the modern athens 11

the modern athens 11

The pilgrimage from the Holyrood to the castle, and by Princes

Street back to the Holyrood, seemed, to judge from the state of the

weather, to be peculiarly alarming or offensive to the “prince of the

power of the air,” as well as to the monarch of the British isles.

In all the former doings there had been something beyond the mere

parading in the street. The procession from Leith was a matter of

necessity, and furthermore it was exceedingly novel and interesting

in itself; the levee, the court, and the drawing-room, were part of

the usual machinery of the state; the court before the throne, and

the closet behind, for the receipt of addresses, “according to their

generations,” were what the addressing parties could not have been

happy without, and though these had been disappointed of the honours

and rewards which they had fondly expected would result at the time,

yet they fondly hoped that they had “done a do” which would lead to

great things in the sequel; and even the dances had brought folks

together, and might also have their fruits thereafter; but that the

King should be drawn along the whole length of the Cannon-gate and

High Street, work his way through the ugly gates and awkward passages

to the half-moon battery of the castle, then pull off his hat, give

three cheers in concert with the bawlings of the crowd, and then go

back to Holyrood by a more circuitous route, was so profound a piece

of wisdom,--so much a masterstroke of the good taste of the Great

Unknown, and the sage politics of the Athenian tories, as to be by

much too deep even for royal comprehension. It seemed too, that none

of those counsellors which the King had taken with him from England

could fathom its profundity. Sir William Curtis indeed pleaded the

lord mayor of London’s pilgrimages to Kew and Rochester Bridge, as

being precedents exactly in point; but those who knew the etiquette

of courts better, scouted all precedents which could originate within

Temple Bar,--partly, because they originate with those who arrogate to

themselves the power of closing that gaping portal against the King,

and, partly, because nothing possessed in the city is at all acceptable

but its money. The King himself scouted the pilgrimage as a piece of

idle foolery: declared, that he had seen the assembled people in his

progress to the palace; that he had received the noblemen, gentlemen,

official men, and addressing men, at levees and courts; that he had

sustained a general attack of the ladies at the drawing-room, and

sundry particular attacks at the dances; and that, if his Scottish

subjects were not yet satisfied with gazing at him, he would hold other

levees and other drawing-rooms, till the humblest boors, burghers, and

baillies, with their wives, should pass muster before him, provided it

were done as a King ought to do such things, in his state apartments at

Holyrood; but, that to have him shown along the streets, as they would

show an elephant or a prize ox, would be a degradation both to himself

and his subjects. Having, as was said, expressed himself thus, he sped

away for Dalkeith with even more than wonted alacrity, wishing that he

could be permitted to spend his days in a way somewhat more agreeable

to good sense and his own inclinations.

 

The pilgrimage had, however, been resolved on, and those bodies which

it was judged expedient that the King should wonder at, in their

collective capacities, had clubbed their half-guineas, and erected

their booths along the whole line of the High Street; and as all this

had been done without consulting the King, it was resolved to _boo_ and

beseech him into compliance. The King, who had previously known the

persevering nature of the political “seekers” of the Athens, judged

that the easiest way would be to comply with their request, although,

during the whole pilgrimage, I thought he appeared to feel that what

his politeness had made him content to do, could add nothing to his

kingly dignity.

 

By this time I had become so little apprehensive of arrowless bows,

and dirks never intended to be unsheathed, and so much accustomed to

tartans and tails, that I pushed myself into the very centre of the

procession; and as there was nothing better I could do, I contrived, by

putting a bold face upon it, and huzzaing, as well to demonstrate my

loyalty as to keep myself warm in the rain, to proceed to the rampart

of the half-moon battery, close by the side of the King.

