"From scenes like these auld Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad;
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
'An honest man's the noblest work of God.'
O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil,
Be blest with health and peace and sweet content!
And oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent
From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
Then howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
A virtuous populace may rise the while,
And stand a wall of fire around their much loved Isle."
But we have dwelt long enough on general topics. If the reader will accompany us, we will ramble together in some particular scenes, meditating, as we go, on things new and old, and chatting, in lively or in sombre mood, as the humor may seize us. First of all then, let us visit "Auld Reekie," as the inhabitants often call it, or more classically, "the modern Athens," the beautiful and far famed metropolis of Scotland.
CHAPTER II.
The city of Edinburgh—Views from Arthur's Seat—The Poems of Richard Gall—"Farewell to Ayrshire"—"Arthur's Seat, a Poem"—Extracts—Craigmillar Castle—The Forth, Roslin Castle and the Pentland Hills—Liberty.
We will enter the city on the west side, as if we were coming from Glasgow, pass through Prince's Street, with its elegant buildings and fine promenades, skirting that enclosure of walks and shrubbery, just under the frowning battlements of the Castle, and adorned with the superb statue of Sir Walter Scott, rising rapidly to its completion; then turn the corner at right-angles, cross the North Bridge, enter High Street, and thence plunge down the hill into the old Canongate; and without waiting to look at "the Heart of Midlothian," or even the beautiful ruins of Holyrood House, at the foot of the hill, let us turn to the right, and climb the rocky sides of "Arthur's Seat" with its summit of verdure overlooking the city and the neighboring country. For there the whole panorama of the city will spread itself before us, surrounded with magnificent scenery, stretching far and wide from the Pentland Hills on the one side to the Firth of Forth on the other, from Stirling Castle on the west to the German Ocean on the east. Here we are then, on the very highest point of the mountain, with the warm sunshine around us, tempered as it is by the fresh "westlin wind," at once so sweet and bland. Aye, aye! this is beautiful! What a landscape! How varied and yet how harmonious! Not only beautiful exceedingly, but ineffably grand and striking! Beneath us is the fine old city—new and old at the same time, lying nearly square, with its lofty buildings and elegant monuments, handsome parks and green shrubberies. To the left is the older part of the city, rising gradually from the palace of Holyrood at our feet, and crowned by the Castle, which is built upon a granite rock, whose rough sides, terminating abruptly to the north and west, hang over Prince's Street and the lower part of the city.
"There watching high the least alarms,
Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar;
Like some bold veteran gray in arms
And pierced with many a seamy scar:
The ponderous wall and massy bar,
Grim rising o'er the rugged rock;
Have oft withstood assailing war,
And oft repelled the invader's shock."—Burns.
Before us and stretching away towards the Forth and the city of Leith is "the new town," surmounted on this side by the Calton Hill, on which stand the monuments of Dugald Stewart and Admiral Nelson, the unfinished Parthenon, and the monument of Robert Burns—beautiful and imposing objects, reminding us of the Acropolis of Athens, and affording fine relief to the long ranges of smooth and polished buildings beyond. Behind us are the Pentland Hills with their verdant slopes and historic recollections. To the right lie the city and bay of Leith, "the Piræus" of Edinburgh, the long winding shore in the direction of Portobello, and "the dark blue deep" of the ocean, studded with white sails, glistening in the summer radiance. To the north, at a distance of a few miles, you see the majestic Firth of Forth, and beyond, "in cultur'd beauty," the "Kingdom of Fife," with the distant range of the Ochil and Campsie hills. From this point also you can see, at a distance of some three miles, the gray ruins of Craigmillar Castle, famous in the annals of Scotland, as the residence of Queen Mary, and the scene of those secret machinations, which ended in the tragedy of Holyrood; Inch Keith with its lofty lighthouse; the isle of May, once consecrated to St. Adrian, and on which stands another "star of hope" to the mariner; and old Inchcolm, famous for its ancient convent founded by St. Colomba, one of the patron saints of Scotland. How gloriously, light and shade, land and ocean, park and woodland, old castles and hoary ruins, frowning rocks and smiling meadows mingle and blend in this rare and magnificent landscape.
"Traced like a map the landscape lies
In cultur'd beauty stretching wide;
There Pentland's green acclivities,
There ocean, with its azure tide;
There Arthur's Seat, and gleaming through
Thy southern wing Dun Edin blue!
While in the orient, Lammer's daughters,
A distant giant range are seen,
North Berwick Law, with cone of green,
And Bass amid the waters." Delta.[5]
Here you can easily understand the reason why Edinburgh has been thought to resemble the city of Athens. Mr. Stuart, author of the "Antiquities of Athens," was the first to call attention to this fact, and his opinion has often been confirmed since. Dr. Clarke remarks that the neighborhood of Athens is just the Highlands of Scotland, enriched with the splendid remains of art. Another acute observer states that the distant view of Athens from the Ægean Sea is extremely like that of Edinburgh from the Firth of Forth, "though," he adds, "certainly the latter is considerably superior." "The resemblance," says J. G. Kohl, the celebrated German traveller, "is indeed very striking. Athens, like Edinburgh, was a city of hills and valleys, and its Ilissus was probably not much larger than the Water of Leith. Athens, like Edinburgh, was an inland town, and had its harbor, Piræus, on the sea-coast. The mountains near Edinburgh very much resemble those near Athens. I have little doubt, however, that Athens is more honored by being compared to Edinburgh, than Edinburgh to Athens; for it is probable that the scenery and position of the Northern are more grand and striking in their beauty, than those of the Southern Athens."
By the way there is a beautiful poem in the Scottish dialect, entitled "Arthur's Seat," written by Richard Gall, a young man of great promise, the friend and correspondent of Burns. He struggled with poverty, and like Fergusson and Michael Bruce, was cut off prematurely, but not before he had written some exquisite poems, in the style of Burns, whom he greatly admired. He was contemporary with the unfortunate but gifted Tannahill of Paisley, and possessed a kindred taste in song writing.[6] His "Farewell to Ayrshire," commencing—
"Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew;
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!
Bonnie Doon sae sweet at gloaming,