Old Edinburgh Taverns

Excerpt From: William Hone, The Year Book (1841 edition, originally printed 1832). 1126-31

      Among the remarkable old taverns were Miles Machphail's (who was nicknamed Lord North, on account of his personal resemblance to that celebrated minister)--Lucky Jaup's in Bailie Fyfe's close--Metcalfe's, opposite the old Tolbooth, in the Lawn-Market--Take' a pint and greet near the Parliament house--Bachild's King's Arms Tavern, on the spot now occupied by the Commercial Bank--and Mrs. Flockhart's in the Potterow.

Mrs. Flockhart's.

This landlady seems to have been the 'Mrs Flockhart of Waverly.'

      Mrs. Flockhart, or as she was more ordinarily called, Luckie Fykie, was a neat, little, thin woman, usually habited in a plain, striped blue gown, and apron of the same stuff, with a white 'mutch,' having a black ribbon round the head, and lappets brought down along the cheeks and tied under the chin. She was well to do in the world; as  John Flucker or Flockhart had left her a good deal of money, together with his stock in trade, consisting in a multifarious variety of articles, such as ropes, tea, sugar, whip-shafts, porter, ale, beer, butter, sand, caum stane, herrings, nails, cotton, wicks, papers, pens, ink, wafers, thread, needles, tapes, potatoes, rubbers, gundy, spunks, colored eggs in their season &c.--constituting what was then called a 'merchant' and now a small grocer. Mrs. Flockhart, sat, moreover, in a 'front loft' in Mr. Pattieson's ghostly chapel in Bristo street, and was well-looked upon by all her neighbours, on account of the quality of her visitors. Her premises were situated directly opposite to Robb's (now Chalmer's) Entry; and, within a space about fifteen feet square, she had a shop, dwelling place, and hotel . . . .

      Mrs. Flockhart's customers were very numerous and respectable, including Mr. Dundas, afterwards lord Melville,--lord Stonefield,--lord Braxfield,--Sheriff Cockhurn,--Mr. Scott, father of sir Walter--Mr. Donald Smith, banker--and Dr. Cullen. The use and wont of these gentlemen, on entering the shop, and finding Mrs. Flockhart engaged with customers, was to salute her with "hoo do ye doo, mem?" and a coup de chapeau, and then walk "ben" to the room, where, upon the bunker seat of the window, they found three bottles, severally containing brandy, rum and whiskey, flanked by biscuits and gingerbread; the latter either in thin, crisp, square cakes, called 'Parliament'--in round pieces, denominated 'Snaps,'--or in thin soft cakes, chequered on the surface, and, according to its color, called white or brown 'Quality,' and biscuits. The gentlemen seldom sat down, but, after partaking of what bottle they chose, walked quickly off. Upon certain occasions, there was provided more solid fare than these simple refreshments--such as a chop-steak stew, prepared by Mrs. Flockhart's own skilful hands. This entertainment termed a 'soss' was always laid out on the bunker seat in the closet, which was covered with a clean napkin, there being room besides only for a chair.

      After the death of her first husband, Mrs. Flockhart, despairing of another, her stock (800 pounds) in the hands of a banker, who allowed her a certain annuity. But afterwards she did procure another husband, namely, a highland pedlar, who, finding his hands much cramped by the annuity affair, proceeded to dilapidate her stock in trade, and was a length caught stealing . . . a coil of ropes. The old lady's banker, who was also her relation, then ordered the hotel to be shut up; and she died afterwards in Middleton's Entry, while enjoying the annuity.

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Daunie's.

      Daniel Douglas's Tavern, or as it was more commonly called, Daunie's Tavern, was situated in the Anchor close, near the Cross. The house of which it composed one flat is extremely ancient, and was probably built for some religious purpose, as over the door, which is the second on the left hand down the close, there is the following inscription--'o Lord in the is al My Traist.' Daunie's Tavern has been shut up for many years, like a plague cellar; and the door, and the long, tall, religious-looking windows are overgrown with dust. Of course, it is at present impossible to get admission into the very scene of the orgies of the Pleydells and Fairfords, the Hays and the Erskines, of the last century; but curiosity may be gratified by the sight of the outside of a long line of windows, indicating a gallery within, along which those votaries of bacchanalian glory formerly passed to their orgies.

      During the period when it flourished, Douglas's was one of the most noted and respectable taverns in Edinburgh. It could only be reckoned inferior to the Star and Garter, in Writer's court, which was kept by Clerihugh, and which was the chief resort of the then magistrates of Edinburgh (who had all their regular parties there), as well as of Dr. Webster, lord Gardenstone, David Hume, John Home, and James Boswell. The entrance into Douglas's was by a low narrow passage, and up a few steps....The guests before getting to any of the rooms, had to traverse the kitchen--a dark, fiery Pandemonium, through which numerous ineffable ministers of flame were constantly flying about . . . . Close by the door of the kitchen sat Mrs. Douglas, a woman of immense bulk, splendidly arrayed in a head-dress of stupendous grandeur, and a colored silk gown, with daisies upon it like sunflowers, and tulips as big as cabbages. Upon the entry of guests, she never rose from her seat, either because she was unable from fatness, or that, by sitting, she might preserve the greater dignity. She only bowed as they passed; there were numerous waiters and slip-shod damsels, ready to obey her directions as to the rooms in which the customers should be disposed; and when they went out, another graceful bend of the head acknowledged her sense of gratitude.

      Daunie himself . . . was in perfect contrast to his wife--limber, nimble, and insignificant. . . . The genius and tongue of his helpmate had evidently been too much for him; she kept him in the most perfect subjection, and he acted under her as sort of head-waiter. He spoke very seldom--only when he was obliged to do so by a question--and seemed to have no ideas further than what were required to make a monosyllabic answer. Quietness--humble, peaceful, noteless quietness--was the passion of the man. He did every thing quietly--walked quietly, spoke quietