THE LUCKENBOOTHS.
He comes not on a wassail rout,
Of revel, sport, and play;
Our sword's gart fame proclaim us men
Long ere this ruefu' day.
OLD BALLAD.
The bell tolling eleven in the clock-tower of the Netherbow Porte,
made Clermistonlee quicken his pace in issuing from the gloomy alley
of his house into the broad and magnificent High Street, along the
far extending vista of which, and on its thronging crowds and
infinity of shining windows, the summer sun poured down its morning
glory. Round the Fountainwell there was the same bustle that may be
seen at the present day; thrifty and noisy housewives quarrelling
with the watercarriers, whose shining barrels upborne on leather
slings, were then the only means by which water was conveyed to the
houses; and a few old men, the last remnant of another age and more
primitive state of society, yet linger around the old fountain, and
climb to the loftiest mansions of the ancient Wynds, supplying the
water which the Reservoir cannot force to so great a height.
Carved and gilded coaches rumbled slowly over the rough causeway, and
sedans borne by liveried chairmen were bearing the owners to morning
visits. The street was crowded with passengers and loungers dressed
in all the colours of the rainbow. The heads of the ladies were
covered by hoods of silk and velvet, while the wives of citizens were
forced to content themselves with a plaid muffler pinned under the
chin.
Gentlemen still wore the plain Scottish bonnet, or the vast cavalier
hat, looped up and plumed; snug burgesses and staring countrymen
thronged past, attired (conform to Act of the Estates) in
linsey-woolsey, hodden-grey, tartan, coarse blue bonnets, and ribbed
galligaskins, a style of dress which formed a strong contrast to the
splendid vestments of their superiors, whose silks and velvets,
slashed and laced, were glittering everywhere in the sun.
A few officers of the Fusilier Guards in their gilt breast-plates,
scarlet coats, and white scarfs, cavaliers of Claver'se regiment, and
other "bucks of the first fashion," in all the magnificence of laced
taffeta, long rapiers, perfumed scarfs, and tall feathers, were
lounging about the pillars of the Venetian arcade, in front of
Blair's Coffee House, or jested and flirted with those passing fair
ones who flaunted their long trains under the cool shade of the
Mahogany-lands, as certain old balconied edifices that have long
since disappeared were named.
Jangling in mid air under the gothic crown of the old cathedral, the
musical bells rang merrily, mingling with the busy hum that floated
upward from the dense population below. The gift of Thomas Moodie, a
citizen, these bells had been hung there in 1681. In one of the
recesses formed by the buttresses of the church, a man was reading to
a crowd, that listened intently, around the barrel on which he had
perched himself. It was the _Caledonius Mercurius_, from the columns
of which he was detailing some of Louis XIVths religious persecutions
under the intolerant Mazarine, which now and then brought a muttered
execration from the listeners.
Paunchy and gorbellied citizens, whose shops were in the gloomy
recesses of the Luckenbooths, the cruicks of the Bow, or cellars of
the Lawnmarket, were grouped about the city cross, which, with its
tall octagon spire and unicorn, was for ages one of the chief
beauties of the city. On one side of it stood the Dyvours-stane,
whereon sat a row of those unfortunates, who for misfortune or
roguery were, by act of the council, compelled to appear there each
market day at noon, in the bankrupt's garb--a yellow bonnet, and
coat, one half yellow, the other brown, under pain of three months'
imprisonment.
On the other side groaned a wretched woman, who, for the heinous
enormity of drinking the devil's health had just undergone the triple
punishment of having her tongue bored, her cheek branded, and her
back scourged.
The cross was the 'Change of the city, and on the spot where it
stood, every Wednesday our traders yet meet to buy and sell, and to
consult with sharp Clerks to the Signet, and more sharping
Solicitors, where bargains are daily made as of old, but requiring
ratifications more binding than merely standing on "our lady's steps"
at the east end of St. Giles, or the pressure of wetted thumbs on a
certain mysterious stone which was there kept for that purpose.