 

As this was the occasion upon which the _people_ of the Athens were to

make their nearest approach to their Sovereign, the preparations for

it were correspondingly general. Notwithstanding the unpropitiousness

of the morning, the streets, booths, windows, and house-tops, were

thronged at an early hour. The members of all the trades, corporations,

and friendly societies, came pressing to the line of the progression

by about eleven, and formed a double line for the progress, each

well-dressed, and armed with a white wand; behind them, in varied

phalanx, was that part of the _posse comitatus_ which could not afford

to pay for windows or seats, and here and there stood a special

constable, or Fifeshire yeoman, mounted. Outside, the ten-storied

houses of the High Street were tapestried with human faces; and to

prevent disturbance, all the cross-streets were filled by cavalry.

About one, the procession began to form in the area of Holyrood, and

the progress commenced a little after two. The procession was formed of

nearly the same individuals who composed that on the King’s landing,

and they held nearly the same places. There was one addition, however,

which excited a good deal of interest: the ancient regalia of Scotland,

the _crown_, said to have been made for the Bruce and thus doubly dear

as a national relic, and the sceptre and sword of state. The regalia

were borne immediately in front of the royal carriage. First, the sword

of state, borne by the Earl of Morton, in lord-lieutenant’s uniform;

then the Sceptre, by the Hon. John Morton Stuart, second son to the

Earl of Moray; and last, the crown, by the Duke of Hamilton, in right

of the Earldom of Angus.

 

During the whole progress along the High-Street it rained, and thus

the spectacle was a good deal injured; but still, the immense crowd of

people, their orderly conduct, their happy faces, the immense height at

which some of them were posted, the gorgeous array of the cavalcade,

and, as much as any thing, the antique grandeur of the street, had a

fine effect. The King was every where greeted by shoutings, not loud,

but sustained; and he conducted himself with dignity. Next to the King,

the object of attention was the Duke of Hamilton, who was cheered along

the whole line, partly on his own account, and partly from his carrying

the ancient symbol of Scottish independence. It was well that the first

time that symbol was borne publicly in the streets of the Scottish

capital, after having been missing for a century, should have been in

the hands of a nobleman who feels for, and supports the remnant of that

independence. The robes of the Lord Lyon were so fine, and his coronet

so showy, that he was by many of the people mistaken for the King; nor

did the beautiful black barb which bore the Knight Mareschal want his

due share of admiration.

 

Upon the King’s leaving the Cannon-gate, and passing the building

where, in English, in Latin, and in Greek, is recorded the escape of

John Knox from assassination, several buxom and well-dressed damsels

scattered flowers in the street, the music in the mean time playing the

King’s Anthem. The Tron-kirk and St. Giles’ successively tingled their

bells, and every thing demonstrated the satisfaction of the people. The

_bodies_ which had their booths about St. Giles’ now did reverence,

and lifted their voices just as his Majesty was passing over the spot

which long groaned beneath the mass of the Heart of Mid-Lothian. When

the King had arrived at the Castle-Hill, the procession turned aside,

and he passed between the assembled _counties_, who were very fervent

in their demonstrations of joy. He alighted on a platform covered with

crimson, received the keys from the Governor, returned them, walked

over the draw-bridge with a few of his train, was received there by

the grenadiers of the 66th, entered his carriage, (all his attendants

on foot,) and drove to the Half-Moon battery, where, from a platform

erected for the occasion, it was hoped that he would have enjoyed a

_coup-d’œil_ of the whole loyalty and beauty of Edinburgh.

 

The day, however, was very unfavourable, a fog shrouded the city,

and it rained heavily; still, the King stood up, waved his hat, and

spoke to the people, while the cannon from the lower batteries of the

Castle, and from the Calton-Hill, and Salisbury Craggs, told the news.

Dark as was the scene, it was most sublime. Through one opening of the

clouds, one could catch a glimpse of Arthur’s Seat; through another,

the smoke of a cannon from the Craggs, and through a third, some tower

or turret of the city. Among these, by the way, the finest is the

monument erected in St. Andrew’s-Square, to the late Lord Melville.

