House of Gavin Douglas the Poet—Skirmish of Cleanse-the-Causeway—College Wynd—Birthplace of Sir Walter Scott—The Horse Wynd—Tam o’ the Cowgate—Magdalen Chapel.

Looking at the present state of this ancient street, it is impossible to hear without a smile the description of it given by Alexander Alesse about the year 1530—Ubi nihil est humile aut rusticum, sed omnia magnifica! (‘Where nothing is humble or homely, but everything magnificent!’) The street was, he tells us, that in which the nobles and judges resided, and where the palaces of princes were situated. The idea usually entertained of its early history is that it rose as an elegant suburb after the year 1460, when the existing city, consisting of the High Street alone, was enclosed in a wall. It would appear, however, that some part of it was built before that time, and that it was in an advanced, if not complete, state as a street not long after. It was to enclose this esteemed suburb that the city wall was extended after the battle of Flodden.

HOUSE OF GAVIN DOUGLAS THE POET—SKIRMISH OF CLEANSE-THE-CAUSEWAY.

So early as 1449, Thomas Lauder, canon of Aberdeen, granted an endowment of 40s. annually to a chaplain in St Giles’s Church, ‘out of his own house lying in the Cowgaite, betwixt the land of the Abbot of Melrose on the east, and of George Cochrane on the west.’ This appears to have been the same Thomas Lauder who was preceptor to James II., and who ultimately became Bishop of Dunkeld. We are told that, besides many other munificent acts, he purchased a lodging in Edinburgh for himself and his successors.[204] That its situation was the same as that above described appears from a charter of Thomas Cameron, in 1498, referring to a house on the south side of the Cowgate, ‘betwixt the Bishop of Dunkeld’s land on the east, and William Rappilowe’s on the west, the common street on the north, and the gait that leads to the Kirk-of-Field on the south.’

From these descriptions we attain a tolerably distinct idea of the site of the house of the bishops of Dunkeld in Edinburgh, including, of course, one who is endeared to us from a peculiar cause—Gavin Douglas, who succeeded to the see in 1516. This house must have stood nearly opposite to the bottom of Niddry Street, but somewhat to the eastward. It would have gardens behind, extending up to the line of the present Infirmary Street.

We thus not only have the pleasure of ascertaining the Edinburgh whereabouts of one of our most distinguished national poets, but we can now read, with a somewhat clearer intelligence, a remarkable chapter in the national history.

It was in April 1520 that the Hamiltons (the party of the Earl of Arran), with Bethune, Archbishop of Glasgow, called an assembly of the nobility in Edinburgh, in order to secure the government for the earl. The rival magnate, the Earl of Angus, soon saw danger to himself in the great crowds of the Hamilton party which flocked into town. Indeed warlike courses seem to have been determined on by that side. Angus sent his uncle, the Bishop of Dunkeld, to caution them against any violence, and to offer that he should submit to the laws if any offence were laid to his charge. The reverend prelate, proceeding to the place of assembly, which was in the archbishop’s house, at the foot of Blackfriars Wynd, found the Hamilton party obstinate. Thinking an archbishop could not or ought not to allow strife to take place if he could help it, he appealed to Bethune, who, however, had actually prepared for battle by putting on armour under his rochet. ‘Upon my conscience, my lord,’ said Bethune, ‘I know nothing of the matter,’ at the same time striking his hand upon his breast, which caused the armour to return a rattling sound. Douglas’s remark was simply, ‘Your conscience clatters;’ a happy pun for the occasion, clatter being a Scotch word signifying to tell tales. Gavin then returned to his lodging, and told his nephew that he must do his best to defend himself with arms. ‘For me,’ he said, ‘I will go to my chamber and pray for you.’ With our new light as to the locality of the Bishop of Dunkeld’s lodging, we now know that Angus and his uncle held their consultations on this occasion within fifty yards of the house in which the Hamiltons were assembled. The houses, in fact, nearly faced each other in the same narrow street.

Angus now put himself at the head of his followers, who, though not numerous, stood in a compact body in the High Street. They were, moreover, the favourites of the Edinburgh citizens, who handed spears from their windows to such as were not armed with that useful weapon. Presently the Hamiltons came thronging up from the Cowgate, through narrow lanes, and entering the High Street in separate streams, armed with swords only, were at a great disadvantage. In a short time the Douglases had cleared the streets of them, killing many, and obliging Arran himself and his son to make their escape through the North Loch, mounted on a coal-horse. Archbishop Bethune, with others, took refuge in the Blackfriars’ Monastery, where he was seized behind the altar and in danger of his life, when Gavin Douglas, learning his perilous situation, flew to save him, and with difficulty succeeded in his object. Here, too, local knowledge is important. The Blackfriars’ Monastery stood where the High School latterly was, a spot not more than a hundred yards from the houses of both Bethune and Gavin Douglas. It would not necessarily require more than five minutes to apprise Douglas of Bethune’s situation, and bring him to the rescue.

The popular name given to this street battle is characteristic—Cleanse-the-Causeway.

