The Poetical Works of William Motherwell

Front matter

of

Willam Motherwell.

From a bust by James Fillans.

Publisher's Preface to the Third Edition

The Publisher's Preface to The Third Edition.

When the Second Edition of Motherwell's Poems was published in 1847, it was stated in the Preface that the fragments of poetry which he had left behind him in manuscript, and which were not included in that volume, might be given to the public at some future day, should any encouragement be offered for pursuing such a course. This the Publisher has now determined to do; but before taking such a step he resolved to submit the pieces in question to the critical scrutiny of Motherwell's old friend and poetical ally, Mr William Kennedy, who chanced to be in Scotland at the time. The reader will, therefore, be good enough to understand that the Poems added to this Edition have been selected by Mr Kennedy, and are published under his express authority. The Publisher is gratified in being able to make this statement, as it relieves him from a responsibility which he feels that it would not be becoming in him to incur.

November, 1848.

Preface to Second Edition

Preface to Second Edition.

The first and only British edition of Motherwell's Poems appeared fourteen years ago, and has been long exhausted. Two editions have appeared in the United States of America, and it may seem remarkable that strangers should have been so much more alive to his merits than his countrymen. The publisher of the first British edition having purchased Mr Motherwell's manuscripts, has resolved to issue a new and enlarged edition of the original work, to which is prefixed a Memoir of the Author. The additions consist of twenty pieces, some of which, including the Sonnets, are now printed for the first time. The others appeared in different local publications during the Author's lifetime, though they were not embodied by him in his volume. No alterations upon the original text have been attempted, but a few various readings, derived from the Author's manuscripts, have been placed at the bottom of the page. The Memoir has been compiled from the best sources of information that could be reached, and it is hoped that it will communicate all the knowledge respecting the Poet's history which the reader will be anxious to obtain.

Mr Motherwell left behind him many fragmentary pieces of poetry, in different stages of advancement, some being more and some less finished; and should the present enterprise hold out any encouragement for the adoption of such a course, they may be given to the world at some future time.

December, 1846.

Memoir

of

William Motherwell.

.

William Motherwell was born at Glasgow on the thirteenth day of October, 1797. He was the third son of William Motherwell, a native of Stirlingshire, who settled in that city about the year 1792 where he followed the business of an ironmonger, His mother's name was Elizabeth Barnet, the daughter of William Barnet, a respectable farmer in the parish of Auchterarder, in Perthshire, who, at her father's death, inherited a little fortune of two thousand pounds. Early in the present century his father removed with his family to Edinburgh where his son was placed under the charge of Mr William Lennie, an eminent teacher of English in that city, and the author of several useful and popular school-books; and it was while attending this school that the boy met 'Jeanie Morrison,' a mild and bashful girl whose name he afterwards immortalised, and of whose gentle nature he retained through life the most pleasing recollections. The first draught of his poem is said to have been made at fourteen years of age, and, as he has himself recorded, they never met after leaving school. As the reader cannot fail to be gratified by an account of the poet's juvenile history, I transcribe the following details which have been obligingly communicated to the publisher by Mr Lennie himself:—

'William Motherwell entered my school, then kept at No. 8, Crichton Street, in the neighbourhood of George Square, on the 24th of April, 1805, and left it for the High School here on the first day of October, 1808. He was between seven and eight years old when he joined, an open-faced, firm, and cheerful-looking boy. He began at the alphabet, and though he did not at first display any uncommon ability his mind soon opened up, and as he advanced in his education he speedily manifested a superior capacity, and ultimately became the best scholar in the school; yet he never showed any of that petulant or supercilious bearing which some children discover who see themselves taken notice of for-the quickness of their parts; he was, on the contrary, kind and accommodating, always ready to help those who applied to him for assistance, and a first-rate hand at carrying on sport during the hours of recreation. Besides acquiring a fair knowledge of geography, which was taught in the higher classes, and becoming well acquainted with the principles of English grammar, he, during the last twelve or eighteen months of his attendance at my school, devoted two separate hours daily to arithmetic and writing, in the latter of which especially he excelled. In the course of a single year he wrote an excellent small distinct hand; so good, indeed, was it, that few are able to do anything like it even after several years' practice. He also filled up skeleton maps so neatly that at first sight they might have been mistaken for copper-plate engravings. During the last year he was with me, "Wilson's Sentimental Scenes" were introduced into the upper classes. The reading of these sketches delighted him exceedingly, and he entered so completely into the spirit of the pieces that he made the characters his own, and appeared to be a Roscius in miniature, a thing I have never found a boy to do but himself.