With a velvet mantle floating from his left shoulder, a long yellow
feather waving over the right, and having in his carriage all that
indefinable air which the consciousness of rank and spirit seldom
fail to impart, Clermistonlee walked hastily up the street, poking
his nose into the hood of every woman that passed. He kissed his
hand to fair Annie Laurie, as she sailed out of Peebles Wynd with her
fan spread before, and her vast fardingale behind her: he made a long
step to cross the grave of Merlin, (whose stone coffin for ages
marked the street he had been the first to pave), he roundly cursed
the sooty Tronmen who did not make sufficient way for him, kicked a
water barrel ten yards off, and laid his cane across the shoulders of
the aquarius, its owner, bowed to the gay fellows under Blair's
pillars, and with the air of a man who knew he was pretty well
observed, made a pirouette near the cathedral, surveying all around
him, but without seeing the person of whom he was in quest.
"Juden," said he to that respectable personage, who stuck close to
his skirts, "I see not this knave, with whom I would fain come to
blows while my spirit is in its bitterest mood."
"Right, my lord; but I warrant they will be cooing and billing on the
Castle-hill yet."
"They--whom? Dost mean to tell me that Lilian Napier hath appeared
there with her spark?"
"Hath she no? By my faith, 'tis the toun gossip," said Juden, who,
notwithstanding his devotion to his master, thought there could be no
harm in rousing his fierce spirit to the utmost. "Mony a summer even
in the balmy gloaming have they been seen in the King's Park, where
none but lovers gang, as your lordship kens, for there yoursel and
bonny Lady Alison----"
"Silence!" said Clermistonlee, through his clenched teeth; "always
these memories--ever reminding me of her whom I would wish to forget
for ever, as the dead should be forgotten. But the park and the
hill!--Gadzooks, varlet! I believe thou liest, for Fenton hath not
known her many months, I believe. I hope, too, the girl is
over-modest thus to exhibit herself. Come on; by all the devils,
come on!" and, giddy from passion and the fumes of his last night's
wine, he turned abruptly, and made a circuit of the Parliament
Square. Though it was false that Lilian had ever appeared on those
solitary promenades, which then were the usual resort of avowed
lovers (for such was the custom of the time), and though
Clermistonlee could scarcely believe the tidings of Juden, they
served the end that worthy aimed at, and became an additional gall to
his spirit, and whet to his ferocity.
The idea of a young lady of family and fashion appearing with her
lover in such a place as the King's Park, may excite a smile; now it
is the resort of the artisan, the student, and the sewing-girl; but
in those days it was the common place for afternoon promenades and
assignations, ere the phases of society among the middle and upper
classes of the Scottish capital underwent so complete a change.
"My lord," whispered Juden, approaching his master sidelong, "what
think ye o' keeping the croon o' the causeway this morning?"
"Much as you love me, sirrah, you are ever prompting me to blows and
danger, and then seem wretched until I am safe again. Gadso! dost
think, thou gomeral, that I am in humour to indulge the quarrelsome
mood of every fool who deems the length of his rapier and pedigree,
entitle him to maintain it for himself? Besides, the fashion went
out with our fathers, and he who would now march down the street in
defiance of all mankind, would be deemed a blustering swashbuckler,
and pitiful fanfaron, worthy only of a sound cudgelling. No, no; for
one alone must I keep my rapier bright, and by Jove! yonder he
comes--she is with him, too--she leans on his arm--he talks, and she
smiles--D----nation! How happy they seem!--and this is the minx who
rejected my love, and despised my coronet. Follow me, Juden, for now
I will show thee a brawl such as this street hath not witnessed,
since old Crauford and the covenanting major fought with sword and
dasher from the Bowhead to the Tronbeam!"
Swelling with fury, he advanced to the entrance of the Luckenbooths,
and Juden, like a true Scottish retainer, felt his wrath rising in
proportion with that of his leader. The narrow pile of buildings
they traversed extended the whole length of the cathedral and the
Tolbooth which adjoined it; dividing that part of the high-street
into two narrow alleys. Expedience, the increasing population, and
the political relations of the country with England, which required
every citizen to be within the walls, can alone account for this
singular erection of one street in the centre of another.
