and essays and an online dictionary.
http://www.gaelicscottish.com/
17
Electric Scotland
Electric Scotland is a real mixed bag of Scottish paraphernalia with nationalist overtones.
This page in particular allows you to hear and read complete Scots poems, from
MacDiarmid to Dunbar.
http://www.electricscotland.com/si/features/scots/complete.htm
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Literature links
An encyclopaedic web of links to Scots magazines, monuments, libraries and languages.
http://www.burryman.com/scotland.html - lit
Project Gutenberg
This is a web-based publisher of copyright expired books.
http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/cgi-bin/sdb/t9.cgi/
Poetry Archive
A good, user-friendly site, sponsored by a bookseller, which features examples from some
of the best poets in the world.
http://www.poetry-archive.com/
Poem Index
Almost 900 poems in the English language from 13th to 19th centuries.
http://tcsu.trin.cam.ac.uk/~john/pgbev/html-interface/full-index.html
Representative Poetry On-line
An enormous and easy to use resource based at the University of Toronto featuring
alphabetical and chronological lists of 450 poets with substantial selections of their work.
http://eir.library.utoronto.ca/rpo/display/poet42.html
Scottish PEN
The name stands for Poets, Playwrights, Editors, Essayists and Novelists and exists to
promote the friendly co-operation between writers in the interests of freedom of
expression throughout the world.
http://www.scottishpen.org/
Writers’ Portraits
Photographic and biographical pen portraits of some of Scotland’s greatest contemporary
writers.
http://www.nls.uk/writestuff/
Anthologies
18
The Book of Prefaces
edited and glossed by Alasdair Gray
Bloomsbury (2000)
Every home should have one. Dust jacket contains this advice: “Warning to Parents,
Teachers, Librarians, Booksellers. Do not let smart children handle this book. It will help
them pass examinations without reading anything else.”
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
The Faber Book of Twentieth Century Scottish Poetry
Edited by Douglas Dunn
Faber & Faber (1992)
A detailed account of the dramatic transformations the Scottish verse underwent in the
previous century, with an enlightening introduction by Dunn.
The New Penguin Book of Scottish Verse
edited by Robert Crawford and Mick Imlah
Penguin (2000)
A beautifully presented chronology of some of the greatest Scottish poetry, from the 6th
century to the present.
The Penguin Book of Scottish Verse
edited by Tom Scott
Penguin (1970)
Earlier incarnation of above, edited by Scott – a recent inductee to Makars’ Court.
Contains the infamous and controversial rude verse attributed to Burns. Makes for an
interesting comparison with Crawford & Imlah’s anthology.
An Anthology of Scottish Women Poets
Edited by Catherine Kerrigan
Edinburgh University Press (1991)
Covers folksong, ballad, Scots and Anglo-Scots, from the middle ages to contemporary
poets.
Studies and Criticism
Scottish Literature
eds Douglas Gifford, et al
This is all just about all you need to know about Scottish literature. A comprehensive, and
very readable book. Excellent.
The Mainstream Companion to Scottish Literature
Trevor Royle
Mainstream (1993)
Alphabetically arranged standard reference on Scottish literature.
19
Modern Scottish Literature
Alan Bold
Longman (1983)
Learned, erudite discussion of the major writers and texts of Scottish literature in the 20th
century. Brilliant study material for Higher English.
William Dunbar
c. 1460 - 1520
Imagine a City: Glasgow In Fiction
Moira Burgess
Argyll (1998)
The definitive work on Glasgow’s place in Scottish literature, written by the author of the
Makars Court Tour script.
A History of Scottish Women’s Writing
edited by Douglas Gifford and Dorothy McMillan
This is the best book around for Scottish women’s writing at the moment. Tone can be a
bit academic in places.
Contacts
For further information about this project contact:
Morris Paton
Scottish Literary Tour Trust.
Suite 2
97b West Bow
Edinburgh EH1 2JP
E-mail: [email protected]
Web: www.scot-lit-tour.co.uk
20

William Dunbar - Edinburgh Literary Pub Tour

Transcription

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