the modern athens 12

the modern athens 12

No better idea of the nature and occasions of the feasts of the

flagon can be given than the well-known one of the bell-rope of the

Tron Kirk. For many years, a bell, which had been carefully cracked

lest the sound of it should disturb the official men, whose evening

retreats were deeply buried in the different closes, was tolled at the

tenth hour of every night to warn the populace from the streets, for

fear they should interrupt the march of that puissant corps of the

city-guard, who paraded the streets after that hour with bandy legs

and battle-axes, to conduct such of the lieges as could afford to pay

for it to any place of amusement they had a mind to visit. Nightly

exercise had worn the rope by which this bell was put in motion: it

broke one evening, and fell upon the head of a bailie who was passing,

rebounded from that without doing any damage, but floored an Athenian

damsel who was under his worship’s protection. This was, of course,

not to be borne; wherefore, a council was summoned, and a feast of the

flagon ordered; and when they had made themselves happy, they resolved

to adjourn till that day se’nnight, at which time they were to meet

and feast again, and receive estimates as to the expense of purchasing

a new rope and of splicing the old one. Having dined a second time,

they read the estimates, which were half-a-crown for the new rope, and

eighteen pence for splicing the old. A matter of so much importance

could not be settled at one meeting of council; wherefore, a second

adjournment and a third dinner were resolved upon. After that third

dinner, the tavern-bill, thirty-three pounds, six shillings, and

eight pence, for each of the three dinners, and the two estimates as

aforesaid, were laid upon the table. The treasurer of the city was

ordered first to pay the tavern-bill, and then to give orders that

the old rope should be spliced, because that would be a saving of

the public revenue, of which as faithful stewards, they ought to be

provident. The feasts of the scrip, again, are different,--bearing

a great resemblance to those associations of placemen, parsons, and

public stipendiaries, who from time to time meet all over the country,

and spend the price of a dinner with the same intention, and to the

same effect, that a farmer sprinkles grain in the furrows of his

field,--that in due time it may yield an abundant increase. During the

war, no sooner was a victory heard of, than away flew those supporters

of the Crown to a tavern, bumpered and bawled, till their loyalty and

every thing else appeared double, and then trotted off to beg a share

of the honour and emolument. If a tax or a scarcity pressed sore upon

the people, those persons were at their dining again, partly with a

view of diminishing the quantity of provision that might fall into the

hands of the enemy; partly because themselves are ever more courageous

in their cups; and partly because a report of their doings at a dinner

would sound much better than a report of their doings any where else.

 

Men who had thus from time immemorial rested not only their civic

and their political importance, but almost their civic and political

existence, upon their capacity for dining, in whom it was most likely

the greatest wisdom to do so, could not be expected to let his Majesty

eat his venison and drink his _Glenlivet_ (which unfortunately had

been both furnished by a Whig) at his ease in Dalkeith-House, but

would needs have him see with his own eyes with what zeal they could

cut into a buttock of beef, and with what alacrity they could drain

a goblet of wine, for the glory and the establishment of his throne.

Accordingly, as the following Sunday would be a day of rest, the civic

and other authorities in the Athens resolved that a feast of fat things

should be furnished forth in the great hall of the Athenian Parliament

House, upon Saturday the 24th of August. In preparing the hall for

this occasion, not only had the whole of the Athens been spoiled of

its decorations, but they had been forced to borrow largely at all the

loyal houses in the vicinity. And as it was in old times the custom for

every guest at the humbler Scottish parties to be provided with his

own spoon, his own knife, and his own pair of five-pronged forks, so

upon the present occasion it might be said, that each noble or loyal

visiter lent his ice-pail or his pepper-box. This hall, which is as it

were the vital principle of the Athens, the place where the tongues

of all her speakers are loosed, the pockets of all her quibblers

filled, the curiosity of all her gossips gratified, and the eyes and

wishes of all her fair directed--was made more gay than ordinary for

the occasion; and in the selection of guests, so far as that could be

controlled, care was taken that none should be present who could in any

wise eclipse in wisdom, or in elegance, the loyal lords of Scotland and

of the Athens. Feasting, however motley and contrasted the feasters,

is not a subject to be written about, but, as is perhaps the case with

music and with painting, it is a mere matter of temporary sensation.

Still, however, those who know the strange materials out of which

an Athenian corporation is formed, (and I shall tell those who do

not know by and by,) can easily conceive what an ungainly breadth of

delight the lower extremities of that corporation would feel in being

allowed to gorge themselves till their buttons were starting again,

in the very presence of the King. It was pleasing for them, too, to

hear the notes of flutes and fiddles issuing from those crypts and

holes about the hall whence no sounds are accustomed to issue but the

dronings of the law. The King, with his selected (I am not bound to

say select) guests, had a sort of line of partition, but all “below

the salt,” there seemed to be no law of aggregation. The man who had

fought at almost every degree of the earth’s circumference sat in close

juxtaposition with him who had warred merely with words; he who had

done what in him lay to pull down the glory of the old Athens, was

amid those who would copy that glory for the new; the sinecurist was

at the very ear of him by whom all sinecures are denounced; he who had

ploughed the wave was companion to him who had only tilled the ground;

and the peer and the bailie were on the most friendly footing. Nor was

the varied _status_ in life and __EXPRESSION__ of countenance, the only

thing which gave richness to the harmony. The sober blush of the heads

of the Kirk, and the sombre gowns of the Edinburgh magistrates, made a

fine contrast with the brightness of stars and ribbons, and epaulettes

and lace, and the mingling colours of the Celtic chiefs. There were not

many in the Highland garb: the Earl of Fife, Sir Even Mac Gregor, and

the Macdonald, were the only three that fell under my inspection; and

from the number of uniforms that every where predominated, the party

had a good deal of a military air.

