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diff --git a/old/69099-h/69099-h.htm b/old/69099-h/69099-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index fc4c540..0000000 --- a/old/69099-h/69099-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10266 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book of Edinburgh Anecdote by Francis Watt</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/> - <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> - <meta name="DC.Title" content="The Book of Edinburgh Anecdote"/> - <meta name="DC.Creator" content="Francis Watt"/> - <meta name="DC.Language" content="en"/> - <meta name="DC.Created" content="1912"/> - <meta name="Pubdate" content="1912"/> - <meta name="DC.Subject" content="history, Scotland, Edinburgh"/> - <meta name="Tags" content="history, Scotland, Edinburgh"/> - <meta name="generator" content="fpgen 4.64b"/> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; 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vertical-align:top;padding-left:29px; text-indent:-24px; - } - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.3em; font-weight:bold;} - h2 { font-size: 1em; font-weight:bold;} - .pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0em;} - hr.pbk { width:50%; visibility:hidden;} - .poetry-container { margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em } - </style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The book of Edinburgh anecdote, by Francis Watt</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The book of Edinburgh anecdote</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Francis Watt</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 6, 2022 [eBook #69099]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF EDINBURGH ANECDOTE ***</div> -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:50%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>BOOK OF EDINBURGH ANECDOTE</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='front'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i002.jpg' alt='Portrait of Lord Cockburn' id='iid-0001' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>HENRY, LORD COCKBURN</span><br/></p> <br/><span style='font-size:smaller'>1779-1854</span> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.5em;'>THE BOOK OF</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:2.5em;'>EDINBURGH</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:2.5em;'>ANECDOTE</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.5em;'>BY FRANCIS WATT</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>T. N. FOULIS</p> -<p class='line'>LONDON & EDINBURGH</p> -<p class='line'>1912</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Published November 1912</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Printed by</span> <span class='sc'>Morrison & Gibb Limited</span>, <span class='it'>Edinburgh</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>TO</p> -<p class='line'>CHARLES BAXTER, <span class='sc'>Writer to the Signet</span></p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>Sienna</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>In Faithful Memory</span></p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>of the Old Days and the</span></p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>Old Friends</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1>THE LIST OF CHAPTERS</h1></div> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><span class='it'>page</span></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>I.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Parliament House and Lawyers</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>II.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>The Church in Edinburgh</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>III.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Town’s College and Schools</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_55'>55</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>IV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Surgeons and Doctors</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>V.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Royalty</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_103'>103</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>VI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Men of Letters, Part I.</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>VII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Men of Letters, Part II.</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>VIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>The Artists</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_177'>177</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>IX.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>The Women of Edinburgh</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>X.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>The Supernatural</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_219'>219</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>XI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>The Streets</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_241'>241</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>XII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>The City</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_269'>269</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span class='sc'>Index</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_289'>289</a></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 22.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tab2c1-col2 tdStyle2' colspan='2'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>THE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</span></span></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Lord Cockburn</span><br/> By Sir <span class='sc'>J. Watson Gordon</span></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#front'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>frontispiece</span></span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Sir Thomas Hamilton, First Earl of Haddington</span></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg8'>8</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>John Clerk, Lord Eldin</span><br/>From a mezzotint after Sir <span class='sc'>Henry Raeburn</span>, R.A.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg16'>16</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>John Inglis, Lord President of the Court of Session</span><br/>From a painting in the Parliament House. By permission of the <span class='sc'>Faculty of Advocates</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_24'>24</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Mr. James Guthrie</span><br/>From an old engraving.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg36'>36</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Sir Archibald Johnston, Lord Warriston</span><br/>From a painting by <span class='sc'>George Jamesone</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg40'>40</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Rev. Sir Henry Moncreiff-Wellwood</span><br/>From an engraving after Sir <span class='sc'>Henry Raeburn</span>, R.A.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_48'>48</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Robert Leighton, D.D., Archbishop of Glasgow</span><br/>From an engraving by Sir <span class='sc'>Robert Strange</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_56'>56</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Principal William Carstares</span><br/>From the engraving by <span class='sc'>Jeens</span>. By kind permission of Messrs. <span class='sc'>Macmillan & Co.</span>, London.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Dr. Archibald Pitcairne</span><br/>From an engraving after Sir <span class='sc'>John Medina</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg88'>88</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Dr. Alexander Wood</span><br/>From an engraving after <span class='sc'>Ailison</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg92'>92</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Professor James Syme</span><br/>From a drawing in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Margaret Tudor, Queen of James IV.</span><br/>From the painting by <span class='sc'>Mabuse</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg104'>104</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Mary of Guise, Queen of James V.</span><br/>From an old engraving.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_108'>108</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Mary, Queen of Scots</span><br/>From the <span class='sc'>Morton</span> portrait.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_112'>112</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>William Drummond of Hawthornden</span><br/>From the painting by <span class='sc'>Cornelius Jonson van Ceulen</span></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_132'>132</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>James Boswell</span><br/>From an engraving after Sir <span class='sc'>Joshua Reynolds</span>, <span class='it'>P.</span>R.A.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Henry Mackenzie, “The Man of Feeling”</span><br/>From an engraving after <span class='sc'>Andrew Geddes</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_152'>152</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>John Leyden</span><br/>From a pen drawing.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Robert Louis Stevenson as an Edinburgh Student</span></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Allan Ramsay, Painter</span><br/>From a mezzotint after Artist’s own painting.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_180'>180</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Rev. John Thomson of Duddingston</span><br/>From the engraving by <span class='sc'>Croll</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_184'>184</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Alison Cockburn</span><br/>From a photograph.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#pg200'>200</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Miss Jean Elliot</span><br/>From a sepia drawing.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Susanna, Countess of Eglinton</span><br/>From the painting by <span class='sc'>Gavin Hamilton</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_208'>208</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Caroline, Baroness Nairne</span><br/>From a lithograph.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Siddons as “The Tragic Muse”</span><br/>From an engraving after Sir <span class='sc'>Joshua Reynolds</span>, <span class='it'>P.</span>R.A.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_216'>216</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>James IV.</span><br/>From an old engraving.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_220'>220</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>A Bedesman or Bluegown</span><br/>From a sketch by <span class='sc'>Monro S. Orr</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_240'>240</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Allan Ramsay, Poet</span><br/>From an engraving after <span class='sc'>William Aikman</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_248'>248</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Andrew Crosbie, “Pleydell”</span><br/>From a painting in the Parliament House. By permission of the <span class='sc'>Faculty of Advocates</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_256'>256</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>Rev. Thomas Somerville</span><br/>From a photograph in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_272'>272</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle3'><span class='sc'>William Smellie</span><br/>From an engraving after <span class='sc'>George Watson</span>.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle0'><a href='#Page_280'>280</a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:2em;font-size:2em;'>BOOK OF EDINBURGH ANECDOTE</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='3' id='Page_3'></span><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER ONE<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>PARLIAMENT HOUSE & LAWYERS</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The Parliament House has always -had a reputation for good anecdote. There are solid -reasons for this. It is the haunt of men, clever, highly -educated, well off, and the majority of them with an -all too abundant leisure. The tyranny of custom forces -them to pace day after day that ancient hall, remarkable -even in Edinburgh for august memories, as their -predecessors have done for generations. There are -statues such as those of Blair of Avontoun and Forbes -of Culloden, and portraits like those of “Bluidy Mackenzie” -and Braxfield,—all men who lived and laboured -in the precincts,—to recall and revivify the -past, while there is also the Athenian desire to hear -some new thing, to retail the last good story about -Lord this or Sheriff that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So there is a great mass of material. Let me present -some morsels for amusement or edification. Most -are stories of judges, though it may be of them before -they were judges. A successful counsel usually -ends on the bench, and at the Scots bar the exceptions -are rare indeed. The two most prominent that -occur to one are Sir George Mackenzie and Henry -Erskine. Now, Scots law lords at one time invariably, -and still frequently, take a title from landed estate. -This was natural. A judge was a person with -some landed property, which was in early times the -<span class='pageno' title='4' id='Page_4'></span> -only property considered as such, and in Scotland, -as everybody knows, the man was called after his -estate. Monkbarns of the <span class='it'>Antiquary</span> is a classic instance, -and it was only giving legal confirmation to -this, to make the title a fixed one in the case of the -judges. They never signed their names this way, -and were sometimes sneered at as paper lords. To-day, -when the relative value of things is altered, they -would probably prefer their paper title. According -to tradition their wives laid claim to a corresponding -dignity, but James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span>, the founder of the College of -Justice, sternly repelled the presumptuous dames, with -a remark out of keeping with his traditional reputation -for gallantry. “He had made the carles lords, -but wha the deil made the carlines leddies?” Popular -custom was kinder than the King, and they got to be -called ladies, till a newer fashion deprived them of -the honour. It was sometimes awkward. A judge -and his wife went furth of Scotland, and the exact -relations between Lord A. and Mrs. B. gravelled -the wits of many an honest landlord. The gentleman -and lady were evidently on the most intimate terms, -yet how to explain their different names? Of late -the powers that be have intervened in the lady’s favour, -and she has now her title assured her by royal -mandate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once or twice the territorial designation bore an -ugly purport. Jeffrey kept, it is said, his own name, for -Lord Craigcrook would never have done. Craig is -Scots for neck, and why should a man name himself a -hanging judge to start with? This was perhaps too -great a concession to the cheap wits of the Parliament -<span class='pageno' title='5' id='Page_5'></span> -House, and perhaps it is not true, for in Jeffrey’s days -territorial titles for paper lords were at a discount, so -that Lord Cockburn thought they would never revive, -but the same thing is said of a much earlier judge. -Fountainhall’s <span class='it'>Decisions</span> is one of those books that -every Scots advocate knows in name, and surely no -Scots practising advocate knows in fact. Its author, -Sir John Lauder, was a highly successful lawyer of the -Restoration, and when his time came to go up there -was one fly in the ointment of success. His compact -little estate in East Lothian was called Woodhead. -Lauder feared not unduly the easy sarcasms of fools, -or the evil tongues of an evil time. Territorial title he -must have, and he rather neatly solved the difficulty -by changing Woodhead to Fountainhall, a euphonious -name, which the place still retains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> and <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> came to his great estate in -England, he was much impressed by the splendid -robes of the English judges. His mighty Lord Chancellor -would have told him that such things were but -“toys,” though even he would have admitted, they influenced -the vulgar. At any rate Solomon presently -sent word to his old kingdom, that his judges and -advocates there were to attire themselves in decent -fashion. If you stroll into the Parliament House to-day -and view the twin groups of the Inner House, you will -say they went one better than their English brothers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg8'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i022.jpg' alt='Portrait of Sir Thomas Hamilton' id='iid-0002' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>SIR THOMAS HAMILTON, FIRST EARL OF HADDINGTON</span><br/><span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Portrait at Tynninghame</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A Scots judge in those times had not seldom a -plurality of offices: thus the first Earl of Haddington -was both President of the Court of Session and Secretary -of State. He played many parts in his time, -and he played them all well, for Tam o’ the Coogate -<span class='pageno' title='6' id='Page_6'></span> -was nothing if not acute. There are various stories of -this old-time statesman. This shows forth the man and -the age. A highland chief was at law, and had led -his men into the witness-box just as he would have -led them to the tented field. The Lord President -had taken one of them in hand, and sternly kept him -to the point, and so wrung the facts out of him. When -Donald escaped he was asked by his fellow-clansman -whose turn was to follow, how he had done? With -every mark of sincere contrition and remorse, Donald -groaned out, that he was afraid he had spoken the -truth, and “Oh,” he said, “beware of the man with the -partridge eye!” How the phrase brings the old judge, -alert, keen, searching, before us! By the time of the -Restoration things were more specialised, and the lawyers -of the day could give more attention to their own -subject. They were very talented, quite unscrupulous, -terribly cruel; Court of Justice and Privy Council alike -are as the house of death. We shudder rather than -laugh at the anecdotes. Warriston, Dirleton, Mackenzie, -Lockhart, the great Stair himself, were remarkable -men who at once attract and repel. Nisbet of -Dirleton, like Lauder of Fountainhall, took his title -from East Lothian—in both cases so tenacious is the -legal grip, the properties are still in their families—and -Dirleton’s <span class='it'>Doubts</span> are still better known, and -are less read, if that be possible, than Fountainhall’s -<span class='it'>Decisions</span>. You can even to-day look on Dirleton’s big -house on the south side of the Canongate, and Dirleton, -if not “the pleasantest dwelling in Scotland,” is a -very delightful place, and within easy reach of the capital. -But the original Nisbet was, I fear, a worse rascal -<span class='pageno' title='7' id='Page_7'></span> -than any of his fellows, a treacherous, greedy knave. -You might bribe his predecessor to spare blood, it was -said, “but Nisbet was always so sore afraid of losing -his own great estate, he could never in his own opinion -be officious enough to serve his cruel masters.” Here -is <span class='it'>the</span> Nisbet story. In July 1668, Mitchell shot at -Archbishop Sharp in the High Street, but, missing -him, wounded Honeyman, Bishop of Orkney, who sat -in the coach beside him. With an almost humorous -cynicism some one remarked, it is only a bishop, and -the crowd immediately discovered a complete lack of -interest in the matter and in the track of the would-be -assassin. Not so the Privy Council, which proceeded -to a searching inquiry in the course whereof one -Gray was examined, but for some time to little purpose. -Nisbet as Lord Advocate took an active part, -and bethought him of a trick worthy of a private inquiry -agent. He pretended to admire a ring on the -man’s finger, and asked to look at it; the prisoner was -only too pleased. Nisbet sent it off by a messenger -to Gray’s wife with a feigned message from her husband. -She stopped not to reflect, but at once told all -she knew! this led to further arrests and further examinations -during which Nisbet suggested torture as -a means of extracting information from some taciturn -ladies! Even his colleagues were abashed. “Thow -rotten old devil,” said Primrose, the Lord Clerk Register, -“thow wilt get thyself stabbed some day.” Even -in friendly talk and counsel these old Scots, you will -observe, were given to plain language. Fate was kinder -to Dirleton than he deserved, he died in quiet, rich, -if not honoured, for his conduct in office was scandalous -<span class='pageno' title='8' id='Page_8'></span> -even for those times, yet his name is not remembered -with the especial detestation allotted to that of -“the bluidy advocate Mackenzie,” really a much higher -type of man. Why the unsavoury epithet has stuck -so closely to him is a curious caprice of fate or history. -Perhaps it is that ponderous tomb in Old Greyfriars, -insolently flaunting within a stone-throw of the Martyrs’ -Monument, perhaps it is that jingle which (you -suspect half mythical) Edinburgh callants used to -occupy their spare time in shouting in at the keyhole, -that made the thing stick. However, the dead-and-gone -advocate preserves the stony silence of the tomb, -and is still the most baffling and elusive personality -in Scots history. The anecdotes of him are not of -much account. One tells how the Marquis of Tweeddale, -anxious for his opinion, rode over to his country -house at Shank at an hour so unconscionably early -that Sir George was still abed. The case admitted -of no delay, and the Marquis was taken to his room. -The matter was stated and the opinion given from behind -the curtains, and then a <span class='it'>woman’s hand</span> was stretched -forth to receive the fee! The advocate was not -the most careful of men, so Lady Mackenzie deemed -it advisable to take control of the financial department. -Of this dame the gossips hinted too intimate relations -with Claverhouse, but there was no open scandal. -Another brings us nearer the man. Sir George, -by his famous entail act, tied up the whole land of -the country in a settlement so strict that various measures -through the succeeding centuries only gradually -and partially released it. Now the Earl of Bute was -the favoured lover of his only daughter, but Mackenzie -<span class='pageno' title='9' id='Page_9'></span> -did not approve of the proposed union. The wooer, -however ardent, was prudent; he speculated how the -estate would go if they made a runaway match of it. -Who so fit to advise him as the expert on the law of -entail? Having disguised himself—in those old Edinburgh -houses the light was never of the clearest—he -sought my lord’s opinion on a feigned case, which -was in truth his own. The opinion was quite plain, -and fell pat with his wishes; the marriage was duly -celebrated, and Sir George needs must submit. All -his professional life Mackenzie was in the front of the -battle, he was counsel for one side or the other in every -great trial, and not seldom these were marked by most -dramatic incidents. When he defended Argyll in 1661 -before the Estates, on a charge of treason, the judges -were already pondering their verdict when “one who -came fast from London knocked most rudely at the -Parliament door.” He gave his name as Campbell, and -produced what he said were important papers. Mackenzie -and his fellows possibly thought his testimony -might turn the wavering balance in their favour—alas! -they were letters from Argyll proving that he had actively -supported the Protectorate, and so sealed the fate -of the accused. Again, at Baillie of Jerviswood’s trial -in 1684 one intensely dramatic incident was an account -given by the accused with bitter emphasis of a -private interview between him and Mackenzie some -time before. The advocate was prosecuting with all -his usual bluster, but here he was taken completely -aback, and stammered out some lame excuse. This -did not affect the verdict, however, and Jerviswood -went speedily to his death. The most remarkable -<span class='pageno' title='10' id='Page_10'></span> -story about Mackenzie is that after the Estates had -declared for the revolutionary cause in April 1689, and -his public life was over, ere he fled southward, he spent a -great part of his last night in Edinburgh in the Greyfriars -Churchyard. The meditations among the tombs -of the ruined statesmen were, you easily divine, of a -very bitter and piercing character. Sir George Lockhart, -his great rival at the bar and late Lord President -of the Court of Session, had a few days before been -buried in the very spot selected by Mackenzie for -his own resting-place, where now rises that famous -mausoleum. Sir George was shot dead on the afternoon -of Sunday 31st March in that year by Chiesly -of Dalry in revenge for some judicial decision, apparently -a perfectly just one, which he had given against -him. Even in that time of excessive violence and passion -Chiesly was noted as a man of extreme and ungovernable -temper. He made little secret of his intention; -he was told the very imagination of it was a sin before -God. “Let God and me alone; we have many things -to reckon betwixt us, and we will reckon this too.” He -did the deed as his victim was returning from church; -he said he “existed to learn the President to do justice,” -and received with open satisfaction the news that -Lockhart was dead. “He was not used to do things -by halves.” He was tortured and executed with no -delay, his friends removed the body in the darkness -of night and buried it at Dalry, so it was rumoured, -and the discovery of some remains there a century -afterwards was supposed to confirm the story. The -house at Dalry was reported to be haunted by the -ghost of the murderer; it was the fashion of the time -<span class='pageno' title='11' id='Page_11'></span> -to people every remarkable spot with gruesome -phantoms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An anecdote, complimentary to both, connects the -name of Lockhart with that of Sir James Stewart of -Goodtrees (pronounced Gutters, Moredun is the modern -name), who was Lord Advocate both to William -<span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> and Queen Anne. An imposing figure this, and a -man of most adventurous life. In his absence he was -sentenced to death by the High Court of Justiciary. -This was in 1684. The Lord Advocate (Bluidy Mackenzie -to wit), after sentence, electrified the court by -shouting out, that the whole family was sailing under -false colours, “these forefault Stewarts are damned -Macgregors” (the clan name was proscribed). And -yet Mackenzie ought to have felt kindly to Stewart, as -perhaps he did, and possibly gave him a hint when to -make himself scarce. One curious story tells of Mackenzie -employing him in London with great success -in a debate about the position of the Scots Episcopal -Church. Both Lockhart and Mackenzie confessed -him their master in the profound intricacies of the -Scots law. A W.S. once had to lay a case before -Lockhart on some very difficult question. Stewart -was in hiding, but the agent tracked him out, and got -him to prepare the memorial. Sir George pondered -the paper for some time, then he started up and looked -the W.S. broad in the face, “by God, if James Stewart -is in Scotland or alive, this is his draft; and why -did you not make him solve your difficulty?” The -agent muttered that he wanted both opinions. He -then showed him what Stewart had prepared; this -Lockhart emphatically accepted as the deliverance -<span class='pageno' title='12' id='Page_12'></span> -of the oracle. Stewart had a poor opinion of contemporary -lawyers. Show me the man and I’ll show you -the law, quoth he. Decisions, he said, went by favour -and not by right. Stewart made his peace with James’s -government, near the end, and though he did so without -any sacrifice of principle, men nicknamed him -Jamie Wilie. It seemed a little odd that through it -all he managed to keep his head on his shoulders. -A staunch Presbyterian, he was yet for the time a liberal -and enlightened jurist, and introduced many important -reforms in Scots criminal law. That it fell to -him to prosecute Thomas Aikenhead for blasphemy -was one of fate’s little ironies; Aikenhead went to his -death on the 8th January 1697. The Advocate’s Close, -where Stewart lived, and which is called after him, still -reminds us of this learned citizen of old Edinburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the eighteenth century we are in a different atmosphere; -those in high place did not go in constant -fear of their life, they were not so savage, so suspicious, -so revengful, they were witty and playful. On -the other hand, their ways were strangely different -from the monotonous propriety of to-day. Kames -and Monboddo are prominent instances, they were -both literary lawyers and constant rivals. Once -Kames asked Monboddo if he had read his last book; -the other saw his chance and took it, “No, my lord, -you write a great deal faster than I am able to read.” -Kames presently got <span class='it'>his</span> chance. Monboddo had in -some sense anticipated the Darwinian theory, he was -certain at any rate that everybody was born with -a tail. He believed that the sisterhood of midwives -were pledged to remove it, and it is said he watched -<span class='pageno' title='13' id='Page_13'></span> -many a birth as near as decency permitted but always -with disappointing results. At a party he politely invited -Kames to enter the room before him. “By no -means,” said Kames, “go first, my lord, that I may -get a look at your tail.” Kames had a grin between -a sneer and a smile, probably here the sneer predominated. -But perhaps it was taken as a compliment. -“Mony is as proud of his tail as a squirrel,” said Dr. -Johnson. He died when eighty-seven. He used to ride -to London every year, to the express admiration and -delight of George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> One wonders if he ever heard -of the tradition that at Strood, in Kent, all children -are born with tails—a mediæval jape from the legend -of an insult to St. Thomas of Canterbury: he might -have found this some support to his theory! On the -bench he was like a stuffed monkey, but for years he -sat at the clerks’ table. He had a lawsuit about a -horse, argued it in person before his colleagues and -came hopelessly to grief. You are bound to assume the -decision was right, though those old Scots worthies -dearly loved a slap at one another, and thus he would -not sit with Lord President Dundas again; more likely, -being somewhat deaf, he wished to hear better. He -was a great classical scholar, and said that no man -could write English who did not know Greek, a very -palpable hit at Lord Kames, who knew everything -but Greek. The suppers he gave at St. John Street, -off the Canongate, are still fragrant in the memory, -“light and choice, of Attic taste,” no doubt; but the -basis you believe was Scots, solid and substantial. -And they had native dishes worth eating in quaint -eighteenth-century Edinburgh! The grotesque old -<span class='pageno' title='14' id='Page_14'></span> -man had a beautiful daughter, Elizabeth Burnet, -whose memory lives for ever in the pathetic lines of -Burns. She died of consumption in 1790, and to blunt, -if possible, the father’s sorrow, his son-in-law covered -up her portrait. Monboddo’s look sought the place -when he entered the room. “Quite right, quite right,” -he muttered, “and now let us get on with our Herodotus.” -For that day, perhaps, his beloved Greek failed -to charm. Kames was at least like Monboddo in one -thing—oddity. On the bench he had “the obstinacy -of a mule and the levity of a harlequin,” said a counsel; -but his broad jokes with his broad dialect found favour -in an age when everything was forgiven to pungency. -He wrote much on many themes. If you want to know -a subject write a book on it, said he, a precept which -may be excellent from the author’s point of view, but -what about the reader?—but who reads him now? -Yet it was his to be praised, or, at any rate, criticised. -Adam Smith said, we must all acknowledge him as our -master. And Pitt and his circle told this same Adam -Smith that they were all his scholars. Boswell once -urged his merits on Johnson. “We have at least Lord -Kames,” he ruefully pleaded. The leviathan frame -shook with ponderous mirth, “Keep him, ha, ha, ha, -we don’t envy you him.” In far-off Ferney, Voltaire -read the <span class='it'>Elements of Criticism</span>, and was mighty wroth -over some cutting remarks on the <span class='it'>Henriade</span>. He sneered -at those rules of taste from the far north “By Lord -Mackames, a Justice of the Peace in Scotland.” You -suspect that “master of scoffing” had spelt name and -office right enough had he been so minded. Kames bid -farewell to his colleagues in December 1782 with, if the -<span class='pageno' title='15' id='Page_15'></span> -story be right, a quaintly coarse expression. He died -eight days after in a worthier frame of mind—he wrote -and studied to his last hour. “What,” he said, “am I -to sit idle with my tongue in my cheek till death comes -for me?” He expressed a stern satisfaction that he was -not to survive his mental powers, and he wished to be -away. He was curious as to the next world, and the -tasks that he would have yet to do. There is something -heroic about this strange old man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We come a little later down, and in Braxfield we are -in a narrower field, more local, more restricted, purely -legal. Such as survive of the Braxfield stories are -excellent. The <span class='it'>locus classicus</span> for the men of that time -is Lord Cockburn’s <span class='it'>Memorials</span>. Cockburn, as we have -yet to see, was himself a wit of the first water, and the -anecdotes lost nothing by the telling. Braxfield was -brutal and vernacular. One of “The Fifteen” had rambled -on to little purpose, concluding,” Such is my opinion.” -“<span class='it'>Your</span> opeenion” was Braxfield’s <span class='it'>sotto voce</span> bitter -comment, better and briefer even than the hit of the -English judge at his brother, “what he calls his mind.” -Two noted advocates (Charles Hay, afterwards Lord -Newton, was one of them) were pleading before him—they -had tarried at the wine cup the previous night, -and they showed it. Braxfield gave them but little -rope. “Ye may just pack up your papers and gang -hame; the tane o’ ye’s riftin’ punch and the ither -belchin’ claret” (a quaint and subtle distinction!) “and -there’ll be nae guid got out o’ ye the day.” As Lord -Justice-Clerk, Braxfield was supreme criminal judge; -his maxims were thoroughgoing. “Hang a thief when -he is young, and he’ll no’ steal when he is auld.” He -<span class='pageno' title='16' id='Page_16'></span> -said of the political reformers: “They would a’ be -muckle the better o’ being hangit,” which is probably -the truer form of his alleged address to a prisoner: -“Ye’re a vera clever chiel, man, but ye wad be nane -the waur o’ a hanging.” “The mob would be the -better for losing a little blood.” But his most famous -remark, or rather aside, was at the trial of the reformer -Gerrald. The prisoner had urged that the Author of -Christianity himself was a reformer. “Muckle He made -o’ that,” growled Braxfield, “He was hangit.” I suspect -this was an after-dinner story, at any rate it is -not in the report; but how could it be? It is really -a philosophic argument in the form of a blasphemous -jest. He had not always his own way with the reformers. -He asked Margarot if he wished a counsel -to defend him. “No, I only wish an interpreter to make -me understand what your Lordship says.” The prisoner -was convicted and, as Braxfield sentenced him to -fourteen years’ transportation, he may have reflected, -that he had secured the last and most emphatic word. -Margarot had defended himself very badly, but as -conviction was a practical certainty it made no difference. -Of Braxfield’s private life there are various -stories, which you can accept or not as you please, for -such things you cannot prove or disprove. His butler -gave him notice, he could not stand Mrs. Macqueen’s -temper; it was almost playing up to his master. “Man, -ye’ve little to complain o’; ye may be thankfu’ ye’re -no married upon her.” As we all know, R. L. Stevenson -professedly drew his Weir of Hermiston from this -original. One of the stories he tells is how Mrs. Weir -praised an incompetent cook for her Christian character, -<span class='pageno' title='17' id='Page_17'></span> -when her husband burst out, “I want Christian -broth! Get me a lass that can plain-boil a potato, if -she was a whüre off the streets.” That story is more -in the true Braxfield manner than any of the authentic -utterances recorded of the judge himself, but now we -look at Braxfield through Stevenson’s spectacles. To -this strong judge succeeded Sir David Rae, Lord Eskgrove. -The anecdotes about him are really farcical. He -was grotesque, and though alleged very learned was -certainly very silly, but there was something irresistibly -comical about his silliness. Bell initiated a careful -series of law reports in his time. “He taks doun -ma very words,” said the judge in well-founded alarm. -Here is his exhortation to a female witness: “Lift up -your veil, throw off all modesty and look me in the -face”; and here his formula in sentencing a prisoner to -death: “Whatever your religi-ous persua-sion may -be, or even if, as I suppose, you be of no persuasion -at all, there are plenty of rever-end gentlemen -who will be most happy for to show you the way to -yeternal life.” Or best of all, in sentencing certain rascals -who had broken into Sir James Colquhoun’s house -at Luss, he elaborately explained their crimes; assault, -robbery and hamesucken, of which last he gave them -the etymology; and then came this climax—“All -this you did; and God preserve us! joost when they -were sitten doon to their denner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg16'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i031.jpg' alt='Portrait of John Clerk' id='iid-0003' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>JOHN CLERK, LORD ELDIN</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The two most remarkable figures at the Scots bar -in their own or any time were the Hon. Henry Erskine -and John Clerk, afterwards Lord Eldin. Erskine was -a consistent whig, and, though twice Lord Advocate, -was never raised to the bench; yet he was the leading -<span class='pageno' title='18' id='Page_18'></span> -practising lawyer of his time, and the records of him -that remain show him worthy of his reputation. He was -Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, but he presided at -a public meeting to protest against the war, and on the -12th January 1796 was turned out of office by a considerable -majority. A personal friend of Erskine, and -supposed to be of his party, yielded to the storm and -voted against him. The clock just then struck three. -“Ah,” murmured John Clerk, in an intense whisper -which echoed through the quiet room, “when the cock -crew thrice Peter denied his Master.” But most Erskine -stories are of a lighter touch. When Boswell trotted -with Johnson round Edinburgh, they met Erskine. -He was too independent to adulate the sage but before -he passed on with a bow, he shoved a shilling into the -astonished Boswell’s hand, “for a sight of your bear,” -he whispered. George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> at Windsor once bluntly -told him, that his income was small compared with -that of his brother, the Lord Chancellor. “Ah, your -Majesty,” said the wit, “he plays at the guinea table, -and I only at the shilling one.” In a brief interval of -office he succeeded Henry Dundas, afterwards Lord -Melville. He told Dundas he was about to order the -silk gown. “For all the time you may want it,” said the -other, “you had better borrow mine.” “No doubt,” said -Harry, “your gown is made to fit any party, but it will -never be said of Henry Erskine that he put on the -abandoned habits of his predecessor.” But he had soon -to go, and this time Ilay Campbell, afterwards Lord -President, had the post, and again the gown was tossed -about in verbal pleasantries. “You must take nothing -off it, for I will soon need it again,” said the outgoer. -<span class='pageno' title='19' id='Page_19'></span> -“It will be bare enough, Henry, before you get it,” -was the neat reply. Rather tall, a handsome man, a -powerful voice, a graceful manner, and more than all, -a kindly, courteous gentleman, what figure so well -known on that ancient Edinburgh street, walking or -driving his conspicuous yellow chariot with its black -horses? Everybody loved and praised Harry Erskine, -friends and foes, rich and poor alike. You remember -Burns’s tribute: “Collected, Harry stood awee.” Even -the bench listened with delight. “I shall be brief, my -Lords,” he once began. “Hoots, man, Harry, dinna be -brief—dinna be brief,” said an all too complacent senator—a -compliment surely unique in the annals of legal -oratory. And if this be unique, almost as rare was the -tribute of a humble nobody to his generous courage. -“There’s no a puir man in a’ Scotland need to want -a friend or fear an enemy, sae long as Harry Erskine’s -to the fore.” Not every judge was well disposed to -the genial advocate. Commissary Balfour was a pompous -official who spoke always <span class='it'>ore rotundo</span>: he had occasion -to examine Erskine one day in his court, he -did so with more than his usual verbosity. Erskine in -his answers parodied the style of the questions to the -great amusement of the audience; the commissary -was beside himself with anger. “The intimacy of the -friend,” he thundered, “must yield to the severity of -the judge. Macer, forthwith conduct Mr. Erskine to -the Tolbooth.” “Hoots! Mr. Balfour,” was the crushing -retort of the macer. On another occasion the -same judge said with great pomposity that he had -tripped over a stile on his brother’s property and -hurt himself. “Had it been your own style,” said -<span class='pageno' title='20' id='Page_20'></span> -Erskine, “you certainly would have broken your -neck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alas! Harry was an incorrigible punster. When urged -that it was the lowest form of wit, he had the ready -retort that therefore it must be the foundation of all -other kinds. Yet, frankly, some of those puns are atrocious, -and even a century’s keeping in Kay and other -records has not made them passable. Gross and palpable, -they were yet too subtle for one senator. Lord -Balmuto, or tradition does him wrong, received them -with perplexed air and forthwith took them to <span class='it'>Avizandum</span>. -Hours, or as some aver, days after, a broad smile -relieved those heavy features. “I hae ye noo, Harry, -I hae ye noo,” he gleefully shouted; he had seen the -joke! All were not so dull. A friend pretended to be -in fits of laughter. “Only one of your jokes, Harry,” -he said. “Where did you get it?” said the wit. “Oh, -I have just bought ‘The New Complete Jester, or -every man his own Harry Erskine.’ ” The other looked -grave. He felt that pleasantries of the place or the -moment might not wear well in print. They don’t, and -I refrain for the present from further record. When -Lord President Blair died suddenly on 27th November -1811, a meeting of the Faculty of Advocates -was hastily called. Blair was an ideal judge, learned, -patient, dignified, courteous. He is the subject of one of -those wonderful Raeburn portraits (it hangs in the -library of the Writers to the Signet), and as you gaze -you understand how those who knew him felt when -they heard that he was gone forever. Erskine, as Dean, -rose to propose a resolution, but for once the eloquent -tongue was mute: after some broken sentences he sat -<span class='pageno' title='21' id='Page_21'></span> -down, but his hearers understood and judged it “as -good a speech as he ever made.” It was his last. He -was neither made Lord President nor Lord Justice-Clerk, -though both offices were open. He did not -murmur or show ill-feeling, but withdrew to the little -estate of Almondell, where he spent six happy and -contented years ere the end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Clerk was another type of man. In his last years -Carlyle, then in his early career, noted that “grim -strong countenance, with its black, far projecting -brows.” He fought his way slowly into fame. His -father had half humorously complained, “I remember -the time when people seeing John limping on the -street were told, that’s the son of Clerk of Eldin; but -now I hear them saying, ‘What auld grey-headed -man is that?’ and the answer is, ‘That is the father -of John Clerk.’ ” He was a plain man, badly dressed, -with a lame leg. “There goes Johnny Clerk, the lame -lawyer.” “No, madam,” said Clerk, “the lame <span class='it'>man</span>, not -the lame <span class='it'>lawyer</span>.” Cockburn says that he gave his -client his temper, his perspiration, his nights, his reason, -his whole body and soul, and very often the whole -fee to boot. He was known for his incessant quarrels -with the bench, and yet his practice was enormous. -He lavished his fees on anything from bric-à-brac -to charity, and died almost a poor man. In consultation -at Picardy Place he sat in a room crowded -with curiosities, himself the oddest figure of all, his -lame foot resting on a stool, a huge cat perched at -ease on his shoulder. When the oracle spoke, it was -in a few weighty Scots words, that went right to the -root of the matter, and admitted neither continuation -<span class='pageno' title='22' id='Page_22'></span> -nor reply. His Scots was the powerful direct Scots -of the able, highly-educated man, a speech faded -now from human memory. Perhaps Clerk was <span class='it'>princeps</span> -but not <span class='it'>facile</span>, for there was Braxfield to reckon -with. On one famous occasion, to wit, the trial of Deacon -Brodie, they went at it, hammer and tongs, and -Clerk more than held his own, though Braxfield as -usual got the verdict. They took Clerk to the bench -as Lord Eldin, when he was sixty-five, which is not -very old for a judge. But perhaps he was worn out -by his life of incessant strife, or perhaps he had not -the judicial temperament. At any rate his record is as -an advocate, and not as a senator. He had also some -renown as a toper. There is a ridiculous story of his -inquiring early one morning, as he staggered along -the street, “Where is John Clerk’s house?” of a servant -girl, a-“cawming” her doorstep betimes. “Why, -<span class='it'>you</span>’re John Clerk,” said the astonished lass. “Yes, yes, -but it’s his house I want,” was the strange answer. I -have neither space nor inclination to repeat well-known -stories of judicial topers. How this one was -seen by his friend coming from his house at what seemed -an early hour. “Done with dinner already?” queried -the one. “Ay, but we sat down yesterday,” retorted -the other. How this luminary awakened in a -cellar among bags of soot, and that other in the guard-house; -how this set drank the whole night, claret, it -is true, and sat bravely on the bench the whole of -next day; how most could not leave the bottle alone -even there; and biscuits and wine as regularly attended -the judges on the bench as did their clerks and -macers. The pick of this form is Lord Hermand’s -<span class='pageno' title='23' id='Page_23'></span> -reply to the exculpatory plea of intoxication: “Good -Gad, my Laards, if he did this when he was drunk, -what would he not do when he’s sober?” but imagination -boggles at it all, and I pass to a more decorous -generation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The names of two distinguished men serve to bridge -the two periods. The early days of Jeffrey and Cockburn -have a delightful flavour of old Edinburgh. The -last years are within living memory. Jeffrey’s accent -was peculiar. It was rather the mode in old Edinburgh -to despise the south, the last kick, as it were, at -the “auld enemy”; Jeffrey declared, “The only part -of a Scotsman I mean to abandon is the language, -and language is all I expect to learn in England.” The -authorities affirm his linguistic experience unfortunate. -Lord Holland said that “though he had lost the -broad Scots at Oxford, he had only gained the narrow -English.” Braxfield put it briefer and stronger. -“He had clean tint his Scots, and found nae English.” -Thus his accent was emphatically his own; he spoke -with great rapidity, with great distinctness. In an -action for libel, the object of his rhetoric was in perplexed -astonishment at the endless flow of vituperation. -“He has spoken the whole English language -thrice over in two hours.” This eloquence was inconvenient -in a judge. He forgot Bacon’s rule against -anticipating counsel. Lord Moncreiff wittily said of -him, that the usual introductory phrase “the Lord -Ordinary having heard parties’ procurators” ought -to be, in his judgment, “parties’ procurators having -heard the Lord Ordinary.” Jeffrey, on the other hand, -called Moncreiff “the whole duty of man,” from his -<span class='pageno' title='24' id='Page_24'></span> -conscientious zeal. All the same, Jeffrey was an able -and useful judge, though his renown is greater as advocate -and editor. Even he, though justly considerate, -did not quite free himself from the traditions of -his youth. He “kept a prisoner waiting twenty minutes -after the jury returned from the consideration of -their verdict, whilst he and a lady who had been accommodated -with a seat on the bench discussed together -a glass of sherry.” Cockburn, his friend and biographer, -the keenest of wits, and a patron of progress, -stuck to the accent. “When I was a boy no Englishman -could have addressed the Edinburgh populace -without making them stare and probably laugh; we -looked upon an English boy at the High School as a -ludicrous and incomprehensible monster:” and then -he goes on to say that Burns is already a sealed -book, and he would have it taught in the school as a -classic. “In losing it we lose ourselves,” says the old -judge emphatically. He writes this in 1844, nearly -seventy years ago. We do not teach the only Robin -in the school. Looked at from the dead-level of to-day -his time seems picturesque and romantic: were -he to come here again he would have some very pointed -utterances for us and our ways, for he was given to -pointed sayings. For instance, “Edinburgh is as quiet -as the grave, or even Peebles.” A tedious counsel had -bored him out of all reason. “He has taken up far too -much of your Lordship’s time,” sympathised a friend. -“Time,” said Cockburn with bitter emphasis, “Time! -long ago he has exhaustit <span class='it'>Time</span>, and has encrotch’d -upon—Eternity.” A touch of Scots adds force to such -remarks. This is a good example.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i040.jpg' alt='Portrait of John Inglis' id='iid-0004' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>JOHN INGLIS,<br/>LORD PRESIDENT OF THE COURT OF SESSION</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Painting in the Parliament House, by permission of the Faculty of Advocates</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='25' id='Page_25'></span></p> -<p class='noindent'>One day the judge, whilst rummaging in an old -book shop, discovered some penny treasure, but he -found himself without the penny! He looked up and -there was the clerk of court staring at him through -the window. “Lend me a bawbee,” he screamed eagerly. -He got the loan, and in the midst of a judgment -of the full court he recollected his debt; he scrambled -across the intervening senators, and pushed the coin -over: “There’s your bawbee, Maister M., with many -thanks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At one time the possession of the correct “burr” -was a positive hold on the nation. Lord Melville, the -friend and colleague of Pitt, ruled Scotland under -what was called the Dundas despotism for thirty -years. He filled all the places from his own side, for -such is the method of party government, and he can -scarce be blamed, yet his rule was protracted and endured, -because he had something more than brute -force behind him. For one thing, he spoke a broad -dialect, and so came home to the very hearts of his -countrymen. When he visited Scotland he went climbing -the interminable High Street stairs, visiting -poor old ladies that he had known in the days of his -youth. Those returns of famous Scotsmen have furnished -a host of anecdotes. I will only give one for -its dramatic contrasts. Wedderburn was not thought -a tender-hearted or high-principled man, yet when he -returned old, ill and famous he was carried in a sedan -chair to a dingy nook in old Edinburgh, the haunt -of early years, and there he picked out some holes -in the paved court that he had used in his childish -sports, and was moved well-nigh to tears. He first -<span class='pageno' title='26' id='Page_26'></span> -left Edinburgh in quite a different mood. He began -as a Scots advocate, and one day was reproved by -Lockhart (afterwards Lord Covington), the leader of -the bar, for some pert remark. A terrible row ensued, -at which the President confessed “he felt his flesh -creep on his bones.” It was Wedderburn’s <span class='it'>Sturm -und Drang</span> period. He had all the presumption of -eager and gifted youth, he tore the gown from his -back declaring he would never wear it again in that -court. We know that he was presently off by the mail -coach for London, where he began to climb, climb, -climb, till he became the first Scots Lord High Chancellor -of Great Britain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now a word as to modern times. One or two -names call for notice. A. S. Logan, Sheriff Logan, -as he was popularly called, died early in 1862, and -with him, it was said, disappeared the only man able -in wit and laughter to rival the giants of an earlier -epoch. He still remains the centre of a mass of anecdote, -much of it apocryphal. His enemies sneered -at him as a laboured wit, and averred a single joke -cost him a solitary walk round the Queen’s Drive. -Once when pleading for a widow he spoke eloquently -of the cruelty of the relative whom she was suing. -The judge suggested a compromise. “Feel the pulse -of the other side, Mr. Logan,” said he, humorously. -“Oh, my Lord,” was the answer, “there can be no -pulse where there is no heart.” This seems to me an -example of the best form of legal witticism, it is an -argument conveyed as a jest. Of his contemporary -Robert Thomson (1790-1857), Sheriff of Caithness, -there are some droll memories. Here is one. He was -<span class='pageno' title='27' id='Page_27'></span> -a constant though a bad rider, and as a bad rider will, -he fell from his horse. Even in falling practice makes -perfect. The worthy sheriff did not fall on his head—very -much the opposite, in fact. As he remained -sitting on the ground, a witness of the scene asked if -he had sustained any injury. “Injury!” was the answer; -“no injury at all I assure you! Indeed, sir, quite -the reverse, quite the reverse.” Inglis, like Blair, impressed -his contemporaries as a great judge; how far -the reputation will subsist one need not discuss, nor -need we complain that the stories about him are rather -tame. This may be given. Once he ridiculed with -evident sincerity the argument of an opposite counsel, -when that one retorted by producing an opinion which -Inglis had written in that very case, and which the -other had in fact paraphrased. Inglis looked at it. -“I see, my lord, that this opinion is dated from Blair -Athol, and anybody that chooses to follow me to Blair -Athol for an opinion deserves what he gets.” The -moral apparently is, don’t disturb a lawyer in his vacation, -when he is away from his books and is “off -the fang,” as the Scots phrase has it. But this is a -confession of weakness, and is only passable as a way -of escaping from a rather awkward position. In the -same case counsel proceeded to read a letter, and probably -had not the presence of mind to stop where he -ought. It was from the country to the town agent, -and discussed the merits of various pleaders with the -utmost frankness, and then, “You may get old —— for -half the money, but for God’s sake don’t take him at -any price.” In a limited society like the Parliament -House, such a letter has an effect like the bursting -<span class='pageno' title='28' id='Page_28'></span> -of a bombshell, and I note the incident, though the -humour be accidental. This other has a truer tang -of the place. No prisoner goes undefended at the -High Court; young counsel perform the duty without -fee or reward. The system has called forth the -admiration of the greedier Southern, though an English -judge has declared that the worst service you can -do your criminal is to assign him an inexperienced -counsel. One Scots convict, at least, agreed. He had -been accused and thus defended and convicted. As -he was being removed, he shook his fist in the face -of his advocate: “Its a’ through you, you d—d ass.” -The epithet was never forgotten. The unfortunate -orator was known ever afterwards as the “d—d ass.” -Sir George Deas was the last judge who talked anything -like broad Scots on the bench. Once he and -Inglis took different sides on a point of law which -was being argued before them. Counsel urged that -Inglis’s opinion was contrary to a previous decision -of his own. “I did not mean,” said the President, -“that the words should be taken in the sense -in which you are now taking them.” “Ah,” said Lord -Deas, “your lordship sails vera near the wind there.” -This is quite in the early manner; Kames might have -said it to Monboddo.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='31' id='Page_31'></span><h1>CHAPTER TWO<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE CHURCH</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>There are many picturesque incidents -in the history of the old Scots Church in Edinburgh; -chief of them are the legends that cling round -the memory of St. Margaret. Her husband, Malcolm -Canmore, could not himself read, but he took up the -pious missals in which his wife delighted and kissed -them in a passion of homage and devotion. There -is the dramatic account of her last days, when the -news was brought her of the defeat and death of her -husband and son at Alnwick, and she expired holding -the black rood of Scotland in her hand, whilst the -wild yells of Donald Bane’s kerns rent the air, as they -pressed round the castle to destroy her and hers. Then -follows the story of the removal of her body to Dunfermline -in that miraculous mist in which modern -criticism has seen nothing but an easterly haar. Then -we have her son King David’s hunting in wild Drumsheugh -forest on Holy-rood day, and the beast that -nearly killed him, his miraculous preservation, and the -legend of the foundation of Holyrood. In the dim -centuries that slipped away there was much else of -quaint and homely and amusing and interesting in -mediæval church life in Edinburgh, but the monkish -chroniclers never thought it worth the telling, and it -has long vanished beyond recall. This one story is a -gem of its kind. Scott, who never allowed such fruit -to go ungathered, has made it well known. It is one -of the incidents in the fight between the Douglases -and the Hamiltons at Edinburgh on 30th April 1520, -known to all time as <span class='it'>Cleanse the Causeway</span>, because the -Hamiltons were swept from the streets. Beaton, Archbishop -<span class='pageno' title='32' id='Page_32'></span> -of Glasgow, was a supporter of Arran and the -Hamiltons, who proposed to attack the Douglases -and seize Angus, their leader. Angus sent his uncle, -Gawin Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, whose “meek and -thoughtful eye” Scott has commemorated in one of -his best known lines, to remonstrate with his fellow-prelate. -He found him sitting in episcopal state, and -who was to tell that this was but the husk of a coat of -mail? His words were honied, but Gawin let it be seen -that he was far from convinced; whereat the other in -a fit of righteous indignation protested on his conscience -that he was innocent of evil intent, and for -emphasis he lustily smote his reverend breast, too -lustily, alas! for the armour rang under the blow. “I -perceive, my lord, your conscience clatters,” was -Gawin’s quick comment, to appreciate which you must -remember that “clatter” signifies in Scots to tell tales -as well as to rattle. Old Scotland was chary of its -speech, being given rather to deeds than words, but -it had a few like gems. Was it not another Douglas -who said that he loved better to hear the lark -sing than the mouse cheep? Or one might quote that -delightful “I’ll mak’ siccar” of Kirkpatrick in the -matter of the slaughter of the Red Comyn at Dumfries -in 1306; but this is a little away from our subject.