CHAPTER IX.

THE LUCKENBOOTHS.

He comes not on a wassail rout, Of revel, sport, and play; Our sword's gart fame proclaim us men Long ere this ruefu' day. OLD BALLAD.

The bell tolling eleven in the clock-tower of the Netherbow Porte, made Clermistonlee quicken his pace in issuing from the gloomy alley of his house into the broad and magnificent High Street, along the far extending vista of which, and on its thronging crowds and infinity of shining windows, the summer sun poured down its morning glory. Round the Fountainwell there was the same bustle that may be seen at the present day; thrifty and noisy housewives quarrelling with the watercarriers, whose shining barrels upborne on leather slings, were then the only means by which water was conveyed to the houses; and a few old men, the last remnant of another age and more primitive state of society, yet linger around the old fountain, and climb to the loftiest mansions of the ancient Wynds, supplying the water which the Reservoir cannot force to so great a height.

Carved and gilded coaches rumbled slowly over the rough causeway, and sedans borne by liveried chairmen were bearing the owners to morning visits. The street was crowded with passengers and loungers dressed in all the colours of the rainbow. The heads of the ladies were covered by hoods of silk and velvet, while the wives of citizens were forced to content themselves with a plaid muffler pinned under the chin.

Gentlemen still wore the plain Scottish bonnet, or the vast cavalier hat, looped up and plumed; snug burgesses and staring countrymen thronged past, attired (conform to Act of the Estates) in linsey-woolsey, hodden-grey, tartan, coarse blue bonnets, and ribbed galligaskins, a style of dress which formed a strong contrast to the splendid vestments of their superiors, whose silks and velvets, slashed and laced, were glittering everywhere in the sun.

A few officers of the Fusilier Guards in their gilt breast-plates, scarlet coats, and white scarfs, cavaliers of Claver'se regiment, and other "bucks of the first fashion," in all the magnificence of laced taffeta, long rapiers, perfumed scarfs, and tall feathers, were lounging about the pillars of the Venetian arcade, in front of Blair's Coffee House, or jested and flirted with those passing fair ones who flaunted their long trains under the cool shade of the Mahogany-lands, as certain old balconied edifices that have long since disappeared were named.

Jangling in mid air under the gothic crown of the old cathedral, the musical bells rang merrily, mingling with the busy hum that floated upward from the dense population below. The gift of Thomas Moodie, a citizen, these bells had been hung there in 1681. In one of the recesses formed by the buttresses of the church, a man was reading to a crowd, that listened intently, around the barrel on which he had perched himself. It was the _Caledonius Mercurius_, from the columns of which he was detailing some of Louis XIVths religious persecutions under the intolerant Mazarine, which now and then brought a muttered execration from the listeners.

Paunchy and gorbellied citizens, whose shops were in the gloomy recesses of the Luckenbooths, the cruicks of the Bow, or cellars of the Lawnmarket, were grouped about the city cross, which, with its tall octagon spire and unicorn, was for ages one of the chief beauties of the city. On one side of it stood the Dyvours-stane, whereon sat a row of those unfortunates, who for misfortune or roguery were, by act of the council, compelled to appear there each market day at noon, in the bankrupt's garb--a yellow bonnet, and coat, one half yellow, the other brown, under pain of three months' imprisonment.

On the other side groaned a wretched woman, who, for the heinous enormity of drinking the devil's health had just undergone the triple punishment of having her tongue bored, her cheek branded, and her back scourged.

The cross was the 'Change of the city, and on the spot where it stood, every Wednesday our traders yet meet to buy and sell, and to consult with sharp Clerks to the Signet, and more sharping Solicitors, where bargains are daily made as of old, but requiring ratifications more binding than merely standing on "our lady's steps" at the east end of St. Giles, or the pressure of wetted thumbs on a certain mysterious stone which was there kept for that purpose.

With a velvet mantle floating from his left shoulder, a long yellow feather waving over the right, and having in his carriage all that indefinable air which the consciousness of rank and spirit seldom fail to impart, Clermistonlee walked hastily up the street, poking his nose into the hood of every woman that passed. He kissed his hand to fair Annie Laurie, as she sailed out of Peebles Wynd with her fan spread before, and her vast fardingale behind her: he made a long step to cross the grave of Merlin, (whose stone coffin for ages marked the street he had been the first to pave), he roundly cursed the sooty Tronmen who did not make sufficient way for him, kicked a water barrel ten yards off, and laid his cane across the shoulders of the aquarius, its owner, bowed to the gay fellows under Blair's pillars, and with the air of a man who knew he was pretty well observed, made a pirouette near the cathedral, surveying all around him, but without seeing the person of whom he was in quest.