Some of its tall ghostly edifices were very old and picturesque,
having modern outshoots supported by grotesque oak pillars forming
arcades below; under these were the Laigh cellars (_i.e._, low
shops), where the merchants exhibited their goods, and called public
attention to them as noisily and importunately as the shopmen of the
Bridges did until 1818, and those of St. Mary's Wynd do at the
present day. Between the deep gothic buttresses of the cathedral
were clustered a multitude of little shops called the Craimes,
similar to those which still disfigure the magnificent façades of
Antwerp and other great continental churches. This was the centre of
the city, the place of bustle, crowd, and business, dust in summer,
mud in winter, and noise at all times.
Quite unconscious of the fiery spirit that followed him, Walter
Fenton led Lilian slowly through this narrow and crowded street,
where they stopped often to survey the various things displayed under
the piazza, and laughed and chatted gaily, for the young lady was
very well pleased with her cavalier officer, who, she thought, never
looked so handsome in his rich military dress and tall ostrich
feather.
There was something very pretty, racy, and piquant in the beauty and
attire of Lilian, whose hood of purple velvet, tied with a string of
little Scots' pearls, permitted her fair hair to fall in front,
dressed _à la negligence_. Her ruff was starched as stiff as Bristol
board, and her long rustling skirt of crimson silk stuck out like a
pyramid all round, from the velvet boddice which was laced round a
little bust, to Walter's eyes, the most charming in the world. Her
gloves were highly perfumed, and so was all her dress; altogether the
young lady of Bruntisfield was very charming; everybody knew her,
smiled on her, and made way with that native politeness which, alas!
is no longer characteristic of the Lowland Scots. A lame old
liveryman who had ridden in Sir Archibald's troop, limped behind as
their esquire and attendant.
"What are ye boune for buying the day, my winsome lady?" said a
buirdly vender of groceries; "what are ye buying? Plumedames
sixpence the pound--the new herb wise folk ca' tea, and fules ca'
poison, only fifty English shillings the pound--oranges, nutmegs, and
lemons frae the land o' the idolatrous Portugales--Gascony, Muscadel,
and Margaux, the wines o' the neer-do-weel French--aughteen pence the
Scots quart--what are ye for buying, madam?"
"Or if you lacked a sharp rapier, Sir," cried a bare-armed
swordslipper, leaning over his half door, and taking up the chaunt;
"a corslet o' Milan that would turn a cannon-ball. I have spurs o'
Rippon steel, dirks of Parma, pikes of Culross, blades of Toledo,
pistols of Glasgow, and gude Kilmaurs whittles, the best of a'."
"O what a Babel it is!" said Lilian.
"Or a warm roquelaure to wear in the camp, my handsome gentleman?"
cried Lucky Diaper, a brisk and comely haberdasher in a quilted gown,
high-heeled shoes and lace-edged coif. "What are ye buying my Lady
Lilian? You will be setting up house I warrant, and are come to seek
for the plenishing. Walk in, sir--walk in, madam. I have cushions
o' velvet for hall-settles and window-seats stuffed with Orkney
down--buird-claiths of worsted and silk, servants (or napkins, as the
Southrons ca' them) o' Dornick and Flanders' damask, some sewit, and
others plain--crammasie codwairs, and sheets just without number.
What want ye my bonny leddy, and when does the bridal come off?"
"Malediction on her chatter!" muttered Clermistonlee, who lounged at
the door. Walter smiled, Lilian blushed and trembled between
diffidence and anger; but her reply was interrupted by the entrance
of a customer, who, lifting his bonnet respectfully to her, tendered
his order to Lucky Diaper, who immediately reddened up with
indignation, and eyeing him askance, said sharply,
"Set ye up, indeed, wi' a coleur-du-roi coat of three pile taffeta;
its like the impudence that makes ye speir before your betters are
served. My certie! what is this world coming to when a loon o' a
baxter, comes spiering for the like o' that? Awa wi' ye, man, awa!
