by Walter Scott
CHAPTER SECOND.
And thou, great god of aquavitae! Wha sways the empire of this city (When fou we're sometimes capernoity),
Be thou prepared, To save us frae that black banditti,
The City Guard! Fergusson's _Daft Days._
Captain John Porteous, a name memorable in the traditions of Edinburgh,as well as in the records of criminal jurisprudence, was the son of acitizen of Edinburgh, who endeavoured to breed him up to his ownmechanical trade of a tailor. The youth, however, had a wild andirreclaimable propensity to dissipation, which finally sent him to servein the corps long maintained in the service of the States of Holland, andcalled the Scotch Dutch. Here he learned military discipline; and,returning afterwards, in the course of an idle and wandering life, to hisnative city, his services were required by the magistrates of Edinburghin the disturbed year 1715, for disciplining their City Guard, in whichhe shortly afterwards received a captain's commission. It was only by hismilitary skill and an alert and resolute character as an officer ofpolice, that he merited this promotion, for he is said to have been a manof profligate habits, an unnatural son, and a brutal husband. He was,however, useful in his station, and his harsh and fierce habits renderedhim formidable to rioters or disturbers of the public peace.
The corps in which he held his command is, or perhaps we should rathersay _was,_ a body of about one hundred and twenty soldiers divided intothree companies, and regularly armed, clothed, and embodied. They werechiefly veterans who enlisted in this cogs, having the benefit of workingat their trades when they were off duty. These men had the charge ofpreserving public order, repressing riots and street robberies, acting,in short, as an armed police, and attending on all public occasions whereconfusion or popular disturbance might be expected.*
* The Lord Provost was ex-officio commander and colonel of the corps,which might be increased to three hundred men when the times required it.No other drum but theirs was allowed to sound on the High Street betweenthe Luckenbooths and the Netherbow.
Poor Fergusson, whose irregularities sometimes led him into unpleasantrencontres with these military conservators of public order, and whomentions them so often that he may be termed their poet laureate,* thusadmonishes his readers, warned doubtless by his own experience:--
* [Robert Fergusson, the Scottish Poet, born 1750, died 1774.]
"Gude folk, as ye come frae the fair, Bide yont frae this black squad: There's nae sic savages elsewhere Allowed to wear cockad."
In fact, the soldiers of the City Guard, being, as we have said, ingeneral discharged veterans, who had strength enough remaining for thismunicipal duty, and being, moreover, for the greater part, Highlanders,were neither by birth, education, nor former habits, trained to endurewith much patience the insults of the rabble, or the provoking petulanceof truant schoolboys, and idle debauchees of all descriptions, with whomtheir occupation brought them into contact. On the contrary, the tempersof the poor old fellows were soured by the indignities with which the mobdistinguished them on many occasions, and frequently might have requiredthe soothing strains of the poet we have just quoted--
"O soldiers! for your ain dear sakes, For Scotland's love, the Land o' Cakes, Gie not her bairns sic deadly paiks, Nor be sae rude, Wi' firelock or Lochaber-axe, As spill their bluid!"
On all occasions when a holiday licensed some riot and irregularity, askirmish with these veterans was a favourite recreation with the rabbleof Edinburgh. These pages may perhaps see the light when many have infresh recollection such onsets as we allude to. But the venerable corps,with whom the contention was held, may now be considered as totallyextinct. Of late the gradual diminution of these civic soldiers remindsone of the abatement of King Lear's hundred knights. The edicts of eachsucceeding set of magistrates have, like those of Goneril and Regan,diminished this venerable band with the similar question, "What need wefive-and-twenty?--ten?--or five?" And it is now nearly come to, "Whatneed one?" A spectre may indeed here and there still be seen, of an oldgrey-headed and grey-bearded Highlander, with war-worn features, but bentdouble by age; dressed in an old fashioned cocked-hat, bound with whitetape instead of silver lace; and in coat, waistcoat, and breeches, of amuddy-coloured red, bearing in his withered hand an ancient weapon,called a Lochaber-axe; a long pole, namely, with an axe at the extremity,and a hook at the back of the hatchet.*
* This hook was to enable the bearer of the Lochaber-axe to scale agateway, by grappling the top of the door, and swinging himself up by thestaff of his weapon.
Such a phantom of former days still creeps, I have been informed, roundthe statue of Charles the Second, in the Parliament Square, as if theimage of a Stuart were the last refuge for any memorial of our ancientmanners; and one or two others are supposed to glide around the door ofthe guardhouse assigned to them in the Luckenbooths, when their ancientrefuge in the High Street was laid low.*
* This ancient corps is now entirely disbanded. Their last march to doduty at Hallowfair had something in it affecting. Their drums and fifeshad been wont on better days to play, on this joyous occasion, the livelytune of "Jockey to the fair;" but on his final occasion the afflictedveterans moved slowly to the dirge of
"The last time I came ower the muir."