'Jane (Jeanie) Morrison was the daughter of one of the most respectable brewers and corn-factors then in Alloa. She came to Edinburgh to finish her education, and was in my school with William Motherwell during the last year of his course. She was about the same age with himself, a pretty girl, and of good capacity. Her hair was of a lightish brown, approaching to fair; her eyes were dark, and had a sweet and gentle expression; her temper was mild, and her manners unassuming. Her dress was also neat and tidy. In winter she wore a pale blue pelisse, then the fashionable colour, and a light-coloured beaver with a feather. She made a great impression on young Motherwell, and that it was permanent his beautiful ballad shows. At the end of the season she returned to her parents at Alloa, with whom she resided till the time of her marriage. She is now a widow with a family of three children, all of whom are grown up, and, I believe, doing well.'

It would appear from this that Motherwell was entered in the High School of Edinburgh as early as the year 1808, but his attendance at that excellent institution could not have exceeded a few months, as I find that he was placed early in 1809 at the Grammar School of Paisley, then superintended by the late Mr John Peddie. His father had not prospered in Edinburgh, and in consequence of the embarrassed state of his affairs his son William was consigned to the care of his brother, Mr John Motherwell, a respectable ironfounder in Paisley. The curriculum at the Paisley Grammar School extended over five years, and if William Motherwell completed it he must have enjoyed the full measure of elementary classical instruction, including in the fifth year the rudiments of Greek, which it was then customary to give to boys in Scotland. One of his surviving school companions informs me that, in conjunction with the late Mr William Bain, advocate, and a Mr Lymburn, also deceased, he was a dux boy, and there seems to be no reason to doubt that he exhibited the same quickness of apprehension and readiness of parts in the Paisley Academy which he had displayed in other schools; but as his tastes were never scholastic, and as his knowledge of the dead tongues was always limited, the presumption is that he followed the prominent bias of his mind, and devoted to works of imagination the hours that should have been given to school exercises. I am fortified in this belief by the recollections of Mr Crawford, who says, 'What Motherwell was most remarkable for was his gift of spinning long yarns about castles, and robbers, and strange out-of-the-way adventures, with which, while Mr Peddie imagined he was assisting his class-fellows with their lessons, he would entertain them for hours, day after day, like some of the famous story-tellers in the Arabian Nights; and these stories were retailed at second-hand by his class-fellows to those who had not the privilege of hearing them from the author himself.'

In the year 1811, his mother died at Edinburgh, and after that melancholy event, his father, accompanied by his daughter Amelia, retired to the village of Kilsyth, in Stirlingshire, where he dwelt till his death, which occurred in February, 1827.

The history of his ancestors possesses considerable interest. In a letter with which I have been favoured by my venerable and accomplished friend, Mr Sheriff Campbell of Paisley, they are thus spoken of:—

'Of his family I had occasion to learn something, in the course of a judicial inquiry concerning the succession of David Motherwell, his uncle, upwards of thirty years ago. That David Motherwell died possessed of a small estate on the banks of the Carron, in the Barony of Dundaff, in Stirlingshire, which, according to what I found to be the tradition of the neighbourhood, supported, to a certain extent, by the title deeds of the property, which I saw, had been in the possession of thirteen generations of the same family, all bearing the same name of David, with the surname variously spelled, being at one time Moderville, at another Moderell, and latterly Motherwell. His uncle, Alexander, set aside David's deed of settlement, and sold the property to his younger brother John, an extensive ironmonger in Paisley, who left it to trustees for behoof of his daughter.'

