Cameron Toll--Prestonfield--Peffer
Mill--Craigmillar--Edmonstone--Niddrie--Duddingston--St.
Leonards.
He walketh, he walketh, pedestrious soul!
By the Porto called Bello, and the Cameron Toll.
These lines were written long ago, by old Mr. Lloyd, on one of his
visits to his son-in-law at Niddrie, and described the direction of
his daily walks. They will apply equally well to us to-day, for we
leave Edinburgh by what used to be the Cameron Toll; and, letting the
main road pursue its way south to Dalkeith,--to be rejoined by us
later on,--we turn to the left and skirt The Cameron. This place is
being rapidly built over, but it is still possible to trace the lines
of the _crooked-nosed_ promontory, which here stretched into the
long-vanished lake, and from which the estate acquired its name.
A little farther east we see Prestonfield standing on the
gently-rising ground between us and Arthur Seat. Originally known
as Priestfield, and granted by James IV. in 1510 to Walter Chapman,
the first Edinburgh printer, it very soon after passed into that
branch of the Hamilton family that were ancestors of the Earls of
Haddington. Sir Alexander Hamilton of Priestfield, brother to the
first earl, sold the property to his neighbour, Sir Robert Murray of
Cameron. A few years later, in 1679, both places were brought by Sir
James Dick, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, who joined to them additional
lands acquired from the Prestons of Craigmillar. He changed the name
of the whole property to Prestonfield, and built the present house in
1687; the former one having been burnt down by the students of the
College of Edinburgh, in an antipapist riot a few years before. The
present owner of Prestonfield, Sir Robert Dick Cunyngham, is a direct
descendant of Sir James Dick.
Some rather amusing verses were written in 1759 by Dr. Benjamin
Franklin, after a visit here. They seem worth quoting, and run as
follows:--
Joys of Prestonfield, adieu!
Late found, soon lost, but still we'll view
Th' engaging scene--oft to these eyes
Shall the pleasing vision rise.
Hearts that warm towards a friend,
Kindness on kindness without end,
Easy converse, sprightly wit,
These we found in dame and knight.
Cheerful meals, balmy rest,
Beds that never bugs molest,
Neatness and sweetness all around,
These--at Prestonfield we found.
Hear, O Heaven! a stranger's prayer!
Bless the hospitable pair!
Bless the sweet bairns, and very soon,
Give these a brother, those a son![30]
[30] _Memorials of the Earls of Haddington_, by Sir William Fraser.
It is interesting to add that the hopes expressed in the last verse
were fulfilled two years later by the birth of Sir William.
The place has been constantly let during the present century, and a
curious and unexplained occurrence happened here in 1830, when it was
rented by the Dowager Lady Gifford (grandmother to the present Lord
Gifford), who was anxious to be near Edinburgh for the education of
her sons. Lady Gifford's daughters, the Hon. Mrs. Holland and the
Hon. Jane Gifford, were girls at the time. Their schoolroom was over
the front door, which has a covered portico, under which carriages
drive up. One morning, about eight o'clock, the girls were in the
schoolroom before breakfast, when Mrs. Holland happened to look out
of the window, and called her sister's attention to a carriage, which
she saw some way off turning into the avenue. As it came nearer, they
saw it was a large black carriage, drawn by two coal-black horses;
the servants on the box, as well as the people inside, were dressed
in deep mourning. The girls wondered who could be arriving at such
an early hour; and, afraid of being seen, they crouched down behind
the window-sill as the carriage drove up, and watched it disappear
beneath the portico. After waiting some time, they heard no bell, nor
any sounds of an arrival, nor did the carriage drive away again. One
of the girls went down to see what was happening. No carriage was
there, neither had any one heard or seen such a thing. The girls
naturally took it as an omen of evil, either to themselves or to the
owners of Prestonfield, but no calamity in either family followed
this appearance, nor do I believe has it been seen since. The mystery
has never been explained in any way, but both Mrs. Holland and Miss
Gifford are perfectly positive as to what they saw.
The garden is very quaint, and the situation of the house, with the
hill and the loch behind it, must always make it a pretty place.
