L UCKENBOOTNS AND PARLIAMENT CLOSE. 21 I
The close connection into which the noble family of Wemyss were thus brought with
the Porteous mob, as well as their near vicinity to the chief scene of action, naturally produced
a strong impression on the younger members of the family. They. had probably
been aroused from their beds by the shouts of the rioters assembling beneath their windows,
and the din of their sledge-hammers thundering on the old Tolbooth door, and, when the
rest of the town were settling down again into their ordinary habits after the recent commotion,
they were anew alarmed by the apprehension of William, to all appearance an
honest enough serving-man according to the fashion of the times, whose worst fault waa
his relish for John Lamb’s ale that lay so temptingly at hand, but who suddenly found the
unenviable honour thrust upon him of being accused as the arch-conspirator against the
good city and its liege lady. The event was like to have proved fatal to the family in
more ways than one, for not long after, the Earl of Wemgss,’ then a boy, proceeded
along with his sisters to get up a representation of the stirring scenes of the Porteous
mob, and having duly broken into his prison, and carried off the supposed culprit,
the young romps got so thoroughly into the spirit of their dramatic sports, that they
actually hung up their brother over a door, and had well-nigh finished their play in real
tragedy.
During the greater part of last century, and down to the destruction of the old buildings
in 1824, the north-east corner of the Parliament Close was occupied as John’s Coffeehouse,
where, as Defoe tells us, the opponents of the Union used to meet to discuss
the proceedings that were going on in the neighbouring Parliament House, aiid to concoct
fresh means of opposition to that odious measure. It was also the favourite resort of
the lawyers and judges of last century for professional consultations, as well as for their
meridian, or hall‘ hours, as the mid-day glass of whisky was called, which formed the
indispensable refreshment of all classes at that period. In a note tu Allan Ramsay’s
familiar epistle, he illustrates his remark, “frae the gill-bells to the drum,” by this
characteristic explanation, (‘ From half an hour before twelve at noon, when the music
bells begin to play, frequently called the gill-bells, from people’s taking a wheting
dram at that time, to ten o’clock at night, when the drum goes rousd to warn sober
folks to call for a bill.” Such were the habits of “sober folks,” during the last
century, when every citizen had his chosen homj for daily resort, and when lawyers
and clients, merchants, traders, and men of all degrees, transacted business and spent
many of their leisure hour8 at the club or in the tavern. The more usual places of
resort, however, even among the most reputable citizens, were to be found,-like John
Dowie’s tavern, already mentioned-down the wynds and closes off the High Street. One
or two of these old haunts of bygone generations still exist, and keep alive some of their
favourite customs, known only to a few survivors of last century, or to the favoured
protdgh whom they have initiated into the mysteries practised by their forefathers I
Currie’s tavern in Craig’s Close, once the scene of meeting of various clubs, and a
favourite resort of the merchants in the neighbourhood of the Cross, still retains a reputation
among certain antiquarian bibbers, for an old-fashioned luxury known by the
name of pup-in, a strange compound of small beer and whisky, curried, as the phrase is,
with a little oat-meal !
’
Chambers’s Traditions, vol. ii. p. 204.