Galloway-white, drab-de-frieze, or buckram conform to the Act o'
Apparel are gude enough for one of your degree!"
The unfortunate baker was forced to retreat, for the draper of 1688
thought very differently from one of the present day.
"Ay, Madam Lilian, there was that ill-faured wife o' Baillie Jaffray,
who bydes up the Stinking Style (just aboon the Knight o' Coates'
lodging), gaed down the gate not an hour ago, wi' a hood o' silken
crammassie wi' champit figures as red as her ain neb, and a mantle
wi' passments sevvit round the craig o't. What think ye o' that for
a wabster's wife in the Lawnmarket? I mind the time when sic
presumption would have found her a cauld lodging in the Water Hole.
That was in 1672, when the Apparel Act was strictly enforced, and
nane but gentlefolk daured to ruffle it on the plainstanes in silk,
taffeta, lace or furring, broidery or miniver; but the times are
changing fast. I am getting auld now; and neighbours say, am far
behind the world.
"Bonny Florentine blue that is, my lady; and weel would it become
your sweet face, if pinkit out wi' red satin à-la-mode. Lack ye a
sword-knot, young gentleman, blue and white, our auld Scottish
cockade? In what can I serve ye? A' the cavaliers of my Lord
Dunbarton ken me; for I had a fair laddie once, that fell in their
ranks at Tangier (rest him, God!), far, far awa' among the
black-avised unco's."
When a pause in the bustling dealer's garrulity permitted her to
speak, Lilian requested so much of the finest blue velvet as would
make a scarf for the shoulder, with fringe and embroidery thread, and
spangles of gold and silver.
"I see, madam--I ken," resumed Lucky Diaper with a smirk of
intelligence; "'tis a scarf for this winsome gentleman. Oh, hinny,
ye needna blush; I mind the time when your lady mother came here to
order a braw plenishing for her bridal and bedecking for her
chamber-of-dais; and a blythe woman I was to serve her! Blue
taffeta?--you'll be taking the very best Genoa, I warrant. It is a
pleasure to serve gentlefolk; but it gars my heart grieve when loons
like that baxter body think o' decking their ill-faured heads and
hoghs in my fine Florence silk and Sheffield claith. Come, bustle,
lassies, and show my Lady Lilian our velvets."
Two spruce and buxom shop-girls, in short overgowns, with snooded
hair and bare arms, laid several rolls of velvet before Lilian, who
immediately made her selection, and, anxious to escape the infliction
of any more observations from Lucky, desired her to give it to the
lame serving-man, and note it in the books of the steward, Syme of
the Hill. All the shopwomen curtsied profoundly, as Lilian took the
arm of Walter, and swept again into the morning bustle of the
Luckenbooths.
Chafing at their delay, Clermistonlee had been looking with imaginary
interest into the window of a bookseller's booth (the sign of which
was "Jonah"); but he heard not the chatter of the proprietor, whose
tongue supplied the place of newspaper puff, review, and publishing
list. His lordship's thoughts were elsewhere than among the
red-lettered and quaintly illustrated tomes before him.
"What are you for buying, this braw day, my noble lord? There is the
Knight of Rowallan's 'Trve Crvcifix,' the 'Banished Virgin'--a folio
that will please you better;--the three volumes of 'Astrsea;' the
'Illustrious Bassa,' imprinted by Mosely, the Englishman in St.
Paul's Churchyard, fresh frae London by the last waggon, only three
weeks ago; the last poem o' bluidy ----, my noble Lord Advocate, Sir
George o' Rosehaugh, 'Clelias Country House and Closet,' whilk, as
the Lady Drumsturdy said in this very buith yesterday, is the most
delichtfu' book since the days o' Gawain Douglas or Dunbar----"
"Sirrah, I want neither your books nor your babble; when I lack
either, I will know where to come," said the haughty lounger,
suddenly remembering where he was, and whence came the cataract of
words that poured on his ear. Turning, he saw those for whom he was
in wait entering the Lawnmarket, the loftiest and most spacious part
of the street, and where at that early part of the forenoon the
thronged pavement was almost impassable. The moment for action had
come! The heart of Clermistonlee beat like lightning. He beckoned
Juden (who had condescendingly been tasting the vaunted usquebaugh of
various dealers), and hurried after them into the denser crowd and
full glare of the noonday sun.