 

In the arrangements too, the senses of the civic authorities, which are

not upon any occasion very great, appeared to be a little bewildered;

for there was no page to carry a bumper from the royal cup to the

Mordecais “whom the King delighted to honour.”

 

The only peculiarity of the feast, apart from the number and variety

of the guests, was the _reddendo_ of William Howison Craufurd, of

Braehead, who came with a basin and water, that his majesty might wash

his hands immediately after he had satisfied himself of the dainties

before him. There was a certain knot of persons who struck me as being

determined to monopolize the whole attention of the King; and, upon the

present occasion, two awkward boys, one a son and the other a nephew of

the Great Unknown, assisted the laird of Braehead in carrying the basin

and ewer, but they came and went unheeded. The tradition upon which

this service of the basin is founded, is worth repeating.

 

All the Jameses who lived and died kings of Scotland were fond of being

their own spies; and for this purpose, as well as for other purposes,

they were in the habit of travelling the country disguised and alone;

upon which occasions their doings had more of love or of war in them,

according to the disposition of the royal incognito. The rambles, and

amours, and songs, of James V. are well known, and so are some of the

brawls and battles of James II., not the second of England, who fought

by mercenaries for the purpose of slavery, but the second of Scotland,

who occasionally fought in prize battles with his subjects, by way of

experiment as to whether the sinews of a man or a monarch were the

better knit.

 

Upon one occasion, a gang of gypsies assailed him at Cramond, a few

miles west of Edinburgh; and, though he fought long and desperately, he

was beaten down. A ploughman, of the name of Howison, who was threshing

in a barn not far off, heard the noise, ran toward the place, and

seeing one man assailed, down, and all but defeated, by so many, began

to belabour the gypsies with his flail; and, having great strength

and skill at his weapon, soon put the gypsies to flight, lifted up

the King, carried him to his cottage, presented him with a towel and

water to remove the consequences of the fray, and then, declaring

that himself was “master there,” set the stranger at the head of his

humble board. “If you will call at the castle of Edinburgh,” said the

stranger, “and ask for Jamie Stuart, I will be glad to return your

hospitality.” “My hospitality,” said the farmer, “is nae gryte things

in itself; and it was gien without ony thought o’ a return, just as nae

doot you wad hae done to me in the same tacking; but I am obliged to

you for your offer, and wad like to see the castle at ony rate. The

King is a queer man, they say, and has queer things about him.” The

stranger upon this took his departure; and the rustic was well pleased

with the idea that he would get a sight of the inside of that strong

and majestic pile, of which he had so long admired the exterior.

 

A few days afterwards he repaired to the castle, inquired for “ane

Jamie Stuart, a stout gude-lookin chield, that could lick a dozen o’

gypsies, but not a score,” was admitted, and ushered into an apartment,

the splendour of whose furniture, and the number of whose company,

bewildered him not a little. At last, however, he recognised his old

guest Jamie Stuart, went up to him, shook him heartily by the hand,

inquired how he did, and expressed a very earnest wish to see the King,

if such an honour was at all possible for a man of his condition.

“The King is present now,” said Jamie Stuart, “and if you look round,

you will easily know him, for all the rest are bareheaded.” “Then,

I’m thinkin’ it maun either be you or me,” said Howison, pulling off

his bonnet, which till then his astonishment had prevented him from

thinking of; “and, as our acquaintance has begun by my fighting for

you, I had better keep to that when you need it, and let you keep to

bein’ King.” “Then, as you are so true and so trusty,” replied the

monarch, “you shall ride home the laird of Braehead.” “I like that

better than twa kingdoms,” said Howison, “but I canno’ accept o’ sae

much even frae your majesty, without gien’ something for’t.” “Well,

then,” said the King, “as long as we are kings of Scotland and lairds

of Braehead, let you and your’s present to me and mine, a basin and

towel to wash our hands, whenever we ask for it.”

 

This was the only occurrence which took place to break the dull

activity of the dinner. But when the cup circulated, a ceremony was

performed which delighted the corporation-men of the Athens, and

made the other corporation-men all over Scotland sad through sore

disappointment. The chief magistrate of Edinburgh, who had taken his

dinner as plain Mr. William Arbuthnot, took his drink as Sir William

Arbuthnot, Knight Baronet of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and

Ireland,--the knighthood, as was alleged, having been, for the want

of a sword, inflicted by that much more appropriate weapon, a large

carving-knife, and the baronetage having subsequently issued from the

patent office in the usual form, and for the usual fee. All this having

been done, the King retired, and the corporation-men kept up the feast,

though not so long or so heartily but that all the rest finally went to their homes _more sober than a judge_.