The estate here spoken of was called Muirmill, and the name at once indicates the calling of the proprietors. They were the hereditary millers of Dundaff, and are so designated in a confirmatory charter granted in favour of the then possessor by James Graham, the celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in 1642, as will be seen by the following short extract from that document. It is to be observed that this extract has reference to 'an instrument of seizin,' dated 29th June, 1629, in favour of 'David Moddrell, in Spittal, and Isabella Small, his wife, proceeding on a charter granted by James, Earl of Montrose, Lord Graham and Mugdock, of the lands of all and whole, that pendicle of land called Spittal,' &c. The deed of 1642, then, confirms the previous grant of 1629, to

'William Modrell, miller, at Dundaff, callit the Muir Mill, , his spouse, and David Modrell, their son, on the other part (of date at Drum-phad, 29th April, 1629 years), whereby, with consent aforesaid, set in feu farm to the said William Modrell, and his spouse above named, and the langest liver of them twa, in life-rent; and to David Modrell, their son, all and haill, the said mill, mill lands, and multures, &c., and pasturage for eight ky, all lying within the barony of Dundaff, and shire of Stirling.'

Upon what conditions the lands in question were held before the year 1629 my ignorance of feudal law disables me from saying; but it is plain, both from the tradition mentioned by Mr Campbell and the charters at present in my possession, that this family of Motherwells had been settled in that locality, and probably, on this very spot, for at least four hundred years—the land and the occupation descending in regular succession from father to son. The name itself is obviously a local surname, but it belongs to the county of Lanark, in the middle ward of which, and in the parish of Dalziel, there is a considerable village called Motherwell. The statistical accounts speak of a well or spring as still existing there, from which the inhabitants are supplied with water, and which, in the olden time, was called the 'Well of our Ladye.' It was probably believed to possess medicinal virtues, and was, therefore, placed under the immediate protection of the 'Virgin Mother'—whence the name, Motherwell. Its antiquity as a surname must be considerable, since it appears in the Ragman Rolls for 1296, and also in the index to a chartulary of the Monastery of Paisley in 1490; and from what has been already stated it will be seen that that branch of the race from which the poet sprang had been planted in Stirlingshire as far back as the beginning of the fifteenth century. The name, however, is an uncommon one.

It having been resolved, I know not why, to devote this wayward and dreamy boy to the legal profession, he was

placed, at the age of fifteen, in the office of the Sheriff-Clerk of Paisley, where he remained for many years; but, as may be readily conceived, the duties of such a situation were little congenial to his tastes. Notwithstanding his dislike to the duties of a writer's clerk he contrived to turn his new position so far to account by bestowing great pains on the deciphering of ancient legal documents; an art in which he latterly excelled. I am indebted to Mr Sheriff Campbell for the following interesting particulars concerning Motherwell at this time:—

'When I first knew William Motherwell he was a very little boy in the Sheriff-Clerk's office here. I had observed his talent for sketching figures of men, in armour and otherwise, and amongst the rest one of myself upon a blotter which I had occasion to use when sitting in the Sheriff-Court. I gave him a few ancient documents to copy for me, and, in place of an ordinary transcript, I received from him, with surprise and satisfaction, a fac simile so perfect that, except for the colour and texture of the paper, it would have been difficult to distinguish it from the original manuscript. Finding him a smart and intelligent boy, I asked him to give me a statement, in writing, of certain occurrences to which he had been a witness at a period when the peace of the district was threatened. This account was not confined to facts, but was interspersed with observations and reflections of his own, of a nature so unexpected and so curious, that I wished to preserve it; but I am sorry that, in a search made for it some years ago, I was unable to find it. The notions of the boy were then what would now be called extremely liberal. In process of time, however, his views changed, and I used to joke him upon the ground that his conversion had been beaten into him by a party of lads (radicals), with whom he happened to get into conflict. On that occasion he was thrown down and trampled upon in the street, and received injuries so severe that his life was thought in imminent danger. This, I believe, was in 1818 or 1819, during a time of political excitement. He was appointed to the office of Sheriff-Clerk Depute of the county of Renfrew, under the late Robert Walkinshaw, of Parkhouse, the principal clerk, in May, 1819, and held that situation with credit till Nov. 1829.