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the Reformation, for good or for ill, the womb of -time brought forth a form of faith distinctively Scots. -Here, at any rate, we have Knox’s <span class='it'>History of the Reformation -of Religion within the Realme of Scotland</span> -to borrow from. It is usually the writer, not the reader, -who consults such books, yet Knox was a master of -<span class='pageno' title='33' id='Page_33'></span> -the picturesque and the graphic. He was great in -scornful humour; now and again he has almost a -Rabelaisian touch. Take, for instance, his account of -the riot on St. Giles’ Day, the 1st September 1558. For -centuries an image of St. Giles was carried through -the streets of Edinburgh and adored by succeeding -generations of the faithful, but when the fierce Edinburgh -mob had the vigour of the new faith to direct -and stimulate their old-time recklessness, trouble -speedily ensued. The huge idol was raped from the -hands of its keepers and ducked in the Nor’ Loch. -This was a punishment peculiarly reserved for evil -livers, and the crowd found a bitter pleasure in the -insult. Then there was a bonfire in the High Street -in which the great image vanished for ever amid a -general saturnalia of good and evil passions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old church fell swiftly and surely, but some -stubborn Scots were also on that side, and Mary of -Guise, widow of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span> and Queen Regent, was a -foe to be reckoned with. She had the preachers up before -her (Knox reproduces her broken Scots with quite -comic effect), but nothing came of the matter. The -procession did not cease at once with the destruction -of the image. In 1558 a “marmouset idole was borrowed -fra the Greyfreires,” so Knox tells us, and he -adds with a genuine satirical touch, “A silver peise -of James Carmichaell was laid in pledge”—evidently -the priests could not trust one another, so he suggests. -The image was nailed down upon a litter and -the procession began. “Thare assembled Preastis, -Frearis, Channonis and rottin Papistes with tabornes -and trumpettis, banneris, and bage-pypes, and who -<span class='pageno' title='34' id='Page_34'></span> -was thare to led the ring but the Queen Regent hir -self with all hir schavelings for honor of that feast.” -The thing went orderly enough as long as Mary was -present, but she had an appointment to dinner, in a -burgher’s house betwixt “the Bowes,” and when she -left the fun began. Shouts of “Down with the idol! -Down with it!” rent the air, and down it went. “Some -brag maid the Preastis patrons at the first, but when -thei saw the febilness of thare god (for one took him by -the heillis, and dadding his head to the calsey, left -Dagon without head or hands, and said: ‘Fie upon -thee, thow young Sanct Geile, thy father wold haif -taryad four such’) this considered (we say) the Preastis -and Freiris fled faster than thei did at Pynckey -Clewcht. Thare might have bein sein so suddane a -fray as seildome has been sein amonges that sorte of -men within this realme, for down goes the croses, of -goes the surpleise, round cappes cornar with the -crounes. The Gray Freiris gapped, the Black Freiris -blew, the Preastis panted and fled, and happy was he -that first gate the house, for such ane suddan fray came -never amonges the generation of Antichrist within -this realme befoir. By chance thare lay upoun a stare -a meary Englissman, and seeing the discomfiture to -be without blood, thought he wold add some mearynes -to the mater, and so cryed he ower a stayr and -said: ‘Fy upoun you, hoorsones, why have ye brokin -ordour? Down the street ye passed in array and with -great myrthe, why flie ye, vilanes, now without ordour? -Turne and stryk everie one a strok for the honour -of his God. Fy, cowardis, fy, ye shall never be judged -worthy of your wages agane!’ But exhortations war -<span class='pageno' title='35' id='Page_35'></span> -then unprofitable, for after that Bell had brokin his -neck thare was no comfort to his confused army.” -I pass over Knox’s interviews with Mary, well known -and for ever memorable, for they express the collision -of the deepest passions of human nature set in -romantic and exciting surroundings; but one little -incident is here within my scope. It was the fourth -interview, when Mary fairly broke down. She wept so -that Knox, with what seems to us at any rate ungenerous -and cruel glee, notes, “skarslie could Marnock, -hir secreat chalmerboy gett neapkynes to hold hys -eyes dry for the tearis: and the owling besydes womanlie -weaping, stayed hir speiche.” Then he is -bidden to withdraw to the outer chamber and wait -her Majesty’s pleasure. No one will speak to him, except -the Lord Ochiltree, and he is there an hour. The -Queen’s Maries and the other court ladies are sitting -in all their gorgeous apparel talking, laughing, -singing, flirting, what not? and all at once a strange -stern figure, the representative of everything that -was new and hostile, addresses them, nay, unbends as -he does so, for he merrily said: “O fayre Ladyes, how -pleasing war this lyeff of youris yf it should ever abyd, -and then in the end that we myght passe to heavin -with all this gay gear. But fye upoun that knave -Death, that will come whither we will or not! And -when he hes laid on his ariest, the foull worms wil be -busye with this flesche, be it never so fayr and so tender; -and the seally soull, I fear, shal be so feable that -it can neather cary with it gold, garnassing, targatting, -pearle, nor pretious stanes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Were they awed, frightened, angry, scornful, contemptuous? -<span class='pageno' title='36' id='Page_36'></span> -Who can tell? Knox takes care that nobody -has the say but himself. You may believe him -honest—but impartial! We have no account on the -other side. Mary did not write memoirs; if she had, -it is just possible that Knox had therein occupied the -smallest possible place, and the beautiful Queen’s -Maries vanished even as smoke. There <span class='it'>were</span> writers -on the other side, but they mostly invented or retailed -stupid vulgar calumnies. We have one picture by -Nicol Burne—not without point—of Knox and his -second wife, Margaret Stuart, the daughter of Lord -Ochiltree and of the royal blood, whom he married -when he was sixty and she was sixteen. It tells how he -went a-wooing “with ane great court on ane trim gelding -nocht lyke ane prophet or ane auld decrepit priest -as he was, bot lyke as he had bene ane of the blud royal -with his bendis of taffetie feschnit with golden ringis -and precious stanes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All that Knox did was characteristic. This, however, -is amusing. On Sunday 19th August 1565, a -month after his marriage to Mary, Darnley attended -church at St. Giles’. Knox was, as usual, the preacher. -He made pointed references to Ahab and Jezebel, -and indulged in a piquant commentary upon passing -events. The situation must have had in it, for -him, something fascinating. There was the unwilling -and enraged Darnley, and the excited and gratified -congregation. Knox improved the occasion to the -very utmost. He preached an hour beyond the ordinary -time. Perhaps that additional hour was his -chief offence in Darnley’s eyes. He “was so moved -at this sermon and being troubled with great fury he -<span class='pageno' title='37' id='Page_37'></span> -passed in the afternoon to the Hawking.” You excuse -the poor foolish boy!</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg36'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i053.jpg' alt='Portrait of James Guthrie' id='iid-0005' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>REV. JAMES GUTHRIE</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an old Engraving</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I hurry over the other picturesque incidents of the -man and the time; the last sermon with a voice that -once shook the mighty church, now scarce heard in the -immediate circle; the moving account of his last days; -the elegy of Morton, or the brief epitaph that Morton -set over his grave. He was scarce in accord even with -his own age; his best schemes were sneered at as devout -imagination. Secretary Maitland’s was the one -tongue whose pungent speech he could never tolerate -or forgive, and he had voiced with bitter irony the reply -of the nobles to Knox’s demand for material help for -the church. “We mon now forget our selfis and beir -the barrow to buyld the housses of God.” And yet he -never lost heart. In 1559, when the affairs of the congregation -were at a low ebb, he spoke words of courage -and conviction. “Yea, whatsoever shall become of -us and of our mortall carcasses, I dowt not but that -this caus (in dyspyte of Sathan) shall prevail in the -realme of Scotland. For as it is the eternall trewth -of the eternall God, so shall it ones prevaill howsoever -for a time it be impugned.” And so the strong, resolute -man vanishes from the stage of time, a figure as -important, interesting, and fateful as that of Mary -herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I pass to the annals of the Covenant. It was signed -on 1st March 1638, in the Greyfriars Church. It is -said, though this has been questioned, that when the -building could not hold the multitude, copies were -laid on two flat gravestones which are shown you to-day, -and all ranks and ages pressed round in the fervour -<span class='pageno' title='38' id='Page_38'></span> -of excitement; many added “till death” after their -names, others drew blood from their bodies wherewith -to fill their pens. The place was assuredly not chosen -with a view to effect, yet the theatre had a fitness which -often marks the sacred spots of Scots history. The -graveyard was the resting-place of the most famous -of their ancestors; the Castle, the great centrepiece -of the national annals, rose in their view. The aged -Earl of Sutherland signed first, Henderson prayed, -the Earl of Loudoun spoke to his fellow-countrymen, -and Johnston of Warriston read the scroll, which he -had done so much to frame. Endless sufferings were -in store for those who adhered to the national cause. -After Bothwell Brig in 1679 a number were confined -in the south-west corner of the churchyard in the open -air in the rigour of the Scots climate, and just below -in the Grassmarket a long succession of sufferers glorified -God in the mocking words of their oppressors. -Strange, gloomy figures those Covenanters appear to -us, with their narrow views and narrow creeds, lives -lived under the shadow of the gibbet and the scaffold: -yet who would deny them the virtues of perfect courage -and unalterable determination? Let me gather one -or two anecdotes that still, as a garland, encircle “famous -Guthrie’s head,” as it is phrased on the Martyrs’ -Monument. He journeyed to Edinburgh to subscribe -the Covenant, encountering the hangman as he was -entering in at the West Port; he accepted the omen -as a clear intimation of his fate if he signed. And then -he went and signed! He was tried before the Scots -Parliament for treason. By an odd accident he had -“Bluidy Mackenzie” as one of his defending counsel. -<span class='pageno' title='39' id='Page_39'></span> -These admired his skill and law, and at the end seemed -more disturbed at the inevitable result than did the -condemned man himself. He suffered on the 1st June -1661 at the Cross. One lighter touch strikes a strange -gleam of humour. His physicians had forbidden him -to eat cheese, but at his last meal he freely partook of -it. “The Doctors may allow me a little cheese this -night, for I think there is no fear of the gravel now,” he -said with grim cynicism. He spoke for an hour to a -surely attentive audience. These were the early days -of the persecution; a few years later and the drums -had drowned his voice. At the last moment he caused -the face cloth to be lifted that he might with his very -last breath declare his adherence to the Covenants: the -loving nickname of Siccarfoot given him by his own -party was well deserved! His head was stuck on the -Netherbow, his body was carried into St. Giles’, where -it was dressed for the grave by some Presbyterian ladies -who dipped their handkerchiefs in his blood. One -of the other side condemned this as a piece of superstition -and idolatry of the Romish church. “No,” -said one of them, “but to hold up the bloody napkin -to heaven in their addresses that the Lord might remember -the innocent blood that was spilt.” So Wodrow -tells the story, and he goes on: “In the time that the -body was a-dressing there came in a pleasant young -gentleman and poured out a bottle of rich oyntment -on the body, which filled the whole church with a noble -perfume. One of the ladys says, ‘God bless you, sir, -for this labour of love which you have shown to the -slain body of a servant of Jesus Christ.’ He, without -speaking to any, giving them a bow, removed, not loving -<span class='pageno' title='40' id='Page_40'></span> -to be discovered.” A strange legend presently went -the round of Edinburgh and was accepted as certain -fact by the true-blue party. Commissioner the Earl -of Middleton, an old enemy of Guthrie’s, presided at -his trial. Afterwards, as his coach was passing under -the Netherbow arch some drops of blood from the -severed head fell on the vehicle. All the art of man -could not wash them out, and a new leather covering -had to be provided. Guthrie left a little son who ran -with his fellows about the streets of Edinburgh. He -would often come back and tell his mother that he -had been looking at his father’s head. This last may -seem a very trivial anecdote, but to me, at least, it always -brings home with a certain direct force the horrors -of the time. The years rolled on and brought the -Revolution of 1688. A divinity student called Hamilton -took down the head and gave it decent burial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Richard Cameron fell desperately fighting on the -20th July 1680 at Airds Moss, a desolate place near -Auchinleck. Bruce of Earlshall marched to Edinburgh -with Cameron’s head and hands in a sack, while -the prisoners who were taken alive were also brought -there. At Edinburgh the limbs were put upon a halbert, -and carried to the Council. I must let Patrick -Walker tell the rest of the story. “Robert Murray -said, ‘There’s the Head and Hands that lived praying -and preaching and died praying and fighting.’ The -Council ordered the Hangman to fix them upon the -Netherbow Port. Mr. Cameron’s father being in the -Tolbooth of Edinburgh for his Principles, they carried -them to him to add Grief to his Sorrow and enquired -if he knew them. He took his son’s Head and -<span class='pageno' title='41' id='Page_41'></span> -Hands and kissed them. ‘They are my Son’s, my dear -Son’s,’ and said: ‘It is the Lord, good is the Will of the -Lord who cannot wrong me nor mine, but has made -Goodness and Mercy to follow us all our Days.’ Mr. -Cameron’s Head was fixed upon the Port and his -Hands close by his Head with his Fingers upward.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg40'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i058.jpg' alt='Portrait of Sir Archibald Johnston' id='iid-0006' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON, LORD WARRISTON</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Painting by George Jamesone</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Of Sir Archibald Johnston of Warriston, bishop Gilbert -Burnet, his relative, says: “Presbytery was to him -more than all the world.” At the Restoration he knew -his case was hopeless and effected his escape to France, -but was brought back and suffered at the Cross. You -would fancy life was so risky and exciting in those -days that study and meditation were out of the question, -but, on the contrary, Warriston was a great student -(it was an age of ponderous folios and spiritual -reflection), could seldom sleep above three hours out -of the twenty-four, knew a great deal of Scots Law, and -many other things besides; and with it all he and his -fellows—Stewart of Goodtrees, for instance—spent -untold hours in meditation. Once he went to the fields -or his garden in the Sheens (now Sciennes) to spend -a short time in prayer. He so remained from six in the -morning till six or eight at night, when he was awakened, -as it were, by the bells of the not distant city. -He thought they were the eight hours bells in the -morning; in fact, they were those of the evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another class of stories deals with the stormy lives -and unfortunate ends of the persecutors, and there is -no name among those more prominent than that of -the Archbishop of St. Andrews, him whom Presbyterian -Scotland held in horror as Sharp, the Judas, the -Apostate. Years before his life closed at Magus Muir -<span class='pageno' title='42' id='Page_42'></span> -he went in continual danger; he was believed to be in -direct league with the devil. Once he accused a certain -Janet Douglas before the Privy Council of sorcery and -witchcraft, and suggested that she should be packed -off to the King’s plantations in the West Indies. -“My Lord,” said Janet, “who was you with in your -closet on Saturday night last betwixt twelve and one -o’clock?” The councillors pricked up their ears in -delighted anticipation of a peculiarly piquant piece of -scandal about a Reverend Father in God. Sharp turned -all colours and put the question by. The Duke of -Rothes called Janet aside and, by promise of pardon -and safety, unloosed Janet’s probably not very reluctant -lips. “My lord, it was the muckle black Devil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here is a strange episode of this troubled time. Patrick -Walker in his record of the life and death of Mr. -Donald Cargill tells of a sect called the sweet singers, -“from their frequently meeting together and singing -those tearful Psalms over the mournful case of the -Church.” To many of the persecuted it seemed incredible -that heaven should not declare in some terrible -manner vengeance on a community that was guilty -of the blood of the Saints, and as this little band sang -and mused it seemed ever clearer to them that the -fate of Sodom and Gomorrah must fall on the wicked -city of Edinburgh. They needs must flee from the -wrath to come, and so with one accord “they left their -Houses, warm soft Beds, covered Tables, some of them -their Husbands and Children weeping upon them to -stay with them, some women taking the sucking Children -in their arms” (to leave <span class='it'>these</span> behind were a -counsel of perfection too high even for a saint!) “to -<span class='pageno' title='43' id='Page_43'></span> -Desert places to be free of all Snares and Sins and communion -with others and mourn for their own sins, the -Land’s Tyranny and Defections, and there be safe -from the Land’s utter ruin and Desolations by Judgments. -Some of them going to Pentland hills with a -Resolution to sit there to see the smoke and utter ruin -of the sinful, bloody City of Edinburgh.” The heavens -made no sign; Edinburgh remained unconsumed. A -troop of dragoons were sent to seize the sweet singers; -the men were put in the Canongate Tolbooth, the -women into the House of Correction where they were -soundly scourged. Their zeal thus being quenched -they were allowed to depart one by one, the matter -settled. And so let us pass on to a less tragic and -heroic, a more peaceful and prosaic time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After the revolution reaction almost inevitably set -in. Religious zeal—fanaticism if you will—died rapidly -down, and there came in Edinburgh, of all places, -the reign of the moderates, or as we should now say, -broad churchmen, learned, witty, not zealous or passionate, -“the just and tranquil age of Dr. Robertson.” -Principal William Robertson was a type of his class. -We come across him in the University, for he was Principal, -and we meet him again as man of letters, for the -currents of our narrative are of necessity cross-currents. -Here the Robertson anecdotes are trivial. Young -Cullen, son of the famous doctor, was the bane of the -Principal’s life; he was an excellent mimic, could not -merely imitate the reverend figure but could follow -exactly his train of thought. In 1765, some debate or -other occupied Robertson in the General Assembly; -Cullen mimicked the doctor in a few remarks on the -<span class='pageno' title='44' id='Page_44'></span> -occasion to some assembled wits. Presently in walks -the Principal and makes the very speech, a little astonished -at the unaccountable hilarity which presently -prevailed. Soon the orator smelt a rat. “I perceive -somebody has been ploughing with my heifer before -I came in,” so he rather neatly turned the matter off. -Certain young Englishmen of good family were -boarded with Robertson: one of them lay in bed recovering -from a youthful escapade, when a familiar step -approached, for that too could be imitated, and a familiar -voice read the erring youth a solemn lecture on -the iniquities of his walk, talk, and conversation. He -promised amendment and addressed himself again -to rest, when again the step approached. Again the -reproving voice was heard. He pulled aside the curtain -and protested that it was too bad to have the -whole thing twice over—it was Robertson this time, -however, and not Cullen. The Principal once went to -the father of this remarkable young man for medical -advice. He was duly prescribed for, and as he was -leaving the doctor remarked that he had just been -giving the same advice for the same complaint to his -own son. “What,” said Robertson, “has the young -rascal been imitating me here again?” The young -rascal lived to sit on the bench as Lord Cullen, a grave -and courteous but not particularly distinguished senator. -The Principal was also minister of Old Greyfriars’. -His colleague here was Dr. John Erskine. -The evangelical school was not by any means dead -in Scotland, and Erskine, a man of good family and -connections, was a devoted adherent. It is pleasant -to think that strong bonds of friendship united the -<span class='pageno' title='45' id='Page_45'></span> -colleagues whose habits of thought were so different. -You remember the charming account of Erskine in -<span class='it'>Guy Mannering</span> where the colonel goes to hear him -preach one Sunday. He was noted for extraordinary -absence of mind. Once he knocked up against a cow -in the meadows; in a moment his hat was off his head -and he humbly begged the lady’s pardon. The next -she he came across was his own wife, “Get off, you -brute!” was the result of a conceivable but ludicrous -confusion of thought. His spouse observed that he -invariably returned from church without his handkerchief; -she suspected one of the old women who -sat on the pulpit stairs that they might hear better, -or from the oddity of the thing, or from some other -reason, and the handkerchief was firmly sewed on. As -the doctor mounted the stairs he felt a tug at his -pocket. “No the day, honest woman, no the day,” -said Erskine gently. Dr. Johnson was intimate with -Robertson when he was in Edinburgh and was tempted -to go and hear him preach. He refrained. “He could -not give a sanction by his presence to a Presbyterian -Assembly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. Hugh Blair (1718-1800), Professor of Rhetoric -in the University, was another of the eminent moderates. -Dr. Johnson said: “I have read over Dr. Blair’s -first sermon with more than approbation; to say it is -good is to say too little.” The King and indeed everybody -else agreed with Johnson, the after time did not, -and surely no human being now-a-days reads the once -famous <span class='it'>Rhetoric</span> and the once famous <span class='it'>Sermons</span>. Blair -was vain about everything. Finical about his dress, -he was quite a sight as he walked to service in the -<span class='pageno' title='46' id='Page_46'></span> -High Kirk. “His wig frizzed and powdered so nicely, -his gown so scrupulously arranged on his shoulders, -his hands so pure and clean, and everything about -him in such exquisite taste and neatness.” Once he -had his portrait painted; he desired a pleasing smile -to mantle his expressive countenance, The model -did <span class='it'>his</span> best and the artist did <span class='it'>his</span> best; the resulting -paint was hideous. Blair destroyed the picture in a -fit of passion. A new one followed, in which less sublime -results were aimed at, and the achievement did -not sink below the commonplace. An English visitor -told him in company that his sermons were not popular -amongst the southern divines: Blair’s piteous expression -was reflected in the faces of those present. -“Because,” said the stranger, who was plainly a master -in compliment, “they are so well known that none -dare preach them.” The flattered Doctor beamed with -pleasure. Blair’s colleague was the Rev. Robert Walker, -and it was said by the beadle that it took twenty-four -of Walker’s hearers to equal one of Blair’s, but -then the beadle was measuring everything by the heap -on the plate. An old student of Blair’s with Aberdeen -accent, boundless confidence and nothing else, -asked to be allowed to preach for him on the depravity -of man. Blair possibly thought that a rough discourse -would throw into sharp contrast his polished -orations; at any rate he consented, and the most cultured -audience in Edinburgh were treated to this gem: -“It is well known that a sou has a’ the puddins o’ a -man except ane; and if <span class='it'>that</span> doesna proove that man -is fa’an there’s naething will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. Alexander Webster, on the other hand, was of -<span class='pageno' title='47' id='Page_47'></span> -the evangelical school, though an odd specimen, since -he preached and prayed, drank and feasted, with the -same whole-hearted fervour. The Edinburgh wits -called him Doctor Magnum Bonum, and swore that -he had drunk as much claret at the town’s expense as -would float a 74-ton-gun ship. He died somewhat -suddenly, and just before the end spent one night in -prayer at the house of Lady Maxwell of Monreith, -and on the next he supped in the tavern with some -of his old companions who found him very pleasant. -He was returning home one night in a very unsteady -condition. “What would the kirk-session say if they -saw you noo?” said a horrified acquaintance. “Deed, -they wadna believe their een” was the gleeful and -witty answer. This bibulous divine was the founder of -the Widows Fund of the Church of Scotland, and you -must accept him as a strange product of the strange -conditions of strange old Edinburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The material prosperity of the Church, such as it -was, did not meet with universal favour. Lord Auchinleck, -Boswell’s father, a zealous Presbyterian of the old -stamp, declared that a poor clergy was ever a pure -clergy. In former times, he said, they had timmer -communion cups and silver ministers, but now we -were getting silver cups and timmer ministers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is alleged of one of the city ministers, though I -know not of what epoch, that he performed his pastoral -ministrations in the most wholesale fashion. -He would go to the foot of each crowded close in his -district, raise his gloved right hand and pray unctuously -if vaguely for “all the inhabitants of this close.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some divines honestly recognise their own imperfections. -<span class='pageno' title='48' id='Page_48'></span> -Dr. Robert Henry was minister of the Old -Kirk: his colleague was Dr. James M‘Knight. Both -were able and even distinguished men, but not as -preachers. Dr. Henry wittily said, “fortunately they -were incumbents of the same church, or there would -be twa toom kirks instead of one.” One very wet -Sunday M‘Knight arrived late and drenched. “Oh, -I wish I was dry, I wish I was dry,” he exclaimed; and -then after some perfunctory brushing, “Do you think -I’m dry noo?” “Never mind, Doctor,” said the other -consolingly, “when ye get to the pulpit you’ll be dry -enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the last century rolled on the moderate cause -weakened and the evangelical cause became stronger. -The Rev. Sir Henry Moncreiff was one of the great -figures of that movement. Referring to his power in -the Assembly a country minister said: “It puts you -in mind of Jupiter among the lesser Gods.” Another -was Dr. Andrew Thomson, minister of St. George’s, -who died in 1831. An easy-going divine once said to -him that “he wondered he took so much time with his -discourses; for himself, many’s the time he had written -a sermon and killed a salmon before breakfast.” “Sir,” -was the emphatic answer, “I had rather have eaten -your salmon, than listened to your sermon.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i067.jpg' alt='Portrait of Sir Henry Moncrieff-Wellwood' id='iid-0007' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>REV. SIR HENRY MONCRIEFF-WELLWOOD</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after Sir Henry Raeburn, R.A.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The evangelical party were much against pluralities. -The others upheld them on the ground that only thus -could the higher intellects of the church be fostered -and rewarded. Dr. Walker had been presented to Colinton -in the teeth of much popular opposition. He had -obtained a professorship at the same time, and this -was urged in his favour. “Ah,” said an old countryman, -<span class='pageno' title='49' id='Page_49'></span> -“that makes the thing far waur; he will just make -a bye job of our souls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. Chalmers is the great figure of the Disruption -controversy, but most of his work lay away from Edinburgh. -Well known as he was, there existed a submerged -mass to whom he was but a name. In 1845 he -began social and evangelical work in the West Port. -An old woman of the locality, being asked if she went -to hear any one, said, “Ou ay, there’s a body Chalmers -preaches in the West Port, and I whiles gang to keep -him in countenance, honest man!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Chalmers was the founder of the Free Church; its -great popular preacher for years afterwards was -Thomas Guthrie. His fame might almost be described -as world-wide; his oratory was marked by a certain -vivid impressiveness that brought the scenes he described -in actual fact before his hearers. A naval officer -hearing him picture the wreck of a vessel, and the -launching of the lifeboat to save the perishing crew, -sprang from one of the front seats of the gallery and -began to tear off his coat that he might rush to render -aid. He was hardly pulled down by his mother who -sat next him. Guthrie had other than oratorical gifts, -he was genial and open-hearted. A servant from the -country, amazed at the coming and going and the hospitality -of the manse, said to her mistress: “Eh, mem, -this house is just like a ‘public,’ only there’s nae siller -comes in!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another leader, second only to Chalmers, was Dr. -Candlish, much larger in mind than in body. “Ay,” -said an Arran porter to one who was watching the -Doctor, “tak’ a gude look, there’s no muckle o’ him, -<span class='pageno' title='50' id='Page_50'></span> -but there’s a deal in him!” Lord Cockburn’s words are -to the like effect. “It requires the bright eye and the capacious -brow of Candlish to get the better of the smallness -of his person, which makes us sometimes wonder -how it contains its inward fire.” The eager spirit of this -divine chafed and fretted over many matters; his oratory -aroused a feeling of sympathetic indignation in its -hearers; afterwards they had some difficulty in finding -adequate cause for their indignation. When the Prince -Consort died his sorrowing widow raised a monument -to him on Deeside, whereon a text from the Apocrypha -was inscribed. Candlish declaimed against the quotation -with all the force of his eloquence. “I say this with -the deepest sorrow if it is the Queen who is responsible, -I say it with the deepest indignation whoever else it -may be.” These words bring vividly before us an almost -extinct type of thought. And this, again, spoken -eight days before his death and in mortal sickness, -has a touch of the age of Knox: “If you were to set -me up in the pulpit I still could make you all hear on -the deafest side of your heads.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Times again change, the leaders of religious thought -in Scotland are again broad church, if I may use a non-committal -term. They have often moved in advance -of their flocks. At a meeting in Professor Blackie’s -house in 1882 a number of Liberal divines were present. -Among them Dr. Macgregor and Dr. Walter C. -Smith. They were discussing the personality of the -Evil One in what seemed to an old lady a very rationalistic -spirit. “What,” she said in pious horror, “would -you deprive us of the Devil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With this trivial anecdote may go that of another -<span class='pageno' title='51' id='Page_51'></span> -conservative old woman more than a century earlier. -The Rev. David Johnson, who died in 1824, was minister -of North Leith. In his time a new church was -built, which was crowned with a cross wherein lurked, -to some, a suggestion of prelacy if not popery. “But -what are we to do?” said the minister to a knot of -objecting pious dames. “Do!” replied one of them, -“what wad ye do, but just put up the auld cock again!” -(no doubt the weather-cock). This cock, or one of its -predecessors, crows in history centuries before. On the -21st March 1567 the Castle of Edinburgh was given in -charge to Cockburn of Skirling. That day there was -a great storm which, among greater feats, blew the tail -from the cock on the steeple at Leith. An ancient -prophecy ran the round of the town as miraculously -fulfilled.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“When Skirling sall be capitaine</p> -<p class='line0'>The Cock sall want his tail.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>Thus the diary of Robert Birrell, at any rate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The strictness of old-time Sabbath observance is -well known. Lord George Campbell, afterwards Duke -of Argyll, was in command of a corps of Fencibles in -Edinburgh in the early years of last century. He was -skilled in whistling. He sat one Sunday morning at -the open window of his hotel in Princes Street, and -exercised his favourite art. An old woman passing by -to church viewed him with holy horror and shook her -fist at him, “Eh! ye reprobate! ye reprobate!” she -shouted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It were easy to accumulate anecdotes of the church -officers of Edinburgh. I find space for two. In old -days Mungo Watson was beadle of Lady Yester’s -Church under Dr. Davidson. His pastime was to -<span class='pageno' title='52' id='Page_52'></span> -mount the pulpit and thunder forth what he believed -to be a most excellent discourse to an imaginary -audience. Whilst thus engaged he was surprised by -Dr. Davidson, who shut him up very quickly: “Come -down, Mungo, come down, toom barrels mak’ most -sound.” In <span class='it'>Jeems the Doorkeeper, a Lay Sermon</span>, Dr. -John Brown has drawn a charming picture of the -officer of his father’s church in Broughton Place. The -building was crowded, and part of the congregation -consisted of servant girls, “husseys” as Jeems contemptuously -described them. Some were laced to the -point of suffocation, and were not rarely carried out -fainting to the vestry. Jeems stood over the patient -with a sharp knife in his hand. “Will oo rip her up noo?” -he said as he looked at the young doctor; the signal -was given, the knife descended and a cracking as of -canvas under a gale followed, the girl opened her eyes, -and closed them again in horror at the sight of the -ruined finery. But we are chronicling very small beer -indeed, and here must be an end of these strangely -assorted scenes and pictures.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='55' id='Page_55'></span><h1>CHAPTER THREE<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>TOWN’S COLLEGE AND SCHOOLS</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The official title of the University -of Edinburgh is <span class='it'>Academia Jacobi Sexti</span>. So “our -James,” as Ben Jonson calls him, gave a name to this -great seat of learning, and in the form of a charter he -gave it his blessing, and there he stopped! Bishop -Reid, the last Roman Catholic Bishop of Orkney, left -eight thousand merks for a college in Edinburgh, and -though that sum sinks considerably when put into -current coin of the realm, it is not to be neglected. It -was obtained and applied, but the real patrons, authors, -managers and supporters for centuries of the University -was the good town of Edinburgh through its -Town Council. It was <span class='it'>Oure Tounis Colledge</span>. They -appointed its professors and ruled its destinies until -almost our own time. The Scottish University Act -of 1858 greatly lessened, though it by no means destroyed, -their influence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a country so much under ecclesiastical influence -as Scotland of the Reformation, the union between the -College and the Kirk was close and intimate; still it -was a corporation of tradesmen that managed the -University, and though the professors kicked, there is -no doubt they managed it very well. There has ever -been something homely and unconventional about -the college. It was opened on the 14th October 1583; -the students were to wear gowns, they were to speak -Latin, none was to soil his mouth with common Scots, -and none was to go to taverns, or (it was later ordained) -to funerals—a serious form of entertainment for -which old Scotland evinced a peculiar zest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='56' id='Page_56'></span> -Ah, those counsels of perfection! how the years set -them at naught! Why they alone of all men in Edinburgh -should not go to taverns or funerals was not a -question wherewith they troubled themselves; they -simply went. Gowns they never wore, and though -half-hearted attempts were now and again made to -introduce them, these never succeeded. Sir Alexander -Grant, the late Principal, tells us that a working man, -whose son was a student, wrote to him, pointing out -the advantage of gowns in covering up a shabby dress. -Sir Alexander seemed rather struck with this point of -view, though after all, the gown must cost something, -which might have been better applied to the cloak. -The students, as now, lived anywhere.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i076.jpg' alt='Portrait of Robert Leighton, Archbishop of Glasgow' id='iid-0008' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>ROBERT LEIGHTON, D.D., ARCHBISHOP OF GLASGOW</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving by Sir Robert Strange</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The histories give many quaint details as to the -manners of other days. The classes began at five in -summer and six in winter; the bursars rung the bell -and swept the rooms; the janitor was a student or -even a graduate. His it was to lock the door at eleven -at night. The early professors, who did not confine -themselves to one subject but carried their class right -through, were called regents. One of them, James -Reid, had taken up the office in 1603; he was popular -in the council, in the town, and in the whole city, but -after more than twenty years’ service he came to grief -on a quarrel with the all-powerful Kirk. In 1626, William -Struthers, Moderator of the Presbytery, spoke of -philosophy as the dish-clout of divinity. At a graduation -ceremony, Reid quoted Aristippus to the effect -that he would rather be an unchristian philosopher -than an unphilosophical divine! for which innocent -retort the regent was forced to throw up his office. -<span class='pageno' title='57' id='Page_57'></span> -One wonders what would have happened if Town -Council and Kirk had come to loggerheads, but they -never did, and through a college committee and a college -bailie they directed the affairs of the University. -Creech, best known to fame as Burns’s publisher, and -the subject of some kindly or some unkindly half-humorous -verse, was in his time college bailie; but -Creech was a great many things in his time, though the -world has pretty well forgotten him. The Lord Provost -was the important figure in University as well as -City life. In 1665 he was declared by the council -Rector of the College, yet in the years that followed -he did nothing in his office. Long afterwards, in 1838, -there was a trial of students before the Sheriff, for -the part these had taken in a great snowball bicker -with the citizens. Witty Patrick Robertson was their -counsel, and was clever enough to throw a farcical air -over the whole proceedings. “You are Rector of the -University, are you not?” he asked the then Lord -Provost. “No! I may be, but I am not aware of it,” -was the rather foolish answer. A caricature was immediately -circulated of the man who does not know -he is Rector! This office was not the present Lord -Rectorship, which only dates from the Act of 1858.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edinburgh has never been a rich town. In the old -days, it was as poor as poor might be, and so was its -college; they had nothing in the way of plate to show -visitors, or to parade on great occasions. Their only -exhibits were the college mace and George Buchanan’s -skull! There was a legend about the mace. In -1683 the tomb of Bishop Kennedy at St. Andrews -was opened: it contained five silver maces—quite a -<span class='pageno' title='58' id='Page_58'></span> -providential arrangement, one for each of the Scots -Universities, and one to spare! But there was a mace in -Edinburgh before this. We have note of it in 1640, and -in 1651 the Town Council had it on loan for the use of -the public. In 1660 the macer of the Parliament needs -must borrow it till his masters get one of their own. -There is a quaint, homely touch about this passing on -of the mace from one body to another. It had been a -valuable and interesting relic, but in the night -between 29th and 30th October 1787 the library was forced, -and the mace stolen from the press wherein it lay, -and was never seen more. Ten guineas reward was -offered, but in vain. Every one presently suspected -Deacon Brodie, himself a member of the Council, and -perhaps the most captivating and romantic burglar -on record. Ere a year was over, he was lying in the -Tolbooth a condemned felon, but he uttered no word -as to the precious bauble. The year after that, very -shame induced the Council to procure an elegant silver -mace, with a fine Latin inscription, and the arms of -James VI., the arms of the City, and the arms of the -University itself, invented for the special purpose. It -was just in time to be used on the laying of the foundation-stone -of the new university buildings in 1789, -and it has been used ever since on great occasions -only. The loan of it is not asked for any more! every -body corporate now has a mace of its own!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Buchanan skull is still held by the college. That -eminent scholar died on the 28th September 1582, and -was buried in the Greyfriars Churchyard. John Adamson, -Principal of the University between 1623 and 1651, -got the skull by bribing the sexton, and bequeathed -<span class='pageno' title='59' id='Page_59'></span> -it to the college. The story rather revolts the taste of -to-day, but grim old Scotland had a strange hankering -after those elements of mortality. Its remarkable -thinness was noted, in fact the light could be seen -through it, and anatomists of later years dwelt on the -fine breadth of forehead, and remarkable contours. It -was judged, moreover, a skull of a Celtic type—Celtic -was possibly enough Buchanan’s race. Long afterwards -Sir William Hamilton, at the Royal Society in -Edinburgh, compared it with the skull of a Malay robber -and cut-throat, and showed that, according to the -principles of the phrenologists, the Malay had the finer -head. This was meant as a <span class='it'>reductio ad absurdum</span> of -phrenology, though, after all, the evidence of identification -could not be satisfactory. If the sexton consented -to be bribed he was not likely, in old Greyfriars, to be at -a loss for a skull, but it seems irreverent to pursue the -subject further.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Robert Leighton, Principal between 1653 and 1662, -was afterwards Bishop of Dunblane, and then Archbishop -of Glasgow. In 1672 he was still living in his -rooms in the college, and was there waited upon one -day by Chorley, an English student studying divinity -at Glasgow. He brought the compliments of his college -and tutor, and invited the prelate to his approaching -laureation. He next presented him with the laureation -thesis, which was gratefully received, but when -the visitor produced a pair of “fine fringed gloves” -“he started back and with all demonstrations of humility -excused himself as unworthy of such a present.” -Chorley, however, whilst humble was persistent, and -though the Archbishop refused again and again and -<span class='pageno' title='60' id='Page_60'></span> -retreated backwards, Chorley followed, and at the end -fairly pinned Leighton against the wall! His Grace -needs must yield, “but it was amazing to see with what -humble gratitude, bowing to the very ground, this great -man accepted them.” So much for the author of the -classic <span class='it'>Commentary on the 1st Epistle of St. Peter</span>. Is it -not a picture of the time when men were extreme in all -things, though Leighton alone was extreme in humility? -Was there not (you ask) something ironic in the -self-depreciation? I do not think so, for you look as -“through a lattice on the soul” and recognise a spirit ill -at ease in an evil day, one who might have uttered Lord -Bacon’s pathetic complaint <span class='it'>multum incola fuit anima -mea</span> with far more point and fitness than ever Bacon -did.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of a later Principal, Gilbert Rule (1690-1701), a less -conspicuous but very pleasing memory remains. His -window was opposite that of Campbell, Professor of -Divinity. Now Dr. Rule was ever late at his books, -whilst Campbell was eager over them ere the late -northern dawn was astir; so the one candle was not -out before the other was lighted. They were called the -evening and the morning star. Rule died first, and -when Campbell missed the familiar light, he said, “the -evening star was now gone down, and the morning -star would soon disappear,” and ere long it was noted -that both windows were dark. Among his other gifts, -Gilbert Rule was a powerful preacher. In some ministerial -wandering it was his lot to pass a night in a solitary -house in a nook of the wild Grampians. At midnight -enter a ghost, who would take no denial; Gilbert -must out through the night till a certain spot was -<span class='pageno' title='61' id='Page_61'></span> -reached; then the ghost vanished and the Doctor -got him back to bed, with, you imagine, chattering -teeth and dismal foreboding. Next day the ground was -opened, and the skeleton of a murdered man discovered. -Gilbert preached on the following Sunday from -the parish pulpit, and reasoned so powerfully of judgment -and the wrath to come that an old man got up -and confessed himself the murderer. In due course he -was executed and the ghost walked no more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>William Carstares, Principal between 1703 and 1715, -was a great figure in Church and State. “Cardinal” -Carstares they nicknamed him at Dutch William’s -Court, and both that astute monarch and Queen Anne, -Stuart as she was, gave him almost unbounded confidence. -In tact and diplomacy he excelled his contemporaries -and in the valuable art of knowing what -to conceal even when forced to speak. He was put -to it, for the most famous anecdote about him tells -of his suffering under the thumbikins in 1684. They -were applied for an hour with such savage force that -the King’s smith had to go for his tools to reverse -the screws before it was possible to set free the maimed -and bruised thumbs. In Carstares’ picture the thumbs -are very prominent, in fact or flattery they show forth -quite untouched. At the King’s special request he tried -them on the royal digits; His Majesty vowed he had -confessed anything to be rid of them. We have a pleasing -picture of an annual fish dinner at Leith whereat -the Principal was entertained by his colleagues. Calamy -the English nonconformist was a guest, and was -much delighted with the talk and the fare, and especially -“the freedom and harmony between the Principal -<span class='pageno' title='62' id='Page_62'></span> -and the masters of the college,” they expressing a veneration -for him as a common father, and he a tenderness -for them as if they had all been his children.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Principal Robertson (1762-1793) is still a distinguished -figure, but he belongs to Letters in the first place, -and the Church in the second; yet even here he was -eminent. A charming anecdote tells how as Principal -he visited the logic class where John Stevenson, his -own old teacher, was still prelecting. He addressed -the students in Latin, urging them to profit, as he hoped -he had himself profited, by the teaching of Stevenson, -whereat “the aged Professor, unable any longer to -suppress his emotion, dissolved in tears of grateful affection, -and fell on the neck of his favourite pupil, his -Principal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>George Husband Baird (1793-1840) was a much -more commonplace figure. His middle name was -thought felicitous; he was husband to the Lord Provost’s -daughter and there seemed no other sufficient -reason to account for his elevation. This play upon -names, by the way, has always been a favourite though -puerile form of Edinburgh wit. The better part of a -century afterwards we had one of our little wars on -the Gold Coast, and some local jester asked for the -difference between the folk of Ashantee and those of -Edinburgh. The first, it was said, took their law from -Coffee and the second their coffee from Law! The -Ashantee war of the ’seventies is already rather dim -and ancient history, but Coffee, it may be remembered, -was the name of their king, and the other term referred -to a well-known Edinburgh house still to the -fore. However, we return to our Baird for a moment. -<span class='pageno' title='63' id='Page_63'></span> -He was Minister of the High Church as well as Principal. -Discoursing of the illness of George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span>, he wept -copiously and unreasonably; “from George Husband -Baird to George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> <span class='it'>greeting</span>,” said one of his hearers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a mass of legendary stories about the ordinary -professors, but the figures are dim, and the notes of -their lives mostly trivial. For instance, there is Dr. John -Meiklejohn, who was Professor of Church History, -1739-1781: “He had a smooth round face, that never -bore any expression but good-humour and contentment,” -he droned monotonously through his lectures, -glad to get away to his glebe at Abercorn, eight miles -off. He delighted to regale the students at his rural -manse, and pressed on them the produce of the soil, -with a heartiness which he never showed in inviting -their attention to the fathers of the church. “Take -an egg, Mr. Smith,” he would genially insist, “<span class='it'>they are -my own</span> eggs, for the eggs of Edinburgh are not to -be depended on.” Of like kidney was David Ritchie, -who was Professor of Logic and Metaphysics and Minister -of St. Andrew’s Church, but “was more illustrious -on the curling pond, than in the Professor’s chair.” -But, then, to him in 1836 succeeded Sir William Hamilton, -and for twenty years the chair was <span class='it'>the</span> philosophical -chair of Britain. The records of his fame are not -for this page; his passionate devotion to study, his vast -learning, are not material for the anecdotist. He was -fond of long walks with a friend into the surrounding -country, and in his day it was still very easy to leave -the town behind you. Though he started with a companion, -he was presently away in advance or on the -other side of the road, muttering to himself in Greek or -<span class='pageno' title='64' id='Page_64'></span> -Latin or English, forgetful of that external world which -occupied no small place in his philosophy. “Dear me, -what did you quarrel about?” asked a lady, to his no -small amusement. The Council did not always select -the most eminent men. About a century before, in -1745 to wit, they had preferred for the chair of Moral -Philosophy William Cleghorn to David Hume. There -was no other choice, it was said. A Deist might possibly -become a Christian, but a Jacobite could not become -a Whig. Ruddiman’s amanuensis, Adam Walker, was -a student at this class, where he had listened to a lecture -on the doctrine of necessity. “Well, does your -Professor make us free agents or not?” said his employer. -“He gives us arguments on both sides and -leaves us to judge,” was the reply. “Indeed,” was -Ruddiman’s caustic comment, “the fool hath said in -his heart, there is no God, and the Professor will not -tell you whether the fool is right or wrong.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i085.jpg' alt='Portrait of Principal William Carstairs' id='iid-0009' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PRINCIPAL WILLIAM CARSTARES</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Engraving by Jeens</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Many of us remember Dunbar’s <span class='it'>Greek Lexicon</span>, so -much in use till superseded by Liddell and Scott’s. Its -author was Professor of Greek in the University from -1806 to 1852. He fell from a tree, it was said, into the -Greek chair. In fact, he commenced life as gardener; -confined by an accident he betook himself to study, -with highly satisfactory results. His predecessor in -the chair had been Andrew Dalzel, an important figure -in his time, perhaps best remembered by the ineptitude -of his criticism of Scott, whom he entertained -unawares in his class. Scott sent him in an essay, -“cracking up” Ariosto above Homer. Dalzel was naturally -furious: “Dunce he was and dunce he would -remain.” You cannot blame the professor, but <span class='it'>dîs</span> -<span class='pageno' title='65' id='Page_65'></span> -<span class='it'>aliter visum</span>! Dunbar’s successor was John Stuart -Blackie (1852-1882), one of the best known Edinburgh -figures of his time. He had a creed of his own, -ways of his own, and a humour of his own. Even -the orthodox loved and tolerated the genial individualist -who was never malicious. “Blackie’s neyther -orthodox, heterodox, nor any ither dox; he’s juist -himsel’!” An ardent body of abstainers under some -mistaken idea asked him to preside at one of their -meetings. He thus addressed them: “I cannot understand -why I am asked to be here, I am not a teetotaler—far -from it. If a man asks me to dine with -him and does not give me a good glass of wine, I say -he is neither a Christian nor a gentleman. Germans -drink beer, Englishmen drink wine, ladies tea, and -fools water.” Blackie was an advocate as well as a -professor. Possibly he had in his mind a certain Act -of 1716, to wit, the 3rd of Geo. <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> chap. 5, whereby -a duty was imposed “of two pennies Scots, or one-sixth -of a penny sterling on every pint of ale and beer -that shall be vended and sold within the City of Edinburgh.” -Among the objects to which the duty was -to be applied was the settling of a salary upon the -Professor of Law in the University of Edinburgh and -his successor in office not exceeding £100 per annum. -Here is a portrait by himself which brings vividly back, -true to the life, that once familiar figure of the Edinburgh -pavement: “When I walk along Princes Street -I go with a kingly air, my head erect, my chest expanded, -my hair flowing, my plaid flying, my stick swinging. -Do you know what makes me do that? Well, I’ll -tell you—just con-ceit.” Even those who knew him -<span class='pageno' title='66' id='Page_66'></span> -not will understand that the Edinburgh ways never -quite seemed the same when that picturesque figure -was seen no longer there. And yet the Blackie anecdotes -are disappointing. There is a futile story that he -once put up a notice he would meet his <span class='it'>classes</span> at such -an hour. A student with a very elementary sense of -humour cut off the <span class='it'>c</span>, and he retorted by deleting the <span class='it'>l</span>. -All this is poor enough. Alas! he was only of the silver -or, shall we say, of the iron age of Auld Reekie?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aytoun in an address at the graduation of 1863, -spoke of the professors of his time as the instructors, -and almost idols, of the rising generation. He himself -filled the chair of Rhetoric between 1845 and 1865. -A quaint though scarcely characteristic story is preserved -of his early years. One night he was, or was -believed to be, absent from home, “late at een birling -the wine.” An irate parent stood grimly behind the -door the while a hesitating hand fumbled at the latch, -the dim light of morn presently revealed a cloaked -figure, upon whom swift blows descended without stint -or measure. It was not young Aytoun at all, but a -mighty Senator of the College of Justice who had mistaken -the door for his own, which was a little farther -along the street!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of the idols to whom Aytoun referred was no -doubt his father-in-law, John Wilson (1820-1853), the -well-known Christopher North, described by Sir R. -Christison as “the grandest specimen I have ever seen -of the human form, tall, perfectly symmetrical, massive -and majestic, yet agile.” Even in old age he had -many of his early characteristics. He noted a coal -carter brutally driving a heavily-laden horse up the -<span class='pageno' title='67' id='Page_67'></span> -steep streets of Edinburgh; he remonstrated with the -fellow, who raised his whip in a threatening manner -as if to strike. The spirit of the old man swelled in -righteous anger, he tore away the whip as if it had -been straw, loosened the harness, threw the coals into -the street, then clutching the whip in one hand and -leading the horse by the other, he marched through -Moray Place, to deposit the unfortunate animal in -more kindly keeping.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are stories of the library that merit attention. -I will give the name of Robert Henderson, appointed -librarian in 1685, where he so continued till -1747—sixty-two years altogether, the longest record -of University service extant. Physically of a lean and -emaciated figure, he had a very high opinion of his -own erudition. Now in the old college there was a certain -ruinous wall to which was attached the legend, -that it would topple over on some great scholar. The -librarian affected an extreme anxiety when in the -vicinity of the wall. At length it was taken down. -Boswell told the story to Johnson. The sage did not -lose the chance for a very palpable hit at Scots learning. -“They were afraid it never would fall!” he -growled. There was a like tradition regarding that -precipitous part of Arthur’s Seat quaintly named -Samson’s Ribs. An old witch prophesied they would -be sure to fall on the greatest philosopher in Scotland. -Sir John Leslie was afraid to pass that way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The relations between the Town Council and the -professors in the first half of the nineteenth century -were sometimes far from harmonious. The days were -past when the Academy of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> was merely the -<span class='pageno' title='68' id='Page_68'></span> -“Tounes Colledge,” it was more and more a University -with a European reputation. A cultured scholar of -the type of Sir William Hamilton, “spectator of all -time and of all existence,” in Plato’s striking phrase, -was not like to rest contented under the sway of the -Town Council. Possibly the Council sneered at him -and his likes, as visionary, unpractical, eccentric; possibly -there was truth on both sides, so much <span class='it'>does</span> depend -on your point of view. The University, somewhat -unwisely, went to law with the Council, and came -down rather heavily; nor were the Council generous -victors. The Lord Provost of the time met Professor -Dunbar one day at dinner—“We have got you Professors -under our thumb, and by —— we will make you -feel it,” said he rather coarsely. The professors consoled -each other with anecdotes of Town Council -oddities in college affairs. One councillor gave as a -reason why he voted for a professorial candidate -that, “He was asked by a leddy who had lately given -him a good job.” “I don’t care that,” said another, -snapping his fingers, “for the chair of —— , but whoever -the Provost votes for, I’ll vote for somebody else.” -An English scholar had come to Edinburgh as candidate -for a chair. He called on a worthy member -of the Council to whom his very accent suggested -black prelacy, or worse. “Are ye a jined member?” -The stranger stared in hopeless bewilderment. “Are -ye a jined member o’ onie boadie?” was the far from -lucid explanation. However, the Act of 1858 has -changed all this, and town and gown in Edinburgh -fight no more. Well, there is no gown, and the University -has always been a good part of the good town -<span class='pageno' title='69' id='Page_69'></span> -of Edinburgh, as much now as ever. Take a broad -view from first to last, and how to deny that the Council -did their duty well! Principal Sir Alexander Grant -in his <span class='it'>Story of the University of Edinburgh</span> bears generous -and emphatic testimony as to this, and here we -may well leave the matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I must now desert the groves of the Academy of -James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI</span>. to say a word on a lesser school and its schoolmasters. -Here we have the memorable and illustrative -story of the great barring out of September -1595 at the old High School. The scholars had -gone on the 15th of that month to ask the Council -for the week’s holiday of privilege as was usual. It -was curtly refused, whereupon some “gentlemen’s -bairns” collected firearms and swords, and in dead -of night seized the schoolhouse, which they fortified -in some sort. Their Rector, Master Pollock, was refused -admittance next morning, and complained to -the magistrates. Bailie John Macmorran came to the -spot with a posse of officers, but William Sinclair, son -of the Chancellor of Caithness, took his stand at a -window and threatened to pistol the first who approached. -Bailie Macmorran was a big man in his -day—his house, now restored as University Hall, still -rises stately and impressive in Riddle’s Close, on the -south side of the Lawnmarket—and he was not to be -put down by a schoolboy; he ordered his satellites to -crash in the door with the beam they were bringing -forward. It is not hard to reconstitute the scene: the -bailie, full of civic importance and wrath, the angry -boy at the window, the pride of youth and blood in -his set, determined face. Presently the pistol shot -<span class='pageno' title='70' id='Page_70'></span> -rang out, and Macmorran fell dead on the pavement -with a bullet through his brain. The whole town rushed -to the spot, seized the frightened boys and thrust -them into the Tolbooth, but finally they were liberated -without hurt, after, it would seem, some form of -a trial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are many quaint details as to the scholars. -They used to go to the fields in the summer to cut -rushes or bent for the floor of the school, but, you -see, fighting was the work or the game of nearly every -male in Scotland, and even the children must needs -have their share. On these expeditions the boys fell -to slashing one another with their hooks, and they -were stopped. The winter of 1716 was distinguished -by furious riots, though not of the same deadly nature. -The pupils demolished every window of the school -and of the adjacent parish church of Lady Yester, -also the wall which fenced the playground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I will not gather records of the various Rectors, not -even of Dr. Alexander Adam, the most famous of -them all. You can see to-day his portrait by Raeburn, -and one of Raeburn’s best in the Gallery on the -Mound, and think of his striking utterance in the last -hours of his life, “Boys, it is growing dark, you may -go home.” In his prime he had a profound conviction -of his own qualities and those of his school. “Come -away, sir,”—thus he would address a new scholar,—“you -will see more here in an hour than you will in -any other school in Europe.” He had a long series -of eminent pupils, among them Scott, Horner, and -Jeffrey, and the manner in which they have spoken -of him justifies his words and his reputation.