Quite unconscious of what was about to ensue, Walter and his fair
companion, with the lame servant limping behind them, wended slowly
up the busy street, chatting and laughing with low and subdued
voices, till the blow of a heavy rapier ringing on Walter's backplate
of steel, and the words--
"Turn, villain, and draw or die!" thundered in his ear, making him
start round with his hand on his sword, and Lilian uttered a low
breathless exclamation of dismay on beholding Clermistonlee,--the
dreaded and terrible Lord Clermistonlee, tall, strong, and
fierce-eyed, standing on his defence; while a dense crowd, whose
attention the wanton insult immediately attracted, closed round on
every hand.
All was clamour and uproar in a moment, and cries of "A fray, a
fray!--the Guard, the Guard!--redd them!" burst from a hundred
tongues. Walter's wrath was boundless on finding himself
anticipated, insulted, and defied by the very man he had resolved to
call to account on the first opportunity.
"Strike, rascal!" cried Clermistonlee.
"Thou double-villain! why molest me thus in the public street?"
"That the public may the more readily behold thy cowardice. Wilt
strike, man, or shall I spit upon thee as a cream-faced coistral?"
"For these words all the blood in your body could never atone. You
will have it then? Come on, proud Lord!" replied Walter, while with
his sword he waved back the people, whose applause seemed in favour
of Clermistonlee, as a townsman and peer, and late events had made
the army in bad odour with the populace.
"O good people, part them--stay them for the love of God!" urged the
plaintive voice of Lilian, and it thrilled through Walter's heart.
"Place, gentlemen! fall back, fellows--clear the causeway!" cried
Douglas of Finland, pushing through the crowd.
"Give the gentlemen room," added Jack Holster, coming up at the same
moment. "Now, gallants, to it blade and shell. Gentlemen of the
Royal Guards, draw, that we may see fair play to the King's
commission;" and he unsheathed his sword.
"Mistress Lilian, permit me--you must--intreaties are unavailing,"
said Finland, leading away the pale and sinking girl, in whose ears
the clash of the rapiers rang terribly, and she saw them flashing in
the sunlight above the heads of the dense and shouting mob, till
reaching the booth of Lucky Diaper, where she burst into a passion of
tears, and here we will leave her for the present.
Drawing his rapier, Douglas rushed back to separate the combatants,
or take part in the brawl if necessary. Clermistonlee pressed
forward with the greatest fury, determined to slay his antagonist,
who, knowing how much _he_ had to dread, if a man so high in rank, a
Lord of the Parliament, Privy Councillor, and head of a feudal
family, perished by his hand, fought only to defend himself, or, if
possible, to disarm or disable his furious enemy. At times their
long keen rapiers were visible for a moment; but a moment only. Like
blue fire, the bright blades flashed around them; but the skill of
both was so admirable, that as yet not a wound had been given.
The people laughed when the tall plumes of Clermistonlee were shred
from his hat by a back-stroke, and floated away over their heads; and
in turn they applauded, as Walter (still fighting strictly on the
defensive) was driven by the impetuosity of his enemy backward to the
wall of the Tolbooth, and cries of--
"Weel dune the gudeman o' Drumsheugh--up wi' the Red Wyvern--the auld
leaven o' the Covenant for ever!" rang on every hand, and Juden
exerted his lungs like a Stentor.
