“AULD REEKIE”

Greymouth Evening Star, 21 December 1936, Page 9

“AULD REEKIE”

THE RISE OF EDINBURGH. The sobriquet “Auld Reekie” for the present-day fine city of Edinburgh is said to have been coined in the reign ’of Charles II by an old Fifeshire gentleman, Durham of Largo, who regulated the hour of family worship and his children’s bedtime as he saw the smoke of evening gather over the summits of the venerable city, says a writer in the Melbourne “Age.” It is an interesting study to trace the development of the “Queen of ths North,” the royal metropolis of Scotland, from the rude hill fort of the Celts, with its thatched huts amid tho lonely forest of Drumsheugh, aud note how it has in the course of time expanded into the vast aud magnificent city we find it to-day, with its schools of learning, its academies of art, its noble churches,- its marts of industry, and its many glorious institutions of charity and benevolence; the city that Burns hails in song as “Edina, Scotia’s darling seat,” the centre- of memories that make it dear to all Scotsmen wherever their fate or their fortune may lead them. For the stately and beautiful Edinburgh which now spreads nearly from the base of the Braid Hills to the broad estuary of the Forth is the daughter of the old fortress ou the lofty rock as the arms in her shield —the triple castle —serve to remind us. There are many stirring memories of the successive generations of dwellers in the old walled city of the middle ages and their quaint lives and habits, v ith the change of these as time rolled on.

The earliest records we have of the manners and customs of the inhabitants of this venerable city take us back to about the middle of the sixteenth century. The continual wars with England compelled the citizens to crowd their dwellings as near the castle as possible; thus, instead of the city increasing in extent, it rose skywards; storey was piled on storey until the streets resembled closelypacked towers or steeples, each house sheltering from twenty to thirty families, within its walls. These lofty mansions, narrow, steep, gloomy and ill-ventilated, became perilous abodes in times of fire and pestilence. Those who dwelt in the upper storeys avoided the toil of descending the steep wheel stairs that led to the street, and the entire refuse of the household was flung from the windows, regardless of who or what might be below, especially after nightfall; hence the cries of “Hand yer hand” or “Gardez I’eau” (a shout copied from the French) were incessant.

Another source of annoyance was the fact that the thoroughfares were encroached upon by outside stone stairs. Under these were kept swine, which were allowed to roam the streets, and act the part of scavengers, as well as. become a source of terror and danger to the children. By acts of council in 1553, the mounds of household garbage were ordered to be removed, the swine to bo prevented from being a pest in the streets, and lanterns were ordered to be hung up to light the streets by such persons, and iu such places as the Magistrates might appoint, there to continue burning for the space of four hours —'from five till nine o’clock in the evening.

TERRIFYING PRACTICE. Till tho reign of James V the meal market and the flesh market were kept in booths in the open street, and it was also the custom for bakers and brewers to keep great stacks of heather, whins, and peat in the very heart of High Street and other thoroughfares to the great danger of all adjacent buildings, and many who were disposed to build houses were deterred from doing so by the' risks to be run, while moreover candle makers and butchers were allowed to pursue their callings within the city, to the disgust and annoyance of their neighbours, and of the nobility and country folk’who came in about their private affairs. At length a royal proclamation was issued, against these abuses and it was further decreed that each inhabitant should, keep clean that part of the street before his own bounds.

These conditions, however, are not ; to be considered as indicating any ’ comparative inferiority in the city of ( Edinburgh. They simply proceeded ( from the rudeness of the times. AVritcis of those days speak of Edinburgh in terms that show the high opinion they entertained of it. A traveller describing a visit to a knight’s house in 1598 tells us that a knight had. many servants to wait upon him. These brought in his food with blue bonnets on their heads. The table was laid with large plates of porridge, each having a small piece of meat in them, the servants also sitting down at the table. The Scots then living in factions used to keep many followers, aud the expense incurred in providing for them often resulted in shortage of money. The bedsteads were like cupboards in the wall, to be opened and shut at pleasure. There was but one sheet open at tho sides and top, but close at the feet. When visitors went to bed, the custom was to bring them a sleeping cup of wine at parting. Taylor, the Water Poet, visiting Edinburgh, in 1618, and describing the "Royal Mile” from the Castle to Holyrood, says: “Leaving the castle I descended to tho city, wherein I observed the fairest and goodliest street mine eyes ever beheld. The buildings on each side of the way are all of squared stone, five, six, and seven storeys high, and many bylanes and closes on each side of the way, wherein are gentlemen’s houses much fairer than the buildings in High Street, for in tho High Street the merchants and tradesmen do dwell, but the gentle-