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='73' id='Page_73'></span><h1>CHAPTER FOUR<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE SURGEONS & THE DOCTORS</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The physicians, the surgeons, the -medical schools of Edinburgh have long and famous -histories. A few facts may assist the reader to understand -the anecdotes which fill this chapter. The Guild -of Surgeons and Barbers received a charter of Incorporation -from the Town Council on the 1st July 1505, -and to this in 1506 the sanction of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> was obtained. -On 26th February 1567 the surgeons and -apothecaries were made into one body; henceforth -they ceased to act as barbers and, after 1722, save -that the surgeons kept a register of barbers’ apprentices, -there was no connection whatever between the -profession and the trade. In 1778 a charter was obtained -from George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span>, and the corporation became -the Royal College of Surgeons of the City of Edinburgh. -In early days they had a place of meeting -in Dixon’s Close, but in 1656 they acquired and occupied -Curriehill House, once the property of the Black -Friars. In May 1775 the foundation-stone of a new -hall was laid in Surgeons Square, hard by the old -High School. Here the Incorporation met till the -opening of the new Surgeons Hall in 1832 on the east -side of Nicolson Street, a little way south of the old -University buildings. Just as the barbers became -separated from the surgeons, so in time a distinction -was drawn between these last and the physicians. In -1617, James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> in the High Court of Parliament decreed -the establishment of a College of Physicians for -Edinburgh. In poverty-stricken Scotland a scheme -often remained a mere scheme for many long years. -<span class='pageno' title='74' id='Page_74'></span> -In 1656, Cromwell issued a patent establishing a College -of Physicians on the lines laid down by James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span>, -but he passed away and his scheme with him, and it -was not till 1681 that the charter was finally obtained. -Their ancient place of meeting was near the Cowgate -Port, but in 1775 the foundation of a splendid -building was laid by Professor Cullen, their most -eminent member. It stood opposite St. Andrew’s -Church, George Street, but in 1843 this was sold to -the Commercial Bank for £20,000, and in 1844 the -foundation-stone was laid of the present hall in Queen -Street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first botanical garden in Edinburgh was founded -by Sir Andrew Balfour (1630-1694), who commenced -practice in the capital in 1670. He obtained -from the Town Council a small piece of land between -the east end of the Nor’ Loch and Trinity College, -which had formed part of the Trinity Garden. Here -were the old Physic Gardens. About 1770 this was -completely abandoned in favour of new land on the -west side of Leith Walk, and in less than a hundred -years, namely, in 1824, the new and splendid Royal -Botanical Gardens were established in Inverleith -Row; to this all the “plant” of the old gardens was -transferred.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As to the medical faculty in the University, I note -that the chair of anatomy was founded in 1705, and -that its most famous occupants were the three Alexander -Monro’s, known as <span class='it'>primus</span>, <span class='it'>secundus</span>, and <span class='it'>tertius</span>, -who held the professorship between them for 126 -years, namely, from 1720 to 1846. The first Monro -distinguished himself at the battle of Prestonpans, not -<span class='pageno' title='75' id='Page_75'></span> -by slaying but by healing. He attended diligently to -the wounded on both sides and got them conveyed to -Edinburgh. The second was professor from 1754 to -1808, a remarkable period of fifty-four years. His father -made an odd bargain with the Town Council. If -they would appoint his son to succeed him he would -carefully train him for the post in the best schools both -at home and abroad. They agreed, and the experiment -turned out a complete success. He had studied -at London, Leyden, Paris, and Berlin, and when he -returned his father asked the city notabilities to hear -his first lecture. Monro had got it up by heart, but -he lost his presence of mind and forgot every word; -he had to speak extempore, yet he knew his subject -and soon found his feet. He lectured without notes -ever after. The most popular Scots divines have always -done the same. Monro <span class='it'>tertius</span> was not equal to -his father or grandfather. The memory of his great -predecessors was too much for him, “froze the genial -current of his soul,” made him listless and apathetic. -He had as rival the famous Dr. John Barclay, extra-mural -lecturer on anatomy, 1797-1825. This last was -very ready and self-possessed. Once he had to lecture -on some part of the human frame; the subject lay before -him covered with a sheet. He lifted the sheet, -laid it down again, and proceeded to give an excellent -discourse on anatomy, but not quite according -to the programme; in fact, a mistake had been made, -and there was nothing under the sheet; but, again, -the feat does not seem altogether surprising. However, -the mistake was not so dire as that of one of -his assistants, who after dinner one night hurried to -<span class='pageno' title='76' id='Page_76'></span> -the dissecting room to prepare the subject for next -day. He pulled off the cloth, but it was at once pulled -back again; he pulled it off again, the same thing -happened: the farthing dip that faintly illumined the -room almost fell from his nerveless hand, a low growl -revealed the unexpected presence of a dog whose teeth -had supplied the opposing force! Barclay’s lectures -were flavoured with pungent doses of caustic old -Edinburgh wit. He warned his students to beware of -discoveries of anatomy. “In a field so well wrought, -what remained to discover? As at harvest, first come -the reapers to the uncut grain and then the gleaners, -and finally the geese, idly poking among the rubbish. -Gentlemen, <span class='it'>we are the geese</span>!” It was not rarely -the habit of professors in former times to give free -tickets for their courses. The kindness was sometimes -abused. Barclay applied a humorous but sufficient -corrective. Once he had a note from Mr. Laing, -bookseller, father of Dr. David Laing the well-known -antiquary, requesting a free ticket for some sucking -sawbones. Barclay professed himself delighted to -confer the favour, but invited his proposed pupil to -accompany him to Mr. Laing’s shop, where he selected -books on anatomy to the exact value of his ticket, -and sagely remarking that without text-books his -lectures were useless, presented them to the astonished -youth as a gift from Mr. Laing! Taking no -denial he bundled the youth and the books out of the -place. He did not again find it necessary to repeat -the lesson. In Sir Robert Christison’s <span class='it'>Life</span> some remarkable -instances are given of this curious form of -benevolence at somebody else’s expense, but the subject -<span class='pageno' title='77' id='Page_77'></span> -need not be pursued. Barclay had collected a considerable -museum, of which a fine elephant, an early -Jumbo in fact, was the gem. His friends, who were -numerous and powerful, tried to get a chair of comparative -anatomy founded for him in the University. -Various members of the medical faculty opposed it -tooth and nail, as poaching on their preserves. One -of Kay’s most famous caricatures represents Barclay -seated on an elephant charging the college gate, -which is barred against him by a learned crowd. The -opposition succeeded and Barclay was never elected -professor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Barclay had been brought up for the church, and in -his early days had, during the absence of the Rev. Mr. -Baird of Bo’ness, wagged his head in the pulpit of that -divine. “How did they like him?” asked Baird of Sandy, -the village sage or the village idiot or, perhaps, both. -“Gey weel, minister, gey weel, but everybody thought -him daft.” “Why, Sandy?” “Oh, for gude reasons, -minister; Mr. Barclay was aye skinning puddocks” -(frogs). It was reported that dogs fled in terror at -the sight of him; the sagacious animals feared capture -and dissection; he had incautiously cut up a dog in -the presence of its kind and thus had an ill name in -the canine world! Not that this implied any ill-will -to dogs; quite the contrary, as witness a story of John -Goodsir (1814-1867), who succeeded Monro <span class='it'>tertius</span> -as professor of anatomy in 1846. He had carefully -studied the anatomy of the horse. “I love the horse, -I love the horse,” he said with genuine fervour, “I -have dissected him twice!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Barclay possessed an uncle, a full-blown divine, -<span class='pageno' title='78' id='Page_78'></span> -and the founder of a sect by some called after him. -Nephew and uncle argued theological points. The -young man was so hard to convince that the elder -sent a heavy folio flying at his head; he dodged the -missile, but if not confuted, was at any rate silenced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many of the anecdotes of the surgeon’s life in old -Edinburgh turn on this question of anatomy. Until -the Anatomy Act of 1832, that science was terribly -hampered by the want of subjects. The charter of -1505 provided an allowance of one body annually, -which was almost ludicrously insufficient, hence body -snatching became almost a necessity, perhaps among -the surgeons themselves it was counted a virtue, but -they dared not say it openly. On 20th May 1711, the -college solemnly protested against body snatching. -On the 24th of January 1721 a clause was ordered to -be inserted in indentures binding apprentices not to -violate graves, but the populace, rightly or wrongly, -thought those rascal surgeons had tongue in cheek -all the time, and were ever inclined to put the worst -possible construction on every circumstance that -seemed to point that way. Lauder of Fountainhall -commemorates an early case. On the 6th February -1678 four gipsies, a father and three sons, were -hanged together at Edinburgh, for killing another -gipsy called Faa at Romanno. To the Edinburgh -burghers of the day the gipsy and the cateran were -mere wild beasts of prey, and these four wretches were -hung in haste, cut down in haste, and forthwith huddled -together with their clothes on—it was not worth -while to strip them of their rags—into a shallow hole -in Greyfriars Churchyard. Next morning the grave -<span class='pageno' title='79' id='Page_79'></span> -lay open, and the body of the youngest son, aged sixteen, -was missing. It was remembered he had been -the last thrown over, and the first cut down, and the last -buried. Perhaps he had revived, thrown aside a scanty -covering of earth, and fled to Highland hill or Border -waste. Others opined that the body had been stolen by -some chirurgeon or his servant for the purpose of dissection, -on which possibility Fountainhall takes occasion -to utter some grave legal maxims; solemnly locks -the door, as it were, in the absence of the steed. In 1742 -a rifled grave was noted in the West Kirkyard, and a -body, presumably its former tenant, was presently -discovered near the shop of one Martin Eccles, surgeon. -Forthwith the Portsburgh drum was beating a -mad tattoo through the Cowgate, and the mob proceeded -to smash the surgeon’s shop. As for Martin, -you may safely assume <span class='it'>non est inventus</span>, else had he -been smashed likewise. Again, a sedan chair is discovered -containing a dead body, apparently on its way -to the dissecting room. The chairman and his assistant -were banished, and the chair was burned by the -common hangman. Again, one John Samuel, a gardener, -moved thereto, you guess, by an all too consuming -thirst, is taken at the Potterow Port trying to sell -the dead body of a child, which was recognised as having -been buried at Pentland the week before. He was -soundly whipped through Edinburgh and banished -Scotland for seven years.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A still more sordid and more terrible tragedy is among -the events of 1752. Two women, Ellen Torrence -and Jean Waldy, meet in the street a mother with her -little boy, they ask her to drink, an invitation, it seems, -<span class='pageno' title='80' id='Page_80'></span> -impossible to resist. Whilst one plied her with liquor, -the other enticed the boy to her own den, where she -promptly suffocated him. The body was sold for two -shillings to the students, sixpence was given to the -one who carried it, and it was only after long haggling -that an additional ten pence was extorted “for a dram.” -They were presently discovered and executed. This -almost incredible story, to which Gilbert Glossin in -<span class='it'>Guy Mannering</span> makes a rather far-fetched reference -in a discussion with Mr. Pleydell, proves at any rate -one thing, there was a ready market for dead bodies in -Edinburgh for purposes of dissection, and as the buyer -was not too inquisitive, indeed he could scarcely afford -to be, the bodies almost certainly were illegally procured; -though, whatever the populace might think -and suspect, there was never any case where there was -the least evidence that the surgeon was a party to the -murder. Any surgeon who was such must have been -a criminal lunatic. The case of Dr. Knox, to be presently -referred to, was the one that excited most notice -and suspicion. It was carefully inquired into, and -nothing was found against him. If there had been a -<span class='it'>prima facie</span> case, the popular feeling was so strong that -the Crown authorities needs must have taken action, -but I anticipate a little.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the latter half of the eighteenth century to -the first part of the nineteenth, the resurrectionist and -the pressgang were two subjects on which the popular -imagination dwelt with a certain fascinated horror. -The resurrectionist was so much in evidence -that graves were protected with heavy iron frames -(you still see one or two specimens in old Greyfriars -<span class='pageno' title='81' id='Page_81'></span> -and elsewhere), and churchyards were regularly watched. -There is no need to set forth how the tenderest -and deepest feelings of human nature were outraged -by the desecration of the last resting-place. On the -other hand, the doctors were mad for subjects. A certain -enthusiasm for humanity possessed them, too. -Were they not working to relieve suffering? There -was something else: the love of daring adventure, the -romance and mystery of the unholy midnight raid -had their attraction; it was never difficult, you can -believe, to collect a harum-scarum set of medical students -for an expedition. Some men, afterwards very -eminent, early distinguished themselves. Thus, the -celebrated surgeon, Robert Liston (1794-1847), was -engaged in more than one of the following adventures, -the stories of which I here tell as samples of the bulk. -One Henderson, an innkeeper, had died in Leven, in -Fifeshire. Two students from Edinburgh had snatched -the body and were conveying it away, when one -of them suddenly felt ill. They took refuge with their -burden, enclosed in a sack, in a convenient public-house. -It happened to be the one formerly kept by -Henderson, and now in charge of his widow and -daughter. They were shown to an upper room, which -contained a closed-in box bed, so frequent a feature -in old Scots houses. The sick man was pulling himself -together with brandy and what not, when a great -hubbub arose downstairs. The town officers were -searching the house for stolen property. The students -were beside themselves with panic, though in fact -the officers do not seem to have searched the upstairs -room at all. However, “The thief doth fear each bush -<span class='pageno' title='82' id='Page_82'></span> -an officer.” The two lads hastily took the body from -the sack and put it in the bed, then they bolted through -the window, and were seen no more. The room -as it turned out was used by the widow as a bedroom, -and it was only when she retired for the night—I need -not follow the narrative further, save to note that the -graveclothes had been made by herself!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Liston was a student he heard from a country -surgeon of an interesting case where a post-mortem -seemed desirable in the interests of science. He and -some others dressed as sailors and repaired to the -place by boat, for it was on the shore of the Firth. -The surgeon’s apprentice met them as arranged, and -everything went off well. The marauding party repaired -for refreshment to a little change-house, leaving -their sack under a near hedge. Here they spent a -happy time in carousing and chaffing the country -wench whom they found in charge. A loud shout of -“Ship ahoy!” startled them. The girl said it was only -her brother, and a drunken sailor presently staggered -in with the sack on his shoulders. Pitching it to the -ground, he said with an oath, “Now if that ain’t something -good, rot them chaps who stole it.” Presently -he produced a knife. “Let’s see what it is,” said he as -he ripped the sack open. The sight of the contents -worked a sudden change: the girl fled through the -door with hysterical screams, the sailor on the instant -dead sober followed, Liston seized the body, and all -made for the boat, and they were soon safe back in -Edinburgh. Liston is the chief figure of another adventure. -He and his party had gone by boat to Rosyth -to get the body of a drowned sailor. His sweetheart, -<span class='pageno' title='83' id='Page_83'></span> -nearly distracted at her recent loss, was scarce absent -from the tomb night or day. They did manage -to get the body lifted and on board the boat, when -the woman discovered the violated grave. Her wild -shrieks rang in their ears as they pulled for the opposite -shore as hard as they could, but they kept secure -hold of their prey. Another story tells of a party of -tyros who had raised the body of a farmer’s wife from -Glencorse or some neighbouring churchyard. As they -dragged along it seemed to their excited fancy that -the body had recovered life and was hopping after -them! They fled with loud yells of terror, and left -their burden by the roadside. The widower was the -first to discover it there next morning. He thought it -was a case of premature burial and made some frantic -efforts at resuscitation: the truth only gradually -dawned upon him. This, I venture to think, was the -story that suggested to R. L. Stevenson his gruesome -tale of <span class='it'>The Body-snatcher</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet another story tells of a certain Miss Wilson of -Bruntsfield Links who was courted by two admirers. -She showed a marked preference for one, and when -he died she seemed heart-broken. The other, not content -with having the field to himself, engaged the services -of a professional body-snatcher and proceeded to -Buccleuch burying-ground. Miss Wilson was mourning -at the grave; they waited till she was gone and -then set to work, and the surviving rival soon had the -cruel satisfaction of knowing that the body of the other -was on the anatomical table at the University!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have mentioned the professional body-snatcher, -and the class certainly existed. Obviously it was formed -<span class='pageno' title='84' id='Page_84'></span> -of men of a low type, however afraid they might -be to perpetrate actual murder. Among the best -known was a certain Andrew Lees, called “Merry Andrew” -by the students. He had been a carrier between -a country town and Edinburgh, and his house was near -the churchyard, which he despoiled at leisure. In after -days he used to lament the times when he got subjects -“as cheap as penny pies.” It was said he drank sixteen -glasses of raw whisky daily, and that on great -occasions the glasses became pints. Various ruffians -were associated with him, one nicknamed “Moudiewart,” -or mole, from his skill in the delving part of the -operation. Perhaps a line from Shakespeare was in the -mind of the nicknamer:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well said, old mole, can’st work i’ the earth so fast?”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>More probably it was all native wit. Another was a -sham parson called “Praying Howard,” who wept and -supplicated with an unction hard to distinguish from -the real article. There is no doubt these rascals thoroughly -enjoyed their knavish pranks, and they were -ever on the watch to hear of some one dying, friendless -and alone; then one appeared among a household -perplexed to know what to do with the remains -of a person in whom they had no special interest. The -stranger was a dear friend or near relative of the deceased, -and was only anxious to bury him with all possible -honour, and in due course a mock funeral was arranged, -with parson, undertaker, and chief mourner. -The procession started for some place in the country, -but of course the real destination of the departed was -one of the Edinburgh dissecting rooms. If things -went well, Andrew and his fellows spent a night in -<span class='pageno' title='85' id='Page_85'></span> -wild debauchery in some tavern of ill odour in every -sense of the word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At least those pranks were comparatively harmless. -The dead were gone beyond the reach of hurt, -and the feelings of the living were not outraged. As -regards the rifling of graveyards, you wonder how it -was so often successful. The watchers were, however, -paid hirelings, they were frozen with superstitious -terror, they were usually paralysed with drink, and -they had watched hours and nights already, and nothing -had happened. The assailants were infinitely -more active in mind and body; they had full command -of cash and of all necessary appliances, and they selected -the time of their attack; more than all, they -seemed absolutely free from superstitious feeling. -Yet, with it all, it is curious that no Edinburgh doctor -or student seems ever to have been put in actual peril.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I turn now to the Burke and Hare murders, which -had important effects in various directions. The locus -was Tanner’s Close in the West Port, outside the city -boundary. Here Burke kept a lodging-house, and here, -on the 29th of November 1827, Donald, an old pensioner, -died in debt to Burke. Thus a needy man found himself -in possession of the body of his dead-and-gone -debtor, and it seemed to him quite justifiable to fill up -the coffin with rubbish, and sell the corpse to Dr. Knox -of 10 Surgeon Square at £7,10s., a sum which seemed -for the moment a small fortune. Then the notion occurred -to him or his associate, Hare, how easy to press -the life out of some of the waifs and strays that floated -about the Grassmarket and its adjacent quarters, the -very lowest in Edinburgh! These were here to-day -<span class='pageno' title='86' id='Page_86'></span> -and gone to-morrow, and if they never turned up again -who was there to ask after them or mourn their loss? -I shall not tell here the story of “Daft Jamie” and -handsome Mary Paterson and the other victims, or of -how the murderers were discovered, how Hare turned -King’s evidence, how Burke was convicted, whilst his -associate, Helen Macdougal, escaped. Burke was executed -amidst impressive and even terrible marks of -popular indignation, and by a sort of poetic justice, -which appealed to the popular imagination, he himself -was dissected.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For us Dr. Knox is a more interesting and important -figure. The thing cast a shadow over his brilliant -career, and at last his life was lost in flats and shallows, -yet he was one of the most striking figures of his time. -Though a cruel attack of small-pox in his youth had -left him blind in the left eye, and plain to the verge, -or over the verge, of ugliness, he was a special favourite -with women, by his talk, by his manner, by you -know not what. According to Shakespeare, Richard -Crookback, a more evil man, surely, in every way, -had the same fatal gift. Knox was widely read and -of wide culture. In a city of brilliant talkers he was, -so his biographer would have us believe, among the -very best, nay, he ranks him equal or superior to De -Quincey. We are told that he was so tender-hearted -that he hated to think of experiments on living animals; -he did not believe that any real advantage was -to be gained therefrom. He certainly was possessed -of true enthusiasm for science; he was by no means -a rich man, yet he spent £300 on a whale which he -dissected, and whose skeleton he secured for the -<span class='pageno' title='87' id='Page_87'></span> -museum. It was only an amiable weakness that he was -very careful in his dress and person. His friend, Dr. -Macdonald, afterwards professor of natural history -at St. Andrews, calling upon him one day, found him -with his sister Mary. She had a pair of curling-tongs -in her hand, with which she was touching up her brother’s -rather scanty locks. “Ah, ah! I see,” said Macdonald, -“the modern Apollo attired by the Graces.” -Knox was not unduly disturbed by remarks of this -sort. Monro’s pupils considered themselves in the -opposite camp. One of them wagered that he would -put the anatomist out of countenance. He set himself -right before him in the street: “Well, by Jove, Dr. -Knox, you are the ugliest fellow I ever saw in my life!” -Knox quietly patted the impudent student on the -shoulder: “Ah! then you cannot have seen my brother -Fred!” As it happened, Fred was much the handsomer -of the two, but he had been rather a thorn in the side -of the anatomist, who had shown him much kindness, -and maybe Knox was not ill pleased at the chance -to give him a sly dig. His own students doted on him, -they called him Robert for short. “Yes,” said an -enemy, “Robert le Diable”; as such the people regarded -him. How he escaped death, or at least bodily -injury, is a little curious; even the students were affrighted -at the yells and howls of the mob outside his -evening classroom. The lecturer pointed out that he -had never missed a single lecture, and that he was not -afraid. Once the rabble burned his effigy and attacked -his house. Knox escaped to his friend, Dr. Adams, in -St. Patrick Square. He was asked how he dare venture -out. He said he preferred to meet his fate, whatever -<span class='pageno' title='88' id='Page_88'></span> -it was, outside than die like a rat in a hole, then he -threw open the military cloak that he wore and revealed -a sword, pistols, and a Highland dirk. The brutes -might kill him, but he would account for at least twenty -of them first. All sorts of legends were told about him. -He had many Kaffir skulls in his museum, and he was -alleged to have explained: “Why, sir, there was no difficulty -in Kaffraria. I had but to walk out of my tent and -shoot as many as I wanted for scientific and ethnological -purposes.” Knox <span class='it'>had</span> experiences in South Africa, -but they were not of this kind. In chap books and -popular ditties his name ever went with the West Port -murderers—a verse may be given:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Burke an’ Hare</p> -<p class='line0'>Fell doun the stair</p> -<p class='line0'>Wi’ a leddy in a box</p> -<p class='line0'>Gaun tae Doctor Knox.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>Once when walking in the Meadows with Dr. Adams, -Knox gave a penny and said some pleasant words to -a pretty little girl of six who was playing there. “Would -she come and live with him,” he said jestingly, “if he -gave her a penny every day?” The child shook her head. -“No; you’d maybe sell me to Dr. Knox.” His biographer -affirms he was more affected by this childish -thrust than by all the hostility of the mob. He could -give a shrewd thrust himself, however. Dr. John Reid, -the physiologist, had dissected two sharks, in which -he could discover no sign of a brain; he was much perplexed. -“How on earth could the animals live without -it?” said he to Knox. “Not the least extraordinary,” -was the answer. “If you go over to the Parliament -House any morning you will see a great number of -<span class='pageno' title='89' id='Page_89'></span> -live sharks walking about without any brains whatever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg88'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i110.jpg' alt='Portrait of Dr. Archibald Pitcairn' id='iid-0010' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>DR. ARCHIBALD PITCAIRN</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after Sir John Medina</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>I have gone somewhat out of my way to complete -the story of the resurrectionist times. I return to an -earlier period with a note on the Royal Infirmary. -The great evil of the body-snatching incidents was -that it brought into disrepute and odium the profession -towards which the public felt kindly and to which -they have been so greatly indebted for unpaid, unselfish, -and devoted service. During nearly two hundred -years the great Edinburgh hospital known as -“The Royal Infirmary” has borne witness to the -labours in the public cause of the Edinburgh doctors. -The story of its inception is creditable to the whole -community. It was opened in 1729 on a very humble -scale in a small house. A charter was granted by -George <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> in 1736, and on the 2nd August 1738 the -foundation-stone of a great building was laid to the east -of the college near the old High School. The whole -nation helped: the proprietors of stone quarries sent -stone and lime; timber merchants supplied wood; the -farmers carried materials; even day labourers gave the -contribution of their labour, all free of charge. Ladies -collected money in assemblies, and from every part -of the world help was obtained from Scotsmen settled -in foreign parts. Such is the old Royal Infirmary. -When it was unable further to supply the wants of -an ever-increasing population and the requirements -of modern science, the new Royal Infirmary was -founded in October 1870 and opened in October 1879 -on the grounds of George Watson’s Hospital, which -had been acquired for the purpose. The place is the -<span class='pageno' title='90' id='Page_90'></span> -western side of the Meadow Walk, and the same devoted -service to the cause of humanity has now been -given for more than thirty years in those newer walls. -But for the present we are concerned with incidents -in the lives of old eighteenth-century doctors. Dr. -Archibald Pitcairne (1652-1713), scholar and Jacobite, -perhaps better known as that than as a physician, -was a well-known figure. He was buried in Greyfriars’ -Churchyard under a rectangular slab with four -pillars, on which there was an inscription by the -learned Ruddiman, himself a Jacobite scholar and -much in sympathy with the deceased. Pitcairne, like -the rest of Edinburgh, set great store on his wine; -with an almost sublime confidence he collected certain -precious bottles and decreed in his will that -these should not be uncorked until the King should -enjoy his own again, but when the nineteenth century -dawned it seemed hardly worth while to wait -any longer. Pious souls were found to restore the -tomb which, like so many other tombs in Greyfriars, -alas! had fallen into decay and disorder. They were -rewarded in a way which was surely after the master’s -own heart. The 25th of December 1800 was the anniversary -of the doctor’s birth. The consent of Lady -Anne Erskine, his granddaughter, having been obtained, -the bottles were solemnly uncorked, and they -were found to contain Malmsey in excellent preservation. -Each contributor to the restoration received -a large glass quaintly called a jeroboam. This, you -do not doubt, they quaffed with solemn satisfaction -in memory of the deceased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pitcairne was far from “sound,” according to the -<span class='pageno' title='91' id='Page_91'></span> -standard of the time; he was deist or perhaps even -atheist, it was opined, and one was as bad as the other, -but he must have his joke at whatever price. At a sale -of books a copy of Holy Writ could find no purchaser. -“Was it not written,” sniggered Pitcairne, “<span class='it'>Verbum -Deimanetin æternum</span>?” The crowd had Latin enough -to see the point. There was a mighty pother, strong -remarks were freely interchanged, an action for defamation -was the result, but it was compromised. I -tell elsewhere of a trick played by Pitcairne on the -tryers. Dr. Black, of the police establishment, played -one even more mischievous on Archibald Campbell, -the city officer. Black had a shop in the High -Street, the taxes on which were much in arrear, and -the irascible Highlander threatened to seize his “cattinary -(ipecacuanha) pottles.” Black connected the -handle of his door with an electric battery and awaited -developments. First came a clerk, who got nothing -more than a good fright. He appeared before his master, -who asked him what he meant by being “trunk -like a peast” at that time of day? He set off for the -doctor’s himself, but when he seized the door handle -he received a shock that sent him reeling into the gutter. -“Ah,” said one of the bystanders, who no doubt -was in the secret, “you sometimes accuse me of liking -a <span class='it'>glass</span>, but I think the doctor has given you a -<span class='it'>tumbler</span>!” “No, sir,” cried Archie as soon as he had -recovered his speech. “He shot me through the -shoulder with a horse-pistol. I heard the report by -—— Laddie, do you see any plood?” An attempt -was made to communicate with the doctor next day -through the clerk, but the latter promptly refused. -<span class='pageno' title='92' id='Page_92'></span> -“You and the doctor may paith go to the tevil; do -you want me to be murdered, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Practical joking of the most pronounced description -was much in favour in old Edinburgh. One -Dempster, a jeweller in the Parliament Close, after a -bout of hard drinking, was minded to cut his throat. -A friend, described by Kay as “a gentleman of very -convivial habits,” remarked in jest that he would save -him the trouble, and proceeded to stick a knife into -him. It was at once seen that the joke—and the knife—if -anything, had been pushed too far, and John Bennet, -surgeon, was summoned in desperate haste; his -treatment was so satisfactory that the wound was -cured and the matter hushed up. The delighted -Hamilton, relieved from dismal visions of the Tolbooth -and worse, “presented Mr. Bennet with an -elegant chariot,” and from this time he was a made -man. <span class='it'>His</span> ideas of humour were also a little peculiar. -In payment of a bet he gave a dinner at Leith at which, -as usual, everybody drank a great deal too much. -They were to finish up the evening at the theatre, and -there they were driven in mourning coaches at a funereal -pace. All this you may consider mere tomfoolery, -mad pranks of ridiculous schoolboys, but Bennet was -a grave and reputable citizen; he was President of the -Royal College of Surgeons in 1803, and died in 1805, -and in the stories that I tell of him and others you -have for good or ill eighteenth-century Edinburgh. -He was a very thin man. He once asked a tailor if -he could measure him for a suit of small clothes? “Oh,” -said the man of shears, “hold up your stick, it will -serve the purpose well enough.” You can only conjecture -<span class='pageno' title='93' id='Page_93'></span> -whether the order was in fact given, for there -the chronicle stops short. There are certain “large -and comfortable words” in the <span class='it'>Rhyming Epistle to a -Tailor</span> that would have served excellent well for a -reply. Bennet had not the wit of Burns, and <span class='it'>his</span> reply -is not preserved. You believe, however, it did not lack -strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg92'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i115.jpg' alt='Portrait of Dr. Alexander Wood' id='iid-0011' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>DR. ALEXANDER WOOD</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after Ailison</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>One of the best known surgeons of old Edinburgh -was Alexander Wood (1725-1807), whose name still -survives in a verse of Byron’s. Once he “would a-wooing -go,” and was asked by his proposed father-in-law -as to his means. He drew out his lancet case: “We -have nothing but this,” he said frankly. He got the -lady, however. Sir James Stirling, the Provost, was -unpopular on account of his opposition to a scheme -for the reform of the Royal boroughs of Scotland. -He was so like Wood that the one was not seldom -mistaken for the other, and a tragedy of errors was -well-nigh acted. An angry mob, under the mistaken -impression that they had their Lord Provost, were -dragging Wood to the edge of the North Bridge with -the loudly expressed intention of throwing him over, -but when he yelled above the din, “I’m lang Sandy -Wood; tak’ me to a lamp and ye’ll see,” the crowd dissolved -in shouts of laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the great Mrs. Siddons was at the theatre -it was a point of fashion with ladies to faint by the -score. Wood’s services were much in requisition, a -good deal to his disgust. “This is glorious acting,” -said some one to him. “Yes, and a d—d deal o’t too,” -growled Sandy, as he sweated from one unconscious -fair to the other. Almost as well known as Sandy -<span class='pageno' title='94' id='Page_94'></span> -were his favourite sheep Willie and a raven, which -followed him about whenever they could.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The most conspicuous figure of the eighteenth-century -Edinburgh doctors was William Cullen (1710-1790), -who in 1756 was made Professor of Chemistry in -the University. One charming thing about those -Edinburgh doctors is their breadth of culture: Cullen -had the pleasure of reading <span class='it'>Don Quixote</span> in the original. -When Dugald Stewart was a lad he fell ill, and -was attended by Cullen, who recommended the great -Spaniard to the ingenious youth. Doctor and patient -had many a long talk over favourite passages. Dr. -John Brown, afterwards author of the Brunonian system -of medicine, was assistant to Cullen, but they -quarrelled, and Brown applied for a mastership in the -High School. Cullen could scarcely trust his ears. -“Can this be oor Jock?” quoth he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Plain speaking was a note of those old Edinburgh -medicals. Dr. John Clark was called in to consult -as to the state of Lord Provost Drummond, who -was ill of a fever. Bleeding seemed his only chance, -but they thought him doomed, and it seemed useless -to torture him. “None of your idle pity,” said -Clark, “but stick the lancet into him. I am sure he -would be of that opinion were he able to decide upon -his case.” Drummond survived because, or in spite, -of the operation. Lord Huntington died suddenly on -the bench after having delivered an opinion. Clark -was hurried in from the Parliament Close. “The man -is as dead as a herring,” said he brutally. Every one -was shocked, for even in old Edinburgh plain speaking -had its limits. He might have taken a lesson from -<span class='pageno' title='95' id='Page_95'></span> -queer old Monboddo, who said to Dr. Gregory, “I -know it is not in the power of man to cure me; all I -wish is euthanasia, viz. a happy death.” However, he -recovered. “Dr. Gregory, you have given me more -than I asked—a happy life.” This was the younger -Gregory (1753-1821), Professor of Medicine in the -University, as his father had been earlier. He was an -eminent medical man, but a great deal more; his quick -temper, his caustic wit, his gift of style, made him a dangerous -opponent. The public laughed with him whether -he was right or wrong. His <span class='it'>History of the Western -Islands and Highlands of Scotland</span> showed that -he had other than medical interests. In 1793, when the -Royal Edinburgh volunteers were formed, he became -one of them, and he disturbed the temper of Sergeant -Gould, who said, “He might be a good physician, but -he was a very awkward soldier.” He asked too many -questions. “Sir,” said the instructor, “you are here to -obey orders and not to ask reasons; there is nothing -in the King’s orders about reasons,” and again, “Hold -your tongue, sir. I would rather drill ten clowns than -one philosopher.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He who professes universal knowledge is not in -favour with the specialist. Gregory visited Matthew -Baillie in London, and the two eminent medicos were -in after talk not entirely laudatory of one another. -“Baillie,” said Gregory, “knows nothing but physic.” -“Gregory,” said the other, “seems to me to know everything -but physic.” This Matthew Baillie (1761-1823) -was a well-known physician of his time who had done -well in Edinburgh and gone south to do better still. -He worked sixteen hours a day, and no wonder he -<span class='pageno' title='96' id='Page_96'></span> -was sometimes a little irritable. A fashionable lady -once troubled him with a long account of imaginary -ills, he managed to escape, but was recalled by an urgent -message: “Might she eat some oysters on her -return from the opera?” “Yes, ma’m,” said Baillie, -“shells and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Robert Liston (1794-1847) began as Barclay’s assistant. -Like other eminent surgeons stories are told -of his presence of mind and fertility of resource during -an operation. In an amputation of the thigh by Russell, -Professor of Clinical Surgery at the University, an -artery bled profusely. From its position it could not -be tied up or even got at. Liston, with the amputating -knife, chipped off a piece of wood from the operating -table, formed it into a cone, and inserted it so as -at once to stop the bleeding and so save the patient. -In 1818 Liston left Barclay and lectured with James -Syme (1799-1870) as his assistant, but in 1822 Syme -withdrew and commenced to lecture for himself. His -old master was jealous. “Don’t support quackery and -humbug,” he wrote as late as 1830 in the subscription -book of his rival’s hospital. However, the two made -it up before the end. This is not the place to speak -of the skill of one of the greatest surgeons of his time; -it was emphatically said of him “he never wasted a -word, nor a drop of ink, nor a drop of blood.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i120.jpg' alt='Portrait of PROFESSOR JAMES SYME' id='iid-0012' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PROFESSOR JAMES SYME</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Drawing in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A contemporary of Syme was Sir William Fergusson -(1808-1877). He was one of that brilliant Edinburgh -band who did so well in London; he began as a -demonstrator to Knox. In London he became President -of the Royal College of Surgeons, and the best -known stories are of his later period. The speed and -<span class='pageno' title='97' id='Page_97'></span> -certainty of his work were remarkable. “Look out -sharp,” said a student, “for if you only even wink, you’ll -miss the operation altogether.” Once when operating -on a large deep-seated tumour in the neck, a severed -artery gave forth an enormous quantity of blood; an -assistant stopped the wound with his finger. “Just -get your finger out of the way, and let’s see what it -is,” and quick as lightning he had the artery tied up. -There must have been something magical in the very -touch of those great operators. A man afflicted with -a tumour was perplexed as to the operation and the -operator. But as he himself said: “When Fergusson -put his hand upon me to examine my jaw, I felt that -he was the man who should do the operation for me, -the contrast between his examination and that of the -others was so great.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little earlier than these last were the famous family -of Bells. Sir Charles Bell (1774-1842) is rather of -London than of Edinburgh, though to him is ascribed -the saying that “London is the place to live in, but -not to die in.” John Bell (1763-1820), his brother, was -an Edinburgh surgeon of note, and a famous lecturer -on surgery and anatomy. He had a violent controversy -with Professor James Gregory, who attacked -him in a <span class='it'>Review of the Writings of John Bell</span> by Jonathan -Dawplucker. This malignant document was -stuck up like a playbill on the door of the lecture -room, on the gates of the college, and of the infirmary, -where he operated; in short, everywhere, for such were -the genial methods of Edinburgh controversy. Bell -was much occupied and had large fees for his operations. -A rich country laird once gave him a cheque -<span class='pageno' title='98' id='Page_98'></span> -for £50, which the surgeon thought much below his -deserts. As the butler opened the door for him, he said -to that functionary: “You have had considerable trouble -opening the door for me, here is a trifle for you,” -and he tossed him the bill. The laird took the hint -and immediately forwarded a cheque for £150. It is -worth while to note that Joseph Bell (1837-1911), who -sprang from the same family, has a place in literary -fiction as the original Sherlock Holmes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great name among modern Edinburgh doctors -is clearly that of Sir James Young Simpson (1811-1870), -an accomplished scholar and antiquarian, as -well as the discoverer of chloroform. His activity was -incessant. An apology was made to him because he -had been kept waiting for a ferry-boat. “Oh dear, no,” -said he, “I was all the time busy chloroforming the -eels in the pool.” His pietistic tendencies by no means -quenched his sense of humour. Parting from a young -doctor who had started a carriage, “I have just been -telling him I will pray for his humility.” Some one -propounded the not original view that the Bible and -Shakespeare were the greatest books in the world. -“Ah,” said he, “the Bible and Shakespeare—and Oliver -and Boyd’s Edinburgh Almanac,” this last huge -collection of facts he no doubt judged indispensable -for the citizen. The final and solemn trial of chloroform -was made on the 28th November 1837. Simpson, -Keith, and Duncan experimented on themselves. -Simpson went off, and was roused by the snores of Dr. -Duncan and the convulsive movements of Dr. Keith. -“He saw that the great discovery had been made, and -that his long labours had come to a successful end.” -<span class='pageno' title='99' id='Page_99'></span> -Some extreme clergymen protested. “It enabled women,” -one urged, “to escape part of the primeval curse; -it was a scandalous interference with the laws of Providence.” -Simpson went on with his experiments. -Once he became insensible under the influence of -some drug. As he came to himself, he heard his butler, -Clarke, shouting in anger and concern: “He’ll kill himself -yet wi’ thae experiments, an’ he’s a big fule, for -they’ll never find onything better than clory.” On another -occasion, Simpson and some friends were taking -chloral ether in aerated water. Clarke was much interested -in the “new champagne chlory”; he took what -was left downstairs and administered it to the cook, -who presently became insensible. The butler in great -alarm burst in upon the assembled men of science: -“For God’s sake, sir, come doun, I’ve pushioned the -cook.” Those personal experiments were indeed tricky -things. Sir Robert Christison (1797-1882) once -nearly killed himself with Calabar bean. He swallowed -his shaving water, which acted promptly as an -emetic, but he was very ill for some time. One of the -most beautiful things in Simpson’s story was the devotion -of his own family to him, specially the care of -his elder brother Alexander. “Oh, Sandie, Sandie,” -said Simpson again and again to the faithful brother, -who stood by him even on his death-bed. To the outside -world he seemed the one Edinburgh figure of -first importance. A citizen was presented at the Court -of Denmark to the King of that country. “You come -from Edinburgh,” said His Majesty. “Ah! Sir Simpson -was of Edinburgh.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='103' id='Page_103'></span><h1>CHAPTER FIVE<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>ROYALTY</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>A difficulty meets you in making -Kings the subject of anecdote; the “fierce light” that -beats about a throne distorts the vision, your anecdote -is perhaps grave history. Again, a monarch is -sure to be a centre of many untrustworthy myths. -What credit is to be placed, for instance, on engaging -narratives like that of Howieson of Braehead and -James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span>? Let us do the best we can. Here I pass -over the legends of Queen Margaret and her son David, -but one story of the latter I may properly give. -Fergus, Prince of Galloway, was a timid if not repentant -rebel. He made friends with Abbot Alwyn of -Holyrood, who dressed him as a monk and presented -him with the brethren on the next visit of the King. -The kiss of peace, words of general pardon for all -past transgressions, were matters of form, not to be -omitted, but quite efficacious. Fergus presently revealed -himself, and everybody accepted the dodge -as quite legitimate. You recall the trick by which -William of Normandy got Harold to swear on the -bones of the saints: the principle evidently was, get -your oath or your pardon by what dodge you choose, -but at all costs get it. Alexander, Lord of the Isles, -played a more seemly part in 1458 when he appeared -before James <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> at the High Altar at Holyrood, and -held out in token of submission his naked sword with -the hilt towards the King. A quaint story is chronicled -of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> As a child he was held in Edinburgh -Castle by Crichton, the Lord Chancellor. The Queen -Mother was minded to abduct him; she announced a -pilgrimage to Whitekirk, a famous shrine or shrines, -<span class='pageno' title='104' id='Page_104'></span> -for there was more than one of the name. Now a -Queen, even on pilgrimage and even in old-time Scotland, -must have a reasonable quantity of luggage, -change of dresses, and what not. Thus no particular -attention was given to a certain small box, though -the Queen’s servants, you believe, looked after it with -considerable care. In fact it contained His Majesty -<span class='it'>in propria persona</span>. By means of a number of air-holes -practised in the lid he managed to survive the -journey. It is said his consent was obtained to his -confinement, but those old Scots were used to carry -their own lives and the lives of others in their hands, -and he had little choice. This is the James who ended -at Roxburgh by the bursting of a cannon. His son -had peculiar relations with Edinburgh. -In 1482 he -gave the city its Golden Charter, exalting its civic -rulers, and his Queen and her ladies knit with their -own hands for the craftsmen the banner of the Holy -Ghost, locally known for centuries as the “Blue Blanket,” -that famous ensign which it was ridiculously fabled -the citizens carried with them to the Holy Land. -At this, or rather against the proud spirit of its owners, -James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> girded in the <span class='it'>Basilicon Doron</span>. It made -a last public appearance when it waved, a strange anachronism, -in 1745 from the steeple of St. Giles to -animate the spirits of the burghers against Prince -Charles and his Highlanders, then pressing on the -city. There it hung, limp, bedraggled, a mere hopeless -rag! How unmeet, incongruous, improper, to use it -against a Stuart! At any rate it was speedily pulled -down, and stowed away for ever. James <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> fell at -Sauchieburn in 1488. It was rumoured he had survived -<span class='pageno' title='105' id='Page_105'></span> -the battle and taken refuge on the <span class='it'>Yellow Carvel</span> -which Sir Andrew Wood, his Admiral, had brought -to the Forth. The rebel lords sent for Sir Andrew, -whom the Duke of Rothesay, afterwards James <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span>, -mistook for his dead parent. “Sir, are you my father?” -said the boy. “I am not your father, but his faithful -servant,” answered the brave sailor with angry tears. -The lords after many questions could make nothing -of him, so they let him go back to his ship, just in time -to save the lives of the hostages whom his brothers, -truculent and impatient, were about to string up at -the yard-arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg104'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i129.jpg' alt='Portrait of Margaret Tudor, Queen of James IV.' id='iid-0013' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MARGARET TUDOR, QUEEN OF JAMES IV.</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Painting by Mabuse</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The reign of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> is full of picturesque incident. -There are stories of brilliant tournaments at -Edinburgh, where he sat on a ledge of the Castle rock -and presided over the sports of a glittering throng -gathered from far and near. There are the splendid -records of his marriage with Margaret, Henry <span style='font-size:smaller'>VII.</span>’s -daughter, the marriage that a hundred years afterwards -was to unite the Crowns, the marriage whose -fateful import even then was clearly discerned; and -there is the tragic close at Flodden, of which, in the -scanty remnants of the Flodden Wall, Edinburgh -still bears the tangible memorials.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I prefer to note here quainter and humbler memorials. -James had a curious, if fitful, interest in art -and letters. The picturesque Pitscottie boldly affirms -him “ane singular guid chirurgione.” In the book of -the royal expenses we have some curious entries. A -fine pair of teeth had an unholy attraction for him. -He would have them out, on any or no pretext. “Item, -ane fellow because the King pullit furtht his teith, -<span class='pageno' title='106' id='Page_106'></span> -xviii shillings.” “Item, to Kynnard, ye barbour, for twa -teith drawn furtht of his hed be the King, xviii sh.” -History does not record what the “fellow” or the -“barbour” said on the subject, or whether they were -contented with the valuation of their grinders, which -was far from excessive since the computation is in -Scots money, wherein a shilling only equalled an -English penny. The barber, moreover, according to -the practice of the time, was a rival artist, but—speculation -is vain; though it will be observed that instead -of the patients feeing the Royal physician, they were -themselves feed to submit to treatment. This same -Lindsay of Pitscottie is also our authority for another -story to the full as quaint. James desired to know the -original language of mankind. He procured him two -children—human waifs and strays were plentiful in -old Scotland; provided them with a dumb woman for -nurse, and plumped the three down on Inchkeith, that -tiny islet in the Forth a little way out from Leith. -Our chronicler is dubious as to the result. “Some say -they spak guid Hebrew, but I know not by authoris -rehearse.” The “guid Hebrew,” if it ever existed, died -with them. Nor is there any trace of a Scots Yiddish, -a compound whereof you shudder at the bare conception.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span> we have the popular legend of -Howieson already referred to. James, or all tradition -errs, was given to wandering in disguise through his -kingdom to see how his subjects fared or to seek love -adventures, or perhaps for both. The King of the -Commons, as his folk called him, took things as they -came and life as he found it. The story goes that he -<span class='pageno' title='107' id='Page_107'></span> -was courting some rustic damsel in Cramond village -when he was set upon by a band of enraged rivals or -relatives. He defended himself on the narrow bridge -that then crossed the Almond, but spite his efficient -swordplay was like to get the worst of it when a rustic, -one Jock Howieson, who was working near at hand, -came to his aid and laid about him so lustily with his -flail that the assailants fled. There was some talk of -a reward, and Jock confessed that his dearest wish -was to own the land which he tilled. The stranger, -without revealing his identity, or, rather, concealing it -under the title of the Gudeman of Ballengiech (the -traditional name adopted by James in his wanderings -and derived from a road or pass at Stirling Castle), -made an appointment with his preserver at Holyrood -Palace. Jock turned up in due course, and was promised -an interview with the King, whom he would recognise -as the only man with his bonnet on. Jock, -with rustic humour, replied that either he himself or -his friend must be the King since they were the only -two that were covered. A grant of the land, which conveniently -turned out to be Crown property, speedily -followed on the condition that when the King came -that way Jock or his descendant should present him -with a vessel of water wherein to wash his hands. “Accordingly -in the year 1822 when George <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> came to -Scotland the descendant of John Howieson of Braehead, -who still possesses the estate, which was given -to his ancestor, appeared at a solemn festival and -offered His Majesty water from a silver ewer that he -might perform the service by which he held his lands.” -Thus Sir Walter Scott in the <span class='it'>Tales of a Grandfather</span>. -<span class='pageno' title='108' id='Page_108'></span> -It seems that in 1822 the proprietor was William -Howieson Crawford, Esq. of Braehead and Crawfordland. -One fancies that the good Sir Walter jogged, if -one may say so, Mr. Crawford’s memory, and possibly -arranged both “the solemn festival” and “the silver -ewer.” This entertaining legend has not escaped—how -could it?—sceptical modern critics. It is shown -that not for centuries after James did the story take coherent -shape, and that as handed down it can scarce -have happened. What can you say but that in some -form or other it may have had a foundation in fact? -That if it is not possible conclusively to prove, neither -is it possible clearly to disprove, and finally it is at -least <span class='it'>ben trovato</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In setting down one or two anecdotes of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span>’s -Queens I am on surer ground. In 1537, James was -married to Magdalen, daughter of Francis <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span>, in the -Cathedral of Notre-Dame in Paris. They reached -Scotland on the 27th of May. As the Queen landed -she knelt down and kissed the soil, a pretty way of -adopting her new fatherland that touched those hard -Scots as it still touches us, but on the 10th of July -the poor child, she was not complete seventeen, was -lying dead at Holyrood. It was a cold spring: the -Castle was high and bleak, Holyrood was damp and -low. She was a fragile plant and she withered and -faded away, for us the most elusive and shadowy of -memories, yet still with a touch of old-world sweetness. -All the land grieved for that perished blossom. -It was the first general mourning known in Scotland, -and there was in due time “the meed of some melodious -tear” from George Buchanan and David Lindsay.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i134.jpg' alt='Portrait of Mary of Guise, Queen of James V.' id='iid-0014' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MARY OF GUISE, QUEEN OF JAMES V.</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an old Engraving</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='109' id='Page_109'></span> -Before a year had passed away, to wit, in June 1538, -James had brought another mate to Scotland, a very -different character, known in our history as Mary -of Guise, the famous mother of a still more famous -daughter, Mary Queen of Scots. James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span>’s widow was -Queen Regent during most of the minority of her -child, and she held her own with unfailing courage and -ability. If she tricked and dodged she was like everybody -else. In that bitter fight neither Catholic nor -Protestant were over-scrupulous; she was on the unpopular -and finally on the losing side, but she fought -as steadfastly and stoutly for what gods she had as -Knox himself, and she was not one of the royal authors. -Her story is told for us mainly by her enemies, -and chief of all by John Knox, the most deadly among -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1556 he addressed a letter to her, by desire of the -Congregation, exhorting her to renounce the errors -of Rome; she handed this to Beaton, Bishop of Glasgow. -“Please you, my Lord, to read a pasquil.” Knox, a -humorist himself, was peculiarly sensitive to scornful -irony, and of that two of his contemporaries had a -peculiar gift, the Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, and the -Secretary, Maitland of Lethington. He never forgot -nor forgave these thrusts, and he cordially hated both. -This does not justify his vicious and one-sided account -of the death-bed of this Royal lady in 1560: “God, -for his greit mercyis saik, red us frome the rest of the -Guysiane blude. Amen. Amen.” Such were the folk of -the time. In 1560 the Congregation made an attack -on Leith, which was held by the French. They failed: -the French, Knox tells us, stripped the slain and laid -<span class='pageno' title='110' id='Page_110'></span> -them along the wall. When the Regent looked across -the valley at this strange decoration she could not -contain herself for joy, and said, “Yonder are the fairest -tapestrie that ever I saw. I wald that the haill -feyldis that is betwix this place and yon war strowit -with the same stuffe.” I am quite ready to believe this -story. On both sides death did not extinguish hatred, -not even then was the enemy safe from insult. Does -not Knox himself tell us with entire approval how his -party refused the dead Regent the rights of her church, -and how the body was “lappit in a cope of lead and -keipit in the Castell” for long weary months till it -could be sent to France, where the poor ashes were at -length laid to rest in due form?