"Juden," said he to that respectable personage, who stuck close to his skirts, "I see not this knave, with whom I would fain come to blows while my spirit is in its bitterest mood."

"Right, my lord; but I warrant they will be cooing and billing on the Castle-hill yet."

"They--whom? Dost mean to tell me that Lilian Napier hath appeared there with her spark?"

"Hath she no? By my faith, 'tis the toun gossip," said Juden, who, notwithstanding his devotion to his master, thought there could be no harm in rousing his fierce spirit to the utmost. "Mony a summer even in the balmy gloaming have they been seen in the King's Park, where none but lovers gang, as your lordship kens, for there yoursel and bonny Lady Alison----"

"Silence!" said Clermistonlee, through his clenched teeth; "always these memories--ever reminding me of her whom I would wish to forget for ever, as the dead should be forgotten. But the park and the hill!--Gadzooks, varlet! I believe thou liest, for Fenton hath not known her many months, I believe. I hope, too, the girl is over-modest thus to exhibit herself. Come on; by all the devils, come on!" and, giddy from passion and the fumes of his last night's wine, he turned abruptly, and made a circuit of the Parliament Square. Though it was false that Lilian had ever appeared on those solitary promenades, which then were the usual resort of avowed lovers (for such was the custom of the time), and though Clermistonlee could scarcely believe the tidings of Juden, they served the end that worthy aimed at, and became an additional gall to his spirit, and whet to his ferocity.

The idea of a young lady of family and fashion appearing with her lover in such a place as the King's Park, may excite a smile; now it is the resort of the artisan, the student, and the sewing-girl; but in those days it was the common place for afternoon promenades and assignations, ere the phases of society among the middle and upper classes of the Scottish capital underwent so complete a change.

"My lord," whispered Juden, approaching his master sidelong, "what think ye o' keeping the croon o' the causeway this morning?"

"Much as you love me, sirrah, you are ever prompting me to blows and danger, and then seem wretched until I am safe again. Gadso! dost think, thou gomeral, that I am in humour to indulge the quarrelsome mood of every fool who deems the length of his rapier and pedigree, entitle him to maintain it for himself? Besides, the fashion went out with our fathers, and he who would now march down the street in defiance of all mankind, would be deemed a blustering swashbuckler, and pitiful fanfaron, worthy only of a sound cudgelling. No, no; for one alone must I keep my rapier bright, and by Jove! yonder he comes--she is with him, too--she leans on his arm--he talks, and she smiles--D----nation! How happy they seem!--and this is the minx who rejected my love, and despised my coronet. Follow me, Juden, for now I will show thee a brawl such as this street hath not witnessed, since old Crauford and the covenanting major fought with sword and dasher from the Bowhead to the Tronbeam!"

Swelling with fury, he advanced to the entrance of the Luckenbooths, and Juden, like a true Scottish retainer, felt his wrath rising in proportion with that of his leader. The narrow pile of buildings they traversed extended the whole length of the cathedral and the Tolbooth which adjoined it; dividing that part of the high-street into two narrow alleys. Expedience, the increasing population, and the political relations of the country with England, which required every citizen to be within the walls, can alone account for this singular erection of one street in the centre of another.

Some of its tall ghostly edifices were very old and picturesque, having modern outshoots supported by grotesque oak pillars forming arcades below; under these were the Laigh cellars (_i.e._, low shops), where the merchants exhibited their goods, and called public attention to them as noisily and importunately as the shopmen of the Bridges did until 1818, and those of St. Mary's Wynd do at the present day. Between the deep gothic buttresses of the cathedral were clustered a multitude of little shops called the Craimes, similar to those which still disfigure the magnificent façades of Antwerp and other great continental churches. This was the centre of the city, the place of bustle, crowd, and business, dust in summer, mud in winter, and noise at all times.

Quite unconscious of the fiery spirit that followed him, Walter Fenton led Lilian slowly through this narrow and crowded street, where they stopped often to survey the various things displayed under the piazza, and laughed and chatted gaily, for the young lady was very well pleased with her cavalier officer, who, she thought, never looked so handsome in his rich military dress and tall ostrich feather.

There was something very pretty, racy, and piquant in the beauty and attire of Lilian, whose hood of purple velvet, tied with a string of little Scots' pearls, permitted her fair hair to fall in front, dressed _à la negligence_. Her ruff was starched as stiff as Bristol board, and her long rustling skirt of crimson silk stuck out like a pyramid all round, from the velvet boddice which was laced round a little bust, to Walter's eyes, the most charming in the world. Her gloves were highly perfumed, and so was all her dress; altogether the young lady of Bruntisfield was very charming; everybody knew her, smiled on her, and made way with that native politeness which, alas! is no longer characteristic of the Lowland Scots. A lame old liveryman who had ridden in Sir Archibald's troop, limped behind as their esquire and attendant.

