Page images
PDF
EPUB
[graphic][graphic][subsumed][merged small]

, дви
G Buchanan

A Fullerton & C London & Edinbur

[graphic][graphic][graphic]

his knowledge of Latin, acquired the Greek lan- | tall, and to inspire them with a gallant and fear. less courage, which, being tempered with seasonable lectures and precepts to them of true fortitude and patience, will turn into a native and heroic valour, and make them hate the cowardice of doing wrong." Milton wrote these words about the year 1650, a time when recent events had given him good cause to appreciate the effect of such a character upon a nation's welfare, and to comprehend the distinction between the logic of the schoolmen, and the logic of Oliver Cromwell. and of

guage without the aid of a tutor, and began to cultivate his poetical talents. He seems to have possessed a knowledge of the Gaelic, (which Dr. | Irving incorrectly conjectures to have been the current speech of his native district at that period, there being evidence that the Macfarlanes, who occupied the wild region of the Dumbarton Highlands in the vicinity, spoke English before his time, although they also use the Celtic to this day,) for it is related that when in France, having met with a woman who was said to be possessed with the devil, and who professed to speak all languages, he accosted her in Gaelic, and as neither she nor her familiar returned any answer, he entered a protest that the devil was ignorant of that tongue, a trait of humour in entire accordance with the gravity of his after character. The death of his uncle, two years afterwards, having deprived him of his resources, he returned to Scotland in 1522. It is stated that at this time his poverty was so great that in order to get back to his native country, he joined the corps then in course of being raised in France as auxiliaries to the duke of Albany in Scotland. In 1523, after a twelvemonth spent at home for the recovery of his health, being then only seventeen years of age, he served as a common soldier with the French auxiliaries, and proceeded with them when, under the command of the regent Albany in person, they marched across the borders, and about the end of October of that year laid siege to the castle of Wark, from which they were compelled to retreat. After one campaign he became tired of a military life, and the fatigue and hardships he had endured on this occasion so much affected his health, which in his youth seems not to have been robust, that he was confined to his bed for the remainder of the winter. The brief notice he gives of this in his short biography of himself, would seem to imply that he considered this service a useful part of education. His words are "studio rei militaris

cognoscendæ in castra est perfectus." "The exercise which I commend first," says Milton, "is the exact use of their weapon, to guard and to strike safely with edge or point; this will keep them healthy, nimble, strong and well in breath, is also the likeliest means to make them grow large and

brands,

Well wielded in some hardy hands,

And wounds by Galileans given.

In the ensuing spring Buchanan and his brother, Patrick, entered students at the university of St. Andrews, and he took the degree of bachelor of arts, October 3, 1525, at which time he was a pauper or exhibitioner. In the following summer he accompanied John Mair, or Major, then professor of logic in St. Salvador's college, St. Andrews, to Paris, and became a student in the Scottish college there. In March 1528 he took the degree of M.A., and in June 1530, after being the previous year defeated as a candidate, he was chosen procurator of the German Nation, which comprehended the students from Scotland. The principles of Luther having, about this time, made considerable progress on the Continent, Buchanan, whose mind was more embued with the spirit of classical antiquity than with the trammels of the Catholic church, readily adopted them, and became a steady friend to the Reformation. He had in 1529 received the appointment of professor in the college of St. Barbe, where he taught grammar for three years, without deriving much remuneration from his labours. In an elegy, apparently composed about this period, he paints in forcible and gloomy colours the miseries to which the professors of humanity in Paris were then exposed.

In 1532, whilst at this college, he became tutor to Gilbert Kennedy, earl of Cassillis, "a youth of the most promising talents, and of an excellent disposition," then residing near the college of St. Barbe, and to his lordship he inscribed his first work, being a translation of the famous Thomas Linacre's Rudiments of Latin Grammar; which

was published in 1533. He resided with the earl | had found means of representing him as a man of in France for about five years, and in May 1537 depraved morals and dubious faith, he wrote his he returned with him to Scotland. 'Palinodia' and 'Franciscanus,' the latter a powerful and bitter satire against the Franciscan friars. "This production," says Dr. Irving, “as it now appears in its finished state, may without hazard be pronounced the most skilful and pungent satire which any nation or language can exhibit. He has not servilely adhered to the model of any ancient poet, but is himself original and unequalled. To a masterly command of classical phraseology, he unites uncommon felicity of versification; and his diction often rises with his increasing indignation to majesty and splendour. The combinations of his wit are variegated and original; and he evinces himself a most sagacious observer of human life. No class of men was ever more completely exposed to ridicule and infamy; nor is it astonishing that the Popish clergy afterwards regarded the author with implacable hatred. The impurities and the absurdities which he rendered so notorious, were not the spontaneous production of a prolific brain; their ignorance and irreligion presented an ample and inviting harvest. Of the validity of his poetical accusations, many historical documents still remain. Buchanan has himself related in plain prose, that about this period, some of the Scottish ecclesiastics were so deplorably ignorant, as to suppose Martin Luther to be the author of a dangerous book, called the New Testament."