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whatever the creed of either side, both in practice -firmly held that Providence was on the side of big -battalions. Almost of necessity the Regent was continually -scheming for troops and possession of castles -and so forth. Some quaint anecdotes are told of her -dealings with Archibald, sixth Earl of Angus, grandson -of old “Bell the Cat,” and gifted like him with -power of emphatic utterance. Angus had married, in -1514, Margaret, the widow of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> For some time -he was supreme in Scotland and was at the lowest a -person to be reckoned with. In his passages of wit -with the Regent she comes off second best, but then -again the account is by Hume of Godscroft, historian -and partisan of the house of Douglas. The time had not -yet come for Kings to subsidise letters. Once Mary -told Angus that she proposed to create the Earl of -Huntly, his rival, a duke. “By the might of God”—his -oath when angry—“then I will be a drake.” He -<span class='pageno' title='111' id='Page_111'></span> -was punning on duke, which is Scots for duck, and -meant to say that he would still be the greater, though -possibly the Queen required a surgical operation before -she understood. Once he came to pay his compliments -to her in Edinburgh at the head of a thousand -horsemen. She angrily reproved him for breach -of the proclamation against noblemen being so attended; -but Angus had his answer ready. “The -knaves will follow me. Gladly would I be rid of them, -for they devour all my beef and my bread, and much, -Madam, should I be beholden to you, if you could -tell me how to get quit of them.” Again, when she unfolded -to him a plan for a standing army, he promptly -said, “We will fight ourselves better than any hired -fellows,” she could hardly reply that it was against -disturbing forces like his own that she longed for a -defence. She proposed to garrison Tantallon, that -strong fortress of the Douglas which still rises, mere -shell though it be, in impressive ruin on the Lothian -coast opposite the Bass Rock. Angus had his goshawk -on his wrist, and was feeding it as he talked with -the Queen, and one notes that it seemed quite proper -for nobles to go about so accompanied. He made as if -he addressed the bird, “Greedy gled, greedy gled, thou -hast too much already, and yet desirest more”: the -Queen chose not to take the obvious hint, but persisted. -Angus boldly faced the question. “Why not, -Madam? Ah yes, all is yours, but, Madam, I must -be captain of your muster and keeper of Tantallon.” -Not that these epigrams altered the situation, rather -they expressed it. Even in the hostile narrative your -sympathies are sometimes on the side of Mary of -<span class='pageno' title='112' id='Page_112'></span> -Guise. In 1558 a calf with two heads was shown to -her, apparently as a portent of calamity, like the <span class='it'>bos -locutus est</span> of Livy, but what it exactly meant no one -could say. “She scripped and said it was but a common -thing,” in which, at any rate, she has the entire -approval of the modern world.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i139.jpg' alt='Portrait of Mary, Queen of Scots' id='iid-0015' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Morton Portrait</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Her daughter Mary gave Edinburgh the most exciting, -romantic, interesting, and important time in -the city’s annals. It was scarcely six years in all (19th -August 1561-16th June 1567), but those were crowded -years: the comparatively gay time at first; the -marriage with Darnley; the assassination of Rizzio; -the murder of Darnley; her seizure by Bothwell; her -marriage to Bothwell; the surrender of Carberry, -with her departure for Loch Leven. I scarce know -what to select. On 15th April 1562 Randolph writes: -“The Queen readeth daily after her dinner, instructed -by a learned man, Mr. George Buchanan, somewhat -of Livy.” You wish it had been Virgil, because you are -sure scholar and pupil had tried the <span class='it'>Sortes Virgilianæ</span> -with results even more pregnant than happed to -Mary’s grandson Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span>, at Oxford, in the time of -the civil wars, and the mere mention of George Buchanan -is fateful. He, at any rate, was an earnest and -high-minded man, and he employed all the grace of -his Latin muse to say delightful things about her on -more than one occasion, and he had, in after years, -every term of invective to hurl at her also in Latin, -but prose this time, and he felt himself justified in -both. The modern point of view which would find -her almost certainly guilty of being an accessary before -the fact to the slaughter of Darnley, that would -<span class='pageno' title='113' id='Page_113'></span> -also find that the circumstances were so peculiar, that -she was by no means altogether blameworthy, was -not the conception of her own day. She was guilty, -and therefore a monster of wickedness; or she was -innocent, and therefore a martyr: those are the sharply -opposed views. It was not an age of compromise -or judicial balance. Take another incident. Rizzio’s -murder was on 9th March 1566. Immediately after -she won over Darnley, mixed up with the affair as he -had been. The pair escaped from Holyrood in the -midnight hours, through the burial vaults and tombs -of the palace. Darnley made some sudden and half-involuntary -reference to the freshly-turned grave of -Rizzio that lay right in their path. Mary gripped his -arm and vowed, in what must have been a terrible -whisper, that ere a year had passed “a fatter than he -should lie as low.” Kirk-o’-field was on 10th February -1567.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I prefer here to deal with trivialities, not tragedies. -How curiously from the first she occupied the thoughts -of men: ere she was a month old grave statesmen were -busy match-making! In 1558 she married the Dauphin, -afterwards Francis <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> When the news came to -Edinburgh it was felt that some celebration was necessary. -“Mons Meg was raised forth from her lair” -and fired once. The bullet was found on Wardie Muir, -two miles off, and bought back by a careful Government -to serve another occasion. We are told the cost -of the whole affair was ten shillings and eight pence, no -doubt Scots currency, and without any doubt at all -the most frugal merry-making in history. I will relate -this other comic interlude of the night of her arrival at -<span class='pageno' title='114' id='Page_114'></span> -Holyrood. Knox tells the story of her landing with his -never-failing graphic force: the thick and dark mist -that covered the earth, a portent of the evil days to -come, “the fyres of joy” that blazed through it all, -“and a company of the most honest with instruments -of musick and with musitians gave their salutationis -at hir chamber wyndo. The melody (as she alledged) -lyked hir weill and she willed the same to be contineued -some nightis after.” Knox is a little doubtful as -to the sincerity of her thanks. Brantôme was of the -Queen’s company, and the gay Frenchman gives us -a very different account of the proceedings. “There -came under her window five or six hundred rascals of -that town, who gave her a concert of the vilest fiddles -and little rebecs, which are as bad as they can be in -that country, and accompanied them with singing -Psalms, but so miserably out of time and concert that -nothing could be worse. Ah, what melody it was! -What a lullaby for the night!” One of the Queen’s -Maries remembered and applied a favourite text of -Montlin, Bishop of Valence, on which they had heard -more than one sermon: “Is any merry, let him sing -Psalms.” If she showed herself a Scot by her Biblical -quotation, you guess she revealed her French upbringing -in an infinitely expressive shrug and grimace; but -for that night even Mary’s spirit was broken. She found -no place for mirth and could scarce refrain from tears, -yet she had the courage on that and other mornings -gracefully to thank the musicians; only she shifted -her bedroom to the floor above, and slept, you believe, -none the worse for the change. The drop in material -comfort, not to speak of anything else, must have been -<span class='pageno' title='115' id='Page_115'></span> -enormous, from gay, wealthy, joyous France to this -austere, poverty-stricken land and people. Did not -some mad scheme for instant return move through -her brain? No, for after all she was a Queen and a -Stuart, and it is mere commonplace to say that she -never failed to confront her fate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It were easy and useless to dwell on the glaring -contrasts in character between Mary and her son -James, between the most tragically unfortunate and -the most prosaically fortunate of the Stuarts. Such -contrasts between the character and fate of parent and -child are not uncommon in daily life. The first day of -James on earth was memorable for the dramatic meeting -of his father and mother. He was born in Edinburgh -Castle, in the little room that is shown you there, -between nine and ten on the morning of Wednesday, -19th June 1566. About two in the afternoon Darnley -came to see his child. Like everybody else in Edinburgh, -he had known of the event for hours, since a few -minutes after the birth heavy guns, almost at Mary’s -bedside and without a word of protest from the courageous -woman, had roared out their signal to the capital -that well-nigh went mad on the instant with joy and -pride. The nurse put the child into Darnley’s arms. -“My Lord,” said Mary simply and solemnly, “God has -given you and me a son.” Then she turned to Sir William -Stanley: “This is the son who I hope shall first unite -the two kingdoms of Scotland and England.” The -Englishman said something courteous about the prior -rights of Mary and Darnley, and then Mary wandered -off into the Rizzio business only three months -before. What would have happened if they had then -<span class='pageno' title='116' id='Page_116'></span> -killed her? You fancy the colour went and came in -Darnley’s face. “These things are all past,” he muttered. -“Then,” said the Queen, “let them go.” As -James grew up he became well-nigh the most eminent -of royal and noble authors, and that strange mixture -of erudition, folly, wisdom, and simplicity which marks -him as one of the oddest characters in history. He -was great in nicknames and phrases, and the nicknames -stuck and the phrases are remembered. “Tam -o’ the Coogate” for the powerful Earl of Haddington; -“Jock o’ the Sclates” for the Earl of Mar, because -he, when James’s fellow-pupil, had been entrusted by -George Buchanan with a slate thereon to note James’s -little peccadilloes in his tutor’s absence; better than all, -“Jingling Geordie” for George Heriot the goldsmith. -What a word picture that gives you of the prosperous -merchant prince who possibly hinted more than once -that he could an he would buy up the whole Court! -That well-known story of ostentatious benevolence -can hardly be false. George visited James at Holyrood -and found him over a fire of cedar wood, and the -King had much to say of the costly fuel; and then -the other invited him to visit his booth hard by St. -Giles’, where he was shown a still more costly fire of -the Royal bonds or promissory notes, as we might -call them in the language of to-day. We know that -the relations between the banker and his Royal customer -were of the very best; and how can we say -anything but good of Heriot when we think of that -splendid and beautiful foundation that to-day holds -its own with anything that modern Edinburgh can -show? As for his colloquial epigrams, there is the -<span class='pageno' title='117' id='Page_117'></span> -famous account of David <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> as a “sair sanct” for the -Crown; his humorous and not altogether false statement, -when the Presbyterian ministers came to interview -him, “Set twal chairs, there be twal kings coming”; -his description—at an earlier date, of course—of -the service of the Episcopal Church as “an evil -said mass in English wanting nothing but the liftings”; -his happy simile apropos of his visit to Scotland -in 1617 of his “salmon-lyke” instinct—a great -and natural longing to see “our native soil and place -of our birth and breeding.” No wonder he got a reputation -for wisdom! A quaint anecdote dates his -renown in that regard from a very early period indeed. -On the day after his birth the General Assembly -met, and were much concerned as to the religious education -of the infant. They sent Spottiswoode, “Superintendant -of Lothian,” to interview the Queen on the -subject. He urged a Protestant baptism and upbringing -for the child. Mary gave no certain answer, but -brought in her son to show to the churchmen, and -probably also as the means of ending an embarrassing -interview. Spottiswoode, however, repeated his demand, -and with pedantic humour asked the infant to -signify his consent. The child babbled something, -which one of the hearers at least took for “Amen,” and -“Master Amen” was the Court-name for Spottiswoode -ever after.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>James deserved to be called the British Solomon, -but then how did it happen that the man had such a -knack of making himself ridiculous? On the night of -the 23rd July 1593 the madcap Francis Earl of Bothwell -made one of his wild raids on Holyrood. James -<span class='pageno' title='118' id='Page_118'></span> -came out of his chamber in terror and disorder, “with -his breeks in his hand”; trembling, he implored the invaders -to do him no harm. “No, my good bairn,” said -Bothwell with insolence (the King was twenty-seven -at the time); and as a matter of fact no harm was done -him. Fate tried the mother of James and the son of -James far more severely than it ever tried James himself, -and Mary Stuart and Charles the First managed -things so ill that each in the end had to lay the head on -the block, but no one ever spoke to them like that, and -they never made themselves ridiculous. Mary was never -less than Queen and Charles was never less than -King, and each played the last scene so superbly as to -turn defeat and ruin into victory and honour, and if you -say it was birth and breeding and the heritage of their -race how are you to account for the odd figure in between? -Here is another trivial anecdote. On Tuesday, -5th April 1603 James set forth southward to take possession -of his English throne. As Robert Chambers -points out, here was the most remarkable illustration -of Dr. Johnson’s remark that the best prospect -a Scotsman ever saw was the high road to England. -Not very far from Holyrood stood splendid Seton -Palace, and as James and his folk drew near they -crossed another procession. It was the funeral train -of the first Earl of Winton, who had been an attached -adherent of James’s mother. One of the Queen’s -Maries was a Seton, and James, as was right and -proper, made way and halted till the procession of the -mightier King Death had passed. He perched himself -in the meantime on the garden wall, and you think -of him hunched up there “glowering” at the proceedings. -<span class='pageno' title='119' id='Page_119'></span> -On his return to Scotland James spent at Seton -Palace his second night after crossing the Tweed, -and it was here he received Drummond of Hawthornden’s -poem of <span class='it'>Forth Feasting</span>. There was unbounded -popular rejoicing, though not without an -occasional discordant note; for the Presbyterian Scot -was terribly suspicious. It happened that one of the -royal guards died during the visit. He was buried -with the service of the English Church, read by a -surpliced clergyman; there was an unseemly riot, -and the parson if he escaped hard knocks got the -hardest of words. He was William Laud, afterwards -Archbishop of Canterbury. Let me end those stories -of James with one of a lighter character. I have -spoken of James’s schoolfellow, the Earl of Mar. He -was left a widower, his wife Ann Drummond having -died after giving birth to a son. An Italian magician -had shown him, as in a glass darkly, the face of his -second spouse. He identified the figure as that of Lady -Mary Stuart of the Lennox family, who would have -none of him; for the Drummond baby would be Earl -of Mar, whilst hers would only be Mr. Erskine. Jock -o’ the Sclates was so mortified at the refusal that he -took to his bed, and seemed like to make a mortal -though ridiculous exit; but the King came to encourage -him. “By God, ye shanna dee, Jock, for ony lass -in a’ the land!” In due course James brought about -the marriage, which turned out well for all concerned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Kings after James had but a very remote and -chance connection with Edinburgh. There are golfing -anecdotes of Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> and James <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, and there is not -even that about Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> when in Edinburgh -<span class='pageno' title='120' id='Page_120'></span> -was fond of the Royal game on the links at Leith, -then the favourite ground for the sport. It was whilst -so engaged he heard the news of the massacre in Ireland, -and not unnaturally he threw down his club and -hastily quitted the links. The anecdote of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> is -of a more detailed character, for Golfer’s Land, grim -and battered, still stands in the Canongate. When -James held court at Holyrood as Duke of York, he -was given to golfing on the links. He had a match -with two English noblemen, his fellow-player in the -foursome being John Patterson, a poor shoemaker in -the Canongate, but a superb golfer. If you don’t know -the story, at least you anticipate the result. The Englishmen -were shamefully beaten, and the stake being -too small game for Royalty, Patterson netted the proceeds, -with which he built Golfer’s Land. The learned -Dr. Pitcairne adorned it with a Latin inscription, and -all you can say is you hope the legend is true. Another -story of James tells how one of the soldiers on duty at -Holyrood, mortal tired or perhaps mortal drunk, was -found asleep at his post. Grim old Tom Dalzell was -in charge, and he was not the man to overlook such -an offence, but marked out the culprit for instant execution. -The Duke, however, intervened and saved the -man’s life. I am glad to tell those stories of James, who -as a rule fares so ill at the hands of the historians.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although I have said nothing of Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, his -statue perhaps deserves a word. It stands in Parliament -Square, between St. Giles’ and the Parliament -House. The local authorities were once minded to set -up the stone image of Cromwell in that same place, -indeed the stone had been got ready when the Restoration -<span class='pageno' title='121' id='Page_121'></span> -changed the current of their thoughts, and after -an interval of twenty-five years they put up one to -Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> instead, the only statue that old Edinburgh -for many a long day possessed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kings and Queens came and went for the better part -of a century, but none of them came to Edinburgh, or -even to Scotland, for you cannot count the fugitive visit -of the Old Pretender as anything at all. It was not till -Prince Charles Edward Stuart made the memorable -descent on the capital in the ’45 that I can again take -up the easy thread of my narrative. Here anecdotes -are abundant, but the most too well known for quotation: -they tell of the cowardice of the citizens and the -daring simplicity of the Highlanders. The capture of -the city was without opposition. A burgher taking a -walk saw a Highlander astride a gun, and said to him -that surely he did not belong to the troops that were -there yesterday. “Och no,” quoth the Celt, “she pe relieved.” -According to all accounts, the invading army -behaved well. An exception was the man who presented -a musket at the head of a respectable shopkeeper, -and when the trembling cit asked what he wanted, replied, -“A bawbee.” This modest request being instantly -complied with, they parted the best of friends. The -demands of others did not rise beyond a pinch of snuff, -and one hopes it was not required in an equally heroic -manner. The day of Charles’s entry, his father as King -and himself as Regent were proclaimed at the Cross -by the heralds in their antique garb and with their -antique rites, and conspicuous among the attendant -throng was the beautiful Mrs. Murray of Broughton -on horseback with a drawn sword, covered with white -<span class='pageno' title='122' id='Page_122'></span> -cockades, the conspicuous Stuart emblem. With her -it was the one supreme moment of a life that was presently -obscured in shadows. Her husband’s reputation -as traitor still lay in the future. You remember how -Scott’s father, Whig as he was, dashed to pieces the cup -that Murray had touched, so that neither he nor any of -his family might ever use it? At that same Cross, not -many months after, the standards of the clans and of -Charles were burnt by the hangman and Tron men or -sweeps by the order of Cumberland, the least generous -of foes. In the crowd there must have been many who -had gazed on the other ceremonial. What a complete -circuit fortune’s wheel had made! Amidst the festivities -of Holyrood those things were not foreseen. Then -came Prestonpans, with many a legend grave or gay. I -will not repeat in detail those almost threadbare stories -of the Highland estimation of the plunder: how that -chocolate was Johnny Cope’s salve, and the watch that -stopped was a beast that had died, and a pack-saddle -was a fortune, and so forth. Here is perhaps the -quaintest anecdote of misadventure. Two volunteers, -one of them destined to the bench as Lord Gardenstone, -were detailed to watch the precincts of Musselburgh. -They were both convivial “cusses”: they knew -every tavern in Edinburgh and every change-house in -the far and near suburbs: they remembered a little den -noted for its oysters and its sherry—possibly an odd -combination, but the stomachs of young Edinburgh -were invincible. At any rate, they made themselves -merry. But there were limbs of the law, active or “stickit,” -on the other side, and one as he prowled about -espied the pair, and seized them without difficulty as -<span class='pageno' title='123' id='Page_123'></span> -they tried to negotiate that narrow bridge which still -crosses the Esk at Musselburgh. They were dragged to -the camp at Duddingston, and were about to be hanged -as spies, but escaped through the intercession of -still another lawyer, Colquhoun Grant, an adherent of -the Prince. This same Colquhoun was a remarkable -person, and distinguished himself greatly at Preston. -He seized the horse of an English officer and pursued -a great body of dragoons with awe-inspiring Gaelic -curses. On, on went the panic-stricken mob, with Grant -at their heels so close that he entered the Netherbow -with them, and was just behind them at the Castle. -He stuck his dirk into the gate, rode slowly down the -High Street, ordered the Netherbow Port to be thrown -open, and the frightened attendants were only too glad -to see the back of him. In after years he beat his sword -to a ploughshare, or rather a pen, and became a highly -prosperous Writer to the Signet of Auld Reekie. It is -related by Kay that Ross of Pitcarnie, a less fortunate -Jacobite, used to extract “loans” from him by artful -references to his exploits at Preston and Falkirk. The -cowardice of the regular troops is difficult to account -for, but there was more excuse for the volunteers, of -whom many comical stories are told. The best is that -of John Maclure the writing-master, who wound a quire -of writing-paper round his manly bosom, on which he -had written in his best hand, with all the appropriate -flourishes, “This is the body of John Maclure, pray give -it a Christian burial.” However, when once the Prince -was in, the citizens preserved a strict neutrality. Of -sentimental Jacobites like Allan Ramsay we hear not -a word: they lay low and said nothing. What could -<span class='pageno' title='124' id='Page_124'></span> -they do but wait upon time? One clergyman was bold -enough, at any rate, namely, the Rev. Neil M‘Vicar, -incumbent of St. Cuthbert’s, who kept on praying for -King George during the whole time of the Jacobite occupation: -“As for this young man who has come among -us seeking an earthly crown, we beseech Thee -that he may obtain what is far better, a heavenly one.” -Archibald Stewart was then Provost, and he was said -to have Jacobite leanings. His house was by the West -Bow, and here, it was rumoured, he gave a secret banquet -to Charles and some of his chiefs. The folk in the -Castle heard of this, and sent down a party of soldiers to -seize the Prince. Just as they were entering the house -the guests disappeared into a cabinet, which was really -an entrance to a trap stair, and so got off. The story is -obviously false. Stewart was afterwards tried for neglect of duty -during the Rebellion, and the proceedings, -which lasted an inordinate time—the longest then on -record—resulted in his triumphant acquittal. The -Government had never omitted a damning piece of evidence -like this—if the thing had happened. One comic -and instructive touch will pave my way to the next -episode. A certain Mrs. Irvine died in Edinburgh in the -year 1837 at the age of ninety-nine years or so, if the -story be true which makes her a young child in the ’45. -She was with her nurse in front of the Palace, where -a Highlander was on guard: she was much attracted -by his kilt, she advanced and seized it, and even pulled -it up a little way. The nurse was in a state of terror, -but the soldier only smiled and said a few kind words -to the child. The moral of this story is that till the -Highlanders took the city the kilt was a practically -<span class='pageno' title='125' id='Page_125'></span> -unknown garment to the folk in the capital. Six years -before Mrs. Irvine died, to wit in 1831, she saw the -setting up at the intersection of George Street and -Hanover Street of the imposing statue by Chantrey -which commemorates the visit of George <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> to -Scotland. This visit was from 14th August to 29th -August 1822. Sir Walter Scott stage-managed the -business, and Lockhart has pointed out how odd the -whole thing was. Scott was a Lowlander, and surely -better read than any other in the history of his country, -and who better knew that the history of Scotland -is the history of the Lowlands, that Edinburgh was -a Lowland capital, that the Highlands were of no account, -save as disturbing forces? Yet, blinded by the -picturesque effect, he ran the show as if the Highlands -and the Highlands alone were Scotland. Chieftains -were imported thence, Scott was dressed as a Highlander, -George was dressed as a Highlander, Sir William -Curtis, London alderman, was dressed as a Highlander: -the whole thing trembled on the verge of burlesque. -The silver St. Andrew’s cross that Scott presented -to the King when he landed had a Gaelic inscription! -The King, not to be outdone, called for a bottle -of Highland whisky and pledged Sir Walter there and -then, and Sir Walter begged the glass that had touched -the Royal lips, for an heirloom no doubt. He got it, -thrust it into his coat-tail pocket, and presently reduced -it to fragments in a moment of forgetfulness by -sitting on it. There, fortunately, the thing was left: -they did not try to reconstitute it, after the fashion of -the Portland Vase in the British Museum. George <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> -had a fine if somewhat corpulent figure (Leigh Hunt -<span class='pageno' title='126' id='Page_126'></span> -wrote to Archibald Constable at an earlier period that -he had suffered imprisonment for not thinking the -Prince Regent slender and laudable), and no doubt in -the Highland garb he made a “very pretty man,” but -the knight from London was even more corpulent, -Byron sings in <span class='it'>The Age of Bronze</span>:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“He caught Sir William Curtis in a kilt,</p> -<p class='line0'>While thronged the Chiefs of every Highland clan</p> -<p class='line0'>To hail their brother Vich Ian an Alderman.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>“Faar’s yer speen?” (Where’s your spoon?) said an -envious and mocking Aberdeen bailie, to the no small -discomfiture of the London knight, as he strutted to -and fro, believing that his costume was accurate in -every detail. Lockhart hints that possibly Scott invented -the story to soothe the King’s wounded feelings. -On the 24th of August the Provost and Magistrates -of Edinburgh entertained the King in Parliament -House to a great banquet. The King gave one -toast, “The Chieftains and Clans of Scotland, and -prosperity to the Land of Cakes.” He also attended -a performance of <span class='it'>Rob Roy</span> at the theatre. Carlyle -was in Edinburgh at the time, and fled in horror from -what he called the “efflorescence of the flunkeyisms,” -but everybody else seemed pleased, and voted the -thing a great success. No doubt it gave official stamp -to what is perhaps still the ordinary English view of -Scotland. The odd thing is that Scott himself never -grasped the Highland character—at least, where has -he drawn one for us? Rob Roy and Helen Macgregor -and Fergus M‘Ivor and Flora M‘Ivor are mere creatures -of melodrama, but the Bailie and Mattie and -Jeanie Deans and Davie Deans and the Antiquary and -<span class='pageno' title='127' id='Page_127'></span> -Edie Ochiltree and Andrew Fairservice and Mause -and Cuddie Hedrigg are real beings of flesh and blood. -We have met them or their likes on the muir or at -the close fit, or on the High Street or in the kirk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Twenty years passed, and a British Sovereign again -comes to Scotland. On the 1st of September in 1842 -Queen Victoria and Prince Albert arrived at Granton. -They duly proceeded towards Edinburgh. The Lord -Provost and Bailies ought to have met them at Canonmills -to present the keys of the city, but they were -“conspicuous by their absence,” and the Royal party -had to go to Dalkeith (like George the Fourth, they -put up for the time in the Duke of Buccleuch’s huge -palace there). The local wits waxed merry; they -swore that my Lord Provost and his fellows had over-slept -themselves, and a parody of a well-known song -rang unpleasantly in civic ears:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Hey, Jamie Forrest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Are ye waukin’ yet,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or are yer byles</p> -<p class='line0'>Snoring yet?”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>However, the Royal party came specially from Dalkeith -on a subsequent day, and received the keys at -the Cross, and nobody even whispered “Anticlimax!”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='131' id='Page_131'></span><h1>CHAPTER SIX<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>MEN OF LETTERS. PART I.</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>George Buchanan is the first in -time as he is one of the first in eminence of Scots men -of letters. Many wrote before him; among the kings, -James <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> certainly, James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span> possibly, and even yet they -are worth reading by others than students. There is -Gawin Douglas, the Bishop, there is Buchanan’s contemporary, -Knox, the Reformer, whose work is classic, -but they are not men of letters in the modern -sense of the term. Buchanan is. Literature was his -aim in life, and he lived by it indirectly if not directly. -He is always to me a perplexing figure. How deep -was his reforming zeal, how deep his beliefs, I cannot -tell. I have read, I trust not without profit, Mr. Hume -Brown’s two careful volumes upon this great Scot, -but he has not solved my doubts. The old scholar -was too learned, too travelled, too cultured to be in harmony -with the Scotland of his day; a certain aloofness -marks him, a stern and heroic rather than a human and -sympathetic figure. You remember how consistently -the British Solomon hated his sometime schoolmaster. -Certain quaint anecdotes remain of their relations, -but they have not to do with Edinburgh; yet he died -in the capital, and in one or two memories that linger -round those last hours you seem just at the end to -get in real touch with the man, with the human figure -under the cloak. In 1581 James Melville, the diarist, -with certain friends, visited him in Edinburgh. They -found him teaching the young man that served him: -A, b, ab, and so forth. “I see you are not idle,” said -one of the visitors in ironical astonishment, but he -said it was better than idleness. They mentioned his -<span class='it'>magnum opus</span>, his History of Scotland, the literary -<span class='pageno' title='132' id='Page_132'></span> -sensation of the day, if that day had literary sensations. -He stopped them. “I may da nae mair for -thinking on another matter.” “What is that?” says -Mr. Andro. “To die,” quoth he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went to the printer’s to have a peep at the last -sheets, just passing through the press, where they presently -spied some plain-spoken words like to be highly -unpalatable at Court. Again they sought the old -scholar and spoke to him about them. “Tell me, man,” -says he, “giff I have tould the truth.” His visitors were -of the same views as himself, and they could not shirk -so plain an issue. “Yes, sir,” says one of them, “I think -sae.” Then says the old man sternly: “Let it remain, -I will byde it, whatever happen. Pray, pray to God for -me and let Him direct all.” A “Stoick” philosopher, -says Melville, and so he proved to the end, which came -on the 28th of September 1582, in Kennedy’s Close, -the second close to the west of the Tron Kirk, and long -since vanished. The day before he died he found that -he had not enough money to pay for his funeral, but -even this, he said, must be given to the poor, his body -could fare for itself. Wisely provident for its own -renown Edinburgh gave him a public funeral in the -Greyfriars Churchyard. Tradition marked the spot -for some time, and then a blacksmith put up a tablet -at his own cost, but that too vanished, and one is not -certain that the learned Dr. David Laing succeeded -in fixing the true place. As we have seen, the University -of Edinburgh possesses what is believed to be his -skull. When Deacon Brodie stole the mace, this trophy -did not come under his hand, or it had surely -gone too.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i160.jpg' alt='Portrait of William Drummond of Hawthornden' id='iid-0016' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Painting by Cornelius Janson van Ceulen</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='133' id='Page_133'></span> -No one could be less like George Buchanan than -William Drummond of Hawthornden, born three years -after the death of the other, save that he also was a -man of letters, and that he also had intimate connection -with Edinburgh. Hawthornden is one of the -beauty spots near the capital. Here Ben Jonson paid -him, in 1618-19, one of the most famous visits in all -the history of letters. The story is that Drummond -was seated under a huge sycamore tree when Jonson’s -huge form hove in sight. The meeting of two poets -needs must call forth a spark of poetry.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Welcome! Welcome! royal Ben!</p> -<p class='line0'>Thank ye kindly, Hawthornden!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>A little suspicious, you may think! Where did Ben -Jonson learn to address a Scots laird in this peculiarly -Scots fashion? After all, Ben’s forbears came from -Annandale, and who that has seen Hawthornden will -doubt here was the ideal spot for such an encounter? -Drummond was a devoted cavalier; his death was -caused or hastened by that of Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> He was buried -by his favourite river in the neighbouring churchyard -of Lasswade. He has written his own epitaph:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Here Damon lies whose songs did sometime grace</p> -<p class='line0'>The wandering Esk—may roses shade the place.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The town of Edinburgh honoured itself and the two -poets by a banquet, and in the next century Allan -Ramsay honoured the pair in a more appropriate -fashion. There was once a huge pile of buildings -called the Luckenbooths, between St. Giles’ Church -and the north side of the High Street. The building -at the east end, afterwards known as Creech’s Land, -from the bookseller who did business there, and who -<span class='pageno' title='134' id='Page_134'></span> -was locally famous as the Provost and is still remembered -as Burns’s publisher, was occupied by Ramsay, -and here, in 1725, he established the first circulating -library ever known in Scotland. It would have been -the last if godly Mr. Robert Wodrow and his fellows -could have had their way, on account of “the villainous, -profane, and obscene books of plays” it contained. -You see they neither weighed nor minced words at -the time. As sign Allan stuck over the door the heads -of Drummond of Hawthornden and Ben Jonson.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Scots literature was altogether on the side of the -Crown, or one should rather say of the Stuarts. -Who so stout a Jacobite as Allan, in words, at any -rate? In deeds it was quite otherwise: you never -hear of him in the ’45. His copious muse that could -throw off a popular ballad on the instant was silent -during that romantic occupation of Edinburgh by the -young Ascanius. It was prudence that saved him. -He was a Jacobite and so against the powers that -were, but he took no hurt; he was given to theatrical -speculation and he did burn his fingers over an abortive -business in that Carrubber’s Close which has now -a reputation far other, yet he came to no harm in the -end, even if it be true that his prosperous painter son -had finally to discharge some old debts. We have -seen the view of the godly anent the books he sold -or lent, and yet he dodged their wrath; but I wonder -most of all how he escaped a drunkard’s death. Who -knew better that grimy, witty, sordidly attractive, vanished -Edinburgh underworld of tavern and oyster-cellar—and -worse? <span class='it'>The Gentle Shepherd</span> is all very -well, and the <span class='it'>Tea-Table Miscellany</span>, with its sentimental -<span class='pageno' title='135' id='Page_135'></span> -faking up of old Scots songs, is often very ill, -though you cannot deny its service to Scots literature; -but not there is the real Allan to be found. He minces -and quibbles no longer when he sings the praises of -umquhile Maggie Johnson, who kept that famous -“howf” on Bruntsfield links.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“There we got fou wi’ little cost</p> -<p class='line0'>    And muckle speed.</p> -<p class='line0'>Now wae worth Death! our sport’s a’ lost</p> -<p class='line0'>    Since Maggy’s dead!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>Nor is his elegy on Luckie Wood of the Canongate -less hearty.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“She ne’er gae in a lawin fause,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor stoups a’ froath aboon the hause,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor kept dow’d tip within her waws,</p> -<p class='line0'>          But reaming swats.</p> -<p class='line0'>She ne’er ran sour jute, because</p> -<p class='line0'>          It gees the batts.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Unfortunately I cannot follow him in his lamentation -over John Cowper or Luckie Spence, or dwell -on the part those worthies played in old Edinburgh -life. An’ you be curious you must consult the original—unexpurgated. -Let us quote our Allan on at least -a quotable topic.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Then fling on coals and ripe the ribs,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And beek the house baith but and ben,</p> -<p class='line0'>That mutchkin stoup it hauds but dribs,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Then let’s get in the tappit hen.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Good claret best keeps out the cauld,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And drives away the winter sune;</p> -<p class='line0'>It makes a man baith gash and bauld,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And heaves his saul beyond the mune.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Among drinking-songs it would be hard to beat -these lines for vigour. Did he quaff as heartily as he -<span class='pageno' title='136' id='Page_136'></span> -sang? I think not, probably his comrades shouted -“pike yer bane” to no purpose (he would have translated -it to an English admirer as “no heel taps”) to -this little “black-a-vised” man with his nightcap for -head-dress, and his humorous, contented, appreciative -smile. The learned Thomas Ruddiman, his fellow-townsman -and fellow-Jacobite, used to say “The liquor -will not go down” when urged to yet deeper potations; -perhaps Allan escaped with some such quip, at least -there is no touch of dissipation about his life, nay, a -well-founded reputation for honest, continuous, and -prosperous industry. In the end he built that famous -house on the Castle Hill, called, from its quaint shape, -the “Goose Pie.” “Indeed, Allan, now that I see you -in it I think the term is very properly applied,” said -Lord Elibank. The joke was obvious and inevitable, -but for all that rather pointless, unless it be that Ramsay -affected a little folly now and then to escape envy -or a too pressing hospitality. However, he lived reputably, -died a prosperous citizen, and his is one of -the statues you see to-day in the Princes Street Gardens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although Buchanan was one of the greatest scholars -of his time in Europe, he was not the founder of a -race in minute points of classical scholarship, especially -in correct quantities of Latin syllables. Scotland -was long lacking, perhaps the reason was the want of -rich endowments, but Dr. Archibald Pitcairne (1652-1713), -the physician, the Jacobite, and the scholar, had -another reason: “If it had not been for the stupid Presbyterianism -we should have been as good as the English -at longs and shorts.” Oddly enough, the same -<span class='pageno' title='137' id='Page_137'></span> -complaint was echoed within the national Zion itself. -Dalzel, Professor of Greek and Clerk to the General -Assembly, was, according to Sydney Smith, heard to -declare, “If it had not been for that Solemn League -and Covenant we should have made as good longs -and shorts as they.” Before I pass from Pitcairne I -quote a ludicrous story of which he is the hero. His -sceptical proclivities were well known in Edinburgh, -and he was rarely seen inside a church. He was driven -there, however, on one occasion by a shower of rain. -The audience was thin, the sermon commonplace, but -the preacher wept copiously and, as it seemed to Pitcairne, -irrelevantly. He turned to the only other occupant -of the pew, a stolid-visaged countryman, and -whispered, “What the deevil gars the man greet?” -“You would maybe greet yoursel’,” was the solemn -answer, “if ye was up there and had as little to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I pass from one sceptic to another—one might say -from one age to another. Edinburgh, in the latter part -of the eighteenth century, according to Smollett’s famous -phrase, was a “hotbed of genius.” When Amyot, -the King’s dentist, was in Edinburgh he said, as he stood -at the Cross, that he could any minute take fifty men -of genius by the hand. Of this distinguished company -David Hume was the chief. To what extent this historian, -philosopher, sceptic, is now read, we need not -inquire; he profoundly influenced European thought, -and gave a system of religious philosophy the deadliest -blow it ever received. He was a prominent and interesting -figure, and many and various are the legends -about him. What were his real religious beliefs, if -he had any, remains uncertain. He was hand in glove -<span class='pageno' title='138' id='Page_138'></span> -with “Jupiter” Carlyle, Principal Robertson, Dr. Hugh -Blair, and other leading moderates. They thought -his scepticism was largely pretence, mere intellectual -bounce, so to speak; they girded at his unreasonable -departure from the normal, and indeed Carlyle takes -every opportunity of thrusting at him on this account. -The Edinburgh folk regarded him with solemn horror. -The mother of Adam, the architect, who was -also aunt to Principal Robertson, had much to say -against the ‘atheist,’ whom she had never seen. Her -son played her a trick. Hume was asked to the house -and set down beside her. She declared “the large -jolly man who sat next me was the most agreeable -of them all.” “He was the very atheist, mother,” said -the son, “that you were so much afraid of.” “Oh,” replied -the lady, “bring him here as much as you please, -for he is the most innocent, agreeable, facetious man -I ever met with.” His scepticism was subject for his -friends’ wit and his own. He heard Carlyle preach -in Athelstaneford Church. “I did not think that such -heathen morality would have passed in East Lothian.” -One day when he sat in the Poker Club it was mentioned -that a clerk of Sir William Forbes, the banker, -had bolted with £900. When he was taken, there was -found in one pocket Hume’s <span class='it'>Treatise on Human Nature</span> -and in the other Boston’s <span class='it'>Fourfold State of Man</span>, -this latter being a work of evangelical theology. His -moderate friends presently suggested that no man’s -morality could hold out against the combination. Dr. -Jardine of the Tron Kirk vigorously argued with him -on various points of theology, suggested by Hume’s -<span class='it'>Natural History of Religion</span>. His friend, like most folk -<span class='pageno' title='139' id='Page_139'></span> -in Edinburgh, lived in a flat off a steep turnpike stair, -down which Hume fell one night in the darkness. Jardine -got a candle and helped the panting philosopher -to his feet. Your old Edinburgh citizen never could resist -the chance of a cutting remark. The divine was no -exception. “Davy, I have often tell’t ye that ‘natural -licht’ is no’ sufficient.” Like Socrates, he hid his wit -under an appearance of simplicity. His own mother’s -opinion of him was: “Davy’s a fine, good-natured crater, -but uncommon wake-minded.” He had his weaknesses, -undoubtedly. Lord Saltoun said to him, referring -to his credulity, “David, man, you’ll believe onything -except the Bible,” but like other Scotsmen of his -time he did not believe overmuch in Shakespeare. In -1757 he thus addresses the author of <span class='it'>Douglas</span>: “You -possess the true theatrical genius of Shakespeare and -Otway, refined from the barbarisms of the one, and the -licentiousness of the other.” Put beside this Burns’s -famous and fatuous line: “Here Douglas forms wild -Shakespeare into plan,” and what can you do but shudder? -When young, he had paid his court to a lady of -fashion, and had met with scant courtesy. He was told -afterwards that she had changed her mind. “So have -I,” said the philosopher. On another occasion he was -more gallant. Crossing the Firth in a gale he said to -Lady Wallace, who was in the boat, that they would -soon be food for the fishes. “Will they eat you or me?” -said the lady. “Ah,” was the answer, “those that are -gluttons will undoubtedly fall foul of me, but the epicure -will attack your ladyship.” David, like the fishes -he described, was a bit of an epicure of the simplest -kind. He would sup with his moderate friends in Johnny -<span class='pageno' title='140' id='Page_140'></span> -Dowie’s tavern in Libberton’s Wynd. On the table -lay his huge door-key, wherewith his servant, Peggy, -had been careful to provide him that she might not -have to rise to let him in. After all, the friends did not -sit very late, and the supper was some simple Scots -dish—haddock, or tripe, or fluke, or pies, or it might -be trout from the Nor’ Loch, for Dowie’s was famous -for these little dainties. But the talk! Would you -match it in modern Edinburgh with all its pomp and -wealth? I trow not—perhaps not even in mightier -London.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The story is threadbare of how he was stuck in a -bog under the Castle rock, and was only helped out -by a passing Edinburgh dame on condition that he -would say the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed. More witty -and more probable, though perhaps as well known, is -the following: In the last years of his life he deserted -the Old Town for the New. He had a house at the -corner of St. Andrew Square, in a street as yet anonymous. -“St. David Street” chalked up a witty young -lady, Miss Nancy Ord, daughter of Chief Baron Ord, -and St. David Street it is to this day. His servant, in -a state of indignation, brought him the news. “Never -mind, lassie, many a better man has been made a saint -without knowing it,” said the placid philosopher. A -female member of a narrow sect called upon him near -the end with an alleged message from Heaven. “This -is an important matter. Madam, we must take it with -deliberation. Perhaps you had better get a little temporal -refreshment before you begin.—Lassie, bring -this young lady a glass of wine.” As she drank, he in -his turn questioned, and found that the husband was a -<span class='pageno' title='141' id='Page_141'></span> -tallow-chandler. How fortunate, for he was out of candles! -He gave an order, the woman forgot the message, -and rushed off to fulfil it. Hume, you fancy, had a quiet -chuckle at his happy release. He was a great friend of -Mrs. Mure, wife of Baron Mure, and was a frequent -visitor at their house at Abbeyhill, near Holyrood. -On his death-bed he sent to bid her good-bye. He gave -her his <span class='it'>History of England</span>. “O, Dauvid, that’s a book -ye may weel be proud o’! but before ye dee ye should -burn a’ yer wee bookies,” to which the philosopher, -with difficulty raising himself on his arms, was only able -to reply with some little show of vehemence, “<span class='it'>What for</span> -should I burn a’ my wee bookies?” But he was too -weak to argue such points; he pressed the hand of -his old friend as she rose to depart. When his time -came he went quietly, contentedly, even gladly, regretted -by saint and sceptic alike. If Carlyle girded -at him, his intimate friend, Adam Smith, who might -almost dispute his claim to mental eminence, pictured -him forth in those days as the perfectly wise -man, so far as human imperfections allowed. The -piety or caution of his friends made them watch the -grave for some eight nights after the burial. The vigil -began at eight o’clock, when a pistol was fired, and -candles in a lanthorn were placed on the grave and -tended from time to time. Some violation was feared, -for a wild legend of Satanic agency had flashed on the -instant through the town. Hume has no monument -in Edinburgh, crowded as she is with statues of lesser -folk; but the accident of position and architecture has -in this, as in other cases, produced a striking if undesigned -result. From one cause or another the valley -<span class='pageno' title='142' id='Page_142'></span> -is deeper than of yore, and the simple round tower -that marks Hume’s grave in the Calton burying-ground -crowns a half-natural, half-artificial precipice. It -is seen with effect from various points: thus you cannot -miss it as you cross the North Bridge. Some memory -of this great thinker still projects itself into the -trivial events of the modern Edinburgh day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of Hume’s friend and companion, Adam Smith, -there are various anecdotes, more or less pointed, -bearing on his oblivious or maybe contemptuous indifference -to the ordinary things of life. The best and -best known tells how, as he went with shuffling gait -and vacant look, a Musselburgh fishwife stared at him -in amazement. “Hech, and he is weel put on tae.” It -seemed to her a pity that so well-dressed a simpleton -was not better looked after. No amount of learning -helps you in a crowded street. The wisdom of the -ancients reports that Thales, wrapt in contemplation -of the stars, walked into a well and thus ended. Adam -Smith’s grave is in a dark corner of the Canongate -Churchyard; it is by no means so prominent as -Hume’s, nay, it takes some searching to discover. -When I saw it last I found it neglected and unvisited -alike by economic friends and foes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among Hume’s intimate cronies was Dr. Carlyle -of Inveresk, whose <span class='it'>Autobiography</span> preserves for us the -best record of the men of his time. “The grandest -demigod I ever saw,” says Sir Walter Scott, “commonly -called Jupiter Carlyle, from having sat more -than once for the King of gods and men to Gavin -Hamilton, and a shrewd, clever old carle he was, no -doubt, but no more a poet than his precentor.” This -<span class='pageno' title='143' id='Page_143'></span> -last is apropos of some rhyming of Carlyle’s as bad -as rhymes can possibly be. In 1758 Carlyle and Principal -Robertson and John Home were together in -London; they went down to Portsmouth and aboard -the <span class='it'>Ramilies</span>, the warship in the harbour, where was -Lieut. Nelson, a cousin of Robertson’s. The honest -sailor expressed his astonishment in deliciously comical -terms: “God preserve us! what has brought the -Presbytery of Edinburgh here? for damme me if there -is not Willy Robertson, Sandie Carlyle, and John -Home come on board.” He soon had them down in -the cabin, however, and treated them to white wine -and salt beef. A jolly meal, you believe, for divines or -sceptics, philosophers or men of letters or business, -those old Edinburgh folk had a common and keen enjoyment -of life. Certainly Carlyle had. Dr. Lindsay -Alexander of Augustine Church, Edinburgh, remembered -as a child hearing one of the servants say of -this divine, “There he gaed, dacent man, as steady as -a wa’ after his ain share o’ five bottles o’ port.” Home -by this time was no longer a minister of the Church. -He had thrown up his living in the previous year on -account of the famous row about the once famous tragedy -of <span class='it'>Douglas</span>. He still had a hankering after the -General Assembly, where, if he could no longer sit as -teaching elder, he might as ruling elder, because he -was Conservator of Scots privileges at Campvere, but -he was something else; he was lieutenant in the Duke -of Buccleuch’s Fencibles, and as such had a right to attire -himself in a gorgeous uniform, and it was so incongruously -adorned that he took his seat in that reverend -house. The country ministers stared with all their -<span class='pageno' title='144' id='Page_144'></span> -eyes, and one of them exclaimed, “Sure, that is John -Home the poet! What is the meaning of that dress?” -“Oh,” said Mr. Robert Walker of Edinburgh, “it is -only the farce after the play.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eminent lawyers who are also industrious, and -even eminent writers, were a feature of the time, but -of them I have already spoken and there is little here -to add. Monboddo had a remarkable experience in -his youth; the very day, in 1736, he returned to Edinburgh -from studying abroad he heard at nightfall a -commotion in the street. In nightdress and slippers -he stepped from the door and was borne along by a -wild mob, not a few of whom were attired as strangely -as himself. It was that famous affair of Captain -Porteous, and, <span class='it'>nolens volens</span>, he needs must witness -that sordid yet picturesque tragedy whose incidents, -you are convinced, he never forgot, and often, as an -old man, retailed to a newer generation.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i173.jpg' alt='Portrait of James Boswell' id='iid-0017' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>JAMES BOSWELL</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after Sir Joshua Reynolds P.R.A.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Like many another Scots lawyer, Lord Kames had -a keen love for the land, keener in his case because -it had come to him from his forbears; but his zeal -was not always according to knowledge. One of the -“fads” of the time was a wonderful fertilising powder. -He told one of his tenants that he would be able -to carry the manure of an acre of land in his coat -pocket, “And be able to bring back the crop in yer -waistcoat pouch?” was the crushing reply. He would -have his joke, cruel and wicked, at any cost. To him -belongs the well-nigh incredible story of a murder -trial at Ayr in 1780. He knew the accused and had -played chess with him. “That’s checkmate for you, -Matthie,” he chuckled in ungodly glee when the verdict -<span class='pageno' title='145' id='Page_145'></span> -was recorded. This story, by the way, used to be -told of Braxfield, to whom it clearly does not belong, -and one wished it did not belong to Kames either. -He spared himself as little as he did others. He lived -in New Street, an early old-time improvement on the -north side of the Canongate, and from there he went -to the Parliament House in a sedan chair. One morning, -near the end, he was being helped into it, for he -was old and infirm, when James Boswell crossed his -path. Jamie was always in one scrape or the other, but -this time you fancy he had done something specially -notorious. “I shall shortly be seeing your father,” said -Kames (old Auchinleck had died that year (1782), as -on the 27th of December did Kames himself); “have -you any message for him? Shall I tell him how you -are getting on?” You imagine his diabolical grin and -Bozzy’s confused answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beside these quaint figures Lord Hailes, with his -ponderous learning, is a mere Dry-as-dust antiquary—the -dust lies ever deeper over his many folios; of his -finical exactness there still linger traditions in the -Parliament House. It is said he dismissed a case because -a word was wrongly spelt in one of the numbers -of process. Thus he earned himself a couplet in the -once famous <span class='it'>Court of Session Garland</span>.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“To judge of this matter I cannot pretend,</p> -<p class='line0'>For justice, my Lords, wants an ‘e’ at the end.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>So wrote Boswell, himself, though he only partly -belongs to Edinburgh, not the least interesting figure -of our period. There is more than one story of him -and Kames. The judge had playfully suggested that -Boswell should write his biography! How devoutly -<span class='pageno' title='146' id='Page_146'></span> -you wish he had. What an entertaining and famous -book it had been! but perhaps he had only it in him to -do one biography, and we know how splendid <span class='it'>that</span> -was. Poor Bozzy once complained to the old judge -that even he, Bozzy himself, was occasionally dull. -“Homer sometimes nods,” said Kames in a reassuring -tone, but with a grin that promised mischief. The -other looked as pleased as possible till the old cynic -went on: “Indeed, sir, it is the only chance you have -of resembling him.” Old Auchinleck, his father, was -horrified at his son’s devotion to Johnson. “Jamie has -gaen clean gyte. What do you think, man? He’s done -wi’ Paoli—he’s aff wi’ the land-loupin’ scoondrel o’ -a Corsican. Whae’s tail do ye think he has preened -himsel’ tae noo? A dominie man—an auld dominie -who keepit a schule and caa’ed it an Acaademy!” In -fact, the great Samuel pleased none of the Boswell -clan except Boswell and Boswell’s baby daughter. -Auchinleck had many caustic remarks even after he -had seen the sage: “He was only a dominie, and the -worst-mannered dominie I ever met.” So much for -the father. The wife was not more favourable: “She -had often seen a bear led by a man, but never till now -had she seen a man led by a bear.” Afterwards, when -the famous biography was published, the sons were -horribly ashamed both of it and of him. Bozzy has -given us so much amusement—we recognise his inimitable -literary touch—that we are rather proud of -and grateful to him; but then, we don’t look at the -matter with the eyes of his relatives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Johnson was himself in Edinburgh. You remember -how he arrived in February 1773 at Boyd’s Whitehorse -<span class='pageno' title='147' id='Page_147'></span> -Inn off St. Mary’s Wynd, not the more famous -Inn of that name in the Whitehorse Close down the -Canongate; how angry he was with the waiter for lifting -with his dirty paw the sugar to put in his lemonade; -how, in the malodorous High Street, he pleasantly remarked -to Boswell, “I smell you in the dark”; how, -as he listened at Holyrood to the story of the Rizzio -murder, he muttered a line of the old ballad <span class='it'>Johnnie -Armstrong’s last good-night</span>—“And ran him through -the fair bodie.” They took him to the Royal Infirmary, -and he noted the inscription “Clean your feet.” -“Ah,” said he, “there is no occasion for putting this at -the doors of your churches.” The gibe was justified; -he had just looked in at St. Giles’, then used for every -strange civic purpose, and plastered and twisted about -to every strange shape. Most interesting to me is that -Sunday morning, 15th August 1773, when Bozzy and -Principal Robertson toiled with him up the College -Wynd to see the University, and passed by Scott’s -birthplace. The Wizard of the North was then two -years old, and who could guess that his fame in after -years would be greater than that of those three eminent -men of letters put together? In this strange remote -way do epochs touch one another. No wonder -Bozzy’s relatives got tired of his last hobby, his very -subject himself got tired. “Sir,” said the sage, “you -have but two topics, yourself and me. I am sick of -both.” Yet Bozzy knew what he was about when he -stuck to his one topic. After his idol was gone, what -was there for him but the bottle? It was one of the -earliest recollections of Lord Jeffrey that he had assisted -as a boy in putting the biographer to bed in a -<span class='pageno' title='148' id='Page_148'></span> -state of absolute unconsciousness. Next morning Boswell -was told of the service rendered: he clapped the -lad on the head, and complacently congratulated him. -“If you go on as you’ve begun, you may live to be a -Bozzy yourself yet.” And so much bemused the greatest -of biographers vanishes from our sight.