* The Lord Provost was ex-officio commander and colonel of the corps,
which might be increased to three hundred men when the times required it.
No other drum but theirs was allowed to sound on the High Street  between
the Luckenbooths and the Netherbow.

Poor Fergusson, whose irregularities sometimes led him into unpleasant
rencontres with these military conservators of public order, and who
mentions them so often that he may be termed their poet laureate,* thus
admonishes his readers, warned doubtless by his own experience:--

* [Robert Fergusson, the Scottish Poet, born 1750, died 1774.]

                    "Gude folk, as ye come frae the fair,
                    Bide yont frae this black squad:
                    There's nae sic savages elsewhere
                    Allowed to wear cockad."

In fact, the soldiers of the City Guard, being, as we have said, in
general discharged veterans, who had strength enough remaining for this
municipal duty, and being, moreover, for the greater part, Highlanders,
were neither by birth, education, nor former habits, trained to endure
with much patience the insults of the rabble, or the provoking petulance
of truant schoolboys, and idle debauchees of all descriptions, with whom
their occupation brought them into contact. On the contrary, the tempers
of the poor old fellows were soured by the indignities with which the mob
distinguished them on many occasions, and frequently might have required
the soothing strains of the poet we have just quoted--

                    "O soldiers! for your ain dear sakes,
                    For Scotland's love, the Land o' Cakes,
                    Gie not her bairns sic deadly paiks,
                    Nor be sae rude,
                    Wi' firelock or Lochaber-axe,
                    As spill their bluid!"

On all occasions when a holiday licensed some riot and irregularity, a
skirmish with these veterans was a favourite recreation with the rabble
of Edinburgh. These pages may perhaps see the light when many have in
fresh recollection such onsets as we allude to. But the venerable corps,
with whom the contention was held, may now be considered as totally
extinct. Of late the gradual diminution of these civic soldiers reminds
one of the abatement of King Lear's hundred knights. The edicts of each
succeeding set of magistrates have, like those of Goneril and Regan,
diminished this venerable band with the similar question, "What need we
five-and-twenty?--ten?--or five?" And it is now nearly come to, "What
need one?" A spectre may indeed here and there still be seen, of an old
grey-headed and grey-bearded Highlander, with war-worn features, but bent
double by age; dressed in an old fashioned cocked-hat, bound with white
tape instead of silver lace; and in coat, waistcoat, and breeches, of a
muddy-coloured red, bearing in his withered hand an ancient weapon,
called a Lochaber-axe; a long pole, namely, with an axe at the extremity,
and a hook at the back of the hatchet.*

* This hook was to enable the bearer of the Lochaber-axe to scale a
gateway, by grappling the top of the door, and swinging himself up by the
staff of his weapon.

Such a phantom of former days still creeps, I have been informed, round
the statue of Charles the Second, in the Parliament Square, as if the
image of a Stuart were the last refuge for any memorial of our ancient
manners; and one or two others are supposed to glide around the door of
the guardhouse assigned to them in the Luckenbooths, when their ancient
refuge in the High Street was laid low.*

* This ancient corps is now entirely disbanded. Their last march to do
duty at Hallowfair had something in it affecting. Their drums and fifes
had been wont on better days to play, on this joyous occasion, the lively
tune of "Jockey to the fair;" but on his final occasion the afflicted
veterans moved slowly to the dirge of

"The last time I came ower the muir."

But the fate of manuscripts bequeathed to friends and executors is so
uncertain, that the narrative containing these frail memorials of the old
Town Guard of Edinburgh, who, with their grim and valiant corporal, John
Dhu (the fiercest-looking fellow I ever saw), were, in my boyhood, the
alternate terror and derision of the petulant brood of the High School,
may, perhaps, only come to light when all memory of the institution has
faded away, and then serve as an illustration of Kay's caricatures, who
has preserved the features of some of their heroes. In the preceding
generation, when there was a perpetual alarm for the plots and activity
of the Jacobites, some pains were taken by the magistrates of Edinburgh
to keep this corps, though composed always of such materials as we have
noticed, in a more effective state than was afterwards judged necessary,
when their most dangerous service was to skirmish with the rabble on the
king's birthday. They were, therefore, more the objects of hatred, and
less that of scorn, than they were afterwards accounted.

To Captain John Porteous, the honour of his command and of his corps
seems to have been a matter of high interest and importance. He was
exceedingly incensed against Wilson for the affront which he construed
him to have put upon his soldiers, in the effort he made for the
liberation of his companion, and expressed himself most ardently on the
subject. He was no less indignant at the report, that there was an
intention to rescue Wilson himself from the gallows, and uttered many
threats and imprecations upon that subject, which were afterwards
remembered to his disadvantage. In fact, if a good deal of determination
and promptitude rendered Porteous, in one respect, fit to command guards
designed to suppress popular commotion, he seems, on the other, to have
been disqualified for a charge so delicate, by a hot and surly temper,
always too ready to come to blows and violence; a character void of
principle; and a disposition to regard the rabble, who seldom failed to
regale him and his soldiers with some marks of their displeasure, as
declared enemies, upon whom it was natural and justifiable that he should
seek opportunities of vengeance. Being, however, the most active and
trustworthy among the captains of the City Guard, he was the person to
whom the magistrates confided the command of the soldiers appointed to
keep the peace at the time of Wilson's execution. He was ordered to guard
the gallows and scaffold, with about eighty men, all the disposable force
that could be spared for that duty.