'His talent for poetry was accompanied by a strong taste for the antique, and I cannot help thinking that the last may have had its origin in the copying of the ancient manuscript for me. While in office here he contributed articles to the Paisley Advertiser, and ultimately became its editor. He had also a chief hand in commencing and conducting a Paisley Monthly Magazine, which lived to attain to the size of a goodly volume. It contained many contributions from his pen, besides a number of curious extracts from documents which his researches among the records of the Sheriff-Clerk's office brought to light. At a recent sale of the library of a deceased Paisley gentleman this Magazine, though poorly bound, brought the respectable price of 22s 6d. His temperament was enthusiastic, kind, and convivial. * * I had a great regard for him.'

Upon this outline of Motherwell's history from the age of fifteen to thirty-two, I would remark, in the first place, that we learn from it that eighteen of the most valuable years of his life were passed in an occupation which presented the fewest possible attractions for a man of his habits and pursuits; and, in the second place, that if he attained to a certain measure of excellency in poetical composition in circumstances so unfavourable to the growth of a poetical temper, his merit was all the higher on that account. The incident to which Mr Campbell refers, and which he supposes determined his future political creed, Motherwell always spoke of with the strongest indignation. It occurred during the time of what was called the Radical War in the west country (1818), and when, as Sheriff-Clerk Depute, he was obliged, in obedience to the orders of his superiors, to perform many duties which rendered him unpopular. A deliberate attempt was made to murder him by throwing him over the bridge into the Cart, and he has often assured me that he was actually raised to the top of the parapet wall by the infuriated mob before he was rescued. That he should have abandoned liberalism after such treatment would not be surprising, but the truth is, his political belief was a part of his nature, and was very slightly modified by external considerations. His ideas of the constitution of civil society were chivalric, not philosophical: and if others undervalued the virtues of the middle ages he certainly over-rated them. It was not his custom to analyse his emotions too nicely at any period of his life; and I can perfectly understand how he may have been captivated as a boy with those showy notions which are more or less prevalent in all imperfectly-instructed societies, and which have so many charms for youthful imaginations. But Motherwell was instinctively a Tory—all the tendencies of his mind gravitated towards the creed of that old and respectable party—and I am satisfied that his monarchical principles would have been just as high after he escaped from mere nonage had he never handled a truncheon in defence of the public peace on the streets of Paisley. His political convictions might be extreme, but they were honest. He firmly believed that his opinions were founded in truth, and that their vindication was essential to the well-being of his country; nor have I ever known a man who had more thoroughly identified himself with the doctrines which he maintained and promulgated.

There is another point noticed by Mr Campbell, viz., his power of sketching. This was a faculty which he possessed in the highest perfection, so much so that had he not been a poet he might have been an artist. Many of his manuscripts are illustrated at the beginning after the manner of old black letter volumes and illuminated missals, and numerous scraps of paper attest his accurate perception of the ludicrous and the horrible by all sorts of queer and grotesque delineations. A few strokes of his pen were sufficient for this, and it is impossible not to ad the ease which attaches to these figures. His handwriting likewise partook of this peculiarity. It was formal and square, and, particularly in the capital letters, resembled the Chaldee character, constituting, in fact, a variety of painting.

