Chapter 2 of 22 · 3878 words · ~19 min read

Part 2

Map of Edinburgh, Old and New xxvi

A series of towers rising from a palace on the plain to a castle in the air _Colour Drawing_ 1

White Hart Inn, Grassmarket ” ” 2

Newhaven Fishwife ” ” 4

Rouping-Wife ” ” 9

The Castle-Hill ” ” 11

Duke of Gordon’s House ” ” 18

The Bowhead ” ” 27

Grassmarket, from west end of Cowgate ” ” 50

Edinburgh, from the Calton Hill ” ” 83

St Giles, West Window ” ” 105

Heriot’s Hospital, from Greyfriars Churchyard ” ” 113

A Suggestion of the North Loch and St Cuthbert’s, from Allan Ramsay’s Garden ” ” 117

The Parliament House ” ” 128

‘Auld Reekie,’ from Largo ” ” 152

Upper Baxter’s Close, where Burns first resided in Edinburgh ” ” 164

White Horse Inn ” ” 170

Forenoon at the Cross ” ” 174

The Town-Guard ” ” 179

The Castle, from Princes Street ” ” 214

Blackfriars Wynd ” ” 228

The Cowgate ” ” 240

Old Houses, College Wynd (near here Sir Walter Scott was born) ” ” 242

John Knox’s Manse ” ” 274

Greyfriars Churchyard ” ” 288

St John’s Close, Entrance to Canongate Kilwinning Mason Lodge ” ” 305

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The objects of interest between the Castle and Holyrood are grouped topographically in the following list, with references to the Map.

West Bow CC| LAWNMARKET D| Mylne’s Court 8 Angle of Bow Z| Tolbooth e| James’s Court 10 Riddel’s Close 7| Luckenbooths f| Lady Stair’s Close 12 Brodie’s Close 9| St Giles’ | Upper Baxter’s 14 Old Bank Close 11| {Haddo’s Hole Church g| Close Liberton’s Wynd 13| {Tolbooth Church h| Wardrop’s Court 16 | {Old Church | Paterson’s Court 18 | {New Church |

EDINBURGH OLD AND NEW.

In the map the streets and buildings printed in black represent the historic Old Town; those in red indicate not merely the ‘New Town’ to the north, specifically so called, but some part of the alterations, additions, and extensions round the ancient nucleus that have gone to constitute the Edinburgh of the present day.

[Illustration: Map]

KEY TO THE STREETS AND BUILDINGS NOT NAMED ON MAP.

Acheson House 67 Allan Ramsay’s House a Anchor Close 32 Angle of Bow Z Assembly Close 25 Back Stairs 21 Bailie Fife’s Close 44 Bank of Scotland red F Beith’s or Bess Wynd 17 Bell’s Wynd 27 Blackfriars Wynd 41 Blair’s or Baird’s Close 1 Blyth’s Close 2 Bristo N Bristo Port O Brodie’s Close 9 Brown’s Close 3 Byres’s Close 22 Calton Burying-Ground t Candlemaker Row T Canongate Church 58 Canongate Churchyard q Cant’s Close 37 Carrubber’s Close 42 Castlehill B Castlehill Walk or Esplanade A Castle Wynd 74 Chalmers’ Close 46 Chessels’s Court 53 College Wynd 71 Council Chambers red G County Buildings red I Court of Session red K Cowgate J J Cowgate Port L Cross x Dickson’s Close 35 Dunbar’s Close 20 Established Church Assembly Hall red h Fishmarket Close 23 Fleshmarket m Fleshmarket Close 88 Free Library red L General Post-Office red E Golfers’ Land 62 Gordon’s (Duke of) House b Greenmarket n Guard House i Halkerston’s Wynd 40 Heriot’s Hospital V Heriot-Watt College red n n High School Wynd 72 High Street E E Holyrood G Hope’s Close 15 Horse Wynd 70 Hyndford’s Close 47 Jack’s Land 54 Jackson’s Close 36 James’s Court 10 John Knox’s Manse p Lady Stair’s Close 12 Lauriston M M Lawnmarket D Leith Wynd 48 Liberton’s Wynd 13 Luckenbooths f Lyon Close 34 Magdalen Chapel 66 Marlin’s Wynd 31 Mary King’s Close 28 Mary of Guise’s House, Site of c Mint Close 45 Mint, The Old o Moray House 63 Morocco’s Land 50 Mutrie’s Hill u Mylne’s Court 8 Nairn’s Close 4 Nether Bow Port F New Street 52 Niddry’s Wynd 33 Old Bank Close 11 Old Playhouse Close 57 Panmure House 60 Parliament Close 19 Parliament House k Paterson’s Court 18 Peebles Wynd 29 Pleasance R Portsburgh H Post-Office Close 80 Potterrow P Potterrow Port Q Queensberry House 69 Register House red A Riddel’s Close 7 Royal Exchange 26 Royal Infirmary K Royal Scottish Academy Galleries red B St Cecilia’s Hall, Site of l St Giles’— Haddo’s Hole Church g Tolbooth Church h St John’s Close 59 St John’s Street 61 St Mary’s Wynd 51 Scottish National Gallery red C Scott’s (Sir Walter) Monument red D Sheriff Court House red M Speaking House 65 S.S.C. Library red J Strichen’s Close 39 Surgeons’ Hall red o Tailors’ Hall 68 Todrick’s Wynd 43 Tod’s Close 6 Tolbooth e Tolbooth Wynd 56 Trinity College Church S Tron Church j Tweeddale Court 49 Upper Baxter’s Close 14 Wardrop’s Court 16 Water Gate r Webster’s Close 5 Weigh-House d Weir’s Close 55 West Bow C C West Port I White Hart Inn 73 White Horse Inn 64 Writers’ Court 24