COLLEGE WYND—BIRTHPLACE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The old buildings of the College of Edinburgh, themselves mean, had for their main access, in former times, only that narrow dismal alley called the College Wynd,[205] leading up from the Cowgate. Facing down this humble lane was the gateway, displaying a richly ornamented architrave. The wynd itself, strange as the averment may now appear, was the abode of many of the professors. The illustrious Joseph Black lived at one time in a house adjacent to the College gate, on the east side, afterwards removed to make way for North College Street.[206] Another floor of the same building was occupied by Mr Keith, father of the late Sir Alexander Keith of Ravelston, Bart.; and there did the late Lord Keith reside in his student days. There was a tradition, but of a vague nature, that Goldsmith, when studying at the Edinburgh University, lived in the College Wynd.

The one peculiar glory of this humble place remains to be mentioned—its being the birthplace of Sir Walter Scott. In the third floor of the house just described, accessible by an entry leading to a common stair behind, did this distinguished person first see the light, August 15, 1771. It was a house of plain aspect, like many of its old neighbours yet surviving; its truest disadvantage, however, being in the unhealthiness of the situation, to which Sir Walter himself used to attribute the early deaths of several brothers and sisters born before him. When the house was required to give way for the public conveniency, the elder Scott received a fair price for his portion of it; he had previously removed to an airier mansion, No. 25 George Square, where Sir Walter spent his boyhood and youth.

In the course of a walk through this part of the town in 1825, Sir Walter did me the honour to point out the site of the house in which he had been born. On his mentioning that his father had got a good price for his share of it, in order that it might be taken down for the public convenience, I took the liberty of jocularly expressing my belief that more money might have been made of it, and the public certainly much more gratified, if it had remained to be shown as the birthplace of a man who had written so many popular books. ‘Ay, ay,’ said Sir Walter, ‘that is very well; but I am afraid I should have required to be dead first, and that would not have been so comfortable, you know.’

In the transition state of the College, from old to new buildings, the gate at the head of the wynd was shut up by Principal Robertson, who, however, living within the walls, found this passage convenient as an access to the town, and used it accordingly. It became the joke of a day, that from being the principal gate it had become only a gate for the Principal.[207]

THE HORSE WYND.

This alley, connecting the Cowgate with the grounds on the south side of the town within the walls, and broad enough for a carriage, is understood to have derived its name from an inn which long ago existed at its head, where the Gaelic Church long after stood. Although the name is at least as old as the middle of the seventeenth century, none of the buildings appear older than the middle of the eighteenth. They had all been renewed by people desirous of the benefit of such air as was to be had in an alley double the usual breadth. Very respectable members of the bar were glad to have a flat in some of the tall lands on the east side of the wynd.[208]

On the west side of the wynd, about the middle, the Earl of Galloway had built a distinct mansion, ornamented with vases at top. They kept a coach and six, and it was alleged that when the countess made calls, the leaders were sometimes at the door she was going to, when she was stepping into the carriage at her own door. This may be called a tour de force illustration of the nearness of friends to each other in Old Edinburgh.

TAM O’ THE COWGATE.

A court of old buildings, in a massive style of architecture, existed, previous to 1829, on a spot in the Cowgate now occupied by the southern piers of George IV. Bridge. In the middle of the last century it was used as the Excise-office; but even this was a kind of declension from its original character. It is certain that the celebrated Thomas Hamilton, first Earl of Haddington, President of the Court of Session, and Secretary of State for Scotland, lived here at the end of the sixteenth century, renting the house from Macgill of Rankeillour.[209] This distinguished person, from the circumstance of his living here, was endowed by his master, King James, with the nickname of Tam o’ the Cowgate, under which title he is now better remembered than by any other.

The earl, who had risen through high legal offices to the peerage, and who was equally noted for his penetration as a judge, his industry as a collector of decisions, and his talent for amassing wealth, was one evening, after a day’s hard labour in the public service, solacing himself with a friend over a flask of wine in his house in the Cowgate[210]—attired, for his better ease, in a nightgown, cap, and slippers—when he was suddenly disturbed by a great hubbub which arose under his window in the street. This soon turned out to be a bicker between the High School youths and those of the College; and it also appeared that the latter, fully victorious, were, notwithstanding a valiant defence, in the act of driving their antagonists before them. The Earl of Haddington’s sympathies were awakened in favour of the retiring party, for he had been brought up at the High School, and going thence to complete his education at Paris, had no similar reason to affect the College. He therefore sprang up, dashed into the street, sided with and rallied the fugitives, and took a most animated share in the combat that ensued, so that finally the High School youths, acquiring fresh strength and valour at seeing themselves befriended by the prime judge and privy-councillor of their country (though not in his most formidable habiliments), succeeded in turning the scale of victory upon the College youths, in spite of their superior individual ages and strength. The earl, who assumed the command of the party, and excited their spirits by word as well as action, was not content till he had pursued the Collegianers through the Grassmarket, and out at the West Port, the gate of which he locked against their return, thus compelling them to spend the night in the suburbs and the fields. He then returned home in triumph to his castle of comfort in the Cowgate, and resumed the enjoyment of his friend and flask. We can easily imagine what a rare jest this must have been for King Jamie.