"What are ye boune for buying the day, my winsome lady?" said a buirdly vender of groceries; "what are ye buying? Plumedames sixpence the pound--the new herb wise folk ca' tea, and fules ca' poison, only fifty English shillings the pound--oranges, nutmegs, and lemons frae the land o' the idolatrous Portugales--Gascony, Muscadel, and Margaux, the wines o' the neer-do-weel French--aughteen pence the Scots quart--what are ye for buying, madam?"

"Or if you lacked a sharp rapier, Sir," cried a bare-armed swordslipper, leaning over his half door, and taking up the chaunt; "a corslet o' Milan that would turn a cannon-ball. I have spurs o' Rippon steel, dirks of Parma, pikes of Culross, blades of Toledo, pistols of Glasgow, and gude Kilmaurs whittles, the best of a'."

"O what a Babel it is!" said Lilian.

"Or a warm roquelaure to wear in the camp, my handsome gentleman?" cried Lucky Diaper, a brisk and comely haberdasher in a quilted gown, high-heeled shoes and lace-edged coif. "What are ye buying my Lady Lilian? You will be setting up house I warrant, and are come to seek for the plenishing. Walk in, sir--walk in, madam. I have cushions o' velvet for hall-settles and window-seats stuffed with Orkney down--buird-claiths of worsted and silk, servants (or napkins, as the Southrons ca' them) o' Dornick and Flanders' damask, some sewit, and others plain--crammasie codwairs, and sheets just without number. What want ye my bonny leddy, and when does the bridal come off?"

"Malediction on her chatter!" muttered Clermistonlee, who lounged at the door. Walter smiled, Lilian blushed and trembled between diffidence and anger; but her reply was interrupted by the entrance of a customer, who, lifting his bonnet respectfully to her, tendered his order to Lucky Diaper, who immediately reddened up with indignation, and eyeing him askance, said sharply,

"Set ye up, indeed, wi' a coleur-du-roi coat of three pile taffeta; its like the impudence that makes ye speir before your betters are served. My certie! what is this world coming to when a loon o' a baxter, comes spiering for the like o' that? Awa wi' ye, man, awa! Galloway-white, drab-de-frieze, or buckram conform to the Act o' Apparel are gude enough for one of your degree!"

The unfortunate baker was forced to retreat, for the draper of 1688 thought very differently from one of the present day.

"Ay, Madam Lilian, there was that ill-faured wife o' Baillie Jaffray, who bydes up the Stinking Style (just aboon the Knight o' Coates' lodging), gaed down the gate not an hour ago, wi' a hood o' silken crammassie wi' champit figures as red as her ain neb, and a mantle wi' passments sevvit round the craig o't. What think ye o' that for a wabster's wife in the Lawnmarket? I mind the time when sic presumption would have found her a cauld lodging in the Water Hole. That was in 1672, when the Apparel Act was strictly enforced, and nane but gentlefolk daured to ruffle it on the plainstanes in silk, taffeta, lace or furring, broidery or miniver; but the times are changing fast. I am getting auld now; and neighbours say, am far behind the world.

"Bonny Florentine blue that is, my lady; and weel would it become your sweet face, if pinkit out wi' red satin à-la-mode. Lack ye a sword-knot, young gentleman, blue and white, our auld Scottish cockade? In what can I serve ye? A' the cavaliers of my Lord Dunbarton ken me; for I had a fair laddie once, that fell in their ranks at Tangier (rest him, God!), far, far awa' among the black-avised unco's."

When a pause in the bustling dealer's garrulity permitted her to speak, Lilian requested so much of the finest blue velvet as would make a scarf for the shoulder, with fringe and embroidery thread, and spangles of gold and silver.

"I see, madam--I ken," resumed Lucky Diaper with a smirk of intelligence; "'tis a scarf for this winsome gentleman. Oh, hinny, ye needna blush; I mind the time when your lady mother came here to order a braw plenishing for her bridal and bedecking for her chamber-of-dais; and a blythe woman I was to serve her! Blue taffeta?--you'll be taking the very best Genoa, I warrant. It is a pleasure to serve gentlefolk; but it gars my heart grieve when loons like that baxter body think o' decking their ill-faured heads and hoghs in my fine Florence silk and Sheffield claith. Come, bustle, lassies, and show my Lady Lilian our velvets."