But the magistrates took farther precautions, which affected Porteous's
pride very deeply. They requested the assistance of part of a regular
infantry regiment, not to attend upon the execution, but to remain drawn
up on the principal street of the city, during the time that it went
forward, in order to intimidate the multitude, in case they should be
disposed to be unruly, with a display of force which could not be
resisted without desperation. It may sound ridiculous in our ears,
considering the fallen state of this ancient civic corps, that its
officer should have felt punctiliously jealous of its honour. Yet so it
was. Captain Porteous resented, as an indignity, the introducing the
Welsh Fusileers within the city, and drawing them up in the street where
no drums but his own were allowed to be sounded without the special
command or permission of the magistrates. As he could not show his
ill-humour to his patrons the magistrates, it increased his indignation
and his desire to be revenged on the unfortunate criminal Wilson, and all
who favoured him. These internal emotions of jealousy and rage wrought a
change on the man's mien and bearing, visible to all who saw him on the
fatal morning when Wilson was appointed to suffer. Porteous's ordinary
appearance was rather favourable. He was about the middle size, stout,
and well made, having a military air, and yet rather a gentle and mild
countenance. His complexion was brown, his face somewhat fretted with the
sears of the smallpox, his eyes rather languid than keen or fierce. On
the present occasion, however, it seemed to those who saw him as if he
were agitated by some evil demon. His step was irregular, his voice
hollow and broken, his countenance pale, his eyes staring and wild, his
speech imperfect and confused, and his whole appearance so disordered,
that many remarked he seemed to be _fey,_ a Scottish expression, meaning
the state of those who are driven on to their impending fate by the
strong impulse of some irresistible necessity.

One part of his conduct was truly diabolical, if indeed it has not been
exaggerated by the general prejudice entertained against his memory. When
Wilson, the unhappy criminal, was delivered to him by the keeper of the
prison, in order that he might be conducted to the place of execution,
Porteous, not satisfied with the usual precautions to prevent escape,
ordered him to be manacled. This might be justifiable from the character
and bodily strength of the malefactor, as well as from the apprehensions
so generally entertained of an expected rescue. But the handcuffs which
were produced being found too small for the wrists of a man so big-boned
as Wilson, Porteous proceeded with his own hands, and by great exertion
of strength, to force them till they clasped together, to the exquisite
torture of the unhappy criminal. Wilson remonstrated against such
barbarous usage, declaring that the pain distracted his thoughts from the
subjects of meditation proper to his unhappy condition.

"It signifies little," replied Captain Porteous; "your pain will soon be
at an end."

"Your cruelty is great," answered the sufferer. "You know not how soon
you yourself may have occasion to ask the mercy which you are now
refusing to a fellow-creature. May God forgive you!"

These words, long afterwards quoted and remembered, were all that passed
between Porteous and his prisoner; but as they took air, and became known
to the people, they greatly increased the popular compassion for Wilson,
and excited a proportionate degree of indignation against Porteous;
against whom, as strict, and even violent in the discharge of his
unpopular office, the common people had some real, and many imaginary
causes of complaint.

When the painful procession was completed, and Wilson, with the escort,
had arrived at the scaffold in the Grassmarket, there appeared no signs
of that attempt to rescue him which had occasioned such precautions. The
multitude, in general, looked on with deeper interest than at ordinary
executions; and there might be seen, on the countenances of many, a stern
and indignant expression, like that with which the ancient Cameronians
might be supposed to witness the execution of their brethren, who
glorified the Covenant on the same occasion, and at the same spot. But
there was no attempt at violence. Wilson himself seemed disposed to
hasten over the space that divided time from eternity. The devotions
proper and usual on such occasions were no sooner finished than he
submitted to his fate, and the sentence of the law was fulfilled.

He had been suspended on the gibbet so long as to be totally deprived of
life, when at once, as if occasioned by some newly received impulse,
there arose a tumult among the multitude. Many stones were thrown at
Porteous and his guards; some mischief was done; and the mob continued to
press forward with whoops, shrieks, howls, and exclamations. A young
fellow, with a sailor's cap slouched over his face, sprung on the
scaffold, and cut the rope by which the criminal was suspended. Others
approached to carry off the body, either to secure for it a decent grave,
or to try, perhaps, some means of resuscitation. Captain Porteous was
wrought, by this appearance of insurrection against his authority, into a
rage so headlong as made him forget, that, the sentence having been fully
executed, it was his duty not to engage in hostilities with the misguided
multitude, but to draw off his men as fast as possible. He sprung from
the scaffold, snatched a musket from one of his soldiers, commanded the
party to give fire, and, as several eye-witnesses concurred in swearing,
set them the example, by discharging his piece, and shooting a man dead
on the spot. Several soldiers obeyed his command or followed his example;
six or seven persons were slain, and a great many were hurt and wounded.

After this act of violence, the Captain proceeded to withdraw his men
towards their guard-house in the High Street. The mob were not so much
intimidated as incensed by what had been done. They pursued the soldiers
with execrations, accompanied by volleys of stones. As they pressed on
them, the rearmost soldiers turned, and again fired with fatal aim and
execution. It is not accurately known whether Porteous commanded this
second act of violence; but of course the odium of the whole transactions
of the fatal day attached to him, and to him alone. He arrived at the
guard-house, dismissed his soldiers, and went to make his report to the
magistrates concerning the unfortunate events of the day.