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='151' id='Page_151'></span><h1>CHAPTER SEVEN<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>MEN OF LETTERS. PART II.</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>To turn to some lesser figures. -Hugo Arnot, advocate, is still remembered as author -of one of the two standard histories of Edinburgh. No -man better known in the streets of the old capital: he -was all length and no breadth. That incorrigible joker, -Harry Erskine, found him one day gnawing a speldrin—a -species of cured fish chiefly used to remove the -trace of last night’s debauch, and prepare the stomach -for another bout. It is vended in long thin strips. -“You are very like your meat,” said the wit. The Edinburgh -populace called a house which for some time -stood solitary on Moutries Hill, afterwards Bunkers -Hill, where is now the Register House, “Hugo Arnot,” -because the length was out of all proportion to -the breadth. One day he found a fishwife cheapening -a Bible in Creech’s shop; he had some semi-jocular -remarks, probably not in the best taste, at the -purchase and the purchaser. “Gude ha mercy on -us,” said the old lady, “wha wad hae thocht that ony -human-like cratur wud hae spokan that way; but -<span class='it'>you</span>,” she went on with withering scorn—“a perfect -atomy.” He was known to entertain sceptical opinions, -and he was pestered with chronic asthma, and -panted and wheezed all day long. “If I do not get -quit of this,” he said, “it will carry me off like a rocket.” -“Ah, Hugo, my man,” said an orthodox but unkind -friend, “but in a contrary direction.” He could -joke at his own infirmities. A Gilmerton carter passed -him bellowing “sand for sale” with a voice that -made the street echo. “The rascal,” said the exasperated -author, “spends as much breath in a minute as -<span class='pageno' title='152' id='Page_152'></span> -would serve me for a month.” Like other Edinburgh -folk he migrated to the New Town, to Meuse Lane, -in fact, hard by St. Andrew Square. What with his -diseases and other natural infirmities, Hugo’s temper -was of the shortest. He rang his bell in so violent a -manner that a lady on the floor above complained. -He took to summoning his servant by firing a pistol; -the remedy was worse than the disease. The caustic, -bitter old Edinburgh humour was in the very bones -of him. He was, as stated, an advocate by profession, -and his collection of criminal trials, by the way, is still -an authority. Once he was consulted in order that he -might help in some shady transaction. He listened -with the greatest attention. “What do you suppose -me to be?” said he to the client. “A lawyer, an advocate,” -stammered the other. “Oh, I thought you took -me for a scoundrel,” sneered Arnot as he showed the -proposed client the door. A lady who said she was -of the same name asked how to get rid of an importunate -suitor. “Why, marry him,” said Hugo testily. “I -would see him hanged first,” rejoined the lady. The -lawyer’s face contorted to a grin. “Why, marry him, -and by the Lord Harry he will soon hang himself.” -All very well, but not by such arts is British Themis -propitiated. Arnot died in November 1786 when he -was not yet complete thirty-seven. He had chosen -his burial-place in the churchyard at South Leith, and -was anxious to have it properly walled in ere the end, -which he clearly foresaw, arrived. It was finished just -in time, and with a certain stoical relief this strange -mortal departed to take possession.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i182.jpg' alt='Portrait of Henry Mackenzie' id='iid-0018' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>HENRY MACKENZIE, “THE MAN OF FEELING”</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after Andrew Geddes</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Another well-known Edinburgh character was -<span class='pageno' title='153' id='Page_153'></span> -Henry Mackenzie. Born in 1745 he lived till 1831, and -connects the different periods of Edinburgh literary -splendour. His best service to literature was his early -appreciation of Burns, but in his own time the <span class='it'>Man -of Feeling</span> was one of the greatest works of the day, -and the <span class='it'>Man of the World</span> and <span class='it'>Julia de Roubigné</span> followed -not far behind. To this age all seems weak, -stilted, sentimental to an impossible degree, but Scott -and Lockhart, to name but these, read and admired -with inexplicable admiration. In ordinary life Mackenzie -was a hard-headed lawyer, and as keen an attendant -at a cock main, it was whispered, as Deacon -Brodie himself. He told his wife that he’d had a glorious -night. “Where?” she queried. “Why, at a splendid -fight.” “Oh Harry, Harry,” said the good lady, -“you have only feeling on paper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tobias Smollett, though not an Edinburgh man, -had some connection with the place. His sister, Mrs. -Telfer, lived in the house yet shown in the Canongate, -at the entrance to St. John Street. Here, after long -absence, his mother recognised him by his smile. Ten -years afterwards he again went north, and again saw -his mother; he told her that he was very ill and that -he was dying. “We’ll no’ be very lang pairted onie -way. If you gang first, I’ll be close on your heels. If -I lead the way, you’ll no’ be far ahint me, I’m thinking,” -said this more than Spartan parent. But when -you read the vivacious Mrs. Winifred Jenkins in the -<span class='it'>Expedition of Humphrey Clinker</span>, you recognise how -good a thing it was for letters that Smollett visited -Edinburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a little odd, but I have no anecdotes to tell -<span class='pageno' title='154' id='Page_154'></span> -(the alleged meeting between him and old John Brown -in Haddington Churchyard is a wild myth) of that -characteristic Edinburgh figure, Robert Fergusson, -the Edinburgh poet, the native and the lover. He -struck a deeper note than Allan Ramsay, has a more -intimate touch than Scott, is scarcely paralleled by -R. L. Stevenson, who half believed himself a reincarnation -of “my unhappy predecessor on the causey -of old Edinburgh” . . . “him that went down—my -brother, Robert Fergusson.”</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Auld Reekie! thou’rt the canty hole,</p> -<p class='line0'>A bield for mony a cauldrife soul</p> -<p class='line0'>Wha’ snugly at thine ingle loll</p> -<p class='line0'>        Baith warm and couth,</p> -<p class='line0'>While round they gar the bicker roll</p> -<p class='line0'>        To weet their mouth.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>There you see the side of Edinburgh that most -attracted him. He was no worse than his fellows perhaps, -but perhaps he could not stand what they stood. -It is said that he once gave as an excuse, “Oh, sirs, anything -to forget my poor mother and these aching -fingers.” As Mr. H. G. Graham truly says: “It was a -poor enough excuse for forgetting himself.” He used -to croon over that pleasing little trifle, <span class='it'>The Birks of -Invermay</span>, in Lucky Middlemist’s or elsewhere, and -dream of trim rural fields he did not trouble to visit. -I have no heart to repeat the melancholy story of his -lonely death in the Schelles, hard by the old Darien -House at the Bristo Port in 1774, at the age of twenty-four. -His interest is as a ghost from the Edinburgh -underworld, you catch a glimpse of a more vicious -Grub Street. There must have been a circle of broken -professional men of all sorts, more or less clever, all -<span class='pageno' title='155' id='Page_155'></span> -needy, all drunken and ready to do anything for a -dram. What a crop of anecdotes there was! But no -one gathered, and the memory of it passed away with -the actors. Local history that chronicled the oddities -of Kames or Monboddo refused to chronicle the -pranks of lewd fellows of the baser sort. Only when -the wastrel happened to be a genius do we piece together -in some sort his career. Whatever one says -about Fergusson, you never doubt his genius.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is curious how very occasional is the anecdote of -this Caledonian Grub Street. Here is rather a characteristic -straw which the stream of time has carried -down regarding a certain drudge called Stewart. One -night, homeless and houseless, he staggered into the -ash pit of a primitive steam-engine, and lay down -to rest. An infernal din aroused him from his drunken -slumber; he saw the furnace opened, grimy black -figures stoking the fire and raking the bars of the -enormous grate, whilst iron rods and chains clanked -around him with infernal din. A tardily awakened -conscience hinted where he was. “Good God, has -it come to this at last?” he growled in abject terror. -Another anecdote, though of a later date, is told in -Lockhart’s <span class='it'>Life of Scott</span>. Constable, the Napoleon -of publishers, called the crafty in the <span class='it'>Chaldean Manuscript</span>, -is reported “a most bountiful and generous -patron to the ragged tenants of Grub Street.” He -gave stated dinners to his “own circle of literary -serfs.” At one of these David Bridges, “tailor in ordinary -to this northern potentate,” acted as croupier. -According to instructions he brought with him a new -pair of breeches, and for these Alister Campbell and -<span class='pageno' title='156' id='Page_156'></span> -another ran a race, and yet this same Campbell was -editor of <span class='it'>Albyn’s Anthology</span>, 1816, to which Scott contributed -<span class='it'>Jock o’ Hazeldean</span>, <span class='it'>Pibroch of Donald Dhu</span>, -and better than any, that brilliant piece of extravagance, -<span class='it'>Donald Caird’s come again</span>. Perhaps the story -isn’t true, but it is at least significant that Lockhart -should tell it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One glittering Bohemian figure, though he was -much greater and much else, lights up for us those Edinburgh -taverns, Johnnie Dowie’s and the rest, those -Edinburgh clubs, the Crochallan Fencibles and the -others, that figure is Robert Burns. His winter of 1786-1787 -in the Scots capital is famous. To us, more than -a century after, it still satisfies the imagination, a striking, -dramatic, picturesque appearance. On the whole, -Edinburgh, not merely her great but common men, -received him fitly. One day in that winter Jeffrey was -standing in the High Street staring at a man whose -appearance struck him, he could scarce tell why. A -person standing at a shop door tapped him on the -shoulder and said: “Ay, laddie, ye may weel look at -that man; that’s Robert Burns.” He never saw him -again. His experience in this was like that of Scott; -but you are glad at any rate that Burns and Scott did -meet, else had that Edinburgh visit wanted its crowning -glory. Scott was then fifteen. He saw Robin in -Professor Fergusson’s house at Sciennes. It was a -distinguished company, and Scott, always modest, -held his tongue. There was a picture in the room of -a soldier lying dead in the snow, by him his dog and -his widow with his child in her arms. Burns was so -affected at the idea suggested by the picture that “he -<span class='pageno' title='157' id='Page_157'></span> -actually shed tears,” like the men of the heroic age, -says Andrew Lang; he asked who wrote the lines -which were printed underneath, and Scott alone remembered -that they were from the obscure Langhorne. -“Burns rewarded me with a look and a word -which, though a mere civility, I then received, and still -recollect, with very great pleasure.” Scott goes on to -describe Burns as like the “douce guid man who held -his own plough.” Most striking was his eye: “It was -large and of a dark cast and glowed (I say literally -<span class='it'>glowed</span>) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I -never saw such another eye in a human head, though -I have seen the most distinguished men in my time.” -Whether Scott was right in thinking that Burns talked -with “too much humility,” I will not discuss. We -know what Robin thought of the “writer chiel.” The -most pleasing result of his Edinburgh visit, as it is to-day -still the most tangible, was the monument, tasteful -and sufficient, which he put over Fergusson’s grave -in the Canongate Churchyard. R.L.S., by the way, -from his distant home in the South Seas, was anxious -that if neglected it should be put in order. I do not -think it has ever been neglected. I have seen it often -and it was always curiously spick and span: these -<span class='it'>vates</span> have not lacked pious services at the hands of -their followers. Scott was not so enthusiastic an admirer, -but he knew his Fergusson well and quotes him -with reasonable frequency. When Fergusson died -Scott was only three years old. Edinburgh was then -a town of little space, and the unfortunate poet may -have seen the child, but he could not have noticed -him, and we have no record.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='158' id='Page_158'></span> -Just as the last half of the eighteenth century may be -said to group itself round Hume, so the first half of -the nineteenth has Scott for its central figure. I have -spoken of his birthplace in the College Wynd. In 1825 -he pointed out its site to Robert Chambers. “It would -have been more profitable to have preserved it,” said -Chambers in a neat compliment to Scott’s rapidly -growing fame. “Ay, ay,” said Sir Walter, “that is very -well, but I am afraid that I should require to be dead -first, and that would not have been so comfortable, -you know.” Thus, with good sense and humour, Scott -turned aside the eulogium which perhaps he thought -too strong. How modest he was! He frankly, and -justly, put himself as a poet below Byron and Burns, -and as for Shakespeare, “he was not worthy to loose -his brogues.” His sense and good-nature helped to -make him popular with his fellows. Hogg, the Ettrick -Shepherd, was a possible exception. Scott did him -good, yet after Scott’s death he wrote some nasty -things. In truth, he had an unhappy nature, since he -was somewhat rough to others and yet abnormally -sensitive. Lockhart tells a story of Hogg’s visit to -Scott’s house in Castle Street, where he was asked to -dinner. Mrs. Scott was not well, and was lying on a -sofa. The Shepherd seized another sofa, wheeled it -towards her, and stretched himself at full length on it. -“I thought I could never do wrong to copy the lady -of the house.” His hands, we are told, had marks of -recent sheep-shearing, of which the chintz bore legible -traces; but the guest noted not this; he ate freely, -and drank freely, and talked freely; he became gradually -more and more familiar; from “Mr. Scott” he -<span class='pageno' title='159' id='Page_159'></span> -advanced to “Shirra” and thence to “Scott,” “Walter,” -“Wattie,” until at supper he fairly convulsed the -whole party by addressing Mrs. Scott as “Charlotte.” -I think, however, that Scott was too much of a gentleman -ever to have told this story. “The Scorpion,” as -the <span class='it'>Chaldean Manuscript</span> named Lockhart, had many -good qualities, but was, after all, a bit of a “superior -person.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Scott’s connection with John Leyden was altogether -pleasant, and no one mourned more sincerely -over the early death in the East of that indefatigable -poet and scholar. Leyden was of great assistance to -Scott in collecting material for his <span class='it'>Border Minstrelsy</span>. -Once there was a hiatus in an interesting old ballad, -when Leyden heard of an ancient reported able to recite -the whole thing complete. He walked between -forty and fifty miles and back again, turning the recovered -verses over in his mind, and as Scott was -sitting after dinner with some company “a sound was -heard at a distance like that of the whistling of a tempest -through the torn rigging of a vessel which scuds -before it.” It was Leyden who presently burst into -the room, chanting the whole of the recovered ballad. -Leyden and Thomas Campbell had a very pretty -quarrel about something or other. When Scott repeated -to Leyden the poem of <span class='it'>Hohenlinden</span>, the latter -burst out, “Dash it, man, tell the fellow that I hate -him; but, dash him, he has written the finest verses -that have been published these fifty years.” Scott, -thinking to patch up a peace, repeated this to Campbell. -He only said, “Tell Leyden that I detest him, but -I know the value of his critical approbation.” Well -<span class='pageno' title='160' id='Page_160'></span> -he might! Leyden once repeated to Alexander Murray, -the philologist, the most striking lines in Campbell’s -<span class='it'>Lochiel</span>, adding, “That fellow, after all, we may -say, is King of us all, and has the genuine root of the -matter in him.” Campbell’s verse still lives, but our day -would not place it so high. I have spoken of Scott’s -modesty, also he was quiet under hostile criticism. -Jeffrey had some hard things to say of <span class='it'>Marmion</span> in -the <span class='it'>Edinburgh Review</span>, and immediately after dined -in Castle Street. There was no change in Scott’s -demeanour, but Mrs. Scott could not altogether restrain -herself. “Well, good-night, Mr. Jeffrey. They -tell me you have abused Scott in the <span class='it'>Review</span>, and I -hope Mr. Constable has paid you very well for writing -it,” which was rather an odd remark. As that Highland -blue-stocking, Mrs. Grant of Laggan, observed, “Mr. -Scott always seems to me like a glass through which -the rays of admiration pass without sensibly affecting -it, but the bit of paper that lies beside it will presently -be in a blaze—and no wonder.” Scott was -“truest friend and noblest foe.” In June 1821, as he -stood by John Ballantyne’s open grave in the Canongate -Churchyard, the day, which had been dark, brightened -up, and the sun shone forth, he looked up and -said with deep feeling to Lockhart, “I feel as if there -will be less sunshine for me from this time forth.” -And yet through the Ballantynes Scott was involved -in those reckless speculations which led to the catastrophe -of his life. His very generosity and nobleness -led him into difficulties. “I like Scott’s ain bairns, -but Heaven preserve me from those of his fathering,” -says Constable. As for those “ain bairns,” especially -those Waverley Novels, which are a dear possession -to each of us, there are anecdotes enough.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i191.jpg' alt='Portrait of John Leyden' id='iid-0019' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>JOHN LEYDEN</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Pen Drawing</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='161' id='Page_161'></span></p> -<p class='noindent'>We know -the speed and ease, in truth Shakespearean, with which -he threw off the best of them, yet to the outsider he -seemed hard at work. In June 1814 a party of young -bloods were dining in a house in George Street, at -right angles with North Castle Street. A shade overspread -the face of the host. “Why?” said the narrator. -“There is a confounded hand in sight of me here -which has often bothered me before, and now it won’t -let me fill my glass with a good will. Since we sat -down I have been watching it—it fascinates my eye—it -never stops; page after page is finished and -thrown on that heap of MS., and still it goes on unwearied, -and so it will be till candles are brought in, -and God knows how long after that; it is the same -every night.” It was the hand of Walter Scott, and -in the evenings of three weeks in summer it wrote the -last two volumes of Waverley (there were three in all). -Whatever impression the novels make upon us has -been discounted before we have read them, but when -they were appearing, when to the attraction of the -volumes themselves was added the romance of mystery, -when the Wizard of the North was still “The -Great Unknown,” <span class='it'>then</span> was the time to enjoy a Waverley. -James Ballantyne lived in St. John Street, -then a good class place off the Canongate. He was -wont to give a gorgeous feast whenever a new Waverley -was about to appear. Scott was there, but he -and the staider members of the company left in good -time, and then there were broiled bones and a mighty -bowl of punch, and James Ballantyne was persuaded -<span class='pageno' title='162' id='Page_162'></span> -to produce the proof-sheets, and, with a word of -preface, give the company the liver wing of the forthcoming -literary banquet. Long before the end the -secret was an open secret, but it was only formally -divulged, as we all know, at the Theatrical Fund dinner, -on Friday the 23rd February 1827. Among the -company was jovial Patrick Robertson, “a mighty incarnate -joke.” When <span class='it'>Peveril of the Peak</span> appeared he -applied the name to Scott from the shape of his head -as he stood chatting in the Parliament House, “better -that than Peter o’ the Painch,” was the not particularly -elegant but very palpable retort at Peter’s rotundity. -At the banquet Scott sent him a note urging him to -confess something too. “Why not the murder of Begbie?” -(the porter of the British Linen Company Bank, -murdered under mysterious circumstances in November -1806, in Tweeddale Close, in the High Street). Immediately -after, the farce of <span class='it'>High Life Below Stairs</span> -was played in the theatre. A lady’s lady asked who -wrote Shakespeare? One says Ben Jonson, another -Finis. “No,” said an actor, with a most ingenious -“gag,” “it is Sir Walter Scott; he confessed it at a -public meeting the other day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Most of the literary men of the time were in two -camps. Either they wrote for the <span class='it'>Edinburgh Review</span>, -or for <span class='it'>Blackwood’s Magazine</span>, occasionally for both. -The opponents knew each other, and were more or less -excellent friends, though they used the most violent -language. Jeffrey was the great light on the <span class='it'>Edinburgh</span>; -he was described by Professor Wilson’s wife as -“a horrid little man, but held in as high estimation -here as the Bible.” Her husband, with Lockhart and -<span class='pageno' title='163' id='Page_163'></span> -Hogg, were the chief writers for the Magazine. The -first number of that last, as we now know it, contained -the famous <span class='it'>Chaldean Manuscript</span>, in which uproarious -fun was made of friends and foes, under the guise -of a scriptural parable. They began with their own -publisher and real editor. “And his name was as it -had been the colour of ebony, and his number was the -number of a maiden when the days of the year of her -virginity have expired.” In other words, Mr. Blackwood -of 17 Princes Street. Constable, the publisher, -was the “crafty in council,” and he had a notable horn -in his forehead that “cast down the truth to the -ground.” This was the <span class='it'>Review</span>. Professor Wilson was -“the beautiful leopard from the valley of the plane -trees,” referring to the <span class='it'>Isle of Palms</span>, the poem of which -Christopher North was the author. Lockhart was the -“scorpion which delighteth to sting the faces of men.” -Hogg was “the great wild boar from the forests of -Lebanon whetting his dreadful tusks for the battle.” It -was the composition of these last three spirits, and is -described by Aytoun as “a mirror in which we behold -literary Edinburgh of 1817, translated into mythology.” -It was chiefly put together one night at 53 -Queen Street, amidst uproarious laughter that shook -the walls of the house, and made the ladies in the -room above send to inquire in wonder what the gentlemen -below were about. Even the grave Sir William -Hamilton was of the party; he contributed a verse, -and was so amused at his own performance that he -tumbled off his chair in a fit of laughter. Perhaps the -personalities by which it gained part of its success -were not in the best taste, but never was squib so successful. -<span class='pageno' title='164' id='Page_164'></span> -It shook the town with rage and mirth. After -well-nigh a century, though some sort of a key is essential, -you read it with a grin; it has a permanent, if -small, place in the history of letters. Yet Wilson contributed -to the <span class='it'>Edinburgh</span>! “John,” said his mother -when she heard it, “if you turn Whig, this house is no -longer big enough for us both.” There was no fear -of <span class='it'>that</span>, however.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The most engaging stories of Christopher North -tell of his feats of endurance. After he was a grave professor -he would throw off his coat and tackle successfully -with his fists an obstreperous bully. He would -walk seventy miles in the waking part of twenty-four -hours. Once, in the braes of Glenorchy, he called at a -farmhouse at eleven at night for refreshment. They -brought him a bottle of whisky and a can of milk, -which he mixed and consumed in two draughts from a -huge bowl. He was called to the Scots bar in 1815, and -from influence, or favour, agents at first sent him cases. -He afterwards confessed that when he saw the papers -on his table, he did not know what to do with them. -But he speedily drifted into literature, wherein he -made a permanent mark. We have all dipped into -that huge mine of wit and wisdom, the <span class='it'>Noctes Ambrosianæ</span>. -You would say of him, and you would of Scott, -they were splendid men, their very faults and excesses -lovable. What a strange power both had over animals! -As in the case of Queen Mary, their servants -were ever their faithful and devoted friends. Wilson -kept a great number of dogs. Rover was a special favourite. -As the animal was dying, Wilson bent over it, -“Rover, my poor fellow, give me your paw,” as if he -<span class='pageno' title='165' id='Page_165'></span> -had been taking leave of a man. When Camp died, -Scott reverently buried him in the back garden of his -Castle Street house; his daughter noted the deep -cloud of sorrow on her father’s face. Maida is with -him on his monument as in life. Wilson kept sixty-two -gamebirds all at once; they made a fearful noise. -“Did they never fight?” queried his doctor. “No,” was -the answer; “but put a hen amongst them, and I will -not answer for the peace being long observed. And so -it hath been since the beginning of the world.” These -gifted men played each other tricks of the most impish -nature. Lockhart once made a formal announcement -of Christopher North’s sudden death, with a panegyric -upon his character in the <span class='it'>Weekly Journal</span>; true, he confined -it to a few copies, but it was rather a desperate -method of jesting. Patrick Robertson, as Lord Robertson, -a Senator of the College of Justice, published -a volume of poems. This was duly reviewed in the -<span class='it'>Quarterly</span>, which Lockhart edited, and a copy sent to -the author; it finished off with this mad couplet:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Here lies the peerless paper lord, Lord Peter,</p> -<p class='line0'>Who broke the laws of God and man and metre.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The feelings of “Peter,” as his friends always called -Robertson, may be imagined. True, it was the only -copy of the <span class='it'>Review</span> that contained the couplet: it must -have been some time before the disturbed poet found -out. Yet “Peter” was a “jokist” of a scarcely less desperate -character. At a dinner-party an Oxford don -was parading his Greek erudition, to the boredom of -the whole company. Robertson gravely replied to -some proposition, “I rather think, sir, Dionysius of -Halicarnassus is against you there.” “I beg your pardon,” -<span class='pageno' title='166' id='Page_166'></span> -said the don quickly, “Dionysius did not flourish -for ninety years after that period.” “Oh,” rejoined -Patrick, with an expression of face that must be imagined, -“I made a mistake; I meant Thaddeus of Warsaw.” -There was no more Greek erudition that night. -This fondness for a jest followed those men into every -concern of life. One of Wilson’s daughters came to -her father in his study and asked, with appropriate -blushes, his consent to her engagement to Professor -Aytoun. He pinned a sheet of paper to her back, and -packed her off to the next room, where her lover was. -They were both a little mystified till he read the inscription: -“With the author’s compliments.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>De Quincey spent the last thirty years of his life -mainly in Edinburgh. His grave is in St. Cuthbert’s -Churchyard. He seems a strange, exotic figure, for -his literary interests, at any rate, were not at all Scots. -Once he paid a casual visit to Gloucester Place, where -Wilson lived. It was a stormy night, and he stayed -on—for about a year. His hours and dietary were -peculiar, but he was allowed to do exactly as he liked. -“Thomas de Sawdust,” as W. E. Henley rather cruelly -nicknamed him, excited the astonishment of the -Scots cook by the magnificent way in which he ordered -a simple meal. “Weel, I never heard the like o’ -that in a’ my days; the bodie has an awfu’ sicht o’ -words. If it had been my ain maister that was wanting -his denner he would ha’ ordered a hale tablefu’ -in little mair than a waff o’ his han’, and here’s a’ this -claver aboot a bit mutton no bigger than a preen. Mr. -De Quinshay would mak’ a gran’ preacher, though -I’m thinking a hantle o’ the folk wouldna ken what -<span class='pageno' title='167' id='Page_167'></span> -he was driving at.” During most of the day De Quincey -lay in a stupor; the early hours of the next morning -were his time for talk. The Edinburgh of that -time was still a town of strong individualities, brilliant -wits, and clever talkers, but when that weird voice -began, the listeners, though they were the very flower -of the intellect of the place, were content to hold their -peace: all tradition lies, or this strange figure was here -the first of them all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In some ways it was a curious and primitive time, -certainly none of these men was a drunkard, but they -all wrote as if they quaffed liquor like the gods of -the Norse mythology, and with some of them practice -conformed to theory, whilst fists and sticks were quite -orthodox modes of settling disputes. Even the grave -Ebony was not immune. A writer in Glasgow, one -Douglas, was aggrieved at some real or fancied reference -in the Magazine. He hied him to Edinburgh, and -as Mr. Blackwood was entering his shop, he laid a -horsewhip in rather a half-hearted fashion, it would -seem, about his shoulders. Then he made off. The editor -publisher forthwith procured a cudgel, and luckily -discovered his aggressor on the point of entering the -Glasgow coach; he gave him a sound beating. As -nothing more is heard of the incident, probably both -sides considered honour as satisfied. How difficult to -imagine people of position in incidents like this in -Edinburgh of to-day; but I will not dwell longer on -them and their likes, but move on to another era.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Virgilium viditantum</span>,” very happily quoted Scott, -the only time he ever saw (save for a casual street -view) and spoke with Burns. One wishes that there -<span class='pageno' title='168' id='Page_168'></span> -was more to be said of Scott and Carlyle. Carlyle -was a student at Edinburgh, and passed the early -years of his literary working life there. He saw Scott -on the street many a time and earnestly desired a -more intimate knowledge. This meeting would have -been as interesting as that, but it was not to be. Never -was fate more ironical, nay, perverse. Goethe was the -friend and correspondent of both, and it seemed to him -at Weimar an odd thing that these men, both students -of German literature, both citizens of Edinburgh, -should not be personal friends. He did everything he -could. Through Carlyle he sent messages and gifts -to Scott, and these Carlyle transmitted in a modest -and courteous note (13th April 1828). Alas! it was -after the deluge. Scott, with the bravest of hearts, yet -with lessening physical and mental power, was fighting -that desperate and heroic battle we know so well. -The letter went unanswered, and they never met. -Less important people were kinder. Jeffrey told Carlyle -he must give him a lift, and they were great friends -afterwards. In 1815 for the first time he met Edward -Irving in a room off Rose Street. The latter asked a -number of local questions about Annan, which subject -did not interest the youthful sage at all; finally, -he professed total ignorance and indifference as to the -history and condition of some one’s baby. “You seem -to know nothing,” said Irving very crossly. The answer -was characteristic. “Sir, by what right do you -try my knowledge in this way? I have no interest to -inform myself about the births in Annan, and care -not if the process of birth and generation there should -cease and determine altogether.” Carlyle studied for -<span class='pageno' title='169' id='Page_169'></span> -the Scots kirk, but he was soon very doubtful as to his -vocation. In 1817 he came from Kirkcaldy to put down -his name for the theological hall. “Old Dr. Ritchie was -‘not at home’ when I called to enter myself. ‘Good,’ said -I, ‘let the omen be fulfilled,’ ” and he shook the dust -of the hall from his feet for evermore. Possibly he muttered -something about, “Hebrew old Clo”, if he did, -his genius for cutting nicknames carried him away. -Through it all no one had greater reverence for the -written Word. Carlyle, for good or for ill, was a Calvinist -at heart. In the winter of 1823 he was sore beset -with the “fiend dyspepsia.” He rode from his father’s -house all the way to Edinburgh to consult a specialist. -The oracle was not dubious. “It was all tobacco, -sir; give up tobacco.” But could he give it up? “Give -it up, sir?” he testily replied. “I can cut off my hand -with an axe if that should be necessary.” Carlyle let -it alone for months, but was not a whit the better; -at length, swearing he would endure the “diabolical -farce and delusion” no longer, he laid almost violent -hands on a long clay and tobacco pouch and was as -happy as it was possible for him to be. Perhaps the -doctor was right after all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up to the middle of the last century a strange personage -called Peter Nimmo, or more often Sir Peter -Nimmo, moved about the classes of Edinburgh University, -and had done so for years. Professor Masson -in <span class='it'>Edinburgh Sketches and Memories</span> has told with -his wonted care and accuracy what it is possible to -know of the subject. He was most probably a “stickit -minister” who hung about the classes year after year, -half-witted no doubt, but with a method in his madness. -<span class='pageno' title='170' id='Page_170'></span> -He pretended or believed or not unwillingly was -hoaxed into the belief that he was continually being -asked to the houses of professors and others, where not -seldom he was received and got some sort of entertainment. -Using Professor Wilson’s name as a passport he -achieved an interview with Wordsworth, who described -him as “a Scotch baronet, eccentric in appearance, -but fundamentally one of the most sensible men he had -ever met with.” It was shrewdly suspected that he simply held -his tongue, and allowed Wordsworth to do all -the talking; a good listener is usually found a highly -agreeable person. He tickled Carlyle’s sense of humour, -and was made the subject of a poem by the latter -in <span class='it'>Fraser’s Magazine</span>. It was one of the earliest and -one of the very worst things that Carlyle ever did.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I note in passing that Peter Nimmo had a predecessor -or contemporary, John Sheriff by name, who -died in August 1844 in his seventieth year. He was -widely known as Doctor Syntax, from some fancied -resemblance to the stock portrait of that celebrity. -He devoted all his time to University class-rooms and -City churches, through which he roamed at will as by -prescriptive right. He boasted that he had attended -more than a hundred courses of lectures; but his great -joy was when any chance enabled him to occupy the -seat of the Lord High Commissioner in St. Giles’.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of Carlyle’s best passages is the account in -<span class='it'>Sartor Resartus</span> of his perambulation of the Rue St. -Thomas de L’Enfer, the spiritual conflict that he -waged then with himself, the victory that he won in -which the everlasting “Yes” answered the everlasting -“No.” Under the somewhat melodramatic French -<span class='pageno' title='171' id='Page_171'></span> -name Leith Walk is signified, the most commonplace -thoroughfare in a town where the ways are rarely commonplace. -Perhaps the name was suggested by a -quaint incident that befell him there. He was walking -along it when a drunken sailor coming from Leith -and “tacking” freely as he walked ran into a countryman -going the other way. “Go to hell,” said the sailor, -wildly and unreasonably enraged. “Od, man, I’m going -to Leith,” said the other, “as if merely pleading a previous -engagement, and proceeded calmly on his way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have said the fates were kind in linking together -though but for a moment the lives of Burns and Scott, -and they were unkind in refusing this to the lives of -Scott and Carlyle. You wish that in some way or -other they had allowed Carlyle and Robert Louis -Stevenson to meet, if but for a moment, so that the -last great writer whom Edinburgh has produced -might have had the kindly touch of personal intercourse -with his predecessors; but it was not to be, nor -are there many R.L.S. Edinburgh anecdotes worth -the telling. This which he narrates of his grandfather, -Robert of Bell Rock fame, is better than any about -himself. The elder Stevenson’s wife was a pious lady -with a circle of pious if humble friends. One of those, -“an unwieldy old woman,” had fallen down one of -those steep outside stairs abundant in old Edinburgh, -but she crashed on a passing baker and escaped unhurt -by what seemed to Mrs. Stevenson a special interposition -of Providence. “I would like to know what -kind of Providence the baker thought it,” exclaimed -her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>R.L.S. had certain flirtations with the Edinburgh -<span class='pageno' title='172' id='Page_172'></span> -underworld of his time, for the dreary respectability -and precise formalism which has settled like a cloud -on the once jovial Auld Reekie was abhorrent to the -soul of the bright youth. No doubt he had his adventures, -but if they are still known they are not recorded. -There is some tradition of a novel, <span class='it'>Maggie Arnot</span>, I -think it was called, wherein he told strange tales of -dark Edinburgh closes, but pious hands consigned it, -no doubt wisely and properly, to the flames; and -though certain Corinthians were scornful and wrathful, -yet you feel his true function was that of the wise -and kindly, sympathetic and humane essayist and -moralist that we have learned to love and admire, the -almost Covenanting writer whom of a surety the men -of the Covenant would have thrust out and perhaps -violently ended in holy indignation. I gather a few -scraps. Of the stories of his childhood this seems admirably -characteristic. He was busy once with pencil -and paper, and then addressed his mother: “Mamma, I -have drawed a man. Shall I draw his soul now?” The -makers of the New Town when they planned those -wide, long, exposed streets, forgot one thing, and that -was the Edinburgh weather, against which, if you -think of it, the sheltered ways of the ancient city were -an admirable protection. In many a passage R.L.S. -has told us how the east wind, and the easterly “haar,” -and the lack of sun assailed him like cruel and implacable -foes. He would lean over the great bridge -that spans what was once the Nor’ Loch, and watch -the trains as they sped southward on their way, as it -seemed, to lands of sunshine and romance.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i204.jpg' alt='Portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson' id='iid-0020' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>As an Edinburgh Student</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>It was but -the pathetic inconsistency of human nature that in the -<span class='pageno' title='173' id='Page_173'></span> -lands of perpetual sunshine made him think no stars -were so splendid as the Edinburgh street lamps, and -so the whole romance of his life was bound up with -“the huddle of cold grey hills from which we came,” -and most of all with that city of the hills, and the winds -and the tempest where he had his origin. He was called -to the Scots bar; his family were powerful in Edinburgh -and so he got a little work—four briefs in all -we are told. Even when he was far distant the brass -plate on the door of 17 Heriot Row bore the legend -“Mr. R. L. Stevenson, Advocate” for many a long day. -Probably the time of the practical joker is passed in -Edinburgh, or an agent might have been tempted -to shove some papers in at the letter-box; but what -about the cheque with which it used to be, and still is -in theory at any rate, the laudable habit in the north -of enclosing as companion to all such documents? -Ah! that would indeed have been carrying the joke -to an unreasonable length. I will not tell here of the -memorable occasion when plain Leslie Stephen, as -he then was, took him to the old Infirmary to introduce -him to W. E. Henley, then a patient within those -grimy walls. It was the beginning of a long story of -literary and personal friendship, with strange ups and -downs. Writing about Edinburgh as I do, I would fain -brighten my page and conclude my chapter with one -of his most striking notes on his birthplace. “I was -born likewise within the bounds of an earthly city illustrious -for her beauty, her tragic and picturesque associations, -and for the credit of some of her brave sons. -Writing as I do in a strange quarter of the world, and -a late day of my age, I can still behold the profile of -<span class='pageno' title='174' id='Page_174'></span> -her towers and chimneys, and the long trail of her -smoke against the sunset; I can still hear those strains -of martial music that she goes to bed with, ending each -day like an act of an opera to the notes of bugles; still -recall with a grateful effort of memory, any one of a -thousand beautiful and spacious circumstances that -pleased me and that must have pleased any one in my -half-remembered past. It is the beautiful that I thus -actively recall, the august airs of the castle on its rock, -nocturnal passages of lights and trees, the sudden -song of the blackbird in a suburban lane, rosy and -dusky winter sunsets, the uninhabited splendours of -the early dawn, the building up of the city on a misty -day, house above house, spire above spire, until it was -received into a sky of softly glowing clouds, and seemed -to pass on and upwards by fresh grades and rises, -city beyond city, a New Jerusalem bodily scaling -heaven.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='177' id='Page_177'></span><h1>CHAPTER EIGHT<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE ARTISTS</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>St. Margaret, Queen of Malcolm -Canmore, has been ingeniously if fancifully claimed -as the earliest of Scots artists. At the end of her life -she prophesied that Edinburgh Castle would be taken -by the English. On the wall of her chapel she pictured -a castle with a ladder against the rampart, and on -the ladder a man in the act of climbing. In this fashion -she intimated the castle would fall; <span class='it'>Gardez vous de -Français</span>, she wrote underneath. Probably by the -French she meant the Normans from whom she herself -had fled. They had taken England and would try, -she thought, to take Scotland. Thus you read the riddle, -if it be worth your while. The years after are blank; -the art was ecclesiastical and not properly native. In -the century before the Reformation there is reason to -believe that Edinburgh was crowded with fair shrines -and churches beautifully adorned, but the Reformers -speedily changed all that. The first important native -name is that of George Jamesone (1586-1644), the -Scots Van Dyck, as he is often called, who, though he -was born in Aberdeen, finally settled in Edinburgh, -and, like everybody else, you might say, was buried -in Greyfriars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1729 a fine art association, called the Edinburgh -Academy of St. Luke, was formed, but it speedily -went to pieces. This is not the place to trace the art -history of that or of the Edinburgh Select Society. -In 1760 classes were opened at what was called the -Trustees Academy; it was supported by an annual -grant of £2000, which was part compensation for the -increased burdens imposed on Scotland by the union -with England. This was successively under the charge -<span class='pageno' title='178' id='Page_178'></span> -of Alexander Runciman, David Allan, called the -“Scots Hogarth,” John Graham, and Andrew Wilson. -It still exists as a department of the great government -art institution at South Kensington. In 1808 a Society -of Incorporated Artists was formed, and it began -an annual exhibition of pictures which at first were -very successful. Then came the institution for the -encouragement of fine arts in Scotland, formed in -1819. In 1826 the foundations, so to speak, of the Scottish -Academy were laid. In 1837 it received its charter, -and was henceforth known as the Royal Scottish -Academy; its annual exhibition was the chief art event -of the year in Scotland, and since 1855 this exhibition -has been held in the Grecian temple on the Mound, -which is one of the most prominent architectural effects -in Edinburgh. It is a mere commonplace to say there -is no art without wealth, and, as far as Edinburgh is -concerned, it is only after a new town began that she -had painters worth the naming. It is a period of (roughly) -150 years. It is possible that in the future Glasgow -maybe more important than Edinburgh, but with this -I have nothing to do. I have only to tell a few anecdotes -of the chief figures, and first of all there is Jamesone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whatever be his merits, we ought to be grateful to -this artist because he has preserved for us so many -contemporary figures. Pictures in those days were -often made to tell a story. After the battle of Langside -Lord Seton escaped to Flanders, where he was -forced to drive a waggon for his daily bread. He returned -in happier times for his party, and entered -again into possession of his estates. He had himself -painted by Jamesone, represented or dressed as a waggoner -<span class='pageno' title='179' id='Page_179'></span> -driving a wain with four horses attached, and -the picture was hung at Seton Palace. When Charles -<span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> came to Scotland in 1633 he dined with my Lord. -He was much struck with the painting, could not, in -fact, keep his eyes off it. The admiration of an art critic -of such rank was fatal. What could a loyal courtier -do but beg His Majesty’s acceptance thereof? “Oh,” -said the King, “he could not rob the family of so inestimable -a jewel.” Royally spoken, and, you may -be sure, gratefully heard. It is said the magistrates -of Edinburgh employed Jamesone to trick up the Netherbow -Port with portraits of the century of ancient -Kings of the line of Fergus. Hence possibly the legend -that he limned those same mythical royalties -we see to-day at Holyrood Palace, though it is certain -enough they are not his, but Flemish De Witt’s. -Jamesone was in favour with Charles, assuredly a discriminating -patron of art and artists. The King stopped -his horse at the Bow and gazed long at the grim -phantoms in whose reality he, like everybody else, devoutly -believed. He gave Jamesone a diamond ring -from his own finger, and he afterwards sat for his portrait. -He allowed the painter to work with his hat on -to protect him from the cold, which so puffed up our -artist that he would hardly ever take it off again, no -matter what company he frequented. We don’t know -his reward, but it seems his ordinary fee was £1 sterling -for a portrait. No doubt it was described as £20 -Scots, which made it look better but not go farther. -You do not wonder that there was a lack of eminent -painters when the leader of them all was thus rewarded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='180' id='Page_180'></span> -Artists work from various motives. Witness Sir -Robert Strange the engraver. He fell ardently in love -with Isabella Lumsden, whose brother acted as secretary -to Prince Charles Edward Stuart. The lady was -an extreme Jacobite, and insisted that Strange should -throw in his lot with the old stock. He was present in -the great battles of the ’45, and at Inverness engraved -a plate for bank-notes for the Stuart Government. He -had soon other things to think of. When the cause collapsed -at Culloden, he was in hiding in Edinburgh for -some time, and existed by selling portraits of the -exiled family at small cost. Once when visiting his -Isabella the Government soldiers nearly caught him; -probably they had a shrewd suspicion he was like to -be in the house, which they unexpectedly entered. The -lady was equal to this or any other occasion. She wore -one of the enormous hoops of the period, and under -this her lover lay hid, she the while defiantly carolling -a Jacobite air whilst the soldiers were looking up the -chimney, and under the table, and searching all other -orthodox places of refuge. The pair were shortly afterwards -married. Strange had various and, finally, prosperous -fortunes, and in 1787 was knighted. “If,” as -George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> said with a grin, for he knew his history, -“he would accept that honour from an Elector of Hanover.” -But the King’s great favourite among Scots artists -was Allan Ramsay, the son of the poet and possibly -of like Jacobite proclivities, although about that -we hear nothing. He had studied “at the seat of the -Beast,” as his father said, in jest you may be sure, for -our old friend was no highflyer.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i213.jpg' alt='Portrait of Allan Ramsay' id='iid-0021' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>ALLAN RAMSAY, PAINTER</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Mezzotint after Artist’s own painting</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Young Ramsay became an -accomplished man of the world, and had more -<span class='pageno' title='181' id='Page_181'></span> -than a double share, like his father before him, of the -pawkiness attributed, though not always truthfully, -to his countrymen. He was soon in London and painting -Lord Bute most diligently. He did it so well that -he made Reynolds, in emulation, carefully elaborate -a full-length that he was doing at the time. “I wish -to show legs with Ramsay’s Lord Bute,” quoth he. -The King preferred Ramsay; he talked German, an -accomplishment rare with Englishmen at the period, -and he fell in, so to say, with the King’s homely ways. -When His Majesty had dined plentifully on his favourite -boiled mutton and turnips he would say: “Now, -Ramsay, sit down in my place and take your dinner.” -He was a curled darling of great folk and was appointed -Court painter in 1767. A universal favourite, even -Johnson had a good word for him. All this has nothing -to do with art, and nobody puts him beside -Reynolds, but he was highly prosperous. The King -was wont to present the portrait of himself and his -consort to all sorts of great people, so Ramsay and -his assistants were kept busy. Once he went on a -long visit to Rome, partly on account of his health. -He left directions with his most able assistant, Philip -Reinagle, to get ready fifty pairs of Kings and Queens -at ten guineas apiece. Now Reinagle had learned to -paint so like Ramsay that no mortal man could tell -the difference, but as he painted over and over again -the commonplace features of their Majesties, he got -heartily sick of the business. He struck for more pay -and got thirty instead of ten guineas, so after the end -of six years he managed to get through with it, somehow -or other, but ever afterwards he looked back upon -<span class='pageno' title='182' id='Page_182'></span> -the period as a horrid nightmare. Ramsay was a scholar, -a wit, and a gentleman. In a coarse age he was -delicate and choice. He was fond of tea, but wine was -too much for his queasy stomach. Art was certainly -not the all in all for him, and his pictures are feeble. -Possibly he did not much care; he had his reward. -Some critics have thought that he might have been -a great painter if his heart had been entirely in his -work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It has been said of a greater than he, of the incomparable -Sir Henry Raeburn, that the one thing wanting -to raise his genius into the highest possible sphere -was the chastening of a great sorrow or the excitement -of a great passion. I cannot myself conceive -anything better than his <span class='it'>Braxfield</span> among men or his -<span class='it'>Mrs. James Campbell</span> among women, but I have no -right to speak. At least his prosperity enabled him to -paint a whole generation, though from that generation -as we have it on his canvas, a strange malice of -fate makes the figure of Robert Burns, the greatest of -them all, most conspicuous by its absence. His prosperity -and contentment were the result of the simple -life and plain living of old Edinburgh. He was a great -friend of John Clerk, afterwards Lord Eldin. In very -early days Clerk asked him to dinner. The landlady -uncovered two dishes, one held three herrings and the -other three potatoes. “Did I not tell you, wuman,” -said John with that accent which was to make “a’ -the Fifteen” tremble, “that a gentleman was to dine -wi’ me, and that ye were to get <span class='it'>sax</span> herrings and <span class='it'>sax</span> -potatoes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These were his salad days, and ere they were fled -<span class='pageno' title='183' id='Page_183'></span> -a wealthy young widow saw and loved Raeburn. She -was not personally known to him, but her wit easily -devised a method. She asked to have her portrait -painted, and the rest was plain sailing. It was then the -fixed tradition of all the northern painters that you -must study at Rome if you would be an artist. Raeburn -set off for Italy. The story is that he had an introduction -to Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he visited as -he passed through London. Reynolds was much impressed -with the youth from the north, and at the end -took him aside, and in the most delicate manner suggested -that if money was necessary for his studies -abroad he was prepared to advance it. Raeburn gratefully -declined. When he returned from Rome he settled -in Edinburgh, from which he scarcely stirred. His -old master, Martin, jealously declared that the lad in -George Street painted better before he went to Rome, -but the rest of Scotland did not agree. It became a -matter of course that everybody who was anybody -should get himself painted by Raeburn. He seemed -to see at once into the character of the face he had -before him, and so his pictures have that remarkable -characteristic of great artists, they tell us more of the -man than the actual sight of the man himself does; -but again I go beyond my province.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The early life of many Scots artists (and doctors) -is connected with Edinburgh, but the most important -part is given to London. Thus Sir David Wilkie -belongs first of all to Fife, for he was born at Cults, -where his father was parish minister. His mother saw -him drawing something with chalk on the floor. The -child said he was making “bonnie Lady Gonie,” referring -<span class='pageno' title='184' id='Page_184'></span> -to Lady Balgonie, who lived near. Obviously -this same story might have been told of many people, -not afterwards eminent. In fact, Wilkie’s development -was not rapid. In 1799, when he was fourteen, he -went to the Trustees Academy at Edinburgh. George -Thomson, the Secretary, after examining his drawings -declared that they had not sufficient merit to -procure his admission. The Earl of Leven, however, -insisted he must be admitted, and admitted he was. -He proceeded to draw from the antique, not at first -triumphantly. His father showed one of his studies to -one of his elders. “What was it?” queried the douce -man. “A foot,” was the answer. “A fute! a fute! it’s -mair like a fluke than a fute.” In 1804 he returned -to Cults where he employed himself painting Pitlessie -Fair. At church he saw an ideal character study -nodding in one of the pews. He soon had it transferred -to the flyleaf of the Bible. He had not escaped -attention, and was promptly taken to task. He stoutly -asserted that in the sketch the eye and the hand alone -were engaged, he could hear the sermon all the time. -The ingenuity or matchless impudence of this assertion -fairly astounded his accusers, and the matter -dropped. I do not tell here how he went to London -and became famous. How famous let this anecdote -show. In 1817 he was at Abbotsford making a group -of the Scott family: he went with William Laidlaw -to Altrive to see Hogg. “Laidlaw,” said the shepherd, -“this is not the great Mr. Wilkie?” “It’s just the -great Mr. Wilkie, Hogg.” The poet turned to the -painter: “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see -you in my house and how glad I am to see you are -so young a man.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i218.jpg' alt='Portrait of Rev. John Thomson of Duddingston' id='iid-0022' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>REV. JOHN THOMSON OF DUDDINGSTON</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Engraving by Croll</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='185' id='Page_185'></span></p> -<p class='noindent'>This curious greeting is explained -thus: Hogg had taken Wilkie for a horse-couper. -What Wilkie would have taken Hogg for we are not -told, possibly for something of the same.