The winter session of 1818-19 he spent at Glasgow College, where he attended the Latin class, under the late Mr Walker, and the Greek class under the late Mr Young; but, as I have already stated, he never attained to ordinary proficiency in either language, and with the modern tongues he was wholly unacquainted. He manifested at this time a strong desire to repair the defects of his early education, and in a letter to his friend, the late Mr Robert Walkinshaw, in March, 1818, he expresses a hope that, should he succeed to the office of Sheriff-Clerk Depute, then held by Mr Walkinshaw, he might be able 'to save some little money sufficient to re-launch his frail skiff once more on the dead sea of the languages.'

As the office of Sheriff-Clerk Depute brought him a considerable income he spent the greater part of it in the purchase of books, and long before his removal to Glasgow he had collected a large and miscellaneous library. Like most book-fanciers he sometimes sacrificed usefulness to the indulgence of a spirit of curiosity, but in that province of literature to which he was chiefly devoted—poetry and the historical romance—his library was rich. Its chief wants were in the department of modern history and moral and philosophical science, in none of which subjects can it be said that he took much pleasure. His knowledge of them was, consequently, defective, and this was both felt and seen when politics became his profession.

It may be naturally supposed of the man who at fourteen sketched the outline of Jeanie Morrison, that if he did not actually lisp in numbers the art of versification must have been at least an irresistible habit, and that sponte sua carmen numeros veniebat ad aptos; but when he first committed himself publicly to the dangers and allurements of rhyme, or where, I have been unable satisfactorily to ascertain. In 1818 he contributed some little things to a small work published at Greenock, called the 'Visitor,' and for several years afterwards he continued to furnish with pieces of original poetry such of his literary friends in Paisley and Glasgow as applied to him for assistance. In this respect his liberality was exemplary, if not prodigal, but he afterwards collected the best of these fugitive productions, and embodied them in that volume upon which his reputation as a poet must ultimately rest. In 1819, the Harp of Renfrewshire, of which he was the editor, appeared at Paisley. This work is anonymous; but it is well known to have been brought out under Motherwell's care, who supplied the introductory essay, which was his first attempt at serious criticism. In it he gives a rapid sketch of the poets of Renfrewshire, beginning with Sir Hugh Montgomerie who died at a very advanced age in 1545, and ending with Robert Tannahill whom he could not have known personally, but with whose melancholy history he had ample means of becoming acquainted. The notes are likewise by him, and are both numerous and valuable; and this little volume, which is now scarce, may be regarded as a favourable specimen of his zeal and diligence. Its chief merit, however, is, that it was the herald to a work of much larger pretensions, and with which his fame is now closely identified—Minstrelsy, ancient and modern, which was published at Glasgow in 1827, and which instantly secured for its author an honourable place among the commentators on our national poetry. The 'Historical Introduction' is elaborate and full, but I must leave it to those who have made such subjects as it discusses a study to decide upon its merits; it is enough to state here that this work brought him into direct communication with some men of high distinction in the world of letters, and, amongst others,

with Sir Walter Scott. The ancient ballad of Gil Morrice seems to have attracted much of Motherwell's attention. It was the foundation of Home's celebrated tragedy of 'Douglas,' and the scene of the melancholy adventure which it relates was 'Carronside,' the home of his ancestors. He tells us, moreover, that 'the green wood' of the ballad was the ancient forest of Dundaff, in Stirlingshire, and that 'Lord Barnard's castle is said to have occupied a precipitous cliff overhanging the water of Carron, on the lands of Halbertshire.' Earlsburn, a favourite name with him, is also a small stream in that locality which falls into the Carron and derives its appellation, according to him, from the Earl's son, who is the hero of this legendary poem. There is internal evidence in his writings to show that he had carefully inquired into this matter while residing with his uncle at Muirmill; but it was from an old woman at Paisley, who sang the verses to him, that he obtained that copy of the ballad which he considered the true one, and which led to his correspondence with Sir Walter. His idea was that Gil should have been written child, and that Morrice was an obvious corruption of Noryce, the old English word for foster-child. Willie, the page, is called, in one of the versions (Mr Jamieson's), his 'foster-brither;' and Motherwell's object would appear to have been to show that between the 'child's' messenger and himself there existed a stronger bond of union than mere feudalism could create. In this way, it is to be pre , he proposed to account for 'Willie's' undertaking, though reluctantly, to deliver the message to Lady Barnard from her son, the ill-fated Gil, of whose relationship to that noble person the lad was ignorant. He accordingly wrote to Sir Walter Scott on the subject as early as April, 1825, two years before the Minstrelsy appeared, and received from that eminent man the following reply:—

'Abbotsford, 3d May, 1825.