Apparently by this time Captain Porteous had began to doubt the propriety
of his own conduct, and the reception he met with from the magistrates
was such as to make him still more anxious to gloss it over. He denied
that he had given orders to fire; he denied he had fired with his own
hand; he even produced the fusee which he carried as an officer for
examination; it was found still loaded. Of three cartridges which he was
seen to put in his pouch that morning, two were still there; a white
handkerchief was thrust into the muzzle of the piece, and re-turned
unsoiled or blackened. To the defence founded on these circumstances it
was answered, that Porteous had not used his own piece, but had been seen
to take one from a soldier. Among the many who had been killed and
wounded by the unhappy fire, there were several of better rank; for even
the humanity of such soldiers as fired over the heads of the mere rabble
around the scaffold, proved in some instances fatal to persons who were
stationed in windows, or observed the melancholy scene from a distance.
The voice of public indignation was loud and general; and, ere men's
tempers had time to cool, the trial of Captain Porteous took place before
the High Court of Justiciary. After a long and patient hearing, the jury
had the difficult duty of balancing the positive evidence of many
persons, and those of respectability, who deposed positively to the
prisoner's commanding his soldiers to fire, and himself firing his piece,
of which some swore that they saw the smoke and flash, and beheld a man
drop at whom it was pointed, with the negative testimony of others, who,
though well stationed for seeing what had passed, neither heard Porteous
give orders to fire, nor saw him fire himself; but, on the contrary,
averred that the first shot was fired by a soldier who stood close by
him. A great part of his defence was also founded on the turbulence of
the mob, which witnesses, according to their feelings, their
predilections, and their opportunities of observation, represented
differently; some describing as a formidable riot, what others
represented as a trifling disturbance such as always used to take place
on the like occasions, when the executioner of the law, and the men
commissioned to protect him in his task, were generally exposed to some
indignities. The verdict of the jury sufficiently shows how the evidence
preponderated in their minds. It declared that John Porteous fired a gun
among the people assembled at the execution; that he gave orders to his
soldiers to fire, by which many persons were killed and wounded; but, at
the same time, that the prisoner and his guard had been wounded and
beaten, by stones thrown at them by the multitude. Upon this verdict, the
Lords of Justiciary passed sentence of death against Captain John
Porteous, adjudging him, in the common form, to be hanged on a gibbet at
the common place of execution, on Wednesday, 8th September 1736, and all
his movable property to be forfeited to the king's use, according to the
Scottish law in cases of wilful murder.*

* The signatures affixed to the death-warrant of Captain Porteous were--
Andrew Fletcher of Milton, Lord Justice-Clerk.
Sir James Mackenzie, Lord Royston.
David Erskine, Lord Dun.
Sir Walter Pringle, Lord Newhall.
Sir Gilbert Elliot, Lord Minto.




CHAPTER THIRD.


                   "The hour's come, but not the man."*

* There is a tradition, that while a little stream was swollen into a
torrent by recent showers, the discontented voice of the Water Spirit was
heard to pronounce these words. At the some moment a man, urged on by his
fate, or, in Scottish language, _fey,_ arrived at a gallop, and prepared
to cross the water. No remonstrance from the bystanders was of power to
stop him--he plunged into the stream, and perished.


Kelpie.

On the day when the unhappy Porteous was expected to suffer the sentence
of the law, the place of execution, extensive as it is, was crowded
almost to suffocation. There was not a window in all the lofty tenements
around it, or in the steep and crooked street called the Bow, by which
the fatal procession was to descend from the High Street, that was not
absolutely filled with spectators. The uncommon height and antique
appearance of these houses, some of which were formerly the property of
the Knights Templars, and the Knights of St. John, and still exhibit on
their fronts and gables the iron cross of these orders, gave additional
effect to a scene in itself so striking. The area of the Grassmarket
resembled a huge dark lake or sea of human heads, in the centre of which
arose the fatal tree, tall, black, and ominous, from which dangled the
deadly halter. Every object takes interest from its uses and
associations, and the erect beam and empty noose, things so simple in
themselves, became, on such an occasion, objects of terror and of solemn
interest.

Amid so numerous an assembly there was scarcely a word spoken, save in
whispers. The thirst of vengeance was in some degree allayed by its
supposed certainty; and even the populace, with deeper feeling than they
are wont to entertain, suppressed all clamorous exultation, and prepared
to enjoy the scene of retaliation in triumph, silent and decent, though
stern and relentless. It seemed as if the depth of their hatred to the
unfortunate criminal scorned to display itself in anything resembling the
more noisy current of their ordinary feelings. Had a stranger consulted
only the evidence of his ears, he might have supposed that so vast a
multitude were assembled for some purpose which affected them with the
deepest sorrow, and stilled those noises which, on all ordinary
occasions, arise from such a concourse; but if he had gazed upon their
faces, he would have been instantly undeceived. The compressed lip, the
bent brow, the stern and flashing eye of almost everyone on whom he
looked, conveyed the expression of men come to glut their sight with
triumphant revenge. It is probable that the appearance of the criminal
might have somewhat changed the temper of the populace in his favour, and
that they might in the moment of death have forgiven the man against whom
their resentment had been so fiercely heated. It had, however, been
destined, that the mutability of their sentiments was not to be exposed
to this trial.