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wilkie, as everybody knows, painted subjects of -ordinary life in Scotland and England, such as <span class='it'>The -Village Festival</span>, <span class='it'>Rent Day</span>, <span class='it'>The Penny Wedding</span>, and -so forth. In the prime of life he went to Spain, and -was much impressed with the genius of Velasquez, -then little known in this country. He noticed a similarity -to Raeburn, perhaps that peculiar directness -in going straight to the heart of the subject, that putting -on the canvas the very soul of the man, common -to both painters. The story goes that when in -Madrid he went daily to the Museo del Prado, set -himself down before the picture <span class='it'>Los Borrachos</span>, spent -three hours gazing at it in a sort of ecstasy, and then, -when fatigue and admiration had worn him out, he -would take up his hat and with a deep sigh leave the -place for the time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another son of the manse is more connected with -Edinburgh than ever Wilkie was, and this is the Rev. -John Thomson, known as Thomson of Duddingston, -from the fact that he was parish minister there from -1801 till his death in 1840. His father was incumbent -of Dailly in Ayrshire, and here he spent his early -years. He received the elements of art from the village -carpenter—at least, so that worthy averred. He -was wont to introduce the subject to a stranger. “Ye’ll -ken ane John Thomson, a minister?” “Why, Thomson -of Duddingston, the celebrated painter? Do you -know him?” “<span class='it'>Me</span> ken him? It was <span class='it'>me</span> that first taught -<span class='pageno' title='186' id='Page_186'></span> -him to pent.” As in the case of Wilkie, his art leanings -got him into difficulty. At a half-yearly communion -he noted a picturesque old hillman, and needs must -forthwith transfer him to paper. The fathers and brethren -were not unnaturally annoyed and disgusted, and -they deputed one of their number to deal faithfully -with the offender. Thomson listened in solemn silence, -nay, took what appeared to be some pencil notes of the -grave words of censure, at length he suddenly showed -the other a hastily drawn sketch of himself. “What auld -cankered carl do ye think this is?” The censor could -not choose but laugh, and the incident ended. Thomson -was twice married. His second wife was Miss -Dalrymple of Fordel. She saw his picture of <span class='it'>The Falls -of Foyers</span>, and conceived a passion to know the artist, -and the moment he saw her he determined “that woman -must be my wife.” As he afterwards said, “We -just drew together.” The manse at Duddingston became -for a time a very muses’ bower; the choicest of -Edinburgh wits, chief among them Scott himself, were -constant visitors. Of illustrious strangers perhaps the -greatest was Turner, though his remarks were not -altogether amiable. “Ah, Thomson, you beat me hollow—in -<span class='it'>frames</span>!” He was more eulogistic of certain -pictures. “The man who did <span class='it'>that</span> could paint.” When -he took his leave he said, as he got into the carriage, -“By God, though, Thomson, I envy you that loch.” -To-day the prospect is a little spoilt by encroaching -houses and too many people, but Scotland has few -choicer views than that placid water, the old church -at the edge, the quaint village, and the mighty Lion -Hill that broods over all. Thomson is said to have -<span class='pageno' title='187' id='Page_187'></span> -diligently attended to his clerical duties, but he was -hard put to it sometimes, for you believe he was more -artist than theologian. He built himself a studio in -the manse garden down by the loch. This he called -Edinburgh, so that too importunate callers might be -warded off with the remark that he was at Edinburgh. -“Gone to Edinburgh,” you must know, is the traditional -excuse of everybody in Duddingston who shuts his -door. One Sunday John, the minister’s man, “jowed” -the bell long and earnestly in vain—the well-known -figure would not emerge from the manse. John rushed -off to the studio by the loch and found, as he expected, -the minister hard at work with a canvas before -him. He admonished him that it was past the -time, that the people were assembled, and the bells -“rung in.” “Oh, John,” said his master, in perplexed -entreaty, “just go and ring the bell for another five minutes -till I get in this bonnie wee bit o’ sky.” An old woman -of his congregation was in sore trouble, and went -to the minister and asked for a bit prayer. Thomson -gave her two half-crowns. “Take that, Betty, my good -woman, it’s likely to do you more good than any prayer -I’m likely to make,” a kindly but amusingly cynical -remark, in the true vein of the moderates of the -eighteenth century. “Here, J. F.,” he said to an eminent -friend who visited him on a Sunday afternoon, -“<span class='it'>you</span> don’t care about breaking the Sabbath, gie these -pictures a touch of varnish.” These were the days before -the Disruption and the evangelical revival. You -may set off against him the name of Sir George Harvey, -who was made president of the northern Academy -in 1864. He was much in sympathy with Scots -<span class='pageno' title='188' id='Page_188'></span> -religious tradition, witness his <span class='it'>Quitting the Manse</span>, -his <span class='it'>Covenanting Preaching</span>, and other deservedly famous -pictures. As Mr. W. D. M‘Kay points out, the -Disruption produced in a milder form a recrudescence -of the strain of thought and sentiment of Covenanting -times, and this influenced the choice of subjects. -In his early days when Harvey talked of painting, -a friend advised him to look at Wilkie; he looked -and seemed to see nothing that was worth the looking, -but he examined again and again, even as Wilkie -himself had gazed on Velasquez, and so saw in him -“the very finest of the wheat.” In painting the picture -<span class='it'>The Wise and Foolish Builders</span>, he made a child construct -a house on the sand, so that he might see exactly -how the thing was done, not, however, that he -fell into the stupid error of believing that work and -care were everything. He would neither persuade a -man nor dissuade him from an artistic career. “If it is -in him,” he was wont to say, “it is sure to come out, -whether I advise him or not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the truth of this saying the life of David Roberts -is an example. He was the son of a shoemaker and -was born at Stockbridge, Edinburgh, at the end of the -eighteenth century. Like most town boys of the period -he haunted the Mound, then a favourite stand for wild -beast caravans. This was before the era of Grecian temples -and statues and trim-kept gardens, and “Geordie -Boyd’s mud brig” (to recall a long-vanished popular -name) was an unkempt wilderness. He drew pictures -of the shows on the wall of the white-washed kitchen -with the end of a burnt stick and a bit of keel, in order -that his mother might see what they were like. When -<span class='pageno' title='189' id='Page_189'></span> -she had satisfied her curiosity, why—a dash of white-wash -and the wall was as good as ever! His more -ambitious after-attempts were exhibited by the honest -cobbler to his customers. “Hoo has the callant -learnt it?” was the perplexed inquiry. With some -friends of like inclination he turned a disused cellar -into a life academy: they tried their prentice hands on -a donkey, and then they sat for one another; but this -is not the place to follow his upward struggles. In 1858 -he received the freedom of the city of Edinburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Where there’s a will there’s a way, but ways are -manifold and some of them are negative. Horatio -Maculloch, the landscape-painter, in his <span class='it'>Edinburgh -from Dalmeny Park</span>, had introduced into the foreground -the figure of a woodman lopping the branches -of a fallen tree. This figure gave him much trouble, -so he told his friend, Alexander Smith, the poet. One -day he said cheerfully, “Well, Smith, I have done that -figure at last.” “Indeed, and how?” “I have painted -it out!” Even genius and hard work do not always -ensure success. If ever there was a painter of genius -that man was David Scott, most pathetic figure among -Edinburgh artists. You scarce know why his -fame was not greater, or his work not more sought -after. His life was a short one (1806-1849) and his -genius did not appeal to the mass, for he did not and -perhaps could not produce a great body of highly impressive -work. Yet, take the best of his illustrations -to Coleridge’s <span class='it'>Ancient Mariner</span>. You read the poem -with deeper meaning, with far deeper insight, after you -have looked on them; to me at least they seem greater -than William Blake’s illustrations to <span class='it'>Blair’s Grave</span>, a -<span class='pageno' title='190' id='Page_190'></span> -work of like nature. Still more wonderful is the amazing -<span class='it'>Puck Fleeing Before the Dawn</span>. The artist rises -to the height of his great argument; his genius is for -the moment equal to Shakespeare’s; the spirit of unearthly -drollery and mischief and impish humour takes -bodily form before your astonished gaze. “His soul -was like a star and dwelt apart;” the few anecdotes -of him have a strange, weird touch. When a boy, he -was handed over to a gardener to be taken to the country. -He took a fancy he would never be brought back; -the gardener swore he would bring him back himself; -the child, only half convinced, treated the astonished -rustic to a discourse on the commandments, and warned -him if he broke his word he would be guilty of -a lie. The gardener, more irritated than amused, wished -to have nothing whatever to do with him. Going -into a room once where there was company, he was -much struck with the appearance of a young lady -there; he went up to her, laid his hand on her knees, -“You are very beautiful,” he said. As a childish prank -he thought he would make a ghost and frighten some -other children. With a bolster and a sheet he succeeded -only too well; he became frantic with terror, and -fairly yelled the house down in his calls for help.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A different man altogether was Sir Daniel Macnee, -who was R.S.A. in 1876. He was born the same year -as David Scott, and lived long after him. The famous -portrait painter, kindly, polished, accomplished, was -a man of the world, widely known and universally popular, -except that his universal suavity of itself now -and again excited enmity. “I dinna like Macnee a -bit,” said a sour-grained old Scots dame; “he’s aye -<span class='pageno' title='191' id='Page_191'></span> -everybody’s freend!” The old lady might have found -Sam Bough more to her taste. Though born in Carlisle -he settled in Edinburgh in 1855, and belongs to -the northern capital. In dress and much else he delighted -to run tilt at conventions, and was rather an -<span class='it'>enfant terrible</span> at decorous functions. At some dinner -or other he noted a superbly got up picture-dealer, -whom he pretended to mistake for a waiter. “John—John, -I say, John, bring me a pint of wine, and let it -be of the choicest vintage.” His pranks at last provoked -Professor Blackie, who was present, to declare -roundly and audibly, “I am astonished that a man who -can paint like an angel should come here and conduct -himself like a fool.” He delighted in the Lothian and -Fife coasts. The Bass he considered in some sort his -own property, so he jocularly told its owner, Sir Hew -Dalrymple, “You get £20 a year or so out of it; I make -two or three hundred.” Bough was the very picture -of a genial Bohemian, perhaps he was rather fitted to -shine, a light of the Savage Club than of the northern -capital, where, if tradition was followed, there was always -something grim and fell even about the merry-making. -One or two of his genial maxims are worth -quoting. There had been some row about a disputed -succession. “It’s an awful warning,” he philosophised, -“to all who try to save money in this world. You had -far better spend your tin on a little sound liquor, wherewith -to comfort your perishable corps, than have such -cursed rows about it after you have gone.” And again -his golden rule of the <span class='it'>Ars Bibendi</span>, “I like as much -as I can get honestly and carry decently,” on which -profound maxim let us make an end of our chapter.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='195' id='Page_195'></span><h1>CHAPTER NINE<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE WOMEN OF EDINBURGH</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Anecdotes of the women of Edinburgh -are mainly of the eighteenth century. The -events of an earlier period are too tragic for a trivial -story or they come under other heads. Is it an anecdote -to tell how, on the night of Rizzio’s murder (9th -March 1566), the conspirators upset the supper table, -and unless Jane, Countess of Argyll, had caught at a -falling candle the rest of the tragedy had been played -in total darkness? And it is only an unusual fact about -this same countess that when she came to die she was -enclosed in the richest coffin ever seen in Scotland; -the compartments and inscriptions being all set in -solid gold. The chroniclers ought to have some curious -anecdotes as to the subsequent fate of that coffin, -but they have not, it vanishes unaccountably from -history. The tragedies of the Covenant have stories -of female heroism; the women were not less constant -than the men, nay, that learned but malicious gossip, -Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, insinuates that the husband -might have given in at the last minute, ay, when -the rope was round his neck at the Cross or the Grassmarket, -but the wife urged him to be true to the death. -The wives of the persecutors had not seldom a strong -sympathy with the persecuted. The Duchess of Rothes, -as Lady Ann Lindsay became, sheltered the -Covenanters. Her husband dropped a friendly hint, -“My hawks will be out to-night, my Lady, so you had -better take care of your blackbirds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was natural that a sorely tried and oppressed -nation should paint the oppressor in the blackest of -<span class='pageno' title='196' id='Page_196'></span> -colours. You are pleased with an anecdote like the -above, showing that a gleam of pity sometimes crossed -those truculent faces. The Duke of York (afterwards -James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VII.</span>) at Holyrood had his playful and humane -hour. There was a sort of informal theatre at the palace. -In one of the pieces the Princess Anne lay dead -upon the stage—such was her part. Mumper, her -own and her father’s favourite dog, was not persuaded, -he jumped and fawned on her; she laughed, the -audience loyally obeyed and the tragedy became a -farce. “Her Majesty had <span class='it'>sticked</span> the part,” said Morrison -of Prestongrange gruffly. The Duke was shipwrecked -on the return voyage to Scotland and Mumper -was drowned. A courtier uttered some suavely -sympathetic words about the dog. “How, sir, can you -speak of <span class='it'>him</span>, when so many fine fellows went to the -bottom?” rejoined His Royal Highness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here is a story from the other side. In 1681 the -Earl of Argyll was committed to the Castle for declining -the oath required by the Test Act. On the 12th -December he was condemned to death and on the -20th he learned that his execution was imminent. -Lady Sophia Lindsay of Balcarres, his daughter-in-law, -comes, it was given out, to bid him a last farewell; -there is a hurried change of garments in the prison, -and presently Argyll emerges as lacquey bearing her -long train. At the critical moment the sentinel roughly -grasped him by the arm. Those Scots dames had -the nerve of iron and resource without parallel. The -lady pulled the train out of his hand into the mud, -slashed him across the face with it till he was all -smudged over, and rated him soundly for stupidity. -<span class='pageno' title='197' id='Page_197'></span> -The soldier laughed, the lady entered the coach, the -fugitive jumped on the footboard behind, and so away -into the darkness and liberty of a December night. -Ere long he was safe in Holland, and she was just as -safe in the Tolbooth, for even that age would give her -no other punishment than a brief confinement. Perhaps -more stoical fortitude was required in the Lady -Graden’s case. She was sister-in-law to Baillie of Jerviswood. -At his trial in 1684 for treason she kept up -his strength from time to time with cordials, for he was -struck with mortal sickness; she walked with him, as -he was carried along the High Street, to the place of -execution at the Cross. He pointed out to her Warriston’s -window (long since removed from the totally -altered close of that name), and told of the high talk he -had engaged in with her father, who had himself gone -that same dread way some twenty years before. She -“saw him all quartered, and took away every piece and -wrapped it up in some linen cloth with more than masculine -courage.” So says Lauder of Fountainhall, who -had been one of the Crown counsel at the trial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even as children the women of that time were brave -and devoted. Grizel Hume, daughter of Sir Patrick -Hume of Polwarth, when a child of twelve was sent by -her father from the country to Edinburgh to take important -messages to Baillie as he lay in prison. A hard -task for a child of those years, but she went through it -safely; perhaps it was no harder than conveying food -at the dead of night to the family vault in Polwarth -Churchyard where her father was concealed. When -visiting the prison she became acquainted with the son -and namesake of Jerviswood: they were afterwards -<span class='pageno' title='198' id='Page_198'></span> -married. The memories of the Hon. George Baillie of -Jerviswood and of his wife the Lady Grizel Baillie are -preserved for us in an exquisite monograph by their -daughter, Lady Grizel Murray of Stanhope. The name -of a distinguished statesman is often for his own age -merely, but the authoress of a popular song has a -surer title to fame. In one of his last years in Dumfries, -Burns quoted Lady Grizel Baillie’s “And werena my -heart licht I wad dee” to a young friend who noted the -coldness with which the townsfolk then regarded him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is matter of history that Argyll did not escape -in the long run. In 1685, three years before the dawn -of the Revolution, he made that unfortunate expedition -to Scotland which ended in failure, capture and -death on the old charge. One of his associates was -Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree; he also was captured -and as a “forefaulted traitor” was led by the hangman -through the streets of Edinburgh bound and -bareheaded. A line from London and all was over, -so his friends thought, but that line never arrived. On -the 7th of July in that year the English mail was -twice stopped and robbed near Alnwick. The daring -highwayman turned out to be a girl! She was Grizel, -Sir John’s daughter, disguised in men’s clothes and -(of course) armed to the teeth. In the end Sir John -obtained his pardon, and lived to be Earl of Dundonald.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the middle of the next century we have this on the -Jacobite side. When the Highlanders were in Carlisle -in the ’45 a lady called Dacre, daughter of a gentleman -in Cumberland, lay at Rose Castle in the pangs -of childbirth and very ill indeed. A party of Highlanders -<span class='pageno' title='199' id='Page_199'></span> -under Macdonald of Kinloch Moidart entered -her dwelling to occupy it as their own. When the -leader learned what had taken place, the presumed -Highland savage showed himself a considerate and -chivalrous gentleman. With courteous words he drew -off his men, took the white cockade from his bonnet -and pinned it on the child’s breast. Thus it served to -guard not merely the child but the whole household. -The infant became in after years the wife of Clerk of -Pennicuick, her house was at 100 Princes Street, she -lived far into the last century, known by her erect -walk, which she preserved till over her eightieth year, -and by her quaint dress. Once she was sitting in Constable’s -shop when Sir Walter Scott went by. “Oh, sir -Walter, are you really going to pass me?” she called -out in a dudgeon that was only half feigned. But she -was easily pacified. “Sure, my Lady,” said the Wizard -in comic apology, “by this time I might know your -back as well as your face.” She was called the “White -Rose of Scotland” from the really beautiful legend of -the white cockade, which she wore on every important -occasion. And what of the Highland Bayard? His -estates were forfeited, his home was burned to the -ground, and himself on the Gallows Hill at Carlisle -on the 18th October 1746 suffered the cruel and ignominious -death of a traitor—<span class='it'>aequitate deum erga bona -malaque documenta</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The women were on the side of the Jacobites even -to the end. “Old maiden ladies were the last leal Jacobites -in Edinburgh. Spinsterhood in its loneliness -remained ever true to Prince Charlie and the vanished -dreams of its youth.” Thus Dame Margaret Sinclair -<span class='pageno' title='200' id='Page_200'></span> -of Dunbeath; and she adds that in the old Episcopal -chapel in the Cowgate the last of those Jacobite -ladies never failed to close her prayer book and stand -erect in silent protest, when the prayer for King George -<span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> and the reigning family was read in the Church -service. Alison Rutherford, born 1712 and the wife of -Patrick Cockburn of Ormiston, was not of this way -of thinking. She lived in the house of, and (it seems) -under the rule of, her father-in-law. She said she -was married to a man of seventy-five. He was Lord -Justice-Clerk, and unpopular for his severity to the -unfortunate rebels of the ’15. The nine of diamonds, -for some occult reason, was called the curse of Scotland, -and when it turned up at cards a favourite Jacobite -joke was to greet it as the Lord Justice-Clerk. -Mrs. Cockburn is best known as the authoress of one, -and not the best, version of the <span class='it'>Flowers of the Forest</span>. -But this is not her only piece. When the Prince occupied -Edinburgh in the ’45, she wrote a skit on the -specious language of the proclamations which did -their utmost to satisfy every party. It began—</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Have you any laws to mend?</p> -<p class='line0'>Or have you any grievance?</p> -<p class='line0'>I’m a hero to my trade</p> -<p class='line0'>And truly a most leal prince.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>With this in her pocket she set off to visit the Keiths -at Ravelston. They were a strong Jacobite family, -which was perhaps an inducement to the lady to wave -it in their faces. She was driven back in their coach, -but at the West Port was stopped by the rough Highland -Guard who threatened to search after treasonable -papers. Probably the lady then thought the squib -<span class='pageno' title='201' id='Page_201'></span> -had not at all a humorous aspect, and she quaked -and feared its discovery. But the coach was recognised -as loyal by its emblazonry and it franked its -freight, so to speak. Mrs. Cockburn was a brilliant -letter-writer, strong, shrewd, sensible, sometimes pathetic, -sometimes almost sublime, she gives you the very -marrow of old Edinburgh. Thus she declines an invitation: -“Mrs. Cockburn’s compliments to Mr. and -Mrs. Chalmers. Would wait on them with a great deal -of pleasure, but finds herself at a loss, as Mrs. Chalmers -sets her an example of never coming from home, -and as there is nobody she admires more, she wishes -to imitate her in everything.” A woman loses her -young child. These are Mrs. Cockburn’s truly Spartan -comments: “Should she lose her husband or another -child she would recover: we need sorrowes often. In -the meantime, if she could accept personal severity it -would be well,—a ride in rain, wind and storm until -she is fatigued to death, and spin on a great wheel -and never allowed to sit down till weariness of nature -makes her. I do assure you I have gone through all -these exercises, and have reason to bless God my reason -was preserved and health now more than belongs -to my age.” And again: “As for me, I sit in my black -chair, weak, old, and contented. Though my body is -not portable, I visit you in my prayers and in my cups.” -She tells us that one of her occasional servants, to wit, -the waterwife, so called because she brought the daily -supply of water up those interminable stairs, was frequently -tipsy and of no good repute. She discharged -her, yet she reappeared and was evidently favoured by -the other servants; this was because she had adopted -<span class='pageno' title='202' id='Page_202'></span> -a foundling called Christie Fletcher, as she was first -discovered on a stair in Fletcher’s Land. The child -had fine eyes, and was otherwise so attractive that -Mrs. Cockburn got her into the Orphan Hospital. “By -the account,” she grimly remarks, “of that house, I -think if our young ladies were educated there, it would -make a general reform of manners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='pg200'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i235.jpg' alt='Portrait of Mrs. Alison Cockburn' id='iid-0023' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MRS. ALISON COCKBURN</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Photograph</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard Colonel Reid (afterwards General Reid -and the founder of the chair of Music in the University, -where the annual Reid concerts perpetuate his -name) play on the flute. “It thrills to your very heart, -it speaks all languages, it comes from the heart to the -heart. I never could have conceived, it had a dying fall. -I can think of nothing but that flute.” Mrs. Cockburn -saw Sir Walter Scott when he was six, and was astonished -at his precocity. He described her as “a virtuoso -like myself,” and defined a virtuoso as “one who -wishes and will know everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other and superior set of <span class='it'>The Flowers of the -Forest</span> was written by Miss Jean Elliot, who lived from -1727 till 1805. The story is that she was the last Edinburgh -lady who kept a private sedan chair in her “lobby.” -In this she was borne through the town by the -last of the caddies. The honour of the last sedan chair -is likewise claimed for Lady Don who lived in George -Square; probably there were two “lasts.” Those Edinburgh -aristocratic lady writers had many points in -common; they mainly got fame by one song, they -made a dead secret of authorship, half because they -were shy, half because they were proud. Caroline Baroness -Nairne was more prolific than the others, for <span class='it'>The -Land of the Leal, Caller Herrin’</span> (the refrain to which -<span class='pageno' title='203' id='Page_203'></span> -was caught from the chimes of St. Giles’), <span class='it'>The Auld -Hoose</span>, and <span class='it'>John Tod</span> almost reach the high level of -masterpieces, but she was as determined as the others -to keep it dark. Her very husband did not know she -was an authoress; she wrote as Mrs. Bogan of Bogan. -In another direction she was rather too daring. She -was one of a committee of ladies who proposed to inflict -a bowdlerised Burns on the Scots nation. An emasculated -<span class='it'>Jolly Beggars</span> had made strange reading, but -the project fell through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lady Anne Barnard, one of the Lindsays of Balcarres, was -another Edinburgh poetess. She is known -by her one song, indeed only by a fragment of it, for -the continuation or second part of <span class='it'>Auld Robin Gray</span> -is anti-climax, fortunately so bad, that it has well-nigh -dropped from memory. The song had its origin at -Balcarres. There was an old Scots ditty beginning, -“The bridegroom grat when the sun gaed doon.” It -was lewd and witty, but the air inspired the words to -the gifted authoress. She heard the song from Sophy -Johnstone—commonly called “Suff” or “the Suff,” -in the words of Mrs. Cockburn—surely the oddest -figure among the ladies of old Edinburgh. Part nature, -part training, or rather the want of it, exaggerated -in her the bluntness and roughness of those old -dames. She was daughter of the coarse, drunken Laird -of Hilton. One day after dinner he maintained, in his -cups, that education was rubbish, and that his daughter -should be brought up without any. He stuck to this: -she was called in jest the “natural” child of Hilton, -and came to pass as such in the less proper sense of -the word. She learned to read and write from the butler, -<span class='pageno' title='204' id='Page_204'></span> -and she taught herself to shoe a horse and do an -artisan’s work. She played the fiddle, fought the stable -boys, swore like a trooper, dressed in a jockey coat, -walked like a man, sang in a voice that seemed a man’s, -and was believed by half Edinburgh to be a man in -disguise. She had strong affections and strong hates, -she had great talent for mimicry, which made her -many enemies, was inclined to be sceptical though not -without misgivings and fears. She came to pay a visit -to Balcarres, and stayed there for thirteen years. She -had a choice collection of old Scots songs. One lingered -in Sir Walter Scott’s memory:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Eh,” quo’ the Tod, “it’s a braw, bricht nicht,</p> -<p class='line0'>The wind’s i’ the wast and the mune shines bricht.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>She gave her opinion freely. When ill-pleased her dark -wrinkled face looked darker, and the hard lines about -her mouth grew harder, as she planted her two big feet -well out, and murmured in a deep bass voice, “Surely -that’s great nonsense.” One evening at Mrs. Cockburn’s -in Crichton Street, the feet of Ann Scott, Sir -Walter’s sister, touched by accident the toes of the -irascible Suff, who retorted with a good kick. “What -is the lassie wabster, wabster, wabstering that gait -for?” she growled. When she was an old woman, Dr. -Gregory said she must abstain from animal food unless -she wished to die. “Dee, Doctor! odd, I’m thinking -they’ve forgotten an auld wife like me up yonder.” -But all her gaiety vanished near the end. From poverty -or avarice she half starved herself. The younger generation -of the Balcarres children brought tit-bits to -her garret every Sunday. “What hae ye brocht? -What hae ye brocht?” she would snap out greedily.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i240.jpg' alt='Portrait of Miss Jean Elliot' id='iid-0024' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MISS JEAN ELLIOT</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Sepia Drawing</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='205' id='Page_205'></span> -And so the curtain falls on this strange figure of old -Edinburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I cannot leave those sweet singers without a passing -word on the old ballad, surely of local origin:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Now Arthur’s Seat shall be my bed,</p> -<p class='line0'>The sheets shall ne’er be pressed by me.</p> -<p class='line0'>St. Anton’s Well shall be my drink</p> -<p class='line0'>Since my true love’s forsaken me!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw</p> -<p class='line0'>An’ shake the green leaves aff the tree?</p> -<p class='line0'>O! gentle death, when wilt thou come?</p> -<p class='line0'>For o’ my life I am wearie.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>Is this a woman’s voice? You cannot tell. It is supposed -to commemorate the misfortunes of Lady Barbara -Erskine, daughter of the Earl of Mar and wife -of the second Marquis of Douglas. A rejected and -malignant suitor is rumoured to have poisoned her -husband’s mind against her, till he drove her from his -company.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edinburgh has many records of high aristocratic, -but very unconventional or otherwise remarkable, -dames. Lady Rosslyn sat in the company of her -friends one day when a woman whose character had -been blown upon was announced. Many of her guests -rose in a hurry to be gone. “Sit still, sit still,” said the -old lady, “it’s na catchin’.” Dr. Johnson, on his visit -to Scotland, met Margaret, Duchess of Douglas, at -James’s Court. He describes her as “talking broad -Scots with a paralytic voice scarcely understood by -her own countrymen.” It was enviously noted that he -devoted his attention to her exclusively for the whole -evening. The innuendo was that Duchesses in England -had not paid much attention to Samuel, and that -<span class='pageno' title='206' id='Page_206'></span> -he was inclined to make as much of a Scots specimen as -he could. An accusation of snobbery was a good stick -wherewith to beat the sage. The lady was a daughter -of Douglas of Maines, and the widow of Archibald, -Duke of Douglas, who died in 1761. A more interesting -figure was the Duchess of Queensberry, daughter of -the Earl of Clarendon. The Act of the eleventh Parliament -of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, providing that “no Scotsman should -marry an Englishwoman without the King’s license -under the Great Seal, under pain of death and escheat -of moveables,” was long out of date. She detested -Scots manners, and did everything to render them -absurd. She dressed herself as a peasant girl, to ridicule -the stiff costumes of the day. The Scots made an -excessive and almost exclusive use of the knife at -table, whereat she screamed out as if about to faint. -It is to her credit, however, that she was a friend and -patron of Gay the poet, entertained him in Queensberry -House, Canongate. Perhaps his praises of her -beauty ought thus to suffer some discount; but Prior -was as warm; and Pope’s couplet is classic:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“If Queensberry to strip there’s no compelling,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Tis from a handmaid we must take a Helen.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>A little coarse, perhaps, but it was “the tune o’ the -time.” “Wild as colt untamed,” no doubt; and she got -herself into some more or less laughable scrapes; but -what would not be pardoned to a beautiful Duchess? -Her pranks were nothing to those of Lady Maxwell of -Monreith’s daughters. They lived in Hyndford’s Close, -just above the Netherbow. One of them, a future Duchess -of Gordon, too, chased, captured, and bestrode -a lusty sow, which roamed the streets at will, whilst -<span class='pageno' title='207' id='Page_207'></span> -her sister, afterwards Lady Wallace, thumped it behind -with a stick. In the mid-eighteenth century, you -perceive, swine were free of the High Street of Edinburgh. -In after years Lady Wallace had, like other -Edinburgh ladies, a sharp tongue. The son of Kincaid, -the King’s printer, was a well-dressed dandy—“a great -macaroni,” as the current phrase went. From his father’s -lucrative patent, he was nicknamed “young -Bibles.” “Who is that extraordinary-looking young -man?” asked some one at a ball. “Only young Bibles,” -quoth Lady Wallace, “bound in calf and gilt, but not -lettered.” Not that she had always the best of the argument. -Once she complained to David Hume that when -people asked her age she did not know what to say. -“Tell them you have not yet come to the years of discretion,” -said the amiable philosopher. It was quite in -his manner. He talked to Lady Anne Lindsay (afterwards -Barnard) as if they were contemporaries. She -looked surprised. “Have not you and I grown up together; -you have grown tall, and I have grown broad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lady Anne Dick of Corstorphine, granddaughter -of “Bluidy” Mackenzie, was another wild romp. She -loved to roam about the town at night in man’s dress. -Every dark close held the possibility of an exciting adventure. -Once she was caught by the heels, and passed -the night in the guard-house which, as Scott tells us, -“like a huge snail stretched along the High Street -near the Tron Kirk for many a long day.” She wrote -society verses, light or otherwise. She fancied herself -or pretended to be in love with Sir Peter Murray—at -least he was a favourite subject for her muse. Your Edinburgh -fine lady could be high and mighty when she -<span class='pageno' title='208' id='Page_208'></span> -chose, witness Susanna Countess of Eglinton, wife of -Alexander the ninth Earl, and a Kennedy of the house -of Colzean. When she was a girl, a stray hawk alighted -on her shoulder as she walked in the garden at Colzean; -the Eglinton crest or name was on its bells, and -she was entitled to hail the omen as significant. Perhaps -the prophecy helped to bring its own fulfilment: -at least she refused Sir John Clerk of Eldin for my -Lord, though he was much her senior. “Susanna and -the elder,” said the wits of the time. She was six feet in -height, very handsome and very stately, and she had -seven daughters like unto herself. One of the great -sights of old Edinburgh were the eight gilded sedan -chairs that conveyed those ladies, moving in stately -procession from the old Post Office Close to the Assembly -Rooms.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i245.jpg' alt='Portrait of Susannah, Countess of Eglinton' id='iid-0025' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>SUSANNAH, COUNTESS OF EGLINTON</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From the Painting by Gavin Hamilton</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Their mansion house, by the way, afterwards served -as Fortune’s tavern, far the most fashionable of its -kind in Edinburgh. The Countess has her connection -with letters: Allan Ramsay dedicated his <span class='it'>Gentle Shepherd</span> -to her, William Hamilton of Bangour chanted -her in melodious verse, and Dr. Johnson and she said -some nice things to one another when he was in Scotland. -She was a devoted Jacobite, had a portrait of -Charles Edward so placed in her bedroom as to be -the first thing she saw when she wakened in the morning. -Her last place in Edinburgh was in Jack’s Land in -the Canongate. We have ceased to think it remarkable, -that noble ladies dwelt in those now grimy ways. She -had a long innings of fashion and power, for it was not -till 1780, at the ripe age of ninety-one, that she passed -away. She kept her looks even in age. “What would -<span class='pageno' title='209' id='Page_209'></span> -you give to be as pretty as I?” she asked her eldest -daughter, Lady Betty. “Not half so much as you would -give to be as young as I,” was the pert rejoinder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another high and mighty dame was Catharine, -daughter of John, Earl of Dundonald, and wife of -Alexander, sixth Earl of Galloway. She lived in the -Horse Wynd in the Cowgate, and, it is averred, always -went visiting in a coach and six. It is said—and -you quite believe it—that whilst she was being handed -into her coach the leaders were already pawing in -front of the destined door. In youth her beauty, in age -her pride and piety, were the talk of the town. Are they -not commemorated in the <span class='it'>Holyrood Ridotto</span>? A more -pleasing figure is that of Primrose Campbell of Mamore, -widow of that crafty Lord Lovat whose head -fell on Tower Hill in 1747. She dwelt at the top of -Blackfriar’s Wynd, where Walter Chepman the old -Edinburgh printer had lived 240 years before. She -passed a pious, peaceable, and altogether beautiful -widowhood; perhaps her happiest years, for old Simon -Fraser had given her a bad time. She looked forward -to the end with steady, untroubled eyes, got her -graveclothes ready, and the turnpike stair washed. -Was this latter, you wonder, so unusual a measure? -She professed indifference as to her place of sepulchre -“You may lay me beneath that hearthstane.” And -so, in 1796, in her eighty-sixth year, she went to her -rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some of those ladies were not too well off. Two of the -house of Traquair lived close by St. Mary’s Wynd. The -servant, Jenny, had been out marketing. “But, Jenny, -what’s this in the bottom of the basket?” “Oo, mem, -<span class='pageno' title='210' id='Page_210'></span> -just a dozen o’ taties that Lucky, the green-wife, wad -hae me to tak’; they wad eat sae fine wi’ the mutton.” -“Na, na, Jenny, tak’ back the taties—we need nae -provocatives in this house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A curious story is narrated of Lady Elibank, the daughter -of an eminent surgeon in Edinburgh. She told -a would-be suitor, “I do not believe that you would -part with a ‘leith’ of your little finger for my whole -body.” Next day the young man handed her a joint -from one of his fingers; she declined to have anything -to do with him. “The man who has no mercy on his -own flesh will not spare mine,” which served <span class='it'>him</span> right. -She was called up in church, as the use was, to be examined -in the Assembly’s catechism, as Betty Stirling. -“Filthy fellow,” she said; “he might have called me -Mrs. Betty or Miss Betty; but to be called bare Betty -is insufferable.” She was called bare Betty as long as -she lived, which served <span class='it'>her</span> right.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The servants of some of those aristocratic ladies -were as old-fashioned, as poor, and as devoted as themselves. -Mrs. Erskine of Cardross lived in a small house -at the foot of Merlin’s Wynd, which once stood near the -Tron Kirk. George Mason, her servant, allowed himself -much liberty of speech. On a young gentleman calling -for wine a second time at dinner, George in a whisper, -reproachful and audible, admonished him, “Sir, -you have had a glass already.” This strikes a modern -as mere impudence, yet passed as proper enough.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fashionable life of old Edinburgh had its head-quarters -in the Assembly Rooms, first in the West Bow -and then after 1720 south of the High Street in the -Assembly Close. The formalities of the meetings and -<span class='pageno' title='211' id='Page_211'></span> -dances are beyond our scope. The “famed Miss Nicky -Murray,” as Sir Alexander Boswell called her, presided -here for many years; she was sister of the Earl of -Mansfield, and a mighty fine lady. “Miss of What?” -she would ask when a lady was presented. If of nowhere -she had short shrift: a tradesman, however decked, -was turned out at once. Her fan was her sceptre -or enchanted wand, with a wave of which she stopped -the music, put out the lights, and brought the day of -stately and decorous proceedings to a close.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another lady directress was the Countess of Panmure. -A brewer’s daughter had come very well dressed, -but here fine feathers did not make a fine bird. -Her Ladyship sent her a message not to come again, -as she was not entitled to attend the assemblies. Her -justice was even-handed. She noted her nephew, the -Earl of Cassillis, did not seem altogether right one -evening. “You have sat too late after dinner to be proper -company for ladies,” quoth she; she then led him to -the door, and calling out, “My Lord Cassillis’s chair!” -wished him “good-night.” Perhaps my Lord betook -himself to the neighbouring Covenant Close, where -there was a famed oyster-seller commemorated by -Scott, who knew its merits. Was it on this account or -because the Covenant had lain for signature there -that Sir Walter made it the abode of Nanty Ewart -when he studied divinity at Edinburgh with disastrous -results? Unfortunate Covenant Close! The last time -I peered through a locked gate on its grimy ways I -found it used for the brooms and barrows of the city -scavengers. But to resume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dancing in the Assembly Room was hedged about -<span class='pageno' title='212' id='Page_212'></span> -with various rites that made it a solemn function. -When a lady was assigned to a gallant he needs must -present her with an orange. To “lift the lady” meant -to ask her to dance. The word was not altogether fortunate; -it is the technical term still used in the north -to signify that the corpse has begun its procession -from the house to the grave. “It’s lifted,” whispers the -undertaker’s man to the mourners, as he beckons them -to follow. Another quaint custom was to “save the -ladies” by drinking vast quantities of hot punch to -their health or in their honour. If they were not thus -“saved” they were said to be “damned.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are as racy stories of folk not so well known, -and not so exalted. Mrs. Dundas lived on Bunker’s -Hill (hard by where the Register House now stands). -One of her daughters read from a newspaper to her as -to some lady whose reputation was damaged by the -indiscreet talk of the Prince of Wales. “Oh,” said old -fourscore with an indignant shake of her shrivelled -fist and a tone of cutting contempt, “the dawmed villain! -Does he kiss and tell?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is quaint enough. Miss Mamie Trotter, of the -Mortonhall family, dreamt she was in heaven, and describes -her far from edifying experience. “And what -d’ye think I saw there? De’il ha’it but thousands upon -thousands, and ten thousands upon ten thousands o’ -stark naked weans! That wad be a dreadfu’ thing, for -ye ken I ne’er could bide bairns a’ my days!”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i250.jpg' alt='Portrait of Caroline, Baroness Nairne' id='iid-0026' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CAROLINE, BARONESS NAIRNE</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Lithograph</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come away, Bailie, and take a trick at the cairds,” -Mrs. Telfer of St. John Street, Canongate, and sister -of Smollett, would exclaim to a worthy magistrate and -tallow chandler who paid her an evening visit. “Troth, -<span class='pageno' title='213' id='Page_213'></span> -madam, I hae nae siller.” “Then let us play for a p’und -of can’le,” rejoined the gamesome Telfer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the other side of the Canongate, in New Street, -there lived Christina Ramsay, a daughter of Allan -Ramsay. She was eighty-eight before she died. If she -wrote no songs she inherited, at any rate, her father’s -kindly nature; she was the friend of all animals, she used -to remonstrate with the carters when they ill-treated -their horses, and send out rolls to be given to the poor -overburdened beasts that toiled up the steep street. -But she specially favoured cats. She kept a huge number -cosily stowed away in band-boxes, and put out -food for others round about her house; she would not -even permit them to be spoken against, any alleged -bad deed of a cat she avowed must have been done -under provocation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here are two marriage stories. Dugald Stewart’s -second wife was Ellen D’Arcy Cranstoun, daughter of -the Hon. George Cranstoun, and sister of Lord Corehouse. -She had written a poem, which her cousin, the -Earl of Lothian, had shown to the philosopher who was -then his tutor. The criticism was of a highly flattering -nature. The professor fell in love with the poetess, and -she loved him for his eulogy; they were married, and -no union ever turned out better. The other is earlier -and baser. In November 1731 William Crawford, the -elderly janitor of the High School, proposed to marry -a lady very much his junior. He and his friends arrived -at the church. She did not turn up, but there was a letter -from her. “William you must know I am pre-engaged -I never could like a burnt cuttie I have now by -the hand my sensie menseful strapper, with whom I -<span class='pageno' title='214' id='Page_214'></span> -intend to pass my youthful days. You know old age -and youth cannot agree together. I must then be excused -if I tell you I am not your humble servant.” -Crawford took his rebuff quite coolly. “Let us at least,” -said he to his friends, “keep the feast as a feast-day. Let -us go drink and drive care away. May never a greater -misfortune attend any man.” An assemblage numerous, -if not choice, graced the banquet; they got up a -subscription among themselves of one hundred marks -and presented it to Crawford, “with which he was as -well satisfied as he who got madam.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From all those clever and witty people it is almost a -relief to turn to some anecdotes of sheer stupidity. Why -John Home the poet married Miss Logan, who was not -clever or handsome or rich, was a problem to his friends. -Hume asked him point-blank. “Ah, David, if I had not -who else would have taken her?” was his comic defence. -Sir Adam Fergusson told the aged couple of the Peace -of Amiens. “Will it mak’ ony difference in the price -o’ nitmugs?” said Mrs. Home, who meant nutmegs, -if indeed she meant anything at all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jean, sister-in-law to Archibald Constable the publisher, -had been educated in France and hesitated to -admit that she had forgotten the language, and would -translate coals “collier” and table napkin “table napkune,” -to the amazement and amusement of her hearers. -Her ideas towards the close got a little mixed. “If -I should be spared to be taken away,” she remarked, -“I hope my nephew will get the doctor to open my -head and see if anything can be done for my hearing.” -This is a masterpiece of its kind, and perhaps -too good to be perfectly true. She played well; “gars -<span class='pageno' title='215' id='Page_215'></span> -the instrument speak,” it was said. There was one -touch of romance in her life. A French admirer had given -her a box of bonbons, wherein she found “a puzzle -ring of gold, divided yet united,” and with their joint -initials. She never saw or heard from her lover, yet -she called for it many times in her last illness. It was -a better way of showing her constancy than that taken -by Lady Betty Charteris, of the Wemyss family. Disappointed -in love, she took to her bed, where she lay -for twenty-six years, to the time of her death, in fact. -This was in St. John Street in the latter half of the -eighteenth century.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stage was without much influence in Edinburgh -save on rare occasions. One of them was when -Sarah Siddons was in Edinburgh in 1784. Her first -appearance was on the 22nd May of that year, when -she scored a success as Belvedere in <span class='it'>Venice Preserved</span>. -The audience listened in profound silence, and the -lady, used to more enthusiasm, got a little nervous, -till a canny citizen was moved audibly to admit, -“That’s no bad.” A roar of applause followed that almost -literally brought down the galleries. She played -Lady Randolph in <span class='it'>Douglas</span> twice; “there was not -a dry eye in the whole house,” observed the contemporary -<span class='it'>Courant</span>. Shakespeare was not acted during her -visit; the folk of the time were daring enough to -consider him just so-so after Home! Everybody was -mad to hear her. At any rate, the General Assembly -of the Church was deserted until its meetings were -arranged not to clash with her appearance. There -were applications for 2550 places where there were -only 630 of that description on hand. The gallery -<span class='pageno' title='216' id='Page_216'></span> -doors were guarded by detachments of soldiers with -drawn bayonets, which they are said to have used to -some purpose on an all too insistent crowd. Her -tragedy manner was more than skin deep, she could -never shake it off; she talked in blank verse. Scott -used to tell how, during a dinner at Ashestiel, she -made an attendant shake with—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve brought me water, boy—I asked for beer.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Once in Edinburgh she dined with the Homes, and -in her most tragic tones asked for a “little porter.” -John, the old servant-man, took her only too literally; -he reappeared, lugging in a diminutive though stout -Highland caddie, remarking, “I’ve found ane, mem; -he’s the least I could get.” Even Sarah needs must -laugh, though Mrs. Home, we are assured, on the authority -of Robert Chambers, never saw the joke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another time Mrs. Siddons dined with the Lord -Provost, who apologised for the seasoning.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beef cannot be too salt for me, my Lord,”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>was the solemn response of the tragic muse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such tones once heard were not to be forgotten. A -servant-lass, by patience or audacity, had got into the -theatre and was much affected by the performance. -Next day, as she went about the High Street, intent -on domestic business, the deep notes of the inimitable -Siddons rang in her ears; she dropped her basket -in uncontrollable agitation and burst forth, “Eh, sirs, -weel do I ken the sweet voice (“vice,” she would say, -in the dulcet dialect of the capital) that garred me -greet sae sair yestre’n.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After all, Mrs. Siddons does not belong to Edinburgh, -though I take her on the wing, as it were, and -here also I take leave both of her and the subject.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i255.jpg' alt='Portrait of Mrs. Siddons as “The Tragic Muse”' id='iid-0027' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MRS. SIDDONS AS “THE TRAGIC MUSE”</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after Sir Joshua Reynolds, P.R.A.</span></p> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='219' id='Page_219'></span><h1>CHAPTER TEN<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE SUPERNATURAL</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps the sharpest contrast between -old Scotland and the Scotland of to-day is the -decline of belief in the supernatural. Superstitions of -lucky and unlucky things and days and seasons still -linger in the south, nay, the byways of London are -rich in a peculiar kind of folklore which no one thinks -it worth while to harvest. A certain dry scepticism -prevails in Scotland, even in the remote country districts; -perhaps it is the spread of education or the hard -practical nature of the folk which is, for the time, uppermost; -or is it the result of a violent reaction? In former -days it was far other. Before the Reformation the Scot -accepted the Catholic faith as did the other nations of -Europe. And there was the usual monastic legend, to -which, as far as it concerns Edinburgh, I make elsewhere -sufficient reference. Between the Reformation -and the end of the eighteenth century, or even later, -the supernatural had a stronger grip on the Scots than -on any other race in Europe. The unseen world beckoned -and made its presence known by continual signs; -portents and omens were of daily occurrence; men like -Peden, the prophet, read the book of the future, every -Covenanter lived a spiritual life whose interest far exceeded -that of the material life present to his senses. -As a natural result of hard conditions of existence, -a sombre temperament, and a gloomy creed, the portents -were ever of disaster. The unseen was full of hostile -forces. The striking mottoes, that still remain on -some of the Edinburgh houses, were meant to ward off -evil. The law reports are full of the trials and cruel -punishment of wizards and witches, malevolent spirits -<span class='pageno' title='220' id='Page_220'></span> -bent on man’s destruction were ever on the alert, -ghostly appearances hinted at crime and suffering; -more than all, there was the active personality of Satan -himself, one, yet omnipresent, fighting a continual and, -for the time, successful war against the saints. Burns, -whose genius preserves for us in many a graphic touch -that old Scotland which even in his time was fast fading -away, pictures, half mirthful, yet not altogether -sceptical, the enemy of mankind:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Great is thy pow’r an’ great thy fame;</p> -<p class='line0'>Far ken’d an’ noted is thy name;</p> -<p class='line0'>An’ tho’ yon lowin’ heuch’s thy hame,</p> -<p class='line0'>            Thou travels far.</p> -<p class='line0'>An’ faith! thou’s neither lag nor lame,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Nor blate nor scaur.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i260.jpg' alt='Portrait of James IV.' id='iid-0028' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>JAMES IV.</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an old Engraving</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And now for some illustrations. After the monkish -legends, one of the earliest, as it is the most famous, -story of all is the appearance of the ghostly heralds -in the dead of night at the Cross in Edinburgh, before -the battle of Flodden, and the summons by them of the -most eminent Scotsmen of the day, including King -James himself, to appear before Pluto, Lord of the -netherworld. A certain gentleman, Mr. Richard Lawson, -lay that night in his house in the High Street. He -was to follow the King southward, but his heart was -heavy with the thought of impending evil; he could not -sleep, and roamed up and down the open wooden gallery, -which was then so marked a feature on the first -floor of Edinburgh houses. It was just in front of the -Cross. He saw the dread apparition, he heard his own -name amongst the list of those summoned. Loudly, he -refused obedience, and protested, and appealed to God -and Christ. Lindsay of Pitscottie, whose chronicles -<span class='pageno' title='221' id='Page_221'></span> -preserve many a picturesque tale of old Scotland, had -this story at first hand from Lawson himself, who assured -him that of all those mentioned he alone had -escaped. It is scarce necessary to remind the reader -how admirably Scott has told this story in the fifth -canto of <span class='it'>Marmion</span>. The Cross was the chief place -from which a summons must issue to the absent, and -the heralds were the persons to make it. The appeal -and protest by Mr. Richard Lawson were also quite -in order. And there is the figure of St. John the Apostle -which appeared in St. Michael’s Church at Linlithgow -to warn James <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> from his projected expedition. -Again Scott has told this in the fourth canto of -<span class='it'>Marmion</span>. It has been suggested that neither legend -is mere fancy, that both were elaborate devices got up -by the peace party to frighten James. This may be true -of the Linlithgow apparition, but it does not reasonably -account for the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It strikes you at first as odd that there are no ghost -stories about Holyrood, but there is a substantial reason. -These would mar the effect, the illustrious dead -with their profoundly tragic histories leave no room -for other interest. The annals of the Castle are not quite -barren. Here be samples at any rate. It was the reign -of Robert <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span>, and the dawn of the fifteenth century. -The Duke of Albany, the King’s brother, was pacing, -with some adherents, the ramparts of the Castle when -a bright meteor flared across the sky. Albany seemed -much impressed, and announced that this portended -some calamity as the end of a mighty Prince in the near -future. Albany was already engaged in plots which -resulted, in March 1402, in the imprisonment and -<span class='pageno' title='222' id='Page_222'></span> -death by famine of his nephew, David, Duke of Rothesay, -so it may be said that he only prophesied because -he knew. However, the age believed in astrology; held -as indisputable that the stars influenced man’s life, -and that every sign in the firmament had a meaning -for those who watched. Not seldom were battles seen -in the skies portending disasters to come. As you con -over the troubled centuries of old Scots history, it -seems that disaster always did come, there was nothing -but wars and sieges, and red ruin and wasting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before the death of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span> dread warnings from -the other world were conveyed to him. Sir James -Hamilton, who had been beheaded, appeared with a -drawn sword in his hand, and struck both the King’s -arms off. Certain portents preceded the murder of -Darnley. Some of his friends dreamed he was in mortal -danger, and received ghostly admonition to carry help -to him. It is easy to rationalise those stories. Many -were concerned in the murder, and it is not to be supposed -that they all kept quite discreet tongues.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again, the following picturesque legend is exactly -such as a troubled time would evolve. After the coronation -of Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span> at Scone, Cromwell marched towards -Scotland. The Castle was put in order under -Colonel Walter Dundas. As the sentinel paced his -rounds one gloomy night he heard the beat of a drum -from the esplanade, and the steady tramp of a great -host; he fired his musket to give the alarm, and the -Governor hurried to the scene, but there was nothing. -The sentinel was punished and replaced, but the same -thing happened, till in the end Dundas mounted guard -<span class='pageno' title='223' id='Page_223'></span> -himself. He hears the phantom drummer beating a -weird measure, then there is the tramp of innumerable -feet and the clank of armour. A mighty host, -audible yet invisible, passes by, and the sound of -their motion dies gradually away. What could these -things mean but wars and rumours of wars? And there -followed in quick succession Dunbar and Worcester, -commemorated with the victor in a high passage of -English literature:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“While Derwen stream, with blood of Scots imbued,</p> -<p class='line0'>And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud</p> -<p class='line0'>And Worcester’s laureat wreath,”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>but then Milton was the laureate of the other side, -and his view was not that of the Scots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Time passes on, and brings not merely the Restoration, -but the Revolution; the Castle is true to the old -cause under the Duke of Gordon, yet it gives in finally -and becomes a hold for Jacobite prisoners, among -whom was Lord Balcarres. On the night of the 27th -of July 1689, a hand drew aside the curtains of the bed, -and there was Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, -gazing at his startled friend. Balcarres addressed -the vision, but received no answer. The figure looked -steadfastly upon the captive, moved towards the -mantelpiece, and finally disappeared from the room, -At that very hour, Dundee was lying dead at Killiecrankie, -the most splendid and most useless of victories. -The silver bullet had found its billet. The Covenanters -were absolutely convinced that the persecutors -were in direct league with Satan, who protected -them to the utmost of his power. How else to explain -their charmed lives, when so many hungered and -<span class='pageno' title='224' id='Page_224'></span> -thirsted after their death? How else to account for that -reckless courage that provoked whilst it avoided the -mortal stroke? What the object of those legends -thought of them, we cannot tell, perhaps they were -flattered. Dundee could turn his horse on the slope -of a hill like a precipice, and his courage—but then -courage was so cheap a commodity in old Scotland -that only when it failed was there cause for wonder and -contemptuous comment. However, the silver bullet -was proof against enchantment, and Dundee ended -as surely himself had wished. Legends gathered about -a much grimmer figure, the very grimmest figure of -all, Sir Thomas Dalzell of Binns. The long beard, -the truculent, cruel visage, the martial figure, trained -in the Muscovite service, well made up the man who -never knew pity. Is it not told that he bent forward -from his seat in the Privy Council, at a meeting in -1681, to strike with clenched fist the accused that was -there for examination? “Is there none other hangman -in the toun but yourself?” retorted the undaunted -prisoner. Dalzell had the gift of devoted loyalty, no -razor had touched his face since the death of Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> -The legends about him are in character. At Rullion -Green the Covenanters feeling their cause lost ere the -battle was fought, noted with dismay that Dalzell -was proof against all their shot. The bullets hopped -back from his huge boots as hail from an iron wall. -Ah, those terrible boots! if you filled them with water -it seethed and boiled on the instant. Certain sceptics -declare, by the way, he never wore boots at all! Did -he spit on the ground, a hole was forthwith burnt in -the earth. And yet, strange malice of fate, Sir Thomas -<span class='pageno' title='225' id='Page_225'></span> -died peaceably in his bed, even though his last hours -were rumoured as anguished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I pick up one or two memories of the supernatural -from the closes and ways of old Edinburgh. The -“sanctified bends” of the Bow are long vanished, and -to-day nothing is more commonplace than the steps -and the street that bears that memorable name. Its -most famous inhabitant was no saint, except in appearance, -for here abode Major Weir. From here he was -hauled to prison in 1670, and thence to his doom at -the Gallow Lee. “The warlock that was burned,” says -“Wandering Willie” of him. The legend is too well -known for detailed description. Here he lived long in -the odour of sanctity, and finally, struck by conscience, -revealed unmentionable crimes. This story had a peculiar -fascination, both for Sir Walter Scott and R.L.S., -both Edinburgh men, both masters of Scots romance, -and they have dwelt lovingly on the strange details. -The staff which used to run the Major’s errands, which -acted as a link-boy to him o’ dark nights, which answered -the door for him, on which he leaned when he -prayed, and yet whereon were carved the grinning -heads of Satyrs, only visible, however, on close inspection, -and after the downfall of its master, was sure the -strangest magic property ever wizard possessed. Its -“rare turnings” in the fire wherein it was consumed, -along with its master, were carefully noted. Long after -strange sights were seen around his house. At midnight -the Major would issue from the door, mount a -fiery steed, which only wanted the head, and vanish -in a whirlwind. His sister, Grizel Weir, who ended as -a witch, span miraculous quantities of yarn. Perhaps -<span class='pageno' title='226' id='Page_226'></span> -this accounted for the sound as of a spinning-wheel -that echoed through the deserted house for more than -a century afterwards; but how to explain the sound as -of dancing, and again as of wailing and howling, and -that unearthly light wherewith the eerie place was -flooded? How to explain, indeed! The populace had -no difficulty, it was the Devil!