[Illustration: _Doorway at Peffer Mill._]
A little farther east, we come to a curious old house,--Peffer
Mill,--which neither time nor modern improvements seem to have
touched, since Sir Walter Scott picked it out as the house of Jeanie
Deans's unsuccessful suitor, and called it Dumbiedykes. It was built
in 1636, by one of the Edgar family, whose arms,[31] impaled with
those of his wife, a Pearson of Balmadies, are still to be seen over
the principal door. Above are their initials entwined, and below,
the two mottoes, _Cui vult dat Deus_ and _Dum spiro spero_. It is
now the property of Mr. Gordon Gilmour. Two curious old sundials are
built into the walls of the house. The word _Peffer_, which is not an
uncommon name for a burn in Scotland, means, I believe, "the dark and
muddy stream." Tradition says that a subterranean passage formerly
existed between this house and Craigmillar; and the opening leading
into it from the castle is still shown, though the passage itself has
long been choked up.
[31] Dexter, a lion rampant for Edgar; Sinister, two swords conjoined
in base, piercing a man's heart, a cinquefoil in chief, for Pearson.
A ghastly incident took place here in 1728. A Musselburgh woman
called Maggie Dickson was hanged in Edinburgh. Her friends, who were
conveying her remains back to Musselburgh in a cart, stopped to rest
and refresh themselves at the ale-house that then stood at Peffer
Mill. While they were in the inn, a country wright had the curiosity
to look at the coffin, to compare the Edinburgh workmanship in that
line with his own. While doing so, he heard a strange noise inside,
and having speedily given the alarm to her friends in the hostelry,
they were astonished, as well as terrified, on rushing out, to find
her sitting upright in the coffin, the lid of which had not been
screwed down. The woman quite recovered, lived for many years, and
had several children, but she was known for the rest of her life as
"Half-hangit Maggie Dickson."[32]
[32] "Gude e'en to ye, Daddie Ratton; they tauld me ye were hanged,
man; or did ye get out o' John Dalgleish's hands, like half-hangit
Maggie Dickson?"--_Heart of Midlothian_, chap. viii.
We now cross the Suburban Railway, and at the next turn leave the
high road to pursue its way towards Musselburgh, while we climb the
hill to Craigmillar. This ancient fortress occupies a commanding
position on a rocky height, and surveys the country on every side.
Existing from remote ages, its history is closely interwoven with
that of Edinburgh and the royal race that ruled there; and its
name is linked with undying memories of much that has perished for
ever. Craigmillar possesses one marked distinction from every other
strong place of a similar kind,--such as Edinburgh or Stirling.
Though constantly a royal residence, it always remained private
property, and for several hundred years was held by the same family.
It presents the features of the dwelling-house of a great noble,
combined with those of a powerful and almost impregnable fortress.
The square donjon-keep in the centre is surrounded by an external
wall, defended at the corners by round towers, and enclosing a
considerable area. Beyond this extended further fortifications,
which, as more peaceful times approached, were converted into
additional lodgings for retainers and horses. The castle was burnt
and plundered by the English in 1554, and probably a good deal of the
existing building was erected, or at any rate restored, after that
time.
[Illustration: _Craigmillar Castle_.]
"On the boundary wall," says Sir Walter Scott, "may be seen the
arms of Cockburn of Ormiston, Congalton of Congalton, Moubray of
Barnbougle, and Otterburn of Redford, allies of the Prestons of
Craigmillar. In one corner of the court, over a portal arch, are
the arms of the family,--three unicorns' heads couped, with a
cheesepress, and a barrel or tun,--a wretched rebus to express their
name of Preston." In every direction may be seen the shield with the
unicorns' heads. Over the principal doorway it is carried in the
fashion called by the Italians, _Scudo pendente_, and esteemed more
honourable than when carried square. High above it are the royal
arms,--the lion rampant, with the crown above. This was to show that
in time of war, or during any troubles or commotions, the castle
belonged to the king. The sculptured fragment alluded to by Sir
Walter Scott bears the date 1510, but long ere this the Prestons had
been lords of Craigmillar. Passing over the dim and misty figures
of William Fitz Henry and John de Capella, we find that Sir Simon
Preston acquired the lands of Craigmillar from William de Capella
in 1374; and from that date down to 1660, they remained in the
Preston family.[33] The last of this ancient line was Gentleman of
the Bedchamber to James VI., and was raised to the peerage as Lord
Dingwall. His only daughter became Duchess of Ormonde. In 1660 Sir
John Gilmour bought the property, and, as it is now in possession of
his direct descendant, Craigmillar has only belonged to two families
during over five hundred years.