The usual hour for producing the criminal had been past for many minutes,
yet the spectators observed no symptom of his appearance. "Would they
venture to defraud public justice?" was the question which men began
anxiously to ask at each other. The first answer in every case was bold
and positive,--"They dare not." But when the point was further canvassed,
other opinions were entertained, and various causes of doubt were
suggested. Porteous had been a favourite officer of the magistracy of the
city, which, being a numerous and fluctuating body, requires for its
support a degree of energy in its functionaries, which the individuals
who compose it cannot at all times alike be supposed to possess in their
own persons. It was remembered, that in the Information for Porteous (the
paper, namely, in which his case was stated to the Judges of the criminal
court), he had been described by his counsel as the person on whom the
magistrates chiefly relied in all emergencies of uncommon difficulty. It
was argued, too, that his conduct, on the unhappy occasion of Wilson's
execution, was capable of being attributed to an imprudent excess of zeal
in the execution of his duty, a motive for which those under whose
authority he acted might be supposed to have great sympathy. And as these
considerations might move the magistrates to make a favourable
representation of Porteous's case, there were not wanting others in the
higher departments of Government, which would make such suggestions
favourably listened to.

The mob of Edinburgh, when thoroughly excited, had been at all times one
of the fiercest which could be found in Europe; and of late years they
had risen repeatedly against the Government, and sometimes not without
temporary success. They were conscious, therefore, that they were no
favourites with the rulers of the period, and that, if Captain Porteous's
violence was not altogether regarded as good service, it might certainly
be thought, that to visit it with a capital punishment would render it
both delicate and dangerous for future officers, in the same
circumstances, to act with effect in repressing tumults. There is also a
natural feeling, on the part of all members of Government, for the
general maintenance of authority; and it seemed not unlikely, that what
to the relatives of the sufferers appeared a wanton and unprovoked
massacre, should be otherwise viewed in the cabinet of St. James's. It
might be there supposed, that upon the whole matter, Captain Porteous was
in the exercise of a trust delegated to him by the lawful civil
authority; that he had been assaulted by the populace, and several of his
men hurt; and that, in finally repelling force by force, his conduct
could be fairly imputed to no other motive than self-defence in the
discharge of his duty.

These considerations, of themselves very powerful, induced the spectators
to apprehend the possibility of a reprieve; and to the various causes
which might interest the rulers in his favour, the lower part of the
rabble added one which was peculiarly well adapted to their
comprehension. It was averred, in order to increase the odium against
Porteous, that while he repressed with the utmost severity the slightest
excesses of the poor, he not only overlooked the license of the young
nobles and gentry, but was very willing to lend them the countenance of
his official authority, in execution of such loose pranks as it was
chiefly his duty to have restrained. This suspicion, which was perhaps
much exaggerated, made a deep impression on the minds of the populace;
and when several of the higher rank joined in a petition, recommending
Porteous to the mercy of the Crown, it was generally supposed he owed
their favour not to any conviction of the hardship of his case, but to
the fear of losing a convenient accomplice in their debaucheries. It is
scarcely necessary to say how much this suspicion augmented the people's
detestation of this obnoxious criminal, as well as their fear of his
escaping the sentence pronounced against him.

While these arguments were stated and replied to, and canvassed and
supported, the hitherto silent expectation of the people became changed
into that deep and agitating murmur, which is sent forth by the ocean
before the tempest begins to howl. The crowded populace, as if their
motions had corresponded with the unsettled state of their minds,
fluctuated to and fro without any visible cause of impulse, like the
agitation of the waters, called by sailors the ground-swell. The news,
which the magistrates had almost hesitated to communicate to them, were
at length announced, and spread among the spectators with a rapidity like
lightning. A reprieve from the Secretary of State's office, under the
hand of his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, had arrived, intimating the
pleasure of Queen Caroline (regent of the kingdom during the absence of
George II. on the Continent), that the execution of the sentence of death
pronounced against John Porteous, late Captain-Lieutenant of the City
Guard of Edinburgh, present prisoner in the Tolbooth of that city, be
respited for six weeks from the time appointed for his execution.

The assembled spectators of almost all degrees, whose minds had been
wound up to the pitch which we have described, uttered a groan, or rather
a roar of indignation and disappointed revenge, similar to that of a
tiger from whom his meal has been rent by his keeper when he was just
about to devour it. This fierce exclamation seemed to forbode some
immediate explosion of popular resentment, and, in fact, such had been
expected by the magistrates, and the necessary measures had been taken to
repress it. But the shout was not repeated, nor did any sudden tumult
ensue, such as it appeared to announce. The populace seemed to be ashamed
of having expressed their disappointment in a vain clamour, and the sound
changed, not into the silence which had preceded the arrival of these
stunning news, but into stifled mutterings, which each group maintained
among themselves, and which were blended into one deep and hoarse murmur
which floated above the assembly.

Yet still, though all expectation of the execution was over, the mob
remained assembled, stationary, as it were, through very resentment,
gazing on the preparations for death, which had now been made in vain,
and stimulating their feelings, by recalling the various claims which
Wilson might have had on royal mercy, from the mistaken motives on which
he acted, as well as from the generosity he had displayed towards his
accomplice. "This man," they said,--"the brave, the resolute, the
generous, was executed to death without mercy for stealing a purse of
gold, which in some sense he might consider as a fair reprisal; while the
profligate satellite, who took advantage of a trifling tumult,
inseparable from such occasions, to shed the blood of twenty of his
fellow-citizens, is deemed a fitting object for the exercise of the royal
prerogative of mercy. Is this to be borne?--would our fathers have borne
it? Are not we, like them, Scotsmen and burghers of Edinburgh?"