But the fate of manuscripts bequeathed to friends and executors is souncertain, that the narrative containing these frail memorials of the oldTown Guard of Edinburgh, who, with their grim and valiant corporal, JohnDhu (the fiercest-looking fellow I ever saw), were, in my boyhood, thealternate terror and derision of the petulant brood of the High School,may, perhaps, only come to light when all memory of the institution hasfaded away, and then serve as an illustration of Kay's caricatures, whohas preserved the features of some of their heroes. In the precedinggeneration, when there was a perpetual alarm for the plots and activityof the Jacobites, some pains were taken by the magistrates of Edinburghto keep this corps, though composed always of such materials as we havenoticed, in a more effective state than was afterwards judged necessary,when their most dangerous service was to skirmish with the rabble on theking's birthday. They were, therefore, more the objects of hatred, andless that of scorn, than they were afterwards accounted.
To Captain John Porteous, the honour of his command and of his corpsseems to have been a matter of high interest and importance. He wasexceedingly incensed against Wilson for the affront which he construedhim to have put upon his soldiers, in the effort he made for theliberation of his companion, and expressed himself most ardently on thesubject. He was no less indignant at the report, that there was anintention to rescue Wilson himself from the gallows, and uttered manythreats and imprecations upon that subject, which were afterwardsremembered to his disadvantage. In fact, if a good deal of determinationand promptitude rendered Porteous, in one respect, fit to command guardsdesigned to suppress popular commotion, he seems, on the other, to havebeen disqualified for a charge so delicate, by a hot and surly temper,always too ready to come to blows and violence; a character void ofprinciple; and a disposition to regard the rabble, who seldom failed toregale him and his soldiers with some marks of their displeasure, asdeclared enemies, upon whom it was natural and justifiable that he shouldseek opportunities of vengeance. Being, however, the most active andtrustworthy among the captains of the City Guard, he was the person towhom the magistrates confided the command of the soldiers appointed tokeep the peace at the time of Wilson's execution. He was ordered to guardthe gallows and scaffold, with about eighty men, all the disposable forcethat could be spared for that duty.
But the magistrates took farther precautions, which affected Porteous'spride very deeply. They requested the assistance of part of a regularinfa
ntry regiment, not to attend upon the execution, but to remain drawnup on the principal street of the city, during the time that it wentforward, in order to intimidate the multitude, in case they should bedisposed to be unruly, with a display of force which could not beresisted without desperation. It may sound ridiculous in our ears,considering the fallen state of this ancient civic corps, that itsofficer should have felt punctiliously jealous of its honour. Yet so itwas. Captain Porteous resented, as an indignity, the introducing theWelsh Fusileers within the city, and drawing them up in the street whereno drums but his own were allowed to be sounded without the specialcommand or permission of the magistrates. As he could not show hisill-humour to his patrons the magistrates, it increased his indignationand his desire to be revenged on the unfortunate criminal Wilson, and allwho favoured him. These internal emotions of jealousy and rage wrought achange on the man's mien and bearing, visible to all who saw him on thefatal morning when Wilson was appointed to suffer. Porteous's ordinaryappearance was rather favourable. He was about the middle size, stout,and well made, having a military air, and yet rather a gentle and mildcountenance. His complexion was brown, his face somewhat fretted with thesears of the smallpox, his eyes rather languid than keen or fierce. Onthe present occasion, however, it seemed to those who saw him as if hewere agitated by some evil demon. His step was irregular, his voicehollow and broken, his countenance pale, his eyes staring and wild, hisspeech imperfect and confused, and his whole appearance so disordered,that many remarked he seemed to be _fey,_ a Scottish expression, meaningthe state of those who are driven on to their impending fate by thestrong impulse of some irresistible necessity.
One part of his conduct was truly diabolical, if indeed it has not beenexaggerated by the general prejudice entertained against his memory. WhenWilson, the unhappy criminal, was delivered to him by the keeper of theprison, in order that he might be conducted to the place of execution,Porteous, not satisfied with the usual precautions to prevent escape,ordered him to be manacled. This might be justifiable from the characterand bodily strength of the malefactor, as well as from the apprehensionsso generally entertained of an expected rescue. But the handcuffs whichwere produced being found too small for the wrists of a man so big-bonedas Wilson, Porteous proceeded with his own hands, and by great exertionof strength, to force them till they clasped together, to the exquisitetorture of the unhappy criminal. Wilson remonstrated against suchbarbarous usage, declaring that the pain distracted his thoughts from thesubjects of meditation proper to his unhappy condition.
"It signifies little," replied Captain Porteous; "your pain will soon beat an end."
"Your cruelty is great," answered the sufferer. "You know not how soonyou yourself may have occasion to ask the mercy which you are nowrefusing to a fellow-creature. May God forgive you!"
These words, long afterwards quoted and remembered, were all that passedbetween Porteous and his prisoner; but as they took air, and became knownto the people, they greatly increased the popular compassion for Wilson,and excited a proportionate degree of indignation against Porteous;against whom, as strict, and even violent in the discharge of hisunpopular office, the common people had some real, and many imaginarycauses of complaint.