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It would seem that Satan had an unaccountable and, -one might say, a perverse fancy for the West Bow, abode -of the righteous as it was. There are distinct traces -of him there in the early part of November 1707. -At that time a certain Mr. John Strahan, W.S., was -owner of Craigcrook on Corstorphine Hill, the house -that was to become a literary centre under Lord Jeffrey. -He had left his town mansion under the care of a -young servant-girl called Ellen Bell. On Halloween -night, still a popular festival in Scotland, she had entertained -two sweethearts of hers called Thomson -and Robertson. She told them she was going to -Craigcrook on the second morning thereafter, so they -arranged to meet her and convoy her part of the way. -At five o’clock on the Monday morning, behold the -three together in the silent streets of the capital. The -two youths politely relieved the girl of the key of the -house and some other things she was carrying, and -then, at the three steps at the foot of the Castle rock, -they suddenly threw themselves upon her and beat -the life out. They then returned to rob the house; -probably they had gone further than they intended in -committing murder. They were panic-stricken at what -they had done, and each swore that if he informed against -the other he was to be devoted, body and soul, -<span class='pageno' title='227' id='Page_227'></span> -to the Devil. It were better, quoth one, to put the matter -in writing in a bond. “Surely,” echoed a suave voice, -and by their side they found an agreeable smiling gentleman -of most obliging disposition, who offered to -write out the bond for them, and suggested as the most -suitable fluid for signature their own blood. The story -does not tell whether the two noticed anything remarkable -about their courteous friend, something not quite -normal about the foot, possibly a gentle hint of a tail. -At any rate, they received the advances of the stranger -in anything but an affable spirit, so presently found -themselves alone. Mr. Strahan seems to have been a -wealthy gentleman, for there was £1000 in his abode -(sterling, be it observed, not Scots), with which the -robbers made off. Robertson suggested the firing of -the house, but this Thomson would not allow. Mr. -Strahan advertised a substantial reward for the discovery -of the criminals, but nothing was heard for a -long time. If we are to believe Wodrow in his agreeable -<span class='it'>Analecta</span> it required the supernatural intervention of -Providence to unravel the mystery. Twelve months -after, Lady Craigcrook (so Mrs. Strahan was known, -by the courtesy of the time) had a strange dream. -She saw Robertson, who had once been in her service, -murder Ellen Bell, rob the house, and conceal the money -in two old barrels under some rubbish. A search followed, -unmistakable evidences of the robbery were -found in Thomson’s possession. He confessed his guilt, -and after the usual formalities made what might almost -be called the conventional exit at the Grassmarket. -We are not told whether he was favoured with -another visit from his courteous old friend of the West -<span class='pageno' title='228' id='Page_228'></span> -Bow. The Scots criminal, like all his countrymen, had -abundant courage; he was ready to “dree his weird,” -or, in the popular language of our day, “face the music” -with a certain stoical philosophy, but he almost -invariably did so in a pious and orthodox frame of -mind. Nothing could show more strongly the depth -and strength of the popular belief than the frequency -with which both persecutor and criminal turned at the -end with whole-hearted conviction to the creed of the -people. There is nothing in Scotland of those jovial exits -which highwaymen like Duval and Sixteen-String -Jack made at Tyburn tree, unless we count M‘Pherson -an exception. He was hanged at Banff in 1700. For -the last time he played the tune called M‘Pherson’s -Rant on his fiddle, and we know how excellently Burns -has written his epitaph; but he was only a wild Hielandman, -so the contemporary Lowlander would have -observed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The West Bow runs off southward just where the -Castle Hill joins the Lawnmarket. On the north side -of the Lawnmarket a little way down there still stands -Lady Stair’s Close and in it Lady Stair’s house, and -about the same time, that is, the early years of the -eighteenth century, there happened to Lady Stair, or -Lady Primrose, as she then was, certain miraculous -events which constitute the most romantic tradition -of the Old Town. Scott has written a charming novelette, -<span class='it'>My Aunt Margaret’s Mirror</span>, on the theme, and -I can only present it here in the briefest possible fashion. -Lord Primrose, the lady’s first husband, was, -it would appear, mad, at any rate, he tried to kill his -wife, in the which failing he left Auld Reekie and -<span class='pageno' title='229' id='Page_229'></span> -went abroad. As she wondered and speculated what -had become of him, she heard a gossiping rumour of -an Italian sorcerer possessed of strange power then -in Edinburgh. He had a magic mirror wherein he -could show what any absent person was doing at that -precise moment. Lady Stair and her friend presently -procured what we should call a séance. The magician -dwelt in a dark recess of some obscure Canongate -close, at least we must suppose so in order to get -sufficient perspective, for all those localities in Edinburgh -were so terribly near to one another. From -Lady Stair’s Close to the Canongate is but a few minutes’ -leisurely promenade. After certain preliminary -rites the lady gazed in the magic mirror: it showed -forth a bridal, and the bridegroom was her own husband; -the service went on some way, and then it was -interrupted by a person whom she recognised as her -own brother. Presently the figures vanished, and the -curtain fell. The lady took an exact note of the time -and circumstances, and when her brother returned -from abroad she eagerly questioned him. It was all -true: the church was in Rotterdam, and her husband -was about to commit the unromantic offence of bigamy -with the daughter of a rich merchant when “the -long arm of coincidence” led the brother to the church -just in time. “Excursions and alarums” of an exciting -nature at once ensued, but neither these nor the rest -of the lady’s life, though that was remarkable enough, -concern us here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little way farther down the street, as it nears the -western wall of the Municipal Buildings, otherwise the -Royal Exchange, there stood Mary King’s Close. I -<span class='pageno' title='230' id='Page_230'></span> -cannot, nor can anybody, it seems, tell who Mary King -was. We have a picture of the close, or what remained -of it in 1845; then the houses were vacant and roofless, -the walls ruined, mere crumbling heaps of stones—weeds, -wallflowers rankly flourishing in every crevice, -for as yet the improver was only fitfully in the -land. As far back as 1750 a fire had damaged the -south or upper part of the close, which disappeared -in the Royal Exchange. The place had been one of -the spots peculiarly affected by the great plague of -1645; the houses were then shut up, and it was feared -that if they were opened the pest would stalk forth -again, but popular fancy soon peopled the close. If -you lusted after a tremor of delicious horror you had -but to step down its gloomy ways any night after dark -and gaze through one of the windows. You saw a -whole family dressed in the garb of a hundred years -earlier and of undeniable ghost-like appearance quietly -engaged in their ordinary avocations; then all of a -sudden these vanished, and you spied a company -“linking” it through the mazes of the dance, but not a -mother’s son or daughter of them but wanted his or -her head. In the close itself you might see in the air -above you a raw head or an arm dripping blood. Such -and other strange sights are preserved for us in <span class='it'>Satan’s -Invisible World Displayed</span> which was published -in 1685 by Professor George Sinclair of Glasgow, afterwards -minister of Eastwood. He tells us wondrous -tales of the adventures in this close of Thomas Coltheart -and his spouse. After their entry on the premises -there appeared a human head with a grey floating -beard suspended in mid air, to this was added the -<span class='pageno' title='231' id='Page_231'></span> -phantom of a child, and then an arm, naked from the -elbow and totally unattached, which made desperate -but unsuccessful efforts to shake Mrs. Coltheart by the -hand. Mr. Coltheart, in the most orthodox fashion, -begged from the ghosts an account of their wrongs, -that he might speedily procure justice for them; but -in defiance of all precedent they were obstinately silent, -yet they grew in number—there came a dog and -a cat, and a number of strange and grotesque beings, -for whom natural history has no names. The flesh-and-blood -inhabitants of the room were driven to kneel -on the bed as being the only place left unoccupied. -Finally, with a heart-moving groan, the appearances -vanished, and Mr. Coltheart was permitted to enjoy -his house in peace till the day of his death, but then he -must himself begin to play spectre. He appeared to -a friend at Tranent, ten miles off, and when the trembling -friend demanded, “Are you dead? and if so, why -come you?” the ghost, who was unmistakably umquhile -Coltheart, shook its head twice and vanished without -remark. The friend proceeded at once to Edinburgh -and (of course) discovered that Mr. Coltheart -had just expired. The fact of the apparition was never -doubted, but the why and the wherefore no man could -discover, only the house was again left vacant. In truth, -the ghost must have been rather a trouble to Edinburgh -landlords; it was easy for a story to arise, and -immediately it arose the house was deserted. An old -soldier and his wife were persuaded to take up their abode -there, but the very first night the candle burned -blue, and the head, without the body, though with -wicked, selfish eyes, was present, suspended in mid air, -<span class='pageno' title='232' id='Page_232'></span> -and the inmates fled and Mary King’s Close was given -over as an entirely bad business. After all, the old soldier -was not very venturesome, no more so than another -veteran, William Patullo by name, who was induced -to take Major Weir’s mansion. He was effectually -frightened by a beast somewhat like a calf which -came and looked at him and his spouse as they lay in -bed and then vanished, as did the prospective tenants -forthwith. It was not the age of insurance companies, -else had there been a special clause against spooks!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One is able to smile at some of those stories because -there is a distinctly comic touch about them. -No one was the better or the worse for those quaint -visions of the other world, except the landlords who -mourned for the empty houses, against the which we -must put the delight of the “groundlings” whose ears -were delicately “tickled”; but the witches are quite -another matter. Old Scots life was ugly in many respects, -in none more so than in the hideous cruelties -practised on hundreds of helpless old women, and -sometimes on men, but to a much less extent. Some -half-century ago the scientific world looked on tales -of witchcraft as mere delusion, even though then the -chief facts of mesmerism were known and noted. But -phenomena which we now call “hypnotism” and “suggestion” -are accepted to-day as facts of life, they are -thought worthy of scientific treatment, and we now -see that they explain many phenomena of witchcraft. -Three hundred years ago everything was ascribed to -Satan, and fiendish tortures were considered the due -of his supposed children. A detailed examination is -undesirable. What are we to learn, for instance, from -<span class='pageno' title='233' id='Page_233'></span> -the story of the Broughton witches who were burned -alive, who, in the extremity of torture, renounced their -Maker and cursed their fellow-men? Some escaped half -burned from the flames and rushed away screaming in -their agony, but they were pursued, seized, and thrown -back into the fire, which, more merciful than their kind, -at length terminated their life and suffering together. -The leading case in Scotland was that of the North -Berwick witches; it properly comes within our province, -insomuch as James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> personally investigated -the whole matter at Holyrood. James was the author -of a treatise on witchcraft, and was vastly proud of his -gift as a witch-finder. The story begins with a certain -Jeillie Duncan, a servant-girl at Tranent; she made so -many cures that she was presently suspected of witchcraft. -She was treated to orthodox modes of torture; -her fingers were pinched with the pilliwinks, her forehead -was wrenched with a rope, but she would say nothing -until the Devil’s mark was found on her throat, -when she gave in and confessed herself a servant of -Satan. Presently there was no end to her confessions! -She accused all the old women in the neighbourhood, -especially Agnes Sampson “the eldest witch of them all -resident in Haddington,” and one man, “Dr. Fian alias -John Cunningham, Master of the Schoole at Saltpans -in Lowthian.” Agnes Sampson was taken to Holyrood -for personal examination by the King. At first she -was obdurate, but after the usual tortures she developed -a story of the most extraordinary description. -She told how she was one of two hundred witches -who sailed over the sea in riddles or sieves, with flagons -of wine, to the old kirk of North Berwick. Jeillie -<span class='pageno' title='234' id='Page_234'></span> -Duncan preceded them to the kirk dancing and playing -on the jews’ harp, chanting the while a mad rhyme. -Nothing would serve the King but to have Jeillie brought -before him. She played a solo accompaniment -the while Agnes Sampson went on with her story. She -described how the Devil appeared in the kirk, and -preached a wretched sermon, mixed with obscene -rites and loaded with much abuse of the King of -Scotland, “at which time the witches demanded of -the Devill why he did beare such hatred to the King?” -who answered, “by reason the King is the greatest -enemie hee hath in the world.” Solomon listened with -mouth and ears agape, and eyes sticking out of his -head in delighted horror, yet even for him the flattery -was a little too gross or the wonders were too astounding. -“They were all extreame lyears,” he roundly -declared. But Agnes was equal to the occasion. She -took His Highness aside, and told him the “verie -wordes which passed betweene the Kinges majestie -and his queene at Upslo in Norway, the first night -of mariage, with there answere ech to other, wherat -the Kinges majestie wondered greatly and swore by -the living God that he believed that all the devils in -hell could not have discovered the same, acknowledging -her words to be most true, and therefore gave the -more credit to the rest that is before declared.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus encouraged she proceeded to stuff James with -a choice assortment of ridiculous details; sometimes -fear had the better of her and she flattered him, then -possibly rage filled her heart and she terrorised him. -For her and her “kommers” there was presently the -same end. The King then moved on to Dr. Fian’s -<span class='pageno' title='235' id='Page_235'></span> -case, and he, after a certain amount of torture, began -his extraordinary confessions, which, like his sisters -in misfortune, he embroidered with fantastic details. -Here is one incident. The doctor was enamoured of -a young lady, a sister of a pupil. To obtain her affection -he persuaded the boy to bring him three of his -sister’s hairs. The boy’s mother was herself a witch, -and thus trumped <span class='it'>his</span> cards. She “went to a young -heyfer which never had borne calfe,” took three hairs -from it, and sent them to Fian. He practised his incantations -with surprising result. “The heyfer presently -appeared leaping and dancing,” following the -doctor about and lavishing upon him the most grotesque -marks of affection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a curious little story of Balzac’s <span class='it'>Une passion -dans le desert</span> which recalls in an odd way this strange -Scots episode, whereof it is highly improbable Balzac -ever heard. Fian, it seems, had acted as registrar to -the Devil in the North Berwick kirk proceedings. With -it all he might possibly have escaped, but having stolen -the key of his prison he fled away by night to the -Saltpans. The King felt himself defrauded, and he -soon had the doctor again in safe keeping. He felt -himself still more defrauded when Fian not merely refused -to continue his revelations, but denied those he -had already made, and then “a most straunge torment” -was ordered him. All his nails were torn off, one after -another, with a pair of pincers, then under every nail -there was thrust in, two needles up to the heads. He -remained obdurate. He was then subjected to the -torture of the “bootes,” “wherein hee continued a long -time and did abide so many blowes in them that his -<span class='pageno' title='236' id='Page_236'></span> -legges were crusht and beaten together as small as -might bee, and the bones and flesh so bruised that the -blood and marrow spouted forth in great abundance, -whereby they were made unserviceable forever.” He -still continued stubborn, and finally was put into a -cart, taken to the Castle Hill, strangled and thrown into a -great fire. This was in January 1591. In trying to -bring up the past before us it is necessary to face such -facts, and to remember that James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> was, with it all, -not a cruel or unkindly man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I gladly turn to a lighter page. The grimy ways of -Leith do not suggest Fairy land, but two quaint legends -of other days are associated therewith. In front of the -old battery, where are now the new docks, there stood a -half-submerged rock which was removed in the course -of harbour operations. This was the abode of a demon -named Shellycoat, from the make of his garments, -which you gather were of the most approved Persian -attire. He was a malevolent spirit of great power, a terror -to the urchins of old Leith, and perhaps even to -their elders, but like “the dreaded name of Demogorgon” -his reputation was the worst of him. If he wrought -any definite evil, time has obliterated the memory. -When his rock was blasted, poor Shellycoat was routed -out, and fled to return no more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other legend is of the fairy boy of Leith who o’ -Thursday nights beat the drum to the fairies in the -Calton Hill. Admission thereto was obtained by a pair -of great gates, which opened to them, though they were -invisible to others. The fairies, said the boy, “are entertained -with many sorts of music besides my drum; they -have besides plenty of variety of meats and wine, and -<span class='pageno' title='237' id='Page_237'></span> -many times we are carried into France or Holland in -a night and return again, and whilst we are there we -enjoy all the pleasures the country doth afford.” The -fairy boy must at least be credited with a very vivid imagination. -His questioner trysted him for next Thursday -night: the youth duly turned up, apparently got -what money he could, but towards midnight unaccountably -disappeared and was seen no more. When -people were so eager to discover the supernatural, one -cannot wonder that they succeeded. In 1702, Mr. David -Williamson was preaching in his own church in -Edinburgh when a “rottan” (rat) appeared and sat -down on his Bible. This made him stop, and after a little -pause he told the congregation that this was a message -of God to him. He broke off his sermon and took -a formal farewell of his people and went home and continued -sick. This was the time of the Union of the Kingdoms, -and two years later, that is, in 1707, a mighty -shoal of whales invaded the Firth of Forth, “roaring, -plunging, and threshing upon one another to the great -terror of all who heard the same.” Thirty-five of them -foundered on the sands of Kirkcaldy, where they made -a yet “more dreadful roaring and tossing, when they -found themselves aground so much that the earth -trembled. What the unusual appearance of so great -a number of them at this juncture may portend, shall -not be our business to inquire.” The chronicler is convinced -that there must be some deep connection between -such portentous events as the Union of the -Crowns and the appearance of the whales, though with -true scientific caution he does not think it proper to -further riddle out the matter!</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='240' id='Page_240'></span></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i281.jpg' alt='Portrait of a Bedesman' id='iid-0029' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>A BEDESMAN, OR BLUEGOWN</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Sketch by Monro S. Orr</span></p> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='241' id='Page_241'></span><h1>CHAPTER ELEVEN<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE STREETS</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>I collect here a few anecdotes of -life on the streets, and among the people of old Edinburgh. -The ancient Scots lived very sparely, yet sumptuary -laws were passed, not to enable them to fare -better, but to keep them down to a low standard. The -English were judged mere gluttons; “pock puddings” -the frugal Caledonian deemed them. It was thought -the Southern gentlemen whom James <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span> and his Queen -brought into Scotland introduced a sumptuous mode -of living. In 1533, the Bishop of St. Andrews raged -in the pulpit against the wasteful luxury of later years. -A law was presently passed, fixing how each order -should live, and prohibiting the use of pies and other -baked meats to all below the rank of baron. In fashionable -circles there were four meals a day, breakfast, -dinner, supper, and livery, which last was a kind of -collation taken in the bedchamber, before retiring to -rest. A century ago it was usual to furnish the bedroom -with liquor, which, perhaps, was a reminiscence of this -old-world meal. The time for breakfast was seven, then -came dinner at ten, supper at four, and livery between -eight and nine. This detail is only of the well-off minority. -Legislators need not have alarmed themselves, -grinding poverty was the predominant note of old -Scots life. Pestilence swept the land from time to time—one -cause was imperfect sanitation; a stronger was -sheer lack of food.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here is James Melville’s account of plague-torn -Edinburgh in November 1585:—“On the morn we -made haste and coming to Losterrick (Restalrig) disjoined, -and about eleven hours came riding in at the -<span class='pageno' title='242' id='Page_242'></span> -Water-gate up through the Canongate, and rode in at -the Nether Bow through the great street of Edinburgh, -<span class='it'>in all whilk way we saw not three persons</span>, sae that I -miskenned Edinburgh, and almost forgot that I had -ever seen sic a town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One effect of poverty was innumerable beggars. Naturally -they thronged Edinburgh, where they made -themselves a well-nigh intolerable nuisance. The Privy -Council formulated edicts against “the strang and -idle vagabonds” who lay all day on the causeway of -the Canongate, and bullied the passers-by into giving -them alms. Perhaps it was to regulate an abuse -which could not be entirely checked, that the King’s -bedesmen, or Bluegowns, as they were called, from -their dress, were established or re-formed as licensed -beggars. These assembled yearly on the King’s birthday -to receive an annual dole of bread and ale and -blue gown, and to hear service in St. Giles’. More welcome -than all was the gift of a penny for every year of -the King’s reign, which was given in a leather purse. -The place was the north side of the Tolbooth, hence -called “The Puir Folks’ Purses,” or more briefly, “The -Purses.” The scene was afterwards transferred to the -Canongate Church, and then it was done away with -altogether. The analogous Maundy money is still distributed -annually at Westminster Abbey. The classic -example of this picturesque figure of old Scots life is -Edie Ochiltree in <span class='it'>The Antiquary</span>, but in Scott’s time -Bluegowns still adorned Edinburgh streets; hence the -following anecdote. Scott, as he went to and fro from -college, was in the habit of giving alms to one of those -gentlemen. It turned out that he kept a son Willy, as a -<span class='pageno' title='243' id='Page_243'></span> -divinity student at college, and he made bold to ask -Scott to share a humble meal with them in their cottage -at St. Leonards, at the base of Arthur’s Seat. -“Please God I may live to see my bairn wag his head -in a pulpit yet.” At the time appointed Scott partook -of the meal with father and son, the latter at first not -unnaturally a little shamefaced. The fare was simple, -but of the very best; there was a “gigot” of mutton, -potatoes, and whisky. “Dinna speak to your father -about it,” said Mrs. Scott to Walter; “if it had been a -shoulder he might have thought less, but he will say -that gigot was a sin.” The old Edinburgh beggars -were no doubt a droll lot, though particulars of their -pranks are sadly lacking. When Sir Richard Steele, -known to his familiars as Dickie Steele, was in Edinburgh -in 1718, he collected the oldest and oddest of -them to some obscure “howf” in Lady Stair’s Close; -he feasted them to their heart’s content and avowed -“he found enough native drollery to compose a comedy.” -Well, he didn’t, but the same century was to give -us a greater than Steele and—<span class='it'>The Jolly Beggars!</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The folk of old Edinburgh were used to scenes of -bloodshed—I tell elsewhere the story of “Cleanse the -Causey,” as the historic street fight between the -Douglases and the Hamiltons was called. It was almost -a matter of necessity that men should go armed. -Wild dissipation was a common incident, passions -were high, and people did not hold either their -own lives or those of others at any great rate. Here -is a story from 1650, when the English were in occupation -of Edinburgh, and so for the time the predominant -party. An English officer had a squabble -<span class='pageno' title='244' id='Page_244'></span> -with some natives; he mounted his horse and said to -them disdainfully, “With my own hands I killed that -Scot which ought this horse and this case of pistols -and who dare say that in this I wronged him?” He -paid bitterly for his rashness. “I dare say it,” said one -of his audience, “and thus shall avenge it.” He stabbed -him with a sword right through the body so that -he fell dead. The Scot threw himself into the vacant -saddle, dashed over the stones to the nearest Port, and -was lost for ever to pursuit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The measures against those acts of violence were -ludicrously ineffectual. In the houses the firearms were -chained down lest they should be used in accidental -affrays; but the streets were not policed at all, and gentlemen -did much as they liked. It is told of Hugh Somerville -of Drum, who died in 1640, that he went one day -to St. Giles’ with Lady Ross, his sister-in-law. A gentleman -happened by chance, it would seem, to push against -him, there was a scuffle and Somerville had his -dagger out on the instant, and would have stuck it into -the intruder had not Lady Ross seized and held him; -the while she begged the stranger to go away. A duel -was like to ensue, but in cold blood the affair no doubt -seemed ridiculous, and was made up. Quarrels about -equally small matters often led to duels. In January -1708, two friends, young Baird of Saughtonhall and -Robert Oswald, were drinking in a tavern at Leith, -when they had a dispute; they accommodated it, and -drove to Edinburgh together, they leave the coach at -the Netherbow, when Baird revives the quarrel, and -in a few minutes, or perhaps seconds, kills his friend -with his sword. A reaction followed, and the assassin -<span class='pageno' title='245' id='Page_245'></span> -expressed his deep regret, which did not bring the dead -man to life again; the other fled, but finally escaped -without punishment as the act was not premeditated. -One of the last incidents of this class was a duel between -Captain Macrae of Marionville and Sir George -Ramsay of Bamff in 1790. It arose out of a quarrel caused -by the misconduct of a servant. Macrae shot his -opponent dead, and then fled to France, and he never -thought it safe to return to Scotland. Duelling was considered -proper for gentlemen, but only for gentlemen, -and not to be permitted to all and sundry. Towards -the end of the sixteenth century a barber challenged a -chimney sweep, and they had a very pretty “set to” -with swords at which neither was hurt. The King presently -ordered the barber to summary execution because -he presumed to take the revenge of a gentleman. -The upper classes did not set a good example to their -inferiors. One need not discuss whether the Porteous -mob was really a riot of the common people. The -<span class='it'>Heart of Midlothian</span>, if nothing else, has made it a -very famous affair. The Edinburgh mob, which was -very fierce and determined according to Scott, had -one or two remarkable maxims. At an Irish fair the -proper course is to bring down your shillelagh on any -very prominent head. Here the rule was to throw a -stone at every face that looked out of a window. Daniel -Defoe was in Edinburgh in 1705, on a special mission -from Government, to do all he could to bring about -the Union. From his window in the High Street -he was gazing upon the angry populace and only just -dodged a large stone. He afterwards discovered not -merely the rule but the reason thereof, that there might -<span class='pageno' title='246' id='Page_246'></span> -be no recognition of faces. As the old cock crows -the young cock learns, even the children were fighters. -I have already told how the boys of the High School -killed Bailie Macmorran in a barring out business. -There is a legend of the famous Earl of Haddington, -“Tam of the Coogate,” that when a fight was on between -the lads of the High School and the students of -the College, he took strenuously the side of the former. -Nay, he drove the students out of the West Port, locked -the gate in their faces, that they might cool themselves -by a night in the fields, and placidly retired to -his studies. The fighting tradition lasted through the -centuries. Scott tells us of the incessant bickers between -the High School and street callants, which, however -lawless, had yet their own laws. During one of -those fights a youth known from his dress as Green-breeks, -a leader of the town, was stuck with a knife, -and somewhat seriously wounded. He was tended in -the Infirmary and in due time recovered, but nothing -would prevail upon him to give any hint whereby his -assailant might be discovered. The High Schoolboys -took means to reward him, but the fights were continued -with unabated vigour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Student riots are a chapter by themselves, and in -Edinburgh were almost to be looked upon as a matter -of course, and to a mild extent still are, on such -occasions as Rectorial elections. In past times no -occasion was lost for burning the Pope in effigy, that -was always a safe card to play. Even the piety of old -Edinburgh served to stimulate its brawls. The famous -commotion at the reading of the service book in -St Giles’ on 23rd July 1637 is a case in point. Jenny -<span class='pageno' title='247' id='Page_247'></span> -Geddes is to-day commemorated within the Cathedral -itself, and she lives in history by her classic pleasantry, -on the Dean announcing the collect for the -day: “Deil colic the wame o’ thee fause thief, wilt thou -say mass at my lug?” There is one other story about -Jenny to be told. On 19th June 1660 there were -great rejoicings in Edinburgh upon the Restoration. -There was service at the Church, banquet of sweetmeats -and wine at the Cross, which ran claret for the -benefit of the populace; at night there were fireworks -at the Castle, effigies of Cromwell and the Devil were -paraded through the streets, bonfires blazed everywhere, -and as fuel for these last Jenny is reported to -have contributed her stool. No doubt much water had -run under the bridge since 1637; Jenny may or may -not have changed her views, but she was nothing if not -enthusiastic, and there was really no inconsistency in -her conduct. Other folk than Jenny had a difficulty to -reconcile their various devotions!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The people of Edinburgh had a strong aversion from -bishops. On 4th June 1674, as the members of the -Council were going to their meeting-place in the Parliament -Close, fifteen ladies appeared with a petition -for a free ministry. Archbishop Sharp was pointedly -described as Judas, and Traitor. Indeed one of the -ladies struck him on the neck, screaming that he should -yet pay for it ere all was done. Any scandal against -a bishop was readily circulated. Bishop Patterson of -Edinburgh was lampooned as a profligate and loose -liver. In the midst of a seemingly impassioned discourse -he is said to have kissed, in the pulpit, his bandstrings, -that being the signal agreed upon between -<span class='pageno' title='248' id='Page_248'></span> -him and his lady-love to prove that he could think -upon her even in the midst of solemn duties. He was -nicknamed “Bishop Bandstrings.” The bishops of the -persecuting Church disappear from history in a rather -undignified manner. Patrick Walker tells with great -glee how at the Revolution, as the convention grew -more and more enthusiastic for the new order, they, -fourteen in number, “were expelled at once and stood -in a crowd with pale faces in the Parliament Close.” -Some daring members of the crowd knocked the -heads of the poor prelates “hard upon each other,” -the bishops slunk off, and presently were seen no more -in the streets. “But some of us,” continues Patrick, -“would have rejoiced still more to have seen the whole -cabalsie sent closally down the Bow that they might -have found the weight of their tails in a tow to dry -their stocking soles, and let them know what hanging -was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Villon had long before sung on a near prospect of -the gallows—</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Or d’une corde d’une toise</p> -<p class='line0'>Saura mon col que mon cul poise.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>But you are sure Patrick had never heard of François, -and the same dismally ludicrous idea had occurred -independently.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i290.jpg' alt='Portrait of Allan Ramsay' id='iid-0030' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>ALLAN RAMSAY, POET</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after William Aikman</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Certain picturesque figures or rather classes of men -lent a quaint or comic touch to the streets of old Edinburgh, -but all are long swept into Time’s dustbin. One -of these consisted of the chairmen. The Old Town was -not the place for carriages; cabs were not yet, and even -to-day they do not suit its steep and narrow ways; but -the sedan chair was the very thing, you could trundle -<span class='pageno' title='249' id='Page_249'></span> -it commodiously up and down hill, and narrow must -have been the close through which it could not pass. -The chairmen who bore the burden of the chair were -mainly Highlanders, who flocked to Edinburgh as the -Irish did afterwards, and in early days formed a distinct -element in city life. They are reported as of insatiable -greed, but their earnings probably were but -small and uncertain. Still such was their reputation, -and it was once put to the test to decide a wager. Lord -Panmure hired a chair and proceeded a short way -down the Canongate. When he got out he handed the -chairman a guinea. Millionaires were not yet in the -land, possibly the chairman imagined he had found a -benevolent lunatic, or he may even have smelt a wager. -“But could her honour no’ shuist gie the ither sixpence -to get a gill?” The coin was duly handed over, then -Donald thought he might do something for his companion -and preferred a modest request for “three bawbees -of odd change to puy snuff.” But even the chairmen -had another side. Among them was Edmund -Burke, who died in 1751. He had been an attendant on -Prince Charlie, and had as easily as you like netted -£30,000 by treachery, for such was the handsome price -fixed for the young chevalier, “dead or alive”; but it -never crossed his mind to earn it!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of much the same class were the caddies, whose -name still lingers as the attendants on golf-players; the -caddie was the man-of-all-work of old Edinburgh, for -various indeed were his functions. Even to-day, if you -look at some of the high houses, you remember how -much time inhabitants must have spent in going up -and down stairs; load the climber with burdens and life -<span class='pageno' title='250' id='Page_250'></span> -were scarce worth living. The chief burden was water, -and the caddies were the class who bore the stoups containing -it up and down. These water-carriers soon acquired -a pronounced and characteristic stoop; they -were dressed in the cast-off red jackets of the City -Guard, the women among them had thick felt great-coats -and hats like the men, their fee was a penny a -barrel. The same name was applied to a division that -worked with their brains rather than their hands; they -knew every man in the town, and the name, residence, -and condition of every stranger to whom they acted as -guides and even companions. You sought your caddie -at the Cross, where he would lounge of a morning on -a wooden bench till some one was good enough to -employ him. You remember the interesting account -Scott gives of the caddies in the part of <span class='it'>Guy Mannering</span> -which treats of the visit to Edinburgh of the -Colonel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still more characteristic of old Edinburgh was the -Town Guard, who for many a long day acted most inefficiently -as police and guardians of the peace to the -city. They are, so to speak, embalmed in the pages of -Scott and Fergusson. The first treats them with a touch -of comic contempt, the other calls them “the black -banditti,” and deprecates their brutal violence. He -had some cause, personal or otherwise. One of their -number, Corporal John Dhu, a gigantic Highlander, -as short of temper as he was long of body, during a city -row with one fell stroke stretched a member of the mob -lifeless on the pavement. The populace told wondrous -legends of this corps. They existed, it was averred, before -the Christian era, nay, some of them were present -<span class='pageno' title='251' id='Page_251'></span> -at the Crucifixion as Pilate’s guard! In truth they only -dated from the seventeenth century, at any rate as a -regularly constituted corps, and they came to an end -early in the nineteenth. They attended all civic ceremonies -and civic functions, their drums beat every -night at eight o’clock in the High Street. Their guard-house -long stood opposite the Tron Church. There -was always a collision between them and the populace -on occasion of rejoicing, as witness Fergusson’s <span class='it'>Hallow -Fair</span>:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Jock Bell gaed forth to play his freaks,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Great cause he had to rue it,</p> -<p class='line0'>For frae a stark Lochaber aix</p> -<p class='line0'>  He gat a <span class='it'>clamihewit</span></p> -<p class='line0'>    Fu’ sair that night.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>The unfortunate wretch received a still worse blow, -nor even then were his troubles ended:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“He, peching on the causey, lay</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’ kicks an’ cuffs well sair’d.</p> -<p class='line0'>A highland aith the serjeant gae</p> -<p class='line0'>  She maun pe see our guard.</p> -<p class='line0'>Out spak the warlike corporal,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ‘Pring in ta drunken sot!’</p> -<p class='line0'>They trail’d him ben, an’ by my saul</p> -<p class='line0'>  He paid his drucken groat</p> -<p class='line0'>    For that neist day.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Once in the year, at any rate, the populace got their -own back again—that was the King’s birthday, when -the authorities assembled in the Parliament House -to honour the occasion. Thereafter the mob went with -one accord for the Guard, and always routed them after -a desperate resistance. Scott jocosely laments the -disappearance of those picturesque figures, with their -uniform of rusty red, their Lochaber axes, their huge -<span class='pageno' title='252' id='Page_252'></span> -cocked hats. But two survived to be present at the -inauguration of his monument on 15th August 1846. -Their pay was sixpence a day. The Gaelic poet, Duncan -Macintyre, was once asked if anything could be done -to improve his worldly prospects. He confessed a -modest ambition to be enrolled in the Edinburgh -Town Guard! After this Burns’s post as a Dumfries exciseman -might seem princely. All competent critics -agree that Macintyre was the sweetest of singers, a -poet of true genius, and that his laudatory epitaph in -old Greyfriars was justly earned. Captain James Burnet, -who died on the 24th August 1814, was the last -commander of this ancient corps. If not so famous as -some of his predecessors, Major Weir or Captain Porteous, -for instance, he was still a prominent Edinburgh -character. He weighed nineteen stones, yet, for a wager, -climbed Arthur’s Seat in a quarter of an hour. -You do not wonder that he lay panting on the earth -“like an expiring porpoise.” He was one of the “Turners,” -as those were scornfully called who assembled -on Sunday afternoons, <span class='it'>not</span> to go to church, but to take -a walk or turn. At an earlier day he and his fellows had -been promptly pounced upon by the seizers, who were -officials appointed to promenade the streets during -the hours of divine service. These would apprehend -the ungodly wanderer and even joints of mutton frizzling and -turning with indecent levity on the roasting-jacks. -In or about 1735 the blackbird of a Jacobite -barber, in horrid defiance of the powers that were, -civil and ecclesiastical, and to the utter subversion of -Kirk and State, touched “the trembling ears” of the -seizers with “The King shall enjoy his own again,” -<span class='pageno' title='253' id='Page_253'></span> -most audaciously whistled. The songster was forthwith -taken into custody and transported to the guard-house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once the “seizers” got emphatically the worst of -it. Dr. Archibald Pitcairne, poet, scholar, Jacobite, latitudinarian, -was not in sympathy in many points with -the Edinburgh of Queen Anne’s day, but he loved his -glass as well as any of them. He had sent for some -claret one Sunday forenoon, which the seizers had confiscated -ere it reached his thirsty palate. The wit was -furious, but he had his revenge. He doctored a few -bottles of the wine with some strong drug of disagreeable -operation, and then he procured its capture by -the seizers. As he expected, the stuff went speedily -down their throats; the result was all he could have -wished. But Burnet came too late for all this, and a -nickname was the only punishment for him and his -fellows. He was also a prominent member of the Lawnmarket -Club—the popular name for certain residents -who met every morning about seven to discuss the -news of the day, and to take their morning draught -of brandy together. Nothing was done in old Edinburgh -without the accompaniment of a dram; the “meridian” -followed the “morning” (the very bells of St. -Giles that chime the hour were known as the “gill” -bells), as a matter of course, and both only sustained -the citizen for the serious business of the evening. -True, a great deal of the drinking was claret, indeed, -huge pewter jugs or stoups of that wine were to be -seen moving up and down the streets of Edinburgh -in all directions, as ale jugs in London. When a ship -arrived from Bordeaux the claret hogsheads were -<span class='pageno' title='254' id='Page_254'></span> -carted through the streets, and vessels were filled from -the spigot at a very cheap rate. There was always a -native-brewed “tippeny.” The curtain was already -falling on old Edinburgh ere whisky was introduced -as a regular article of consumption. A thin veil of decency -was thrown over the dissipation; it was made a -matter of aggravation in the charge against a gentleman -of rank that he had allowed his company to get -drunk in his house before it was dark in the month of -July. The peculiar little separate boxes wherein the -guests revelled in the Edinburgh taverns threw an -air of secrecy and mystery over the proceedings. One -of the most famous taverns was Johnny Dowie’s, in -Libberton’s Wynd, where George <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> Bridge now stands. -Its memories of Burns and Fergusson and a hundred -other still famous names make it the <span class='it'>Mermaid</span> -of Edinburgh. It had many baser clients. A visitor -opens a door and finds a room, the floor covered with -snoring lads. “Oh,” explains mine host with a tolerant -grin, “just twa-three o’ Sir Wullie’s drucken clerks!” -(Sir William Forbes the banker is meant). “The clartier -the cosier,” says a wicked old Scots apothegm. -Wolfe, the hero of Quebec, says that it was not till after -Christmas, when the better folk had come into it -from the country, that Edinburgh was “in all its perfection -of dirt and gaiety.” There could not have been -anything like sufficient water wherewith to wash, and -all sorts of filth were hurled from the lofty houses into -the street, “<span class='it'>Gardy loo</span>” was the conventional word -of warning, uttered not seldom <span class='it'>after</span> and not <span class='it'>before</span> -the event. Whether it was from the French “<span class='it'>Gare à -l’eau</span>” may or may not be true. The delightful Mrs. -<span class='pageno' title='255' id='Page_255'></span> -Winifred Jenkins aptly translates it as: “May the -Lord have mercy on your souls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Until imprisonment for debt was abolished the precincts -of Holyrood were inhabited by fugitive debtors, -for there these had the privilege of sanctuary. They -were called Abbey lairds, and many were the stories -told of the dodges to get them out of the bounds or -to remain after Sunday was finished, for that was a free -day for them. Two anecdotes may be quoted. On a -certain Sunday in July 1709, Patrick Haliburton, one -of those Abbey lairds, was induced to visit a creditor, -by whom he was received with the utmost geniality. -The bottle was produced and Patrick quaffed to his -heart’s content; as he staggered from the door <span class='it'>after</span> -midnight, a messenger seized him under a Writ of -Caption and haled him off to prison. In 1724 Mrs. -Dilkes, a debtor, had an invitation to a tavern within -the verge, but to enter it she had to go a few paces -beyond the Girth Cross. The moment she was outside -she was nabbed; but this was too much for the -women of the place, who rose in their might and rescued -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wit of old Edinburgh was satirical, bitter, scornful, -and the practical jokes not in the best of taste. -The Union, we know, was intensely unpopular, nowhere -more than in the Canongate.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“London and death gar thee look dool,”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>sings Allan Ramsay. Holyrood was at an end, save -for the election of representative Peers. At the first after -the Union it was noted that all elected were loyal -to the English government, “a plain evidence of the -country’s slavery to the English Court.” A fruit-woman -<span class='pageno' title='256' id='Page_256'></span> -paraded the courts of the palace bawling most -lustily, “Who would buy good pears, old pears, new -pears, fresh pears—rotten pears, sixteen of them for -a plack.” Remember that pears is pronounced “peers” -in Scots and the point of the joke is obvious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the suburb of the Pleasance a tailor called Hunter -had erected a large house which folk named Hunter’s -Folly, or the Castle of Clouts. Gillespie, the founder -of Gillespie’s Hospital, was a snuff merchant; when he -started a carriage the incorrigible Harry Erskine suggested -as a motto:</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Wha wad hae thocht it</p> -<p class='line0'>That noses had bocht it?”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>Harry was usually more good-humoured. A working -man complained to him of the low value of a dollar, -which he showed him. Now, from the scarcity of silver -at the time, a number of Spanish dollars were in circulation, -on which the head of George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span> had been stamped -over the neck of the Spanish King; the real was -some sixpence less than the nominal value. Erskine -gravely regretted that two such mighty persons had -laid their heads together to do a poor man out of a -sixpence. Not that the lawyers always had the best -of it. Crosby, the original Counsellor Pleydell in <span class='it'>Guy -Mannering</span>, was building a spacious mansion in St. -Andrew Square. His home in the country was a thatched -cottage. “Ah, Crosby,” said Principal Robertson to -him one day at dinner, “were your town and country -house to meet, how they would stare at one another.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i299.jpg' alt='Portrait of Andrew Crosbie, “Pleydell”' id='iid-0031' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>ANDREW CROSBIE, “PLEYDELL”</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Painting in the Advocates’ Library, by permission of the Faculty of Advocates</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Nor did the people always get the laugh. Walter Ross, -an Edinburgh character of the eighteenth century, had -built a square tower in his property on the north side -<span class='pageno' title='257' id='Page_257'></span> -of the New Town; in this were all the curious old stones -he could procure. The people called it Ross’s Folly, and -notwithstanding his prominently displayed threats of -man-traps and spring guns they roamed at will over -his domain. Somehow or other he procured a human -leg from the dissecting room, dressed it up with stocking, -shoe, and buckle and sent the town-crier with it, -announcing that “it had been found that night in Walter -Ross’s policy at Stockbridge,” and offering to restore -it to the owner!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A more innocent pleasantry is ascribed to Burns. -A lady of title, with whom he had the slightest acquaintance, -asked him to a party in what was no doubt -a very patronising manner. Burns never lost his head -or his independence in Edinburgh. He replied that he -would come if the Learned Pig was invited also. The -animal in question was then one of the attractions -of the Grassmarket. To balance this is a story of a -snub by a lady. Dougal Geddie, a successful silversmith, -had donned with much pride the red coat of -a Town Guard officer. He observed with concern a -lady at the door of the Assembly Rooms without an -attendant beau. He courteously suggested himself -“if the arm of an old soldier could be of any use to -her.” “Hoot awa’, Dougal, an auld tinkler you mean,” -said the lady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One constantly recurring street scene in old Edinburgh -was the execution of criminals. Not a mere case -of decorous hanging, but a man, as like as not, dismembered -in sight of the gaping crowd, and that man -was often one who had been within the memory of all -a great personage in the State, to whom every knee -<span class='pageno' title='258' id='Page_258'></span> -had been bowed, and every cap doffed. Great executions -were famous events, and were distinguished -by impressive and remarkable incidents; but I shall -not attempt to record these. Some little remembered -events must serve for illustration. In 1661 Archibald -Cornwall, town officer, was hanged at the Cross. He -had “poinded” an honest man’s house, wherein was a -picture of the King and Queen. These, from carelessness -or malice or misplaced sense of humour, he had -stuck on the gallows at the Cross from which as noted -he presently dangled. In 1667 Patrick Roy Macgregor -and some of his following were condemned at Edinburgh -for sorning, fire-raising, and murder. Those caterans -were almost outside the law, and they were -duly hanged, the right hand being previously cut off—a -favourite old-time addition to capital punishment. -Macgregor was a thick-set, strongly-built man -of fierce face, in which gleamed his hawk-like eye, -a human wolf the crowd must have thought him. He -was “perfectly undaunted” though the hangman bungled -the amputation business so badly that he was -turned out of office the next day. Executions were -at different periods carried out on the Castle Hill, at -the Cross, the Gallow Lee, on the road to Leith, and -at various places throughout the city, but the ordinary -spot was, from about 1660 till 1785, in the Grassmarket, -at the foot of the West Bow, after that at the west -end of the Tolbooth, till its destruction in 1817, then -at the head of Libberton’s Wynd, near where George -<span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span> Bridge now is, till 1868, when such public spectacles -were abolished. An old Edinburgh rhyme commemorates -the old-time progress of the criminal. -<span class='pageno' title='259' id='Page_259'></span></p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Up the Lawnmarket, And doun the West Bow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Up the big ladder, And doun the wee tow.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>As the clock struck the hour after noon, the City -Guard knocked at the door of the Tolbooth. It was -flung open and the condemned man marched forth. -The correct costume was a waistcoat and breeches of -white, edged with black ribbon, wherewith the nightcap -on his head was also trimmed. His hands were -tied behind him, and a rope was round his neck. On -each side was a parson, behind shuffled the hangman, -disguised in an overcoat, round were the City Guard, -with their arms ready. Among the fierce folk of that -violent town a rescue was always a possibility, and so -the gruesome figure went to his doom. One other case -and I leave the subject. It was a popular belief in Edinburgh -that a man could not be hanged later than four -o’clock afternoon. A certain John Young had been convicted -of forgery, and condemned to death. The time -appointed for his execution was the 17th December -1750, between two and four in the afternoon. Under -the pretence of private devotion he locked himself in -the inner room of the prison, and nothing would persuade -him to come out. He was only got at by breaking -the floor of the room overhead, and even then there -was difficulty. A gun was presented at his head; it -happened to be unloaded. On a calculation of probabilities -he even then refused to surrender; he was finally -seized and dragged headlong downstairs. He anxiously -inquired if it were not yet four o’clock, and was -assured he would be hanged, however late the hour. -As a matter of fact, it was already after four, though -not by the clock, which had been stopped by the authorities. -<span class='pageno' title='260' id='Page_260'></span> -He refused to move, declined, as he said, to -be accessory to his own murder, but was hanged all -the same about half-past four. His pranks had only -given him another half-hour of life. There were numerous -lesser punishments: flogging, mutilation, branding, -all done in public, to the disgust or entertainment -of the populace. I tell one story, farce rather than -tragedy. On the 6th of November 1728, Margaret -Gibson, for the crime of theft, was drummed through -the town; over her neck was fixed a board provided -with bells which chimed at each step she made, a little -from her face there was attached a false face adorned -with a fox’s tail, “In short she was a very odd spectacle.” -No doubt; but where did the edification come -in? I ought to mention that the officials who attended -an execution were wont thereafter to regale themselves -at what was called the Deid Chack. The cheerful -Deacon Brodie, just before his violent exit from -life, took leave of a town official in this fashion, “Fare -ye weel, Bailie! Ye need na be surprised if ye see me -amang ye yet, to tak’ my share o’ the Deid Chack.” Perhaps -he meant his ghost would be there, or—but it is -not worth speculating. This gruesome feast was abolished -through the influence of Provost Creech, who -did much for the city.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight</p> -<p class='line0'>      And trig an’ braw.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The crook in Creech’s lot was an old soldier, Lauchlin -M‘Bain, who pretended to sell roasting-jacks. He -had a street call of “R-r-r-roasting toasting-jacks,” -which was found perfectly unbearable, even by the not -too nice ears of the citizens. He blackmailed various -<span class='pageno' title='261' id='Page_261'></span> -parties, and then attached himself like a burr to Creech. -He bellowed before his door with such fell intent that -the civic dignitary was frantic. He had Lauchlin up before -the local courts, but the old soldier, who had fought -on the government side at Culloden, produced his -discharge which clearly gave him a right to practise his -business in Edinburgh. Creech had to submit and buy -the intruder off. Creech himself played pranks just as -mischievous on a certain drunken Writer to the Signet -called William Macpherson, a noted character of the -day. He lived in the West Bow with his two sisters, -whom he, with quaint barbarity, nicknamed Sodom -and Gomorrah. He was not above taking fees in kind. -Once he thus procured an armful of turnips, with which -he proceeded homewards; but he was tipsy, and the -West Bow was near the perpendicular, and ere long -he was flat on his face, and the turnips flying in every -direction. He staggered after them and recovered -most. The Governor of the Castle had asked Creech -to procure him a cook; he became so insistent in his -demands that the bookseller got angry, and happening -to meet Macpherson, he coolly told him that the -Governor wished to see him on important business. -Macpherson could not understand why everybody -treated him in such a cavalier manner, and a comical -conversation took place, which was brought to a head -by the Governor demanding his character. At last he -blurted out in rage that he was a Writer to the Signet. -“Why, I wanted a cook,” said the Governor. Macpherson -retired in wrath to comfort himself with that unfailing -remedy, the bottle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These were not the days of care for the insane, the -<span class='pageno' title='262' id='Page_262'></span> -“natural” was allowed to run about the streets untouched. -Jamie Duff was one of the most famous of -those. In old Scotland a funeral was a very pompous -and very solemn function. Duff made it a point to be -present at as many as possible, with cape, cravat, and -weepers of the most orthodox pattern, however shabby -the material, even paper not being disdained. He -commonly marched at the head of the procession—a -hideous burlesque of the whole affair. His pranks -met with strange and unexpected tolerance; instead -of being driven away, he was fed and encouraged. He -appears at the funeral of Miss Bertram in <span class='it'>Guy Mannering</span>. -Scott has gathered many such memories into his -works. One adventure of Duff’s was not a success. He -had got together, or aped the cast-off suit of a bailie, -and assumed the title of that mighty functionary. -The authorities interfered and stripped him, thus making -themselves the butt of many a local witticism. -He subsisted on stray gifts of all kinds, but he refused -silver money. He thought it was a trick to enlist him. -Another feature of the street was the Highland gentleman. -The memory of one, Francis M‘Nab, Esq. -of M‘Nab, still lingers. Once a Lowland friend inquired -if Mr. M‘Nab was at home. “No,” was the answer, -and the door was shut in his face, not before he -had heard the tones of the chieftain in the background. -Apprised of his error, he called next day, and asked -for “The M‘Nab,” and was received with open arms. -It happened on the way to Leith races that the chieftain’s -horse dropped down dead under him. “M‘Nab, -is that the same horse you had last year?” said an acquaintance -at the next race-meeting. “No, py Cot,” replied -<span class='pageno' title='263' id='Page_263'></span> -the Laird; “but this is the same whip”—the other -made off at full speed. When in command of the Breadalbane -Fencibles, he allowed his men to smuggle a -huge quantity of whisky from the Highlands. A party -of excisemen laid hands on the baggage of the corps. -M‘Nab pretended to believe they were robbers. He -was a big man, with a powerful voice; he thundered out -to his men “Prime, load”—the gaugers took to their -heels, and the whisky was saved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Smuggling might almost be called the first of Highland -virtues. Archibald Campbell, the city officer, had -the misfortune to lose his mother. He procured a -hearse, and reverently carried away the body to the -Highlands for burial. He brought the hearse back -again, not empty, but full of smuggled whisky. This -fondness for a trick or practical joke was a feature of -old Edinburgh. It lived on to later times. In 1803 or -1804, Playfair, Thomas Thomson, and Sydney Smith -instigated by Brougham, proceeded one night to George -Street, with the intention of filching the Galen’s -Head, which stood over the door of Gardiner, the apothecary. -By one climbing on the top of the others -their object was all but attained, when, by the dim light -of the oil-lamps, Brougham was descried leading the -city watch to the spot, his design being to play a trick -within a trick. There was a hasty scramble, and all -got off. None save Brougham was very young, and -even he was twenty-six, and to-day the people are decorous -and the place is decorous. Who can now recall -what the Mound was like, when it was the chosen -locus of the menageries of the day? Fergusson, Lord -Hermand, was proceeding along it just having heard -<span class='pageno' title='264' id='Page_264'></span> -of the fall of the “ministry of all the talents”; he could -not contain himself. “They are out—by the Lord, -they are all out, every mother’s son of them!” A passing -lady heard him with absolute horror. “Good -Lord, then we shall all be devoured!” she screamed, not -doubting but that the wild beasts had broken loose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A word as to weather. The east coast of Scotland -is exposed to the chilling fog or mist called haar, and -to bitter blasts of east wind, as well as to the ordinary -rain and cloud. Edinburgh, being built on hills, is peculiarly -affected by those forces, and the broad streets -and open spaces of the New Town worst of all. The -peculiar build of the old part was partly, at least, meant -as a defence from weather. Fergusson boldly says so.