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[Illustration: A series of towers rising from a palace on the plain to a castle in the air.

PAGE 1.]

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TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH.

THE CHANGES OF THE LAST HUNDRED YEARS.

[1745-1845.]

[Illustration: Fortified Gate, Nether Bow Port, from Canongate.]

Edinburgh was, at the beginning of George III.’s reign, a picturesque, odorous, inconvenient, old-fashioned town, of about seventy thousand inhabitants. It had no court, no factories, no commerce; but there was a nest of lawyers in it, attending upon the Court of Session; and a considerable number of the Scotch gentry—one of whom then passed as rich with a thousand a year—gave it the benefit of their presence during the winter. Thus the town had lived for some ages, during which political discontent and division had kept the country poor. A stranger approaching the city, seeing it piled ‘close and massy, deep and high’—a series of towers, rising from a palace on the plain to a castle in the air—would have thought it a truly romantic place; and the impression would not have subsided much on a near inspection, when he would have found himself admitted by a fortified gate through an ancient wall, still kept in repair. Even on entering the one old street of which the city chiefly consisted, he would have seen much to admire—houses of substantial architecture and lofty proportions, mingled with more lowly, but also more arresting wooden fabrics; a huge and irregular, but venerable Gothic church, surmounted by an aërial crown of masonry; finally, an esplanade towards the Castle, from which he could have looked abroad upon half a score of counties, upon firth and fell, yea, even to the blue Grampians. Everywhere he would have seen symptoms of denseness of population; the open street a universal market; a pell-mell of people everywhere. The eye would have been, upon the whole, gratified, whatever might be the effect of the _clangor strepitusque_ upon the ear, or whatever might have been the private meditations of the nose. It would have only been on coming to close quarters, or to quarters at all, that our stranger would have begun to think of serious drawbacks from the first impression. For an inn, he would have had the White Horse, in a close in the Canongate; or the White Hart, a house which now appears like a carrier’s inn, in the Grassmarket. Or, had he betaken himself to a private lodging, which he would have probably done under the conduct of a ragged varlet, speaking more of his native Gaelic than English, he would have had to ascend four or five stories of a common stair, into the narrow chambers of some Mrs Balgray or Luckie Fergusson, where a closet-bed in the sitting-room would have been displayed as the most comfortable place in the world; and he would have had, for amusement, a choice between an extensive view of house-tops from the window and the study of a series of prints of the four seasons, a sampler, and a portrait of the Marquis of Granby, upon the wall.

[Illustration: House-tops.]

[Illustration: WHITE HART INN, GRASSMARKET.

PAGE 2.]

On being introduced into society, our stranger might have discovered cause for content with his lodging on finding how poorly off were the first people with respect to domestic accommodations. I can imagine him going to tea at Mr Bruce of Kennet’s, in Forrester’s Wynd—a country gentleman and a lawyer (not long after raised to the bench), yet happy to live with his wife and children in a house of fifteen pounds of rent, in a region of profound darkness and mystery, now no more. Had he got into familiar terms with the worthy lady of the mansion, he might have ascertained that they had just three rooms and a kitchen; one room, ‘my lady’s’—that is, the kind of parlour he was sitting in; another, a consulting-room for the gentleman; the third, a bedroom. The children, with their maid, had beds laid down for them at night in their father’s room; the housemaid slept under the kitchen dresser; and the one man-servant was turned at night out of the house. Had our friend chanced to get amongst tradespeople, he might have found Mr Kerr, the eminent goldsmith in the Parliament Square, stowing his _ménage_ into a couple of small rooms above his booth-like shop, plastered against the wall of St Giles’s Church; the nursery and kitchen, however, being placed in a cellar under the level of the street, where the children are said to have rotted off like sheep.