With a glowing heart and cheek, Walter found the conflict going
against him, and that his adversary was becoming exhausted, on which
he pressed vigorously in turn, and gaining more than the ground he
had lost, drove Lord Clermistonlee towards the arch of Byre's Close,
and then the rabble waved their bonnets and shouted--
"Hurrah for the Cavalier! Weel done, my brave buckie! doon wi' the
persecuting Lord!" and so forth; but Walter despised their praise,
and continued pressing forward till the fury of his antagonist on
finding himself driven back, step by step, amounted almost to
madness. Just at this successful crisis, Walter found his arms
violently seized by some one behind, and pinioned in such a manner
that he was placed completely at the mercy of his antagonist.
Jealous for the honour of his Lord, Juden, who had worked himself
into a very becoming fit of passion, had watched with kindling eyes
and half-drawn sword, the various turns of the combat, and now, on
beholding the master whom he loved as though he had been his own and
only son, driven backward, breathless and exhausted, and in danger of
being compelled to yield or die, he could no longer restrain himself,
but rushed upon Walter, and pinioned his arms, exclaiming,--
"Now, my Lord, now! put your bilbo through his brisket. Devil's
murrain on you, Randal, strike for Clermont, or never strike again!"
Surprise, for an instant, kept mute the shout of shame which rose to
every lip; and Walter struggled furiously with the stout old butler.
The eyes of Clermistonlee glared malignantly, and twice he raised his
long sharp rapier for a deadly thrust, and twice he lowered its
point. Walter's life seemed to hang by a hair, and how the fray
might have ended, it is impossible to say; but just when Jack
Holster, by a blow of his hunting whip, levelled Juden on the
pavement, Lord Mersington came running with a remarkably unsteady
gait, out of Blair's coffee-house, with his senatorial robes gathered
about his waist, his wig awry, in one hand a roll of interlocutors,
in the other a wine-flagon, which, in the hurry, he had forgotten to
leave behind him.
"Haud, ye loons! haud, in the sacred name of the King!" he exclaimed,
throwing him self boldly between them. "This is breaking the peace
o' the burgh--clean contrary to the act saxteenth James Sext, whilk
ordains that nae man shall fight, or provoke another to the combat,
under pain of death, and escheat o' moveable gudes and gear. What,
is it you, Clermistonlee--hee, hee, hee! ye born gomeral, to be
brawling like a wild Redshank on the plainstanes in open day? Come,
come, gossip, this will never do. Stand back, I charge ye baith in
the sacred name of his Majesty the King!"
"My lord of Mersington, I am the best judge of my own conduct,"
replied his friend, fiercely.
"But one far owre lenient--hee, hee! I am legally constituted judge
and justiciar baith o' the haill country; or up wi' your rapiers,
gallants, or I shall commit you, Randal, to the iron room of the
Tolbooth, and this braw spark o' Dunbarton's to the water-hole, whilk
being fifteen feet below the causeway, is a fine place for cooling
hot spirits."
Mersington's efforts were unavailing, for he was a man whom few
respected. Jack Holster and Craigdarroch pulled him back very
unceremoniously by his scarlet robes; for which he thrust his roll of
papers into the face of one, and hurled the wine-pot at the head of
the other.
Again the rapiers clashed together; but at that juncture Baillie
Jaffroy, a portly magistrate, the curve of whose round paunch was
finely delineated by his braided coat of purple broadcloth, and its
front row of vast horn buttons, displaying his gold chain (the badge
of civic power), rushed with a party of the Lord High Constable's
guard from the lobby of the Parliament House, and bearing back the
crowd with levelled partisans, separated the combatants.
Neither of them were arrested.
Clermistonlee, followed by Juden (who had acquired a black eye and
broken head), retired suddenly into the lower council chamber, where
the baillie, in dread of such a formidable personage, could not
follow, and therefore turned the whole torrent of his magisterial
wrath and indignation upon Walter Fenton, as being, he well knew,
less able to withstand them. But Douglas of Finland, Gavin of Gavin,
Holsterlee, and other military gallants, with drawn swords, carried
him off triumphantly to Hugh Blair's famous establishment at the
pillars, from whence, on the dispersion of the crowd, he rejoined
Lilian: and so ended the last single combat witnessed in the
high-street of Edinburgh.