Two spruce and buxom shop-girls, in short overgowns, with snooded hair and bare arms, laid several rolls of velvet before Lilian, who immediately made her selection, and, anxious to escape the infliction of any more observations from Lucky, desired her to give it to the lame serving-man, and note it in the books of the steward, Syme of the Hill. All the shopwomen curtsied profoundly, as Lilian took the arm of Walter, and swept again into the morning bustle of the Luckenbooths.

Chafing at their delay, Clermistonlee had been looking with imaginary interest into the window of a bookseller's booth (the sign of which was "Jonah"); but he heard not the chatter of the proprietor, whose tongue supplied the place of newspaper puff, review, and publishing list. His lordship's thoughts were elsewhere than among the red-lettered and quaintly illustrated tomes before him.

"What are you for buying, this braw day, my noble lord? There is the Knight of Rowallan's 'Trve Crvcifix,' the 'Banished Virgin'--a folio that will please you better;--the three volumes of 'Astrsea;' the 'Illustrious Bassa,' imprinted by Mosely, the Englishman in St. Paul's Churchyard, fresh frae London by the last waggon, only three weeks ago; the last poem o' bluidy ----, my noble Lord Advocate, Sir George o' Rosehaugh, 'Clelias Country House and Closet,' whilk, as the Lady Drumsturdy said in this very buith yesterday, is the most delichtfu' book since the days o' Gawain Douglas or Dunbar----"

"Sirrah, I want neither your books nor your babble; when I lack either, I will know where to come," said the haughty lounger, suddenly remembering where he was, and whence came the cataract of words that poured on his ear. Turning, he saw those for whom he was in wait entering the Lawnmarket, the loftiest and most spacious part of the street, and where at that early part of the forenoon the thronged pavement was almost impassable. The moment for action had come! The heart of Clermistonlee beat like lightning. He beckoned Juden (who had condescendingly been tasting the vaunted usquebaugh of various dealers), and hurried after them into the denser crowd and full glare of the noonday sun.

Quite unconscious of what was about to ensue, Walter and his fair companion, with the lame servant limping behind them, wended slowly up the busy street, chatting and laughing with low and subdued voices, till the blow of a heavy rapier ringing on Walter's backplate of steel, and the words--

"Turn, villain, and draw or die!" thundered in his ear, making him start round with his hand on his sword, and Lilian uttered a low breathless exclamation of dismay on beholding Clermistonlee,--the dreaded and terrible Lord Clermistonlee, tall, strong, and fierce-eyed, standing on his defence; while a dense crowd, whose attention the wanton insult immediately attracted, closed round on every hand.

All was clamour and uproar in a moment, and cries of "A fray, a fray!--the Guard, the Guard!--redd them!" burst from a hundred tongues. Walter's wrath was boundless on finding himself anticipated, insulted, and defied by the very man he had resolved to call to account on the first opportunity.

"Strike, rascal!" cried Clermistonlee.

"Thou double-villain! why molest me thus in the public street?"

"That the public may the more readily behold thy cowardice. Wilt strike, man, or shall I spit upon thee as a cream-faced coistral?"

"For these words all the blood in your body could never atone. You will have it then? Come on, proud Lord!" replied Walter, while with his sword he waved back the people, whose applause seemed in favour of Clermistonlee, as a townsman and peer, and late events had made the army in bad odour with the populace.

"O good people, part them--stay them for the love of God!" urged the plaintive voice of Lilian, and it thrilled through Walter's heart.

"Place, gentlemen! fall back, fellows--clear the causeway!" cried Douglas of Finland, pushing through the crowd.

"Give the gentlemen room," added Jack Holster, coming up at the same moment. "Now, gallants, to it blade and shell. Gentlemen of the Royal Guards, draw, that we may see fair play to the King's commission;" and he unsheathed his sword.

"Mistress Lilian, permit me--you must--intreaties are unavailing," said Finland, leading away the pale and sinking girl, in whose ears the clash of the rapiers rang terribly, and she saw them flashing in the sunlight above the heads of the dense and shouting mob, till reaching the booth of Lucky Diaper, where she burst into a passion of tears, and here we will leave her for the present.

Drawing his rapier, Douglas rushed back to separate the combatants, or take part in the brawl if necessary. Clermistonlee pressed forward with the greatest fury, determined to slay his antagonist, who, knowing how much _he_ had to dread, if a man so high in rank, a Lord of the Parliament, Privy Councillor, and head of a feudal family, perished by his hand, fought only to defend himself, or, if possible, to disarm or disable his furious enemy. At times their long keen rapiers were visible for a moment; but a moment only. Like blue fire, the bright blades flashed around them; but the skill of both was so admirable, that as yet not a wound had been given.