[33] In the reign of James II., William Preston of Gourton (as he
is styled) had travelled far, and been at much pains and expense in
procuring the arm-bone of St. Giles, which he generously bestowed
on the church of St. Giles at Edinburgh. For these reasons, on
his decease, the Provost and magistrates of Edinburgh engaged to
build over his sepulchre an aisle, to have his crest cut out in a
conspicuous manner, with a motto intimating what he had done with
so much zeal and fidelity for the church, and to cause his armorial
bearings, engraven on marble, to be put in three different places
in the aisle. Besides, it was expressly ordered that his male
representative should have the honour, in all future processions,
to bear this relic. This was a singular grant which the family
of Preston enjoyed. They retained possession of it until the
Reformation. (WHYTE'S _Account of the Parish of Liberton_.)
Many are the royal memories connected with this venerable pile. In
1479, John, Earl of Mar, younger brother of James III., was placed
here as a State prisoner, on the charge of having conspired with
his brother Albany against the king. Mar was a gay, gallant knight,
with none of the king's fondness for architecture and poetry, but
delighting in hunting and warlike exercises. Whether he was guilty
was never quite proved, but the accusation which was brought by his
enemies, of dealing with wizards, and using magical arts to shorten
the king's life, added tenfold weight to the charges against him. The
end of this handsome and unfortunate prince is wrapped in obscurity.
The popular belief was, that he was put to death by opening his
veins in a warm bath; but Drummond of Hawthornden relates, on
good authority, that, being ill of a fever, he was removed from
Craigmillar to his lodgings in the Canongate, and that, having been
bled by his physicians, he tore the bandages from his arm in a fit of
delirium, and died from the consequent loss of blood.
The next royal visitor to Craigmillar was James V. He was brought
here as a boy, while the plague was raging in Edinburgh, and
he seems to have preserved pleasant memories of the sport he
enjoyed in the surrounding forests, for he afterwards built the
little hunting-chapel at the Bridge-end, which now has completely
disappeared.
But it is round his daughter's--Queen Mary's--name that most of the
memories of the past entwine themselves. Here she came--the bright
young queen--on her first return from France, with the flower of
Scotland's chivalry gathered round her, and never a presentiment of
the sorrows to come, or the treachery that was to lurk in her path.
These were Craigmillar's gayest, happiest days. Each morning saw the
brilliant cavalcade setting forth for the sport, which the queen,
like all her race, loved so well, while at night the vaulted halls
resounded with music and with mirth.
A few years later, and how changed was the scene! Mary came here in
December 1566, a few months after the birth of her child, ill in
health, weary and dispirited in mind, and realizing to the utmost
what a poor, craven wretch was the husband she had chosen. "The
queen," writes De Croc, the French Ambassador, to the Archbishop
of Glasgow,[34] "is for the present at Craigmillar, about a league
distant from this city. She is in the hands of the physicians; and
I do assure you, is not at all well, and I do believe the principal
part of her disease to consist of a deep grief and sorrow. Nor does
it seem possible to make her forget the same. Still she repeats these
words--'_I could wish to be dead!_'" While she was thus looking
sadly before her, those around her were preparing a terrible future.
Moray, Lethington, Bothwell, Huntly, and Argyle proposed a divorce
to her, and even, it is said, hinted darkly at some simpler way of
getting rid of Darnley, without prejudice to the little prince. The
queen forbade anything to be done, by which any spot might be laid
on her honour; and then, unknown to her, the fatal bond which proved
Darnley's death-warrant was drawn up here by Sir James Balfour,
one of Bothwell's most unscrupulous adherents, and signed by the
nobles.[35]
[34] Letter dated December 2, 1566.
[35]
'Twas in Craigmillar's dusky hall
That first I lent my ear
To that deep tempter Lethington,
With Moray bending near.