But indeed everything was on a homely and narrow scale. The College—where Munro, Cullen, and Black were already making themselves great names—was to be approached through a mean alley, the College Wynd. The churches were chiefly clustered under one roof; the jail was a narrow building, half-filling up the breadth of the street; the public offices, for the most part, obscure places in lanes and dark entries. The men of learning and wit, united with a proportion of men of rank, met as the _Poker Club_ in a tavern, the best of its day, but only a dark house in a close, to which our stranger could scarcely have made his way without a guide. In a similar situation across the way, he would have found, at the proper season, the _Assembly_; that is, a congregation of ladies met for dancing, and whom the gentlemen usually joined rather late, and rather merry. The only theatre was also a poor and obscure place in some indescribable part of the Canongate.

The town was, nevertheless, a funny, familiar, compact, and not unlikable place. Gentle and semple living within the compass of a single close, or even a single stair, knew and took an interest in each other.[1] Acquaintances might not only be formed, Pyramus-and-Thisbe fashion, through party-walls, but from window to window across alleys, narrow enough in many cases to allow of hand coming to hand, and even lip to lip. There was little elegance, but a vast amount of cheap sociality. Provokingly comical clubs, founded each upon one joke, were abundant. The ladies had tea-drinkings at the primitive hour of six, from which they cruised home under the care of a lantern-bearing, patten-shod lass; or perhaps, if a bad night, in Saunders Macalpine’s sedan-chair. Every forenoon, for several hours, the only clear space which the town presented—that around the Cross—was crowded with loungers of all ranks, whom it had been an amusement to the poet Gay to survey from the neighbouring windows of Allan Ramsay’s shop. The jostle and huddlement was extreme everywhere. Gentlemen and ladies paraded along in the stately attire of the period; tradesmen chatted in groups, often bareheaded, at their shop-doors; caddies whisked about, bearing messages, or attending to the affairs of strangers; children filled the kennel with their noisy sports. Add to all this, corduroyed men from Gilmerton, bawling coals or yellow sand, and spending as much breath in a minute as could have served poor asthmatic Hugo Arnot for a month; fishwomen crying their caller haddies from Newhaven; whimsicals and idiots going along, each with his or her crowd of listeners or tormentors; sootymen with their bags; town-guardsmen with their antique Lochaber axes; water-carriers with their dripping barrels; barbers with their hair-dressing materials; and so forth—and our stranger would have been disposed to acknowledge that, though a coarse and confused, it was a perfectly unique scene, and one which, once contemplated, was not easily to be forgotten.

A change at length began. Our northern country had settled to sober courses in the reign of George II., and the usual results of industry were soon apparent. Edinburgh by-and-by felt much like a lady who, after long being content with a small and inconvenient house, is taught, by the money in her husband’s pockets, that such a place is no longer to be put up with. There was a wish to expatiate over some of the neighbouring grounds, so as to get more space and freer air; only it was difficult to do, considering the physical circumstances of the town, and the character of the existing outlets. Space, space!—air, air! was, however, a strong and a general cry, and the old romantic city did at length burst from its bounds, though not in a very regular way, or for a time to much good purpose.

[Illustration: NEWHAVEN FISHWIFE.

PAGE 4.]

A project for a new street on the site of Halkerston’s Wynd, leading by a bridge to the grounds of Mutrie’s Hill, where a suburb might be erected, was formed before the end of the seventeenth century.[2] It was a subject of speculation to John, Earl of Mar, during his years of exile, as were many other schemes of national improvement which have since been realised—for example, the Forth and Clyde Canal. The grounds to the north lay so invitingly open that the early formation of such a project is not wonderful. Want of spirit and of means alone could delay its execution. After the Rebellion of 1745, when a general spirit of improvement began to be shown in Scotland, the scheme was taken up by a public-spirited provost, Mr George Drummond, but it had to struggle for years with local difficulties. Meanwhile, a sagacious builder, by name James Brown, resolved to take advantage of the growing taste; he purchased a field near the town for £1200, and _feued_ it out for a square. The speculation is said to have ended in something like giving him his own money as an annual return. This place (George Square) became the residence of several of the judges and gentry. I was amused a few years ago hearing an old gentleman in the country begin a story thus: ‘When I was in Edinburgh, in the year ’67, I went to George Square, to call for Mrs Scott of Sinton,’ &c. To this day some relics of gentry cling to its grass-green causeways, charmed, perhaps, by its propinquity to the Meadows and Bruntsfield Links. Another place sprang into being, a smaller quadrangle of neat houses, called Brown’s Square.[3] So much was thought of it at first that a correspondent of the _Edinburgh Advertiser_, in 1764, seriously counsels his fellow-citizens to erect in it an equestrian statue of the then popular young king, George III.! This place, too, had some distinguished inhabitants; till 1846, one of the houses continued to be nominally the town mansion of a venerable judge, Lord Glenlee. We pass willingly from these traits of grandeur to dwell on the fact of its having been the residence of Miss Jeanie Elliot of Minto, the authoress of the original song, _The Flowers of the Forest_; and even to bethink ourselves that here Scott placed the ideal abode of Saunders Fairford and the adventure of Green Mantle. Sir Walter has informed us, from his own recollections, that the inhabitants of these southern districts formed for a long time a distinct class of themselves, having even places of polite amusement for their own recreation, independent of the rest of Edinburgh. He tells us that the society was of the first description, including, for one thing, most of the gentlemen who wrote in the _Mirror_ and the _Lounger_. There was one venerable inhabitant who did not die till half the New Town was finished, yet he had never once seen it!