men’s mansions and goodliest houses are founded in the aforesaid lanes. The walls are eight or ten feet thick, exceeding strong, not built for a day or a week, a month or a year, but from antiquity to posterity—for many ages. There 1 found entertainment beyond my expectation or merit, and there is fish, flesh, bread and fruit

in such variety that I think I may offenceless call it superfluity or satiety.” The centre of the social life of Edinburgh in the eighteenth century was the “Old Assembly Rooms,” where dances and all fashionable gatherings were held. The dancing hall had in its centre a space railed off, within which were the dancers, • while the spectators sat on the outside, and no communication was permitted be>tween the different sides of this sacred pale. Oliver Goldsmith, in 1753, •described the formalities of the old

Scottish balls. He relates that on entering the dance room he saw one end of it taken up by the ladies, who sat dismally in a group by themselves. “On the other end stand their partners that are to be, but no more intercourse between the sexes than between two countries at war. The ladies, indeed, may ogle, and the gentlemen sigh, but an embargo is laid upon any closer commerce.” RIGID ARRANGEMENTS. The whole arrangemeuts were of a 1 rigid character, with a general tendency to dullness, there being but oue set at a time permitted to occupy the floor, and it was seldom that anyone was twice upon it in one night. The gentlemen usually sorted themselves with one partner for the whole season. The arrangements were made at some preliminary ball or other gathering, when a gentleman’s cocked hat was unflapped and the ladies’ fans were placed therein, aud, as in a species of ballot, the gentlemen drew forth the latter, and to whomsoever the fan belonged he was to be the partner for the season, a system often productive of absurd combinations and many a petty awkwardness. Those who attended these gatherings belonged exclusively to tho upper circle of society that then existed in Edinburgh. The evening was then the fashionable time for receiving society, when people were all abroad upon the streets after dinner calling and shopping. Then gentlemen wore the “Ramillies wig,” or tied hair; small threecornered hats, laced with gold or silver; large skirted, collarless coats, with square cuffs, and square-toed shoes. The dresses of the ladies, it is said, gave “much dignity and grace.” Dr. Chambers says, “how fine it is to see two hooped ladies moving along the Lawn-market on a summer evening, and filling up the whole footway with their stately, and voluminous persons.”

Ladies in Edinburgh then wore the “calash," a kind of hood formed of cane with silk to protect the powdered head of carefully-dressed hair when walking or driving, and it could be folded back flat like the hood of a carriage; they also -wore the “capuchin,” or short cloak tippet, reaching to the elbows, usually of silk trimmed with velvet or lace. In walking, they carried the skirt of the long gown over one arm, but on entering a room the full train swept majestically behind them.

By the beginning of the nineteenth century the ancient manners of the city had practically disappeared, and we approach the Edinburgh of modern intellect, power and wealth. The edifices in Princess Street and George Street originally constructed as elegant and commodious dwelling houses, were rebuilt, enlarged or turned into largo hotels, shops, club houses, insurance offices, or warehouses, and the new town kept pace With the growing prosperity of Scotland. “At no period of her history,” says an English writer, “did Edinburgh better deserve her complimentary title of the Modern Athens than the last ten y-ears of the eighteenth century and the first ten years of the nineteenth century. She was then not only nominally, but actually, the capital of Scotland, the city in which was collected all the life and vigour of the country. In 1795 a German writer pays this tribute to the character of the people: “It is but justice to a place in which I have spent one of the most agreeable winters of my life to declare that nowhere more completely than there have I found realised my idea, of good society, or met with a circle of men better informed, more amicable, greater lovers of truth, or of more unexceptionable integrity. During six months I heard no invectives uttered, no malignant calumnies invented or retailed, and I seldom left a company without some addition to my knowledge or new incitements to philanthropy.”