When this monarch visited Scotland in 1617, he found the old statesman very rich, and was informed that the people believed him to be in possession of the Philosopher’s Stone; there being no other feasible mode of accounting for his immense wealth, which rather seemed the effect of supernatural agency than of worldly prudence or talent. King James, quite tickled with the idea of the Philosopher’s Stone, and of so enviable a talisman having fallen into the hands of a Scottish judge, was not long in letting his friend and gossip know of the story which he had heard respecting him. The Lord President immediately invited the king, and the rest of the company present, to come to his house next day, when he would both do his best to give them a good dinner and lay open to them the mystery of the Philosopher’s Stone. This agreeable invitation was of course accepted; and the next day saw his Cowgate palazzo thronged with king and courtiers, all of whom the President feasted to their hearts’ content. After dinner the king reminded him of his Philosopher’s Stone, and expressed his anxiety to be speedily made acquainted with so rare a treasure, when the pawky lord addressed His Majesty and the company in a short speech, concluding with this information, that his whole secret lay in two simple and familiar maxims—‘Never put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day; nor ever trust to another’s hand what your own can execute.’ He might have added, from the works of an illustrious contemporary:

‘This is the only witchcraft I have used;’

and none could have been more effectual.

A ludicrous idea is obtained from the following anecdote of the estimation in which the wisdom of the Earl of Haddington was held by the king, and at the same time, perhaps, of that singular monarch’s usual mode of speech. It must be understood, by way of prefatory illustration, that King James, who was the author of the earl’s popular appellation, ‘Tam o’ the Cowgate,’ had a custom of bestowing such ridiculous sobriquets on his principal councillors and courtiers. Thus he conferred upon that grave and sagacious statesman, John, Earl of Mar, the nickname Jock o’ Sklates—probably in allusion to some circumstance which occurred in their young days when they were the fellow-pupils of Buchanan. On hearing of a meditated alliance between the Haddington and Mar families, His Majesty exclaimed, betwixt jest and earnest: ‘The Lord hand a grup o’ me! If Tam o’ the Cowgate’s son marry Jock o’ Sklates’s daughter, what’s to come o’ me?’ The good-natured monarch probably apprehended that so close a union betwixt two of his most subtle statesmen might make them too much for their master—as hounds are most dangerous when they hunt in couples.

The Earl of Haddington died in 1637, full of years and honours. At Tyningham, the seat of his family, there are two portraits of his lordship, one a half-length, the other a head; as also his state-dress; and it is a circumstance too characteristic to be overlooked that in the crimson-velvet breeches there are no fewer than nine pockets! Among many of the earl’s papers which remain in Tyningham House, one contains a memorandum conveying a curious idea of the way in which public and political affairs were then managed in Scotland. The paper details the heads of a petition in his own handwriting to the Privy Council, and at the end is a note ‘to gar [that is, make] the chancellor’ do something else in his behalf.

A younger son of Tam o’ the Cowgate was a person of much ingenuity, and was popularly known, for what reason I cannot tell, by the nickname of ‘Dear Sandie Hamilton.’ He had a foundry in the Potterrow, where he fabricated the cannon employed in the first Covenanting war in 1639. This artillery, be it remarked, was not formed exclusively of metal. The greater part of the composition was leather; and yet, we are informed, they did some considerable execution at the battle of Newburnford, above Newcastle (August 28, 1640), where the Scots drove a large advanced party of Charles I.’s troops before them, thereby causing the king to enter into a new treaty. The cannon, which were commonly called ‘Dear Sandie’s Stoups,’ were carried in swivel fashion between two horses.

The Excise-office had been removed, about 1730, from the Parliament Square to the house occupied many years before by Tam o’ the Cowgate. It afforded excellent accommodations for this important public office. The principal room on the second floor, towards the Cowgate, was a very superb one, having a stucco ceiling divided into square compartments, each of which contained some elegant device. To the rear of the house was a bowling-green, which the Commissioners of Excise let on lease to a person of the name of Thomson. In those days bowling was a much more prevalent amusement than now, being chiefly a favourite with the graver order of the citizens. There were then no fewer than three bowling-greens in the grounds around Heriot’s Hospital; one in the Canongate, near the Tolbooth; another on the opposite side of the street; another immediately behind the palace of Holyrood House, where the Duke of York used to play when in Scotland; and perhaps several others scattered about the outskirts of the town. The arena behind the Excise-office was called Thomson’s Green, from the name of the man who kept it; and it may be worth while to remind the reader that it is alluded to in that pleasant-spirited poem by Allan Ramsay, in imitation of the Vides ut alta of Horace:

The green was latterly occupied by the relict of this Thomson; and among the bad debts on the Excise books, all of which are yearly brought forward and enumerated, there still stands a sum of something more than six pounds against Widow Thomson, being the last half-year’s rent of the green, which the poor woman had been unable to pay. The north side of Brown’s Square was built upon part of this space of ground; the rest remained a vacant area for the recreation of the people dwelling in Merchant Street, until the erection of the bridge, which has overrun that, as well as every other part of the scene of this article.[211]