The exertions of Drummond at length procured an act (1767) for extending the royalty of the city over the northern fields; and a bridge was then erected to connect these with the elder city. The scheme was at first far from popular. The exposure to the north and east winds was felt as a grievous disadvantage, especially while houses were few. So unpleasant even was the North Bridge considered that a lover told a New-Town mistress—to be sure only in an epigram—that when he visited her, he felt as performing an adventure not much short of that of Leander. The aristocratic style of the place alarmed a number of pockets, and legal men trembled lest their clients and other employers should forget them if they removed so far from the centre of things as Princes Street and St Andrew Square. Still, the move was unavoidable, and behoved to be made.

It is curious to cast the eye over the beautiful city which now extends over this district, the residence of as refined a mass of people as could be found in any similar space of ground upon earth, and reflect on what the place was a hundred years ago. The bulk of it was a farm, usually called Wood’s Farm, from its tenant (the father of a clever surgeon, well known in Edinburgh in the last age under the familiar appellation of _Lang Sandy Wood_). Henry Mackenzie, author of the _Man of Feeling_, who died in 1831, remembered shooting snipes, hares, and partridges about that very spot to which he alludes at the beginning of the paper on Nancy Collins in the _Mirror_ (July 1779): ‘As I walked one evening, about a fortnight ago, _through St Andrew Square_, I observed a girl meanly dressed,’ &c. Nearly along the line now occupied by Princes Street was a rough enclosed road, called the _Lang Gait_ or _Lang Dykes_, the way along which Claverhouse went with his troopers in 1689, when he retired in disgust from the Convention, with the resolution of raising a rebellion in the Highlands. On the site of the present Register House was a hamlet or small group of houses called _Mutrie’s Hill_; and where the Royal Bank now stands was a cottage wherein ambulative citizens regaled themselves with fruit and curds and cream. Broughton, which latterly has been surprised and swamped by the spreading city, was then a village, considered as so far afield that people went to live in it for the summer months, under the pleasing idea that they had got into the country. It is related that Whitefield used to preach to vast multitudes on the spot which by-and-by became appropriated for the _Theatre Royal_. Coming back one year, and finding a playhouse on the site of his tub, he was extremely incensed. Could it be, as Burns suggests,

‘There was rivalry just in the job!’

James Craig, a nephew of the poet Thomson, was entrusted with the duty of planning the new city. In the engraved plan, he appropriately quotes from his uncle:

‘August, around, what PUBLIC WORKS I see! Lo, stately streets! lo, squares that court the breeze! See long canals and deepened rivers join Each part with each, and with the circling main, The whole entwined isle.’

The names of the streets and squares were taken from the royal family and the tutelary saints of the island. The honest citizens had originally intended to put their own local saint in the foreground; but when the plan was shown to the king for his approval, he cried: ‘Hey, hey—what, what—_St Giles Street!_—never do, never do!’ And so, to escape from an unpleasant association of ideas, this street was called _Princes Street_, in honour of the king’s two sons, afterwards George IV. and the Duke of York. So difficult was it at the very first to induce men to build that a premium of twenty pounds was offered by the magistrates to him who should raise the first house; it was awarded to Mr John Young, on account of a mansion erected by him in Rose Court, George Street. An exemption from burghal taxes was granted to the first house in the line of Princes Street, built by Mr John Neale, haberdasher (afterwards occupied by Archibald Constable, and then as the Crown Hotel), in consequence of a bargain made by Mr Graham, plumber, who sold this and the adjoining ground to the town.[4] Mr Shadrach Moyes, when having a house built for himself in Princes Street, in 1769, took the builder bound to rear another farther along besides his, to shield him from the west wind! Other quaint particulars are remembered; as, for instance: Mr Wight, an eminent lawyer, who had planted himself in St Andrew Square, finding he was in danger of having his view of St Giles’s clock shut up by the advancing line of Princes Street, built the intervening house himself, that he might have it in his power to keep the roof low for the sake of the view in question; important to him, he said, as enabling him to regulate his movements in the morning, when it was necessary that he should be punctual in his attendance at the Parliament House.

[Illustration: ROUPING-WIFE.

PAGE 9.]