"While he was residing at the earl's seat in the country," says his biographer, Dr. Irving, "he composed a little poem which rendered him extremely obnoxious to the ecclesiastics, an order of men whom it is generally hazardous to provoke. In this poem, which bears the title of 'Somnium,' and is a happy imitation of Dunbar, he expresses his own abhorrence of a monastic life, and stigmatizes the impudence and hypocrisy of the Franciscan friars. The holy fathers, when they became acquainted with this specimen of his sarcastic wit, speedily forgot their professions of meekness, and resolved to convince him of his heterodox presumption in disparaging the sacred institutions of the church. It has repeatedly been alleged that Buchanan had himself belonged to a religious order which he has so frequently exposed with the most admirable powers of ridicule; but this seems to have been a tale fabricated by the impotent malice of his theological enemies. That he had actually assumed the cowl, has never been affirmed by any early writer sufficiently acquainted with his history it is not, however, improbable, that during the convenient season of his youthful misfortunes, the friars were anxious to allure so promising a novice; and this suggestion is even countenanced by a passage in one of his poetical productions."

Buchanan had determined to resume his former occupation in France; but King James the Fifth retained him in Scotland in the employment of tutor to his eldest natural son, (by Elizabeth Shaw, of the family of Sauchie,) James Stewart, afterwards the abbot of Kelso, who died in 1548, and not his half brother, the famous earl of Murray, as erroneously stated in several of his memoirs. We learn from the lord high treasurer's accounts, quoted in the Appendix to the first volume of Pitcairn's 'Criminal Trials,' that, August 21, 1537, Buchanan was paid, by order of the king, twenty pounds; and the same sum in July 1538, when he also received a rich gown of Paris black, with a cassock, on occasion of Mary of Guise's public entry into Edinburgh. At the request of the king, to whom the incensed priests

The following account and (in part) only translation yet attempted of this admirable satire is from the pen of an able but anonymous critic, and will not be unacceptable to our readers. After asking his friend

"Unde novus rigor in vultu! tristisque severi
Frons caperata minis, tardique modestia gressus?
Illaque frenatæ constans custodia linguæ ? &c."
He makes him thus reply-

"Oft musing on the ills of human life,

Its buoyant hopes, wild fears, and idle strife,
And joys of hue-how changeful! tho' serene,
That flit ere you can tell where they have been-
(Even as the bark, when ocean's surges sweep,
Rais'd by the warring winds, along the deep,
Is headlong by the howling tempest driven,
While the staid pilot, to whose charge is given

Her guidance, skilfully the helm applies,

And in the tempest's face she fairly forward flies,)
I have resolved, my earthly wanderings past,
In rest's safe haven to secure at last
Whate'er of fleeting life, by Fate's decree,
Ere end my pilgrimage, remains to me,-
To give to heaven the remnant of my days-
And wash away in penitence and praise,
Far from this wild world's revelry uncouth,
The sins and follies of my heedless youth.

O, blest and hallowed day! with cincture bound,

My shaven head the grey hood veiling round,

St. Francis, under thine auspicious name,

I will prescribe unto this fleshly frame

A life ætherial, that shall upward rise,

My heavenward soul commercing with the skies.

This is my goal-to this my actions tend-
My resting-place-original and end."

To this explanation of his friend's object, the poet thus replies

"If 'tis thine aim to reach the goal of life

Thro' virtue's path, and, leaving childish strife,
To free thy darken'd mind from error's force,
To trace the laws of virtue to their source,
And raise to heavenly things thy purged sight,
I view thy noble purpose with delight;
But if a shadowy good doth cross thy way,
And lure thee, phantom-like-but to betray-
Oh! while 'tis time, restrain thy mad career,
And a true friend's yet timely warning hear;
Nor let old error with bewildered eye,
Nor let the blind and senseless rabble's cry,
More move thee than stern reason's simple sway,
That points to Truth the undiscovered way :-
But deem not, that high heaven I dare defy
Or raise again vain war against the sky,,
For, from my earliest youth I have revered
The priests and holy fathers, who appeared,
By virtue's and religion's holy flame,
Worthy a bright eternity of fame.

But seldom underneath the dusky cowl,

That shades the shaven head and monkish scowl,

I picture a St. Paul: the priestly stole
Oft covers the remorseless tyrant's soul,
The glutton's and the adulterer's grovelling lust,
Like soulless brute each wallowing in the dust,
And the smooth hypocrite's still smiling brow,
That tells not of the villany below."

After some preliminary remarks, the poet goes on to enumerate the various classes of men who compose this respectable body

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

"Still deathful is the drug envenomed draught,
Tho' golden be the bowl from which 'tis quaff'd:
The ass, in Tyrian purple tho' array'd,

Is as much ass, as asslike when he bray'd;
Still fierce will be the lioness-the fox
Still crafty-and still mild the mighty ox-
The vulture still will whet the thirsty beak-
The twittering swallow still will chirp and squeak
Thus tho' the vesture shine like drifted snow,
The heart's dark passions lurk unchang'd below
Nor when the viper lays aside his skin
Less baleful does the venom work within,

The tiger frets against his cage's side

As wild as when he roam'd in chainless pride:
Thus neither crossing mountains nor the main,
Nor flying human haunts and follies vain,

Nor the black robe nor white, nor cowl-clad heau,
Nor munching ever black and mouldy bread,
Will lull the darkly-working soul to rest,
And calm the tumults of the troubled breast.
For always, in whatever spot you be,
Even to the confines of the frozen sea,
Or near the sun, beneath a scorching clime,
Still, still will follow the fierce lust of crime-
Deceit, and the dark working of the mind,
Where'er you roam will not be left behind."

The king appears to have been either unable or unwilling to protect the author of this poem against

« PreviousContinue »