The officers of justice began now to remove the scaffold, and other
preparations which had been made for the execution, in hopes, by doing
so, to accelerate the dispersion of the multitude. The measure had the
desired effect; for no sooner had the fatal tree been unfixed from the
large stone pedestal or socket in which it was secured, and sunk slowly
down upon the wain intended to remove it to the place where it was
usually deposited, than the populace, after giving vent to their feelings
in a second shout of rage and mortification, began slowly to disperse to
their usual abodes and occupations.

The windows were in like manner gradually deserted, and groups of the
more decent class of citizens formed themselves, as if waiting to return
homewards when the streets should be cleared of the rabble. Contrary to
what is frequently the case, this description of persons agreed in
general with the sentiments of their inferiors, and considered the cause
as common to all ranks. Indeed, as we have already noticed, it was by no
means amongst the lowest class of the spectators, or those most likely to
be engaged in the riot at Wilson's execution, that the fatal fire of
Porteous's soldiers had taken effect. Several persons were killed who
were looking out at windows at the scene, who could not of course belong
to the rioters, and were persons of decent rank and condition. The
burghers, therefore, resenting the loss which had fallen on their own
body, and proud and tenacious of their rights, as the citizens of
Edinburgh have at all times been, were greatly exasperated at the
unexpected respite of Captain Porteous.

It was noticed at the time, and afterwards more particularly remembered,
that, while the mob were in the act of dispersing, several individuals
were seen busily passing from one place and one group of people to
another, remaining long with none, but whispering for a little time with
those who appeared to be declaiming most violently against the conduct of
Government. These active agents had the appearance of men from the
country, and were generally supposed to be old friends and confederates
of Wilson, whose minds were of course highly excited against Porteous.

If, however, it was the intention of these men to stir the multitude to
any sudden act of mutiny, it seemed for the time to be fruitless. The
rabble, as well as the more decent part of the assembly, dispersed, and
went home peaceably; and it was only by observing the moody discontent on
their brows, or catching the tenor of the conversation they held with
each other, that a stranger could estimate the state of their minds. We
will give the reader this advantage, by associating ourselves with one of
the numerous groups who were painfully ascending the steep declivity of
the West Bow, to return to their dwellings in the Lawnmarket.

"An unco thing this, Mrs. Howden," said old Peter Plumdamas to his
neighbour the rouping-wife, or saleswoman, as he offered her his arm to
assist her in the toilsome ascent, "to see the grit folk at Lunnon set
their face against law and gospel, and let loose sic a reprobate as
Porteous upon a peaceable town!"

"And to think o' the weary walk they hae gien us," answered Mrs. Howden,
with a groan; "and sic a comfortable window as I had gotten, too, just
within a penny-stane-cast of the scaffold--I could hae heard every word
the minister said--and to pay twalpennies for my stand, and a' for
naething!"

"I am judging," said Mr. Plumdamas, "that this reprieve wadna stand gude
in the auld Scots law, when the kingdom was a kingdom."

"I dinna ken muckle about the law," answered Mrs. Howden; "but I ken,
when we had a king, and a chancellor, and parliament men o' our ain, we
could aye peeble them wi' stanes when they werena gude bairns--But
naebody's nails can reach the length o' Lunnon."

"Weary on Lunnon, and a' that e'er came out o't!" said Miss Grizel
Damahoy, an ancient seamstress; "they hae taen away our parliament, and
they hae oppressed our trade. Our gentles will hardly allow that a Scots
needle can sew ruffles on a sark, or lace on an owerlay."

"Ye may say that--Miss Damahoy, and I ken o' them that hae gotten raisins
frae Lunnon by forpits at ance," responded Plumdamas; "and then sic an
host of idle English gaugers and excisemen as hae come down to vex and
torment us, that an honest man canna fetch sae muckle as a bit anker o'
brandy frae Leith to the Lawnmarket, but he's like to be rubbit o' the
very gudes he's bought and paid for.--Weel, I winna justify Andrew Wilson
for pitting hands on what wasna his; but if he took nae mair than his
ain, there's an awfu' difference between that and the fact this man
stands for."

"If ye speak about the law," said Mrs. Howden, "here comes Mr.
Saddletree, that can settle it as weel as ony on the bench."

The party she mentioned, a grave elderly person, with a superb periwig,
dressed in a decent suit of sad-coloured clothes, came up as she spoke,
and courteously gave his arm to Miss Grizel Damahoy.

It may be necessary to mention, that Mr. Bartoline Saddletree kept an
excellent and highly-esteemed shop for harness, saddles, &c. &c., at the
sign of the Golden Nag, at the head of Bess Wynd.*

* [Maitland calls it Best's Wynd, and later writers Beth's Wynd. As the
name implies, it was an open thoroughfare or alley leading from the
Lawnmarket, and extended in a direct line between the old Tolbooth to
near the head of the Cowgate. It was partly destroyed by fire in 1786,
and was totally removed in 1809, preparatory to the building of the new
libraries of the Faculty of Advocates and writers to the Signet.]