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Not Boreas that sae snelly blows</p> -<p class='line0'>Dare here pap in his angry nose,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thanks to our dads, whase biggin stands</p> -<p class='line0'>A shelter to surrounding lands.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='noindent'>But there is no shelter in Princes Street. On the 24th -of January 1868 a great storm raged. Chimney-pots -and portions of chimney-stacks came down in all directions. -Fifty police carts were filled with the rubbish. -Cabs were blown over, an instance of the force of the -east wind which impressed James Payn the novelist -exceedingly. A gentleman had opened Professor -Syme’s carriage door to get out. The door was completely -blown away; a man brought it up presently, -with the panel not even scratched and the glass unbroken. -Another eminent doctor, Sir Robert Christison, -was hurled along Princes Street at such a rate, -that when, to prevent an accident, he seized hold of a -lamp-post he was dashed violently into the gutter -<span class='pageno' title='265' id='Page_265'></span> -and seriously hurt his knee. The street was deserted, -people were afraid to venture out of doors. Even on -a moderately gusty night the noise of the wind amidst -the tall lands and narrow closes of the Old -Town, as heard from Princes Street, is a sound never -to be forgotten; it has a tragic mournful dignity in its -infinite wail, the voice of old Edinburgh touched with -pity and terror! Some one has said what a charming -place Edinburgh would be if you could only put up -a screen against the east wind. As that is impossible -it may be held to excuse everything from flight to -dissipation!</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='269' id='Page_269'></span><h1>CHAPTER TWELVE<br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>THE CITY</span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>I continue the subjects of my last -chapter, though this deals rather with things under -cover and folk of a better position than the common -objects of the street. I pass as briefly as may be the -more elaborate legends of Edinburgh, they are rather -story than anecdote. I have already dealt with Lady -Stair and her close. It is on the north side of the Lawnmarket. -If you go down that same street till it becomes -the Canongate, on the same side, you have Morocco -Land with its romantic legend of young Gray, who -showed a clean pair of heels to the hangman, only to -turn up a few years after as a bold bad corsair. But he -came to bless and not to rob, for by his eastern charms -or what not he cured the Provost’s daughter, sick well-nigh -to death of the plague, and then married her. They -lived very happily together in Morocco Land, outside -the Netherbow be it noted, and so outside old Edinburgh, -for Gray had vowed he would never again enter -the city. If you find a difficulty in realising this tale -of eastern romance amid the grimy surroundings of -the Canongate of to-day, lift up your eyes to Morocco -Land, and there is the figure of the Moor carved on it, -and how can you doubt the story after that? On the -opposite side is Queensberry House, which bears many -a legend of the splendour and wicked deeds of more -than one Duke of Queensberry. Chief of them was -that High Commissioner who presided over the Union -debates, he whom the Edinburgh mob hated with all -the bitter hatred of their ferocious souls. They loved -to tell how when he was strangling the liberties of his -country in the Parliament House, his idiot son and -<span class='pageno' title='270' id='Page_270'></span> -heir was strangling the poor boy that turned the spit -in Queensberry House, and was roasting him upon his -own fire so that when the family returned to their -mansion a cannibal orgie was already in progress. You -are glad that history enables you to doubt the story -just as you are sorry you must doubt the others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edinburgh has had a Provost for centuries (since -1667 he has been entitled by Royal command to the -designation of Lord Provost), Bailies, Dean of Guild, -Town Council, and so forth, but you must not believe -for a moment that these were ever quite the same -offices. The old municipal constitution of Edinburgh -was curious and complicated. I shall not attempt to -explain it, or how the various deacons of the trades -formed part of it. When it was reformed and the system -of self-election abolished, the city officer, Archibald -Campbell, is said to have died out of sheer grief, -it seemed to him defiling the very Ark of God. The -old-time magistrates were puffed up with a sense of -their own importance, that of itself invited a “taking -down.” It was the habit of those dignitaries to pay -their respects to every new President of the Court of -Session. President Dundas, who died in 1752, was thus -honoured. He was walking with his guests in the park -at Arniston, when the attention of Bailie M‘Ilroy, one -of their number, was attracted by a fine ash tree lately -blown to the ground. He was a wood merchant, and -thought the occasion too good to be lost. He there and -then proposed to buy it, and not accepting the curt refusals -of the President, finally offered to pay a half-penny -a foot above the ordinary price. “Sir,” said Dundas -in a burst of rage, “rather than cut up that tree, I -<span class='pageno' title='271' id='Page_271'></span> -would see you and all the magistrates of Edinburgh -hanging on it.” But the roll of civic dignitaries contains -more illustrious names.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Provost Drummond, who may be called the founder -of the New Town, had long cherished and developed -the scheme in his mind. Dr. Jardine, his son-in-law, -lived in part of a house in the north corner of the Royal -Exchange from which there was a wide prospect away -over the Nor’ Loch to the fields beyond. It was plain -countryside in those days. The swans used to issue -from under the Castle rock, swim across the Nor’ Loch, -cross the Lang Gate and Bearford’s Park, and make -sad havoc of the cornfields of Wood’s farm. Bearford’s -Park was called after Bearford in East Lothian, which -had the same owner. Perhaps you remember the wish -of Richard Moniplies in <span class='it'>The Fortunes of Nigel</span>, that -he had his opponent in Bearford’s Park. But to return -to Provost Drummond. He was once with Dr. Thomas -Somerville, then a young man, in Dr. Jardine’s house, -above mentioned. They were looking at the prospect, -perhaps watching the vagaries of the audacious swans. -“You, Mr. Somerville,” said the Provost, “are a young -man and may probably live, though I will not, to see all -these fields covered with houses, forming a splendid -and magnificent city,” all which in due time was to -come about. Dr. Somerville tells us this story in his -<span class='it'>My Own Life and Times</span>, a work still important for the -history of the period. All this building has not destroyed -the peculiar characteristic of Edinburgh scenery. -It is still true that “From the crowded city we behold -the undisturbed dwellings of the Hare and the -Heath fowl; from amidst the busy hum of men we -<span class='pageno' title='272' id='Page_272'></span> -look on recesses where the sound of the human voice -has but rarely penetrated, on mountains surrounding -a great metropolis, which rear their mighty heads in -solitude and silence.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i316.jpg' alt='Portrait of Rev. Thomas Somerville' id='iid-0032' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>REV. THOMAS SOMERVILLE</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From a Photograph in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>What pleases me more in this -scenery is that it is so perfectly characteristic of the -country, so purely Scottish . . . No man in Edinburgh -can for a moment forget that he is in Scotland.” It is -almost startling to look up from the grime of the -Canongate to the solitary nooks of Arthur’s Seat, though -the sea of houses spreads miles around. Whatever -scenic effects remain, the historical effects of the -landscape are vanished. With what various emotions -the crowd from every point of vantage must have -watched Dundee’s progress along the Lang Gate to -his interview with the Duke of Gordon on the Castle -rock! And the town was not much changed when, rather -more than half a century afterwards, the citizens, -some of them the same, watched, after the affair at Coltbridge, -the dragoons gallop along the same north ridge -in headlong flight, a sight which promptly disposed -the townsfolk’s minds in the direction of surrender. -One gloomy tragedy of the year 1717 affords a curious -illustration of this command of prospect. A road -called Gabriel’s Road once ran from the little hamlet of -Silvermills on the Water of Leith southward to where -the Register House now stands. Formerly you crossed -the dam which bounded the east end of the Nor’ Loch, -and by the port at the bottom of Halkerston’s Wynd -you entered old Edinburgh just as you might enter -it now by the North Bridge, though at a very different -level. To-day Gabriel’s Road still appears in the -street directory, but it is practically a short flight of -<span class='pageno' title='273' id='Page_273'></span> -steps and a back way to a collection of houses. In the -year mentioned a certain Robert Irvine, a probationer -of the church, on or near this road, cruelly murdered -his two pupils, little boys, and sons of Mr. Gordon of -Ellom, whose only offence was some childish gossip -about their preceptor. The instrument was a penknife, -and the second boy fled shrieking when he saw the fate -of his brother, but was pursued and killed by Irvine, -whom you might charitably suppose to be at least partially -insane were not deeds of ferocious violence too -common in old Scots life. The point of the story for us -is that the tragedy was clearly seen by a great number -from the Old Town, though they were powerless -to prevent. The culprit was forthwith seized, and as he -was taken red-handed, was executed two days after by -the authorities of Broughton, within whose territory -the crime had occurred. His hands were previously -hacked off with the knife, the instrument of his crime. -The reverend sinner made a specially edifying end, not -unnaturally a mark of men of his cloth. In 1570, John -Kelloe, minister of Spott, near Dunbar, had, for any or -no reason, murdered his wife. So well had he managed -the affair that no one suspected him, but after six -weeks his conscience forced him to make a clean breast -of the matter. He was strangled and burned at the -Gallow Lee, between Edinburgh and Leith. His behaviour -at the end was all that could be desired. It -strikes you as overdone, but from the folk of the time -it extorted a certain admiration. The authorities were -as cruel as the criminals. A boy burns down a house -and he is himself burned alive at the Cross as an example. -In 1675 two striplings named Clarke and Ramsay, -<span class='pageno' title='274' id='Page_274'></span> -seventeen and fifteen years old, robbed and poisoned -their master, an old man named Anderson. His -nephew, Sir John Clerk of Penicuik, warned by a recurring dream, -set off for Edinburgh, and instituted investigations -which led to the discovery of the crime. -The youthful culprits were hanged “both in regard to -the theft clearly proven and for terror that the Italian -trick of sending men to the other world in figs and possits -might not come overseas to our Island.” Now and -again there is a redeeming touch in the dark story. In -1528 there was an encounter between the Douglases -and the Hamiltons at Holyrood Palace. A groom of -the Earl of Lennox spied Sir James Hamilton of Finnart, -who had slain his master, among the crowd. He -presently attacked Sir James in a narrow gallery, and -wounded him in six places, though none was mortal. -The groom was discovered and dragged off to torture -and mutilation. His right hand was hacked off; whereupon -“he observed with a sarcastic smile that it was -punished less than it deserved for having failed to revenge -his beloved master.” I have mentioned the Gallow -Lee between Edinburgh and Leith. It was the -chosen spot for the execution of witches, and for the -hanging in chains of great criminals. The hillock was -composed of very excellent sand. When the New -Town was built it had been long disused as a place of -execution, and the owner of the soil had no difficulty -in disposing of a long succession of cartloads to the -builders. He insisted on immediate payment and immediately -spent the money at an adjacent tavern, maintained -if not instituted for his special benefit. He drank -to the last grain as well as to the last drop and vanishes -<span class='pageno' title='275' id='Page_275'></span> -from history, the most extreme and consistent -of countless Edinburgh topers!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have still something illustrative to say of prisoners. -When Deacon Brodie was executed, 1st October 1788, -his abnormal fortitude was supposed to ground itself -on an expectation that he would only be half hanged, -would be resuscitated, and conveyed away a free man. -He seems to have devised some plan to this end, but -“the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men,” we are told on -good authority, “aft gang agley,” and so it was here. -Edinburgh has one or two instances of revival. On the -18th February 1594-95, Hercules Stewart was hanged -at the Cross for his concern in the crimes of his relative -the Earl of Bothwell. He was an object of popular -sympathy, as believed to be “ane simple gentleman -and not ane enterpriser.” The body, after being cut -down, was carried to the Tolbooth to be laid out, “but -within a little space he began to recover, and moved -somewhat, and might by appearance have lived. The -ministers being advertised hereof went to the King -to procure for his life, but they had already given a -new command to strangle him with all speed, so that -no man durst speak in the contrary.” There was not -much encouragement to be got from this story. Yet -a woman some generations afterwards had better fortune—the -very name of “half-hangit Maggie Dixon” -of itself explains the legend. She was strung up for -child-murder in the Grassmarket, and her body had -a narrow escape from being carried off by a party of -medical students to the dissecting room, as it was put -in a cart and jolted off landward. Those in charge -stopped before a little change-house for refreshment, -<span class='pageno' title='276' id='Page_276'></span> -however, and when they came forth, Maggie sat upright -in the cart, very much alive and kicking. Apparently -she lived happy ever after. She was married, -had children, and, no doubt, looked upon herself as a -public character. Was it only popular imagination that -perceived a certain twist in the neck of the good lady? -Many famous men perished on Edinburgh scaffolds, -and many more filled the Edinburgh prisons, were -they Castle or Tolbooths, namely, the Heart of Midlothian -cheek by jowl with St. Giles’, or the quaint smaller -one, which still stands in the Canongate. The anecdotes -of prisoners are numerous. Here is one lighter -and less grimy than the bulk. When Principal Carstares -was warded in the Castle in 1685, a charming -youth of twelve years, son of Erskine of Cambo, came -to his prison daily, and brought him fruit to relieve -the monotony of the fare, and what to a scholar was -just as essential, pen, ink, and paper. He ran his errands -and sat by the open grating for hours. After the -revolution “the Cardinal” was all-powerful in Scots -matters; he did not forget his young friend, and procured -him the post of Lord Lyon King at Arms, but -the family were out in the ’15, and the dignity was -forfeit. You gather from this pleasing story that prison -life in Edinburgh had its alleviations, also escapes were -numerous. In 1607, Lord Maxwell was shut up in the -Castle, and there also was Sir James Macdonald from -the Hebrides. They made the keepers drunk, got their -swords from them by a trick, and locked them safely -away. The porter made a show of resistance. “False -knave,” cried Maxwell, “open the yett, or I shall hew -thee in bladds” (pieces), and he would have done it -<span class='pageno' title='277' id='Page_277'></span> -you believe! They got out of the Castle, climbed over -the town wall at the West Port, and hid in the suburbs. -Macdonald could not get rid of his fetters, and was -ignominiously taken in a dung-hill where he was lurking; -Maxwell made for the Border on a swift horse, -and remained at large, in spite of the angry proclamations -of the King. James Grant of Carron had committed -so many outrages on Speyside that the authorities, -little as they recked of what went on “benorth -the mont,” determined to “gar ane devil ding another.” -Certain men, probably of the same reputation as himself, -had undertaken to bring him in dead or alive. He -and his fellows were in fact captured. The latter were -speedily executed, but he was kept for two years in -the Castle, and you cannot now guess wherefor. One -day he observed from his prison window a former neighbour, -Grant of Tomnavoulen, passing by. “What -news from Speyside?” asked the captive. “None very -particular,” was the reply; “the best is that the country -is rid of you.” “Perhaps we shall meet again,” quoth -James cheerfully. Presently his wife conveyed to him -what purported to be a cask of butter, in fact it held -some very serviceable rope, and so in the night of the -15th October 1632 the prisoner lowered himself over -the Castle wall, and was soon again perambulating -Speyside, where, you guess, his reception was of a -mixed description.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the escapes of the eighteenth century I pick -out two, both from the Heart of Midlothian. One was -that of Catherine Nairn in 1766. She had poisoned her -husband, and was the mistress of his brother. She was -brought to Leith from the north in an open boat, and -<span class='pageno' title='278' id='Page_278'></span> -shut up in the Tolbooth. The brother, who had been an -officer in the army, was executed in the Grassmarket, -but judgment was respited in the case of the lady on the -plea of pregnancy. She escaped by changing clothes -with the midwife, who was supposed to be suffering -from severe toothache. She howled so loudly as she -went out, that she almost overdid the part. The keeper -cursed her for a howling old Jezebel, and wished he -might never see her again. Possibly he was in the business -himself. The lady had various exciting adventures -before she reached a safe hiding-place, almost -blundered, in fact, into the house of her enemies. She -finally left the town in a postchaise, whose driver had -orders, if he were pursued, to drive into the sea and -drown his fare as if by accident, and thus make a summary -end of one whose high-placed relatives were only -assisting her for the sake of the family name. The levity -of her conduct all through excited the indignation -and alarm of those who had charge of her; perhaps she -was hysterical. She got well off to France, where she -married a gentleman of good position, and ended “virtuous -and fortunate.” This seems the usual fate of the -lady criminal; either her experience enables her to -capture easily the male victim, or her adventures give -her an unholy attraction in the eyes of the multitude. -She is rarely an inveterate law-breaker, as she learns -from bitter experience that honesty and virtue are -the more agreeable policies. Other than wealthy and -well-connected criminals escaped. In 1783 James Hay -lay in the condemned hold for burglary. Hay and -his father filled the keeper drunk. Old Hay, by imitating -the drawl of the keeper uttering the stereotyped -<span class='pageno' title='279' id='Page_279'></span> -formula of ‘turn your hand,’ procured the opening -of the outer door, and the lad was off like a hare -into the night. With a fine instinct of the romantic he -hid himself in “Bluidy Mackenzie’s” tomb, held as -haunted by all Edinburgh. He was an “auld callant” -of Heriot’s Hospital, which rises just by old Greyfriars’, -and the boys supplied him with food in the night-time. -When the hue and cry had quieted down, he -crawled out, escaped, and in due time, it was whispered, -began a new life under other skies. Probably the ghostly -reputation of that stately mausoleum in Greyfriars’ -Churchyard was more firmly established than ever. -What could be the cause of those audible midnight -mutterings, if not the restless ghost of the persecuting -Lord Advocate?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As drinking was <span class='it'>the</span> staple amusement of old Edinburgh, -“the Ladies” was naturally the most popular -toast: a stock one was, “All absent friends, all ships at -sea, and the auld pier at Leith.” This last was not so -ridiculous as might be supposed, for it was famous in -Scott’s song, <span class='it'>teste</span> the only Robin, to name but him, -and Scots law, for it was one of the stock places at which -fugitives were cited, as witness godly Mr. Alexander -Peden himself. The toastmakers were hard put to it -sometimes for sentiments. A well-known story relates -how one unfortunate gentleman could think of nothing -better than “the reflection of the mune on the calm -bosom o’ the lake.” As absurd is the story of the antiquary -who sat at his potations in a tavern in the old -Post Office Close on the night of 8th February 1787. -Suddenly he burst into tears; he had just remembered -on that very day “twa hunner year syne Queen Mary -<span class='pageno' title='280' id='Page_280'></span> -was beheaded.” His plight was scarce so bad as that -of the shadow or hanger-on of Driver clerk to the -famous Andrew Crosbie, otherwise Counsellor Pleydell. -The name of this satellite was Patrick Nimmo. -He was once mistaken, when found dead drunk in the -morning after the King’s birthday, for the effigy of -Johnnie Wilkes which had been so loyally and thoroughly -kicked about by the mob on the previous evening. -One of his cronies wrote or rather spoke his epitaph -in this fashion: “Lord, is he dead at last! Weel, -that’s strange indeed. I drank sax half mutchkins wi’ -him doun at the Hens only three nichts syn! Bring -us a biscuit wi’ the next gill, mistress. Rab was aye -fond o’ bakes.” Of course the scene was a tavern, and -the memory of poor Rob was at least an excuse for -another dram.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is not very genial merry-making, but geniality -is never the characteristic note of Scots humour from -the earliest times. In 1575 the Regent Morton kept -a fool named Patrick Bonney, who, seeing his master -pestered by a crowd of beggars, advised him to throw -them all into one fire. Even Morton was horrified. -“Oh,” said the jester coolly, “if all these poor people -were burned you would soon make more poor people -out of the rich.” No wonder the old-time fools were -frequently whipped. The precentor and the beadle -were in some ways successors of the old-time fool.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i325.jpg' alt='Portrait of William Smellie' id='iid-0033' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>WILLIAM SMELLIE</span><br/> <span style='font-size:smaller'>From an Engraving after George Watson</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Thomas Neil fulfilled the first office in old Greyfriars’ -in the time of Erskine and Robertson. He could turn -out a very passable coffin, and did some small business -that way which made him look forward to the -decease of friends with a not unmixed sorrow. “Hech, -<span class='pageno' title='281' id='Page_281'></span> -man, but ye smell sair o’ earth,” was his cheerful greeting -to a sick friend. One forenoon the then Nisbet of -Dirleton met him in the High Street rather tipsy. -Even the dissipation of old Edinburgh had its laws, -and the country gentleman pointed out that the precentor’s -position made such conduct improper. “I just -tak’ it when I can get it,” said Neil, with a leer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the wits of old Edinburgh hit hard. Alexander -Douglas, W.S., was known as “dirty Douglas.” He -spoke about going to a ball, but he did not wish it reported -that he attended such assemblies. “Why, Douglas,” -said Patrick Robertson, “put on a well-brushed -coat and a clean shirt and nobody will know you.” -Andrew Johnson, a teacher of Greek and Hebrew, -combined in himself many of the characteristics of -Dominie Sampson. He averred that Job never was a -schoolmaster, otherwise we should not have heard so -much about his patience. He was on principle against -the sweeping of rooms. “Cannot you let the dust lie -quietly?” he would say. “Why wear out the boards -rubbing them so?” He wished to marry the daughter -of rich parents though he had no money himself. The -father objected his want of means. “Oh dear, that is nothing,” -was the confident answer. “You have plenty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stage occupied a very small place in the history -of old Edinburgh. We know that a company from -London were there in the time of James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> It is just -possible that Shakespeare may have been one of its -members, and again when the Duke of York, afterwards -James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VII.</span> and <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, was in Edinburgh a company -of English actors were at his court. Dryden has various -satiric lines on their performances, in which he -<span class='pageno' title='282' id='Page_282'></span> -has some more or less passable gibes at that ancient -theme, so sadly out of date in our own day, the -poverty of the Scots nation. It is but scraps of stage -anecdotes that you pick up. Once when a barber was -shaving Henry Erskine he received the news that his -wife had presented him with a son. He forthwith decreed -that the child should be called Henry Erskine -Johnson. The boy afterwards became an actor, and -was known as the Scottish Roscius; his favourite part -was young Norval—of course from <span class='it'>Douglas</span>. The audience -beheld with sympathy or derision the venerable -author blubbering in the boxes, and declaring -that only now had his conception of the character -been realised.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the time of the French Revolution one or two of -the Edinburgh sympathisers attempted a poor imitation -of French methods. A decent shopkeeper rejoicing -to be known as “Citizen M.” had put up at “The -Black Bull.” He told the servant girl to call him in -time for the Lauder coach. “But mind ye,” says he, -“when ye chap at the door, at no hand maun ye say ‘Mr. -M., its time to rise,’ but ye maun say, ‘Ceetizan, equal -rise’.” The girl had forgotten the name by the morning, -and could only call out, “Equal rise.” Of one like him -it was reported, according to the story of an old lady, -that he “erekit a gulliteen in his back court and gulliteen’d -a’ his hens on’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The silly conceited fool is not rare anywhere, but -only occasionally are his sayings or doings amusing. -Harry Erskine’s elder brother the Earl of Buchan was -as well known in Edinburgh as himself. He certainly -had brains, but was very pompous and puffed up. -<span class='pageno' title='283' id='Page_283'></span> -When Sir David Brewster was a young man and only -beginning to make his name a paper of his on optics -was highly spoken of. “You see, I revised it,” said the -Earl with sublime conceit. Asked if he had been at the -church of St. George’s in the forenoon, “No,” he said, -“but my mits are left on the front pew of the gallery. -When the congregation see them they are pleased to -think that the Earl of Buchan is there.” He believed -himself irresistible with the other sex. He thus addressed -a handsome young lady: “Good-bye, my dear, -but pray remember that Margaret, Countess of Buchan, -is not immortal.” An article in the <span class='it'>Edinburgh Review</span> -once incurred his displeasure, so he laid the offending -number down in the hall, ordered his footmen -to open the front door of his house in George Street, -and then solemnly kicked out the offending journal. -When Scott was ill, Lockhart tells us the Earl composed -a discourse to be read at his funeral and brought -it down to read to the sick man, but he was denied admittance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Scots have always been noted for taking themselves -seriously. <span class='it'>Nemo me impune lacessit</span> is no empty -boast. In Charles the Second’s time the Bishop of -St. Asaph had written a treatise to show that the antiquity -of the royal race was but a devout imagination; -that the century and more of monarchs of the royal -line of Fergus were for the most part mere myth and -shadow. Sir George Mackenzie grimly hinted that -had my Lord been a Scots subject, it might have been -his unpleasant duty to indict him for high treason.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An earlier offender felt the full rigour of the law. -In 1618 Thomas Ross had gone from the north to -<span class='pageno' title='284' id='Page_284'></span> -study at Oxford. He wrote a libel on the Scots nation -and pinned it to the door of St. Mary’s Church. He -was good enough to except the King and a few others, -but the remaining Caledonians were roundly, not to -say scurrilously, rated. Possibly the thing was popular -with those about him, but the King presently discovered -in it a deep design to stir up the English to -massacre the Scots. Ross was seized and packed off -to Edinburgh for trial. Too late the unfortunate man -saw his error or his danger. His plea of partial temporary -insanity availed him not, his right hand was struck -off and then he was beheaded and quartered, his head -was stuck on the Netherbow Port and his hand at the -West Port. To learn him for his tricks, no doubt!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great feature of old Edinburgh from the days -of Allan Ramsay to those of Sir Walter Scott was the -Clubs. These, you will understand, were not at all like -the clubs of to-day, of which the modern city possesses -a good number, political and social—institutions that -inhabit large and stately premises with all the usual -properties. The old Edinburgh club was a much simpler -affair. It was a more or less formal set who met -in a favourite tavern, ate, drank, and talked for some -hours and then went their respective ways. Various -writers have preserved the quaint names of many of -these clubs, and given us a good deal of information -on the subject. When you think of the famous men -that were members, the talk, you believe, was worth -hearing, but the memory of it has well-nigh perished, -even as the speakers themselves, and bottle wit is as -evanescent as that which produced it. The extant -jokes seem to us of the thinnest. The Cape Club was -<span class='pageno' title='285' id='Page_285'></span> -named, it is said, from the difficulty one of its members -found in reaching home. When he got out at the -Netherbow Port he had to make a sharp turn to the -left, and so along Leith Wynd. He was confused with -talk and liquor, and he found some difficulty in “doubling -the cape,” as it was called. Perhaps the obstacle -lay on the other side of the Netherbow. The keeper -had a keen eye for small profits, and was none too hasty -in making the way plain either out of or into the city. -Allan Ramsay felt the difficulty when he and his fellows -lingered too long at Luckie Wood’s—</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Which aften cost us mony a gill</p> -<p class='line0'>  To Aikenhead.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Of this club Fergusson the poet was a member. Is -it not commemorated in his verse? Fergusson was catholic -in his tastes. Johnnie Dowie’s in Libberton’s -Wynd has been already mentioned in these pages. -Here was to be met Paton the antiquary, and here in -later days came Robert Burns, but indeed who did -not at some time or other frequent this famous tavern? -noted for its Nor’ Loch trout and its ale—that justly -lauded Edinburgh ale of Archibald Younger, whose -brewery was in Croft-an-righ, hard by Holyrood. The -Crochallan Fencibles which met in the house of Dawney -Douglas in the Anchor Close is chiefly known for -its memories of Burns. Here he had his famous wit -contest with Smellie, his printer, whose printing office -was in the same close, so that neither Burns nor he -had far to go after the compounding or correcting of -proofs. We picture Smellie to ourselves as a rough old -Scot, unshaven and unshorn, with rough old clothes—his -“caustic wit was biting rude,” and Burns confessed -<span class='pageno' title='286' id='Page_286'></span> -its power. The poet praises the warmth and -benevolence of his heart, and we need not rake in the -ashes to discover his long-forgotten failings. William -Smellie was another William Nicol. There was a touch -of romance about the name of the club. It meant in -Gaelic Colin’s cattle; there was a mournful Gaelic air -and song and tradition attached to it. Colin’s wife had -died young, but returned from the spirit world, and -was seen on summer evenings, a scarce mortal shape, -tending his cattle. Perhaps some antiquarian Scot -or learned German will some day delight the curious -with a monograph on the word Crochallan, but as yet -the legend awaits investigation. Some of the clubs -were “going strong” in the early years of the nineteenth -century. There was a Friday Club founded in -June 1803 which met at various places in the New -Town. Brougham made the punch, and it was fearfully -and wonderfully made. Lord Cockburn is its -historian. He has some caustic sentences, as when he -talks of Abercrombie’s “contemptible stomach,” and -says George Cranstoun, Lord Corehouse, “is one of -the very few persons who have not been made stupid -by being made a Judge.” This Friday Club was imitated -in the Bonally Friday Club, which met twice a -year at Bonally House, where Lord Cockburn lived. -It was in its prime about 1842. Candidates for admission -were locked up in a dark room well provided with -stools and chairs—not to sit on, but to tumble over! -The members dressed themselves up in skins of tigers -and leopards and what not, and each had a penny -trumpet. Among these the candidate was brought in -blindfold, had first to listen to a solemn, pompous address, -<span class='pageno' title='287' id='Page_287'></span> -“then the bandage was removed and a spongeful -of water dashed in his face. In a moment the -wild beasts capered about, the masked actors danced -around him, and the penny trumpets were lustily -blown. The whole scene was calculated to strike awe -and amazement into the mind of the new member.” -It would require a good deal of witty talk to make up -for such things. I shall not pursue this tempting but -disappointing subject further. I have touched sufficiently -on the proceedings of the Edinburgh clubs.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:0.75em;'>Here let fall the curtain.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='289' id='Page_289'></span><h1>INDEX</h1></div> - -<div class="index1"> -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Adam, Dr. Alexander, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Anne, Queen, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Argyll, Earl of, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Argyll, Marquis of, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Arnot, Hugo, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Art Associations, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Arthur’s Seat, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_186'>186</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Assembly Rooms, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Auchinleck, Lord, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Aytoun, Professor, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Baillie of Jerviswood, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Baillie, Matthew, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Barclay, Dr. John, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Barnard, Lady Anne, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Bells, the, surgeons, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Bennet, John, surgeon, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Blackie, Professor, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>.</p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Blackwood’s Magazine</span>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Blair, Dr. Hugh, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Blair, Lord President, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>“Blue Blanket,” the, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Bluegowns, the, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Body-snatching, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Boswell, James, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Botanical Gardens, Royal, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Bough, Sam, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Braxfield, Lord, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Brodie, Deacon, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Brougham, Lord, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Brown, Dr. John, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Buchan, Earl of, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Buchanan, George, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Burke and Hare murders, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Burnet, Bishop, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Burns, Robert, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Caddies, the, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Calton Hill, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cameron, Richard, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Campbell, Thomas, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Candlish, Dr., <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Canongate, the, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Carlyle, Dr. Alexander, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Carlyle, Thomas, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Carstares, Principal, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Castle, the, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Chairmen, the, <a href='#Page_248'>248</a>, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Chalmers, Dr., <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Chambers, Robert, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Charles <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Charles, Prince, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Chiesly of Dalry, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Christison, Sir Robert, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Claverhouse. <span class='it'>See</span> Dundee.</p> -<p class='line'>Clerks of Eldin, the, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Clerks of Penicuik, the, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Clubs and taverns, Edinburgh, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a>, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cockburn, Lord, <a href='#Page_5'>5</a>, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cockburn, Mrs., <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Coltheart, Thomas, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Constable, publisher, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Covenant, the, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Creech, Lord Provost, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cromwell, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cross, the, of Edinburgh, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cullen, Dr., <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Cullen, Lord, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Dalzel, Professor, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Dalzell of Binns, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Darnley, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>David <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Deas, Lord, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Deid Chack, the, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>De Quincey, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Douglas, Gawin, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Douglas, Margaret, Duchess of, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Dowie, Johnnie, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Drinking habits, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Drummond of Hawthornden, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Duels, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Duff, Jamie, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Dunbar, Professor, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Dundee, Viscount, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Edinburgh Review</span>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Edinburgh underworld, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Eldin, Lord, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Elliot, Miss Jean, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Erskine, Henry, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Erskine, Dr. John, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Eskgrove, Lord, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Executions, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Fergusson, Robert, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Fergusson, Sir William, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Flodden Wall, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Forbes, Lord President, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Fountainhall, Lord, <a href='#Page_5'>5</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Gabriel’s Road, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Geddes, Jenny, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>George <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>George <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>George Street, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Grassmarket, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_227'>227</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Gregory, Dr., <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Greyfriars, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Guard, Town, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Guthrie, the Covenanter, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Guthrie, the preacher, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Haddington, Earl of, <a href='#Page_5'>5</a>, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Hailes, Lord, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Hamilton, Sir William, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Harvey, Sir George, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Heart of Midlothian. <span class='it'>See</span> Tolbooth.</p> -<p class='line'>Henley, W. E., <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Heriot, George, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Hermand, Lord, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>High School, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>High Street, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Hogg, Ettrick Shepherd, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Holyrood, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Home, John, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Hume, David, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Infirmary, Royal, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Inglis, Lord President, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Irving, Edward, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>IV.</span>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>V.</span>, <a href='#Page_4'>4</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VI.</span> and <span style='font-size:smaller'>I.</span>, <a href='#Page_5'>5</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>James <span style='font-size:smaller'>VII.</span> and <span style='font-size:smaller'>II.</span>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Jamesone, George, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Jeffrey, Lord, <a href='#Page_4'>4</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Johnson, Dr., <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Johnstone, Sophy, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Jonson, Ben, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Kames, Lord, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Knox, Dr., anatomist, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Knox, John, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Laing, Dr. David, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Lang Gate, the, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Lawnmarket, the, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Leighton, Archbishop, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Leith, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Leith, legends of, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Leslie, Sir John, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Leyden, John, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Lindsay, David, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Liston, Robert, surgeon, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Lockhart, J. G., <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Lockhart, Lord President, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Logan, Sheriff, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Luckenbooths, the, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Macintyre, Duncan, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Mackenzie, Sir George, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Mackenzie, Henry, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Macmorran, Bailie, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>M‘Nab of M‘Nab, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Macnee, Sir Daniel, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Maitland, Secretary, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Margaret, St., <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Mary of Guise, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Mary, Queen, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Masson, Professor, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Melville, James, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Melville, Lord, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Monboddo, Lord, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Monros, the, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Morton, Earl of, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Nairne, Lady, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Netherbow, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Newton, Lord, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Nimmo, Peter, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Nisbet of Dirleton, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Nor’ Loch, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>North Berwick witches, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>North, Christopher (Professor Wilson), <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Parliament House, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_4'>4</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Physicians, Royal College of, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Pitcairne, Dr. Archibald, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_91'>91</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Pleydell, Counsellor, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Porteous, Captain, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Prestonpans, the battle of, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Queensberry, Duchess of, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Queensberry, Duke of, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Queen’s Maries, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Raeburn, Sir Henry, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Ramsay, Allan, painter, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Ramsay, Allan, poet, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Reformation, the, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Reformers, political, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Restoration, the, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Rizzio, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Roberts, David, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Robertson, Lord, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Robertson, Principal, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Ross, Thomas, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Ross, Walter, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Royal Exchange, the, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Ruddiman, Thomas, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Rule, Principal, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Sanctuary, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Scott, David, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Scott, Sir Walter, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Seizers, the, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Sharp, Archbishop, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Siddons, Mrs., <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Simpson, Sir James Y., <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Smellie, William, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Smith, Adam, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Smith, Sydney, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Smollett, Tobias, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>St. Giles, church of, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Stair, Lady, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Stair, Lord, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Stevenson, R. L., <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Stewart, Dugald, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Stewart, Sir James, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Strange, Sir Robert, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Street fights, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Students, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Surgeons, Royal College of, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Susanna, Countess of Eglinton, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Sweet singers, the, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Syme, James, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>“Syntax, Dr.,” <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Telfer, Mrs., <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Theatre, the, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Thomson of Duddingston, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>, <a href='#Page_186'>186</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Tolbooth, the (Heart of Midlothian), <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Town Council, the, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Tron Kirk, the, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Union, the, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>University, the, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Velasquez, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Victoria, Queen, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Walker, Patrick, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_248'>248</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Wallace, Lady, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Warriston, Johnston of, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Weather, the, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Webster, Dr. Alexander, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Wedderburn, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Weir, Major, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>West Bow, the, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_248'>248</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>West Port, the, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>White Rose of Scotland, the, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Wilkie, Sir David, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>William <span style='font-size:smaller'>III.</span>, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Wilson, Professor. <span class='it'>See</span> North, Christopher.</p> -<p class='line'>Wodrow, the historian, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_227'>227</a>.</p> -<p class='line'>Wood, Alexander, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;'><span class='ul'>SONGS & POEMS OF BURNS</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>With 36 fine Illustrations in Colour by eminent artists. Quarto, 600 pp., -buckram, <span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>; printed in fine rag paper, and bound in fine -vellum, <span class='bold'>21s. net</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>A handsome presentation edition of</span> The Songs and Poems of Burns, -<span class='it'>containing an appreciation of the poet by Lord Rosebery. While many -eminent artists have painted some of their finest pictures in depicting -scenes from Burns, no attempt has previously been made to collect these -within the bounds of an edition of his works. This new edition contains -most of the finest of these pictures reproduced in colour, and forms a most -admirable gift-book. The text is printed in black and red, with ample -margins, and no expense has been spared to make the work a finite presentation -edition. It may be added that everything in connection with -the production of the work is of purely Scottish manufacture.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;'><span class='ul'>SONGS OF THE WORLD</span></p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>Fcap. 8vo, <span class='bold'>2s. 6d. net</span>; in velvet Persian, <span class='bold'>3s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>In this series, attractively illustrated in colour and produced for presentation -purposes, are included such poets and song writers as may not -have reached the very first rank, but whose work is worthy of much -wider recognition.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>1. SONGS OF LADY NAIRNE</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>With 8 Illustrations in Colour of popular Scottish songs by <span class='sc'>J. -Crawhall</span>, <span class='sc'>K. Halswelle</span>, <span class='sc'>G. Ogilvy Reid</span>, R.S.A., and -eminent Scottish Artists.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>2. THE SCOTS POEMS OF ROBERT FERGUSSON</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>With 8 Illustrations in Colour by <span class='sc'>Monro S. Orr</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>3. SONGS & POEMS OF THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>With 8 Illustrations in Colour by <span class='sc'>Jessie M. King</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;'><span class='ul'>THE LIFE & CHARACTER SERIES</span></p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>THE KIRK AND ITS WORTHIES</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>By <span class='sc'>Nicholas Dickson</span>. Edited by <span class='sc'>D. Macleod Malloch</span>. With -16 Illustrations in Colour, depicting old Scottish life, by well-known -artists. Extra crown 8vo, 340 pp., buckram, <span class='bold'>5s. net</span>; leather, -<span class='bold'>7s. 6d. net</span>; vellum, <span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>MANSIE WAUCH</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>Life in a Scottish Village a hundred years ago. By <span class='sc'>D. M. Moir</span>. -New Edition. With 16 Illustrations in Colour by <span class='sc'>C. Martin Hardie</span>, -R.S.A. Extra crown 8vo, 360 pages, buckram, <span class='bold'>5s. net</span>; leather, -<span class='bold'>7s. 6d. net</span>; vellum, <span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Mansie Wauch stands among the great classics of Scottish life, such -as Dean Ramsay and Annals of the Parish. It faithfully portrays the -village life of Scotland at the beginning of last century in a humorous -and whimsical vein.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>ANNALS OF THE PARISH</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>By <span class='sc'>John Galt</span>. With 16 Illustrations in Colour by <span class='sc'>Henry W. Kerr</span>, -R.S.A. Extra crown 8vo, 316 pp., buckram, <span class='bold'>5s. net</span>; leather, -<span class='bold'>7s. 6d. net</span>; vellum, <span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Certainly no such picture of the life of Scotland during the closing -years of the 18th century has ever been written. He shows us with vivid -directness and reality what like were the quiet lives of leal folk, burghers, -and ministers, and country lairds a hundred years ago.</span>”—<span class='sc'>S. R. Crockett.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>SCOTTISH LIFE & CHARACTER</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>By <span class='sc'>Dean Ramsay</span>. New Edition, entirely reset. Containing 16 Illustrations -in Colour by <span class='sc'>Henry W. Kerr</span>, R.S.A. Extra crown 8vo, -400 pp., buckram, <span class='bold'>5s. net</span>; leather, <span class='bold'>7s. 6d. net</span>; vellum, -<span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>This great storehouse of Scottish humour is undoubtedly “the best book -on Scottish life and character ever written.” This edition owes much -of its success to the superb illustrations of Mr. H. W. Kerr, R.S.A.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>THE BOOK OF EDINBURGH ANECDOTE</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>By <span class='sc'>Francis Watt</span>, Joint-Author of “Scotland of To-day,” etc. etc. -With 32 Portraits in Collotype. Extra crown 8vo, 312 pp., buckram, -<span class='bold'>5s. net</span>; leather, <span class='bold'>7s. 6d. net</span>; parchment, <span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>THE BOOK OF GLASGOW ANECDOTE</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='noindent'>By <span class='sc'>D. Macleod Malloch</span>. With a Frontispiece in Colour and 32 -Portraits in Collotype. Extra crown 8vo, 400 pp., buckram, <span class='bold'>5s. net</span>; -leather, <span class='bold'>7s. 6d. net</span>; parchment, <span class='bold'>10s. 6d. net</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>T. N. FOULIS, PUBLISHER, 91 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, LONDON, W.C.; 15 FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'>Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class='noindent'>Some portraits have been moved slightly to keep paragraphs and sentences intact.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>Numbered blank pages between the end of one chapter and beginning -of the next have not been retained. In the html version of the eBook, this has resulted in gaps -in page numbers between end of a chapter and beginning of the next chapter but no content -is missing from the ebook.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>Spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original. A few punctuation and -typesetting errors have been corrected without note.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>[End of <span class='it'>The Book of Edinburgh Anecdote</span> by Francis Watt]</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF EDINBURGH ANECDOTE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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