In the latter part of the seventeenth century, the inhabitants of
the West Bow enjoyed a peculiar fame for their piety and zeal in
the Covenanting cause. The wits of the opposite faction are full of
allusions to them as ‘the Bowhead Saints,’ ‘the godly plants of the
Bowhead,’ and so forth. [This is the basis of an allusion by a later
Cavalier wit, when describing the exit of Lord Dundee from Edinburgh,
on the occasion of the settlement of the crown upon William and Mary:
‘As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow,
Ilka carline was flyting, and shaking her pow;
But some young plants of grace, that looked couthie and slie,
Said: “Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee!”’
It is to be feared that Sir Walter has here shown a relenting towards
the ‘young plants,’ for which they would not have thanked him.] All the
writings of the wits of their own time speak of the system to which
they were opposed as one of unmitigated sternness. It was in those days
a custom to patrol the streets during the time of divine service, and
take into captivity all persons found walking abroad; and indeed make
seizure of whatever could be regarded as guilty of Sabbath-breaking.
It is said that, led by a sneaking sense, the patrol one day lighted
upon a joint of meat in the course of being roasted, and made prize of
it, leaving the graceless owner to chew the spit. On another occasion,
about the year 1735, a capture of a different kind was made. ‘The
people about that time,’ says Arnot, ‘were in use to teach their birds
to chant the songs of their party. It happened that the blackbird of an
honest Jacobitical barber, which from his cage on the outside of the
window gave offence to the zealous Whigs by his songs, was neglected,
on a Saturday evening, to be brought within the house. Next morning
he tuned his pipe to the usual air, _The king shall enjoy his own
again_. One of the _seizers_, in his holy zeal, was enraged at this
manifestation of impiety and treason in one of the feathered tribe.
He went up to the house, seized the bird and the cage, and with much
solemnity lodged them in the City-Guard.’[22] Pennycook, a burgess
bard of the time, represents the officer as addressing the bird:
‘Had ye been taught by me, a _Bowhead saint_,
You’d sung the Solemn League and Covenant,
Bessy of Lanark, or the Last Good-night;
But you’re a bird prelatic—that’s not right....
Oh could my baton reach the laverocks too,
They’re chirping _Jamie, Jamie_, just like you:
I hate vain birds that lead malignant lives,
But love the chanters to the Bowhead wives.’