His genius, however (as he himself and most of his neighbours conceived),
lay towards the weightier matters of the law, and he failed not to give
frequent attendance upon the pleadings and arguments of the lawyers and
judges in the neighbouring square, where, to say the truth, he was
oftener to be found than would have consisted with his own emolument; but
that his wife, an active painstaking person, could, in his absence, make
an admirable shift to please the customers and scold the journeymen. This
good lady was in the habit of letting her husband take his way, and go on
improving his stock of legal knowledge without interruption; but, as if
in requital, she insisted upon having her own will in the domestic and
commercial departments which he abandoned to her. Now, as Bartoline
Saddletree had a considerable gift of words, which he mistook for
eloquence, and conferred more liberally upon the society in which he
lived than was at all times gracious and acceptable, there went forth a
saying, with which wags used sometimes to interrupt his rhetoric, that,
as he had a golden nag at his door, so he had a grey mare in his shop.
This reproach induced Mr. Saddletree, on all occasions, to assume rather
a haughty and stately tone towards his good woman, a circumstance by
which she seemed very little affected, unless he attempted to exercise
any real authority, when she never failed to fly into open rebellion. But
such extremes Bartoline seldom provoked; for, like the gentle King Jamie,
he was fonder of talking of authority than really exercising it. This
turn of mind was, on the whole, lucky for him; since his substance was
increased without any trouble on his part, or any interruption of his
favourite studies.

This word in explanation has been thrown in to the reader, while
Saddletree was laying down, with great precision, the law upon Porteous's
case, by which he arrived at this conclusion, that, if Porteous had fired
five minutes sooner, before Wilson was cut down, he would have been
_versans in licito;_ engaged, that is, in a lawful act, and only liable
to be punished _propter excessum,_ or for lack of discretion, which might
have mitigated the punishment to _poena ordinaria._

"Discretion!" echoed Mrs. Howden, on whom, it may well be supposed, the
fineness of this distinction was entirely thrown away,--"whan had Jock
Porteous either grace, discretion, or gude manners?--I mind when his
father"

"But, Mrs. Howden," said Saddletree--

"And I," said Miss Damahoy, "mind when his mother"

"Miss Damahoy," entreated the interrupted orator

"And I," said Plumdamas, "mind when his wife"

"Mr. Plumdamas--Mrs. Howden--Miss Damahoy," again implored the
orator,--"Mind the distinction, as Counsellor Crossmyloof says--'I,'
says he, 'take a distinction.' Now, the body of the criminal being cut
down, and the execution ended, Porteous was no longer official; the act
which he came to protect and guard, being done and ended, he was no
better than _cuivis ex populo._"

"_Quivis--quivis,_ Mr. Saddletree, craving your pardon," said (with a
prolonged emphasis on the first syllable) Mr. Butler, the
deputy-schoolmaster of a parish near Edinburgh, who at that moment came
up behind them as the false Latin was uttered.

"What signifies interrupting me, Mr. Butler?--but I am glad to see ye
notwithstanding--I speak after Counsellor Crossmyloof, and he said
_cuivis._"

"If Counsellor Crossmyloof used the dative for the nominative, I would
have crossed his loof with a tight leathern strap, Mr. Saddletree; there
is not a boy on the booby form but should have been scourged for such a
solecism in grammar."

"I speak Latin like a lawyer, Mr. Butler, and not like a schoolmaster,"
retorted Saddletree.

"Scarce like a schoolboy, I think," rejoined Butler.

"It matters little," said Bartoline; "all I mean to say is, that Porteous
has become liable to the _poena extra ordinem,_ or capital
punishment--which is to say, in plain Scotch, the gallows--simply
because he did not fire when he was in office, but waited till the body
was cut down, the execution whilk he had in charge to guard implemented,
and he himself exonered of the public trust imposed on him."

"But, Mr. Saddletree," said Plumdamas, "do ye really think John
Porteous's case wad hae been better if he had begun firing before ony
stanes were flung at a'?"

"Indeed do I, neighbour Plumdamas," replied Bartoline, confidently, "he
being then in point of trust and in point of power, the execution being
but inchoat, or, at least, not implemented, or finally ended; but after
Wilson was cut down it was a' ower--he was clean exauctorate, and had nae
mair ado but to get awa wi' his guard up this West Bow as fast as if
there had been a caption after him--And this is law, for I heard it laid
down by Lord Vincovincentem."

"Vincovincentem?--Is he a lord of state, or a lord of seat?" inquired
Mrs. Howden.*

* A nobleman was called a Lord of State. The Senators of the College * of
Justice were termed Lords of Seat, or of the Session.

"A lord of seat--a lord of session.--I fash mysell little wi' lords o'
state; they vex me wi' a wheen idle questions about their saddles, and
curpels, and holsters and horse-furniture, and what they'll cost, and
whan they'll be ready--a wheen galloping geese--my wife may serve the
like o' them."

"And so might she, in her day, hae served the best lord in the land, for
as little as ye think o' her, Mr. Saddletree," said Mrs. Howden, somewhat
indignant at the contemptuous way in which her gossip was mentioned;
"when she and I were twa gilpies, we little thought to hae sitten doun
wi' the like o' my auld Davie Howden, or you either, Mr. Saddletree."

While Saddletree, who was not bright at a reply, was cudgelling his
brains for an answer to this homethrust, Miss Damahoy broke in on him.

"And as for the lords of state," said Miss Damahoy, "ye suld mind the
riding o' the parliament, Mr. Saddletree, in the gude auld time before
the Union,--a year's rent o' mony a gude estate gaed for horse-graith and
harnessing, forby broidered robes and foot-mantles, that wad hae stude by
their lane wi' gold brocade, and that were muckle in my ain line."

"Ay, and then the lusty banqueting, with sweetmeats and comfits wet and
dry, and dried fruits of divers sorts," said Plumdamas. "But Scotland was
Scotland in these days."