When the painful procession was completed, and Wilson, with the escort,had arrived at the scaffold in the Grassmarket, there appeared no signsof that attempt to rescue him which had occasioned such precautions. Themultitude, in general, looked on with deeper interest than at ordinaryexecutions; and there might be seen, on the countenances of many, a sternand indignant expression, like that with which the ancient Cameroniansmight be supposed to witness the execution of their brethren, whoglorified the Covenant on the same occasion, and at the same spot. Butthere was no attempt at violence. Wilson himself seemed disposed tohasten over the space that divided time from eternity. The devotionsproper and usual on such occasions were no sooner finished than hesubmitted to his fate, and the sentence of the law was fulfilled.
He had been suspended on the gibbet so long as to be totally deprived oflife, when at once, as if occasioned by some newly received impulse,there arose a tumult among the multitude. Many stones were thrown atPorteous and his guards; some mischief was done; and the mob continued topress forward with whoops, shrieks, howls, and exclamations. A youngfellow, with a sailor's cap slouched over his face, sprung on thescaffold, and cut the rope by which the criminal was suspended. Othersapproached to carry off the body, either to secure for it a decent grave,or to try, perhaps, some means of resuscitation. Captain Porteous waswrought, by this appearance of insurrection against his authority, into arage so headlong as made him forget, that, the sentence having been fullyexecuted, it was his duty not to engage in hostilities with the misguidedmultitude, but to draw off his men as fast as possible. He sprung fromthe scaffold, snatched a musket from one of his soldiers, commanded theparty to give fire, and, as several eye-witnesses concurred in swearing,set them the example, by discharging his piece, and shooting a man deadon the spot. Several soldiers obeyed his command or followed his example;six or seven persons were slain, and a great many were hurt and wounded.
After this act of violence, the Captain proceeded to withdraw his mentowards their guard-house in the High Street. The mob were not so muchintimidated as incensed by what had been done. They pursued the soldierswith execrations, accompanied by volleys of stones. As they pressed onthem, the rearmost soldiers turned, and again fired with fatal aim andexecution. It is not accurately known whether Porteous commanded thissecond act of violence; but of course the odium of the whole transactionsof the fatal day attached to him, and to him alone. He arrived at theguard-house, dismissed his soldiers, and went to make his report to themagistrates concerning the unfortunate events of the day.
Apparently by this time Captain Porteous had began to doubt the proprietyof his own conduct, and the reception he met with from the magistrateswas such as to make him still more anxious to gloss it over. He deniedthat he had given orders to fire; he denied he had fired with his ownhand; he even produced the fusee which he carried as an officer forexamination; it was found still loaded. Of three cartridges which he wasseen to put in his pouch that morning, two were still there; a whitehandkerchief was thrust into the muzzle of the piece, and re-turnedunsoiled or blackened. To the defence founded on these circumstances itwas answered, that Porteous had not used his own piece, but had been seento take one from a soldier. Among the many who had been killed andwounded by the unhappy fire, there were several of better rank; for eventhe humanity of such soldiers as fired over the heads of the mere rabblearound the scaffold, proved in some instances fatal to persons who werestationed in windows, or observed the melancholy scene from a distance.The voice of public indignation was loud and general; and, ere men'stempers had time to cool, the trial of Captain Porteous took place beforethe High Court of Justiciary. After a long and patient hearing, the juryhad the difficult duty of balancing the positive evidence of manypersons, and those of respectability, who deposed positively to theprisoner's commanding his soldiers to fire, and himself firing his piece,of which some swore that they saw the smoke and flash, and beheld a mandrop at whom it was pointed, with the negative testimony of others, who,though well stationed for seeing what had passed, neither heard Porteousgive orders to fire, nor saw him fire himself; but, on the contrary,averred that the first shot was fired by a soldier who stood close byhim. A great part of his defence was also founded on the turbulence ofthe mob, which witnesses, according to their feelings, theirpredilections, and their opportunities of observation, representeddifferently; some describing as a formidable riot, what othersrepresented as a trifling disturbance such as always used to take placeon the like occasions, when the executioner of the law, and the mencommissioned to protect him in his task, were generally exposed to someindignities. The verdict of the jury sufficiently shows how the evidencepreponderated in their minds. It declared that John Porteous fired a gunamong the people assembled at the execution; that he gave orders to hissoldiers to
fire, by which many persons were killed and wounded; but, atthe same time, that the prisoner and his guard had been wounded andbeaten, by stones thrown at them by the multitude. Upon this verdict, theLords of Justiciary passed sentence of death against Captain JohnPorteous, adjudging him, in the common form, to be hanged on a gibbet atthe common place of execution, on Wednesday, 8th September 1736, and allhis movable property to be forfeited to the king's use, according to theScottish law in cases of wilful murder.*
* The signatures affixed to the death-warrant of Captain Porteous were--Andrew Fletcher of Milton, Lord Justice-Clerk.Sir James Mackenzie, Lord Royston.David Erskine, Lord Dun.Sir Walter Pringle, Lord Newhall.Sir Gilbert Elliot, Lord Minto.