'Sir,

'I am honoured with your letter covering the curious old version of the ballad of Gil Morrice, which seems, according to your copy, to be a corruption of Child Nor rice, or Child Nursling, as we would say. As I presume the ballad to be genuine, and, indeed, see no reason to suspect the contrary, the style being simple and ancient, I think you should print it exactly as you have taken it down, and with a reference to the person by whom it is preserved so special as to enable any one to ascertain its authenticity who may think it worth while. I have asked, at different times, the late Mr John Home, concerning the ballad on which he was supposed to have founded 'Douglas,' but his memory was too imperfect when I knew him to admit of his giving me any information. I have heard my mother, who was fond of the ballad, say, that when Douglas was in its height of popularity, Gil Morrice was, to a certain extent, re-written, which renovated copy, of course, includes all the new stanzas about "Minerva's loom," and so forth. Yet there are so many fine old verses in the common set, that I cannot agree to have them mixed up even with your set, though more ancient, but would like to see them kept quite separate, like different sets of the same melody. In fact, I think I did wrong myself in endeavouring to make the best possible set of an ancient ballad out of several copies obtained from different quarters, and that, in many respects, if I improved the poetry, I spoiled the simplicity of the old song. There is no wonder this should be the case when one considers that the singers or reciters by whom these ballads were preserved and handed down, must, in general, have had a facility, from memory at least, if not from genius (which they might often possess), of filling up verses which they had forgotten, or altering such as they might think they could improve. Passing through this process in different parts of the country, the ballads, admitting that they had one common poetical original (which is not to be inferred merely from the similitude of the story), became, in progress of time, totally different productions, so far as the tone and spirit of each is concerned. In such cases, perhaps, it is as well to keep them separate, as giving in their original state a more accurate idea of our ancient poetry, which is the point most important in such collections. There is room for a very curious essay on the relation which the popular poetry of the north of Europe bears to that of the south, and even to that of Asia; and the varieties of some of our ballads might be accounted for by showing that one edition had been derived from the French or Norman, another from the Danish, and so on, so that, though the substance of the dish be the same, the cookery is that of foreign and distant cuisiniers. This reasoning certainly does not apply to mere brief alterations and corruptions, which do not, as it were, change the tone and form of the original.

'You will observe that I have no information to give respecting Gil Morrice,' so I might as well, perhaps, have saved you the trouble of this long letter.

'I am, Sir, 'Your obliged humble servt., 'Walter Scott.'

Sir Walter and Motherwell never met, but after the death of that great man he performed a pilgrimage to Abbotsford, and, as I am informed, was wont to say that 'nothing in that splendid mansion had affected him so much as Sir Walter's staff, with the bit dibble at the end of it.' Of course, in the forthcoming edition of the Minstrelsy he followed the advice of the illustrious critic, and kept his own copy of the ballad distinct from the others, and so it stands in the volume.

In 1828 the Paisley Magazine was begun by Mother-well, and carried on by him, with the assistance of his friends, for a year. It is, undoubtedly, what Mr Campbell represents it—a respectable provincial work; and in it, for the first time, appeared some of the poet's best pieces, such as The Sword Chant of Thorstein Raudi—Midnight and Moonshine—The Water! The Water!—The Wooing Song of Jarl Egill Skallagrim—and Wearie's Well. His position, however, had now changed, and it will be necessary to explain how this was brought about.