"I'll tell ye what it is, neighbours," said Mrs. Howden, "I'll ne'er
believe Scotland is Scotland ony mair, if our kindly Scots sit doun with
the affront they hae gien us this day. It's not only the blude that _is_
shed, but the blude that might hae been shed, that's required at our
hands; there was my daughter's wean, little Eppie Daidle--my oe, ye ken,
Miss Grizel--had played the truant frae the school, as bairns will do, ye
ken, Mr. Butler"

"And for which," interjected Mr. Butler, "they should be soundly scourged
by their well-wishers."

"And had just cruppen to the gallows' foot to see the hanging, as was
natural for a wean; and what for mightna she hae been shot as weel as the
rest o' them, and where wad we a' hae been then? I wonder how Queen
Carline (if her name be Carline) wad hae liked to hae had ane o' her ain
bairns in sic a venture?"

"Report says," answered Butler, "that such a circumstance would not have
distressed her majesty beyond endurance."

"Aweel," said Mrs. Howden, "the sum o' the matter is, that, were I a man,
I wad hae amends o' Jock Porteous, be the upshot what like o't, if a' the
carles and carlines in England had sworn to the nay-say."

"I would claw down the Tolbooth door wi' my nails," said Miss Grizel,
"but I wad be at him."

"Ye may be very right, ladies," said Butler, "but I would not advise you
to speak so loud."

"Speak!" exclaimed both the ladies together, "there will be naething else
spoken about frae the Weigh-house to the Water-gate, till this is either
ended or mended."

The females now departed to their respective places of abode. Plumdamas
joined the other two gentlemen in drinking their _meridian_ (a
bumper-dram of brandy), as they passed the well-known low-browed shop in
the Lawnmarket, where they were wont to take that refreshment. Mr.
Plumdamas then departed towards his shop, and Mr. Butler, who happened to
have some particular occasion for the rein of an old bridle (the truants
of that busy day could have anticipated its application), walked down the
Lawnmarket with Mr. Saddletree, each talking as he could get a word
thrust in, the one on the laws of Scotland, the other on those of syntax,
and neither listening to a word which his companion uttered.




CHAPTER FOURTH.


            Elswhair he colde right weel lay down the law,
                But in his house was meek as is a daw.
                                                  Davie Lindsay.

"There has been Jock Driver the carrier here, speering about his new
graith," said Mrs. Saddletree to her husband, as he crossed his
threshold, not with the purpose, by any means, of consulting him upon his
own affairs, but merely to intimate, by a gentle recapitulation, how much
duty she had gone through in his absence.

"Weel," replied Bartoline, and deigned not a word more.

"And the laird of Girdingburst has had his running footman here, and ca'd
himsell (he's a civil pleasant young gentleman), to see when the
broidered saddle-cloth for his sorrel horse will be ready, for he wants
it agane the Kelso races."

"Weel, aweel," replied Bartoline, as laconically as before.

"And his lordship, the Earl of Blazonbury, Lord Flash and Flame, is like
to be clean daft, that the harness for the six Flanders mears, wi' the
crests, coronets, housings, and mountings conform, are no sent hame
according to promise gien."

"Weel, weel, weel--weel, weel, gudewife," said Saddletree, "if he gangs
daft, we'll hae him cognosced--it's a' very weel."

"It's weel that ye think sae, Mr. Saddletree," answered his helpmate,
rather nettled at the indifference with which her report was received;
"there's mony ane wad hae thought themselves affronted, if sae mony
customers had ca'd and naebody to answer them but women-folk; for a' the
lads were aff, as soon as your back was turned, to see Porteous hanged,
that might be counted upon; and sae, you no being at hame"

"Houts, Mrs. Saddletree," said Bartoline, with an air of consequence,
"dinna deave me wi' your nonsense; I was under the necessity of being
elsewhere--_non omnia_--as Mr. Crossmyloof said, when he was called by
two macers at once--_non omnia possumus--pessimus--possimis_--I ken our
law-latin offends Mr. Butler's ears, but it means, Naebody, an it were
the Lord President himsell, can do twa turns at ance."

"Very right, Mr. Saddletree," answered his careful helpmate, with a
sarcastic smile; "and nae doubt it's a decent thing to leave your wife to
look after young gentlemen's saddles and bridles, when ye gang to see a
man, that never did ye nae ill, raxing a halter."

"Woman," said Saddletree, assuming an elevated tone, to which the
_meridian_ had somewhat contributed, "desist,--I say forbear, from
intromitting with affairs thou canst not understand. D'ye think I was
born to sit here brogging an elshin through bend-leather, when sic men as
Duncan Forbes, and that other Arniston chield there, without muckle
greater parts, if the close-head speak true, than mysell maun be
presidents and king's advocates, nae doubt, and wha but they? Whereas,
were favour equally distribute, as in the days of the wight Wallace"

"I ken naething we wad hae gotten by the wight Wallace," said Mrs.
Saddletree, "unless, as I hae heard the auld folk tell, they fought in
thae days wi' bend-leather guns, and then it's a chance but what, if he
had bought them, he might have forgot to pay for them. And as for the
greatness of your parts, Bartley, the folk in the close-head* maun ken
mair about them than I do, if they make sic a report of them."

* [_Close-head,_ the entrance of a blind alley.]

"I tell ye, woman," said Saddletree, in high dudgeon, "that ye ken
naething about these matters. In Sir William Wallace's days there was nae
man pinned down to sic a slavish wark as a saddler's, for they got ony
leather graith that they had use for ready-made out of Holland."