The people laughed when the tall plumes of Clermistonlee were shred from his hat by a back-stroke, and floated away over their heads; and in turn they applauded, as Walter (still fighting strictly on the defensive) was driven by the impetuosity of his enemy backward to the wall of the Tolbooth, and cries of--

"Weel dune the gudeman o' Drumsheugh--up wi' the Red Wyvern--the auld leaven o' the Covenant for ever!" rang on every hand, and Juden exerted his lungs like a Stentor.

With a glowing heart and cheek, Walter found the conflict going against him, and that his adversary was becoming exhausted, on which he pressed vigorously in turn, and gaining more than the ground he had lost, drove Lord Clermistonlee towards the arch of Byre's Close, and then the rabble waved their bonnets and shouted--

"Hurrah for the Cavalier! Weel done, my brave buckie! doon wi' the persecuting Lord!" and so forth; but Walter despised their praise, and continued pressing forward till the fury of his antagonist on finding himself driven back, step by step, amounted almost to madness. Just at this successful crisis, Walter found his arms violently seized by some one behind, and pinioned in such a manner that he was placed completely at the mercy of his antagonist.

Jealous for the honour of his Lord, Juden, who had worked himself into a very becoming fit of passion, had watched with kindling eyes and half-drawn sword, the various turns of the combat, and now, on beholding the master whom he loved as though he had been his own and only son, driven backward, breathless and exhausted, and in danger of being compelled to yield or die, he could no longer restrain himself, but rushed upon Walter, and pinioned his arms, exclaiming,--

"Now, my Lord, now! put your bilbo through his brisket. Devil's murrain on you, Randal, strike for Clermont, or never strike again!"

Surprise, for an instant, kept mute the shout of shame which rose to every lip; and Walter struggled furiously with the stout old butler. The eyes of Clermistonlee glared malignantly, and twice he raised his long sharp rapier for a deadly thrust, and twice he lowered its point. Walter's life seemed to hang by a hair, and how the fray might have ended, it is impossible to say; but just when Jack Holster, by a blow of his hunting whip, levelled Juden on the pavement, Lord Mersington came running with a remarkably unsteady gait, out of Blair's coffee-house, with his senatorial robes gathered about his waist, his wig awry, in one hand a roll of interlocutors, in the other a wine-flagon, which, in the hurry, he had forgotten to leave behind him.

"Haud, ye loons! haud, in the sacred name of the King!" he exclaimed, throwing him self boldly between them. "This is breaking the peace o' the burgh--clean contrary to the act saxteenth James Sext, whilk ordains that nae man shall fight, or provoke another to the combat, under pain of death, and escheat o' moveable gudes and gear. What, is it you, Clermistonlee--hee, hee, hee! ye born gomeral, to be brawling like a wild Redshank on the plainstanes in open day? Come, come, gossip, this will never do. Stand back, I charge ye baith in the sacred name of his Majesty the King!"

"My lord of Mersington, I am the best judge of my own conduct," replied his friend, fiercely.

"But one far owre lenient--hee, hee! I am legally constituted judge and justiciar baith o' the haill country; or up wi' your rapiers, gallants, or I shall commit you, Randal, to the iron room of the Tolbooth, and this braw spark o' Dunbarton's to the water-hole, whilk being fifteen feet below the causeway, is a fine place for cooling hot spirits."

Mersington's efforts were unavailing, for he was a man whom few respected. Jack Holster and Craigdarroch pulled him back very unceremoniously by his scarlet robes; for which he thrust his roll of papers into the face of one, and hurled the wine-pot at the head of the other.

Again the rapiers clashed together; but at that juncture Baillie Jaffroy, a portly magistrate, the curve of whose round paunch was finely delineated by his braided coat of purple broadcloth, and its front row of vast horn buttons, displaying his gold chain (the badge of civic power), rushed with a party of the Lord High Constable's guard from the lobby of the Parliament House, and bearing back the crowd with levelled partisans, separated the combatants.

Neither of them were arrested.

Clermistonlee, followed by Juden (who had acquired a black eye and broken head), retired suddenly into the lower council chamber, where the baillie, in dread of such a formidable personage, could not follow, and therefore turned the whole torrent of his magisterial wrath and indignation upon Walter Fenton, as being, he well knew, less able to withstand them. But Douglas of Finland, Gavin of Gavin, Holsterlee, and other military gallants, with drawn swords, carried him off triumphantly to Hugh Blair's famous establishment at the pillars, from whence, on the dispersion of the crowd, he rejoined Lilian: and so ended the last single combat witnessed in the high-street of Edinburgh.