It is a fluted Doric column, with a rich base and capital, and most

appropriately surmounted by a bee-hive, in testimony, doubtless, of

the countless friends and relatives for whom the noble lord had the

means of providing. When the King had escaped from the pleasure of this

inspection, he filed off for Dalkeith-House, and the _pecus_, who had

been ducked and delighted, retired to evaporate the external moisture

by moisture within. The _plebs_ of different places have different

modes of expressing their joy or their grief; those of the Athens,

whatever be their rank or denomination, and whether in weal or in woe,

close the most social as well as the most sad of their exhibitions, by

pouring out a drink-offering, and pouring it out abundantly.

 

I must now say something of that act of the royal drama in which the

official and loyal men of Scotland gave, before the King, ocular

demonstration of how substantially they could eat, and how copiously

they could drink. Eating and drinking are, in all civilized countries,

and more especially, perhaps, in the British dominions, so closely

allied with loyalty, that the bason and the bowl would perhaps be its

most appropriate symbols. Corporations have ever been pre-eminent for

those demonstrations of support to the throne; and as the Athenian

corporation is pre-eminent among corporations in the northern part of

this island, so the feastings of that corporation have ever been the

fullest and the fattest.

 

A feast of the corporation of the Athens is a thing altogether

different from a feast of the corporation of London. In both places

it is, no doubt, more sentient than sentimental; and the belly must

be put to sleep ere the soul be awakened to heroic deeds; but a feast

of the corporation of London is, notwithstanding all its abundance, a

merely plebeian thing,--it emanates from the people, is partaken of by

the people, and if royal or courtly persons be there, they are in the

humble attitude of guests. It is a matter, in short, not only different

from, but in opposition to, those cold collations which obtain in the

kingly circles; and it is calculated to inspire the people more with

sentiments of independence, and a consciousness of their own worth,

than with that bowing down of the honour for the sake of rising in

office, and that beggaring of the heart for the sake of filling the

purse with the gains of office, which invariably accompany banquets of

exclusive loyalty. The feastings of the Athenian corporation, on the

other hand, are feastings which the people do not originate, and of

which they are not allowed to partake. They are of two kinds,--which

may be distinguished as well as characterized by the two epithets

of “dinners of the flagon,” and “dinners of the scrip;” the former

having reference to nothing else than the filling of the belly, the

latter having an ultimate view to the replenishing of the purse. The

feast of the flagon is by much the more ancient; it is characteristic

of the whole genus of corporation men; and it is because they have a

much greater propensity to feed the flesh than either to cultivate

or to exercise the understanding, that corporations are every where

denominated _bodies_,--as much as to say, that though they may have

souls, these are not worth taking into the account. In ancient times,

when kings held their regular courts in Scotland, and when these

eclipsed all that could be done by the delegated moons of the Athenian

corporation, that corporation had the same leaning toward the people

which other corporations near the seat of royalty are supposed to

possess, and in those days the feast of the flagon was almost the only

one known to the corporation men of the Athens. Now, however, as the

royal household in Scotland has become a mere cipher, and since the

second-hand vessels into which the delegation of the royal authority

has been poured have become such as not easily to be contaminated

by any association, the feasts of the scrip--a sort of clubbing of

stomachs and of tongues among all the Attic worthies, have come into

use, more and more in proportion as the times have been more and more

trying and troublesome, and the price of the __EXPRESSION__ of loyalty

has been enhanced, upon the ground of its alleged scarcity;--since

this has been the case, a complete separation has taken place even

in the feasts of the flagon, between the corporated bodies and the

uncorporated spirits of the Athens; and in this the “bodies” have

found ample compensation, in the greater frequency of their own

peculiar gastronomizings, as well as in the tagging of themselves

to the tails of the Lord-President, the Lord-Advocate, and the Lord knows who--keeper for the time being of the secret influence of Scotland,--who at all times form the tripod upon which the incense-pot of Scottish loyalty is sustained.