"Well," said Butler, who was, like many of his profession, something of a
humorist and dry joker, "if that be the case, Mr. Saddletree, I think we
have changed for the better; since we make our own harness, and only
import our lawyers from Holland."

"It's ower true, Mr. Butler," answered Bartoline, with a sigh; "if I had
had the luck--or rather, if my father had had the sense to send me to
Leyden and Utrecht to learn the Substitutes and Pandex"

"You mean the Institutes--Justinian's Institutes, Mr. Saddletree?" said
Butler.

"Institutes and substitutes are synonymous words, Mr. Butler, and used
indifferently as such in deeds of tailzie, as you may see in Balfour's
Practiques, or Dallas of St. Martin's Styles. I understand these things
pretty weel, I thank God but I own I should have studied in Holland."

"To comfort you, you might not have been farther forward than you are
now, Mr. Saddletree," replied Mr. Butler; "for our Scottish advocates are
an aristocratic race. Their brass is of the right Corinthian quality, and
_Non cuivis contigit adire Corinthum_--Aha, Mr. Saddletree?"

"And aha, Mr. Butler," rejoined Bartoline, upon whom, as may be well
supposed, the jest was lost, and all but the sound of the words, "ye said
a gliff syne it was _quivis,_ and now I heard ye say _cuivis_ with my ain
ears, as plain as ever I heard a word at the fore-bar."

"Give me your patience, Mr. Saddletree, and I'll explain the discrepancy
in three words," said Butler, as pedantic in his own department, though
with infinitely more judgment and learning, as Bartoline was in his
self-assumed profession of the law--"Give me your patience for a
moment--You'll grant that the nominative case is that by which a person or
thing is nominated or designed, and which may be called the primary case,
all others being formed from it by alterations of the termination in the
learned languages, and by prepositions in our modern Babylonian
jargons--You'll grant me that, I suppose, Mr. Saddletree?"

"I dinna ken whether I will or no--_ad avisandum,_ ye ken--naebody should
be in a hurry to make admissions, either in point of law, or in point of
fact," said Saddletree, looking, or endeavouring to look, as if he
understood what was said.

"And the dative case," continued Butler

"I ken what a tutor dative is," said Saddletree, "readily enough."

"The dative case," resumed the grammarian, "is that in which anything is
given or assigned as properly belonging to a person or thing--You cannot
deny that, I am sure."

"I am sure I'll no grant it, though," said Saddletree.

"Then, what the _deevil_ d'ye take the nominative and the dative cases to
be?" said Butler, hastily, and surprised at once out of his decency of
expression and accuracy of pronunciation.

"I'll tell you that at leisure, Mr. Butler," said Saddletree, with a very
knowing look; "I'll take a day to see and answer every article of your
condescendence, and then I'll hold you to confess or deny as accords."

"Come, come, Mr. Saddletree," said his wife, "we'll hae nae confessions
and condescendences here; let them deal in thae sort o' wares that are
paid for them--they suit the like o' us as all as a demipique saddle
would suit a draught ox."

"Aha!" said Mr. Butler, "_Optat ephippia bos piger,_ nothing new under
the sun--But it was a fair hit of Mrs. Saddletree, however."

"And it wad far better become ye, Mr. Saddletree," continued his
helpmate, "since ye say ye hae skeel o' the law, to try if ye can do
onything for Effie Deans, puir thing, that's lying up in the tolbooth
yonder, cauld, and hungry, and comfortless--A servant lass of ours, Mr.
Butler, and as innocent a lass, to my thinking, and as usefu' in the
shop--When Mr. Saddletree gangs out,--and ye're aware he's seldom at hame
when there's ony o' the plea-houses open,--poor Effie used to help me to
tumble the bundles o' barkened leather up and down, and range out the
gudes, and suit a' body's humours--And troth, she could aye please the
customers wi' her answers, for she was aye civil, and a bonnier lass
wasna in Auld Reekie. And when folk were hasty and unreasonable, she
could serve them better than me, that am no sae young as I hae been, Mr.
Butler, and a wee bit short in the temper into the bargain. For when
there's ower mony folks crying on me at anes, and nane but ae tongue to
answer them, folk maun speak hastily, or they'll ne'er get through their
wark--Sae I miss Effie daily."

"_De die in diem,_" added Saddletree.

"I think," said Butler, after a good deal of hesitation, "I have seen the
girl in the shop--a modest-looking, fair-haired girl?"

"Ay, ay, that's just puir Effie," said her mistress. "How she was
abandoned to hersell, or whether she was sackless o' the sinful deed, God
in Heaven knows; but if she's been guilty, she's been sair tempted, and I
wad amaist take my Bible-aith she hasna been hersell at the time."

Butler had by this time become much agitated; he fidgeted up and down the
shop, and showed the greatest agitation that a person of such strict
decorum could be supposed to give way to. "Was not this girl," he said,
"the daughter of David Deans, that had the parks at St. Leonard's taken?
and has she not a sister?"

"In troth has she,--puir Jeanie Deans, ten years aulder than hersell; she
was here greeting a wee while syne about her tittie. And what could I say
to her, but that she behoved to come and speak to Mr. Saddletree when he
was at hame? It wasna that I thought Mr. Saddletree could do her or ony
ither body muckle good or ill, but it wad aye serve to keep the puir
thing's heart up for a wee while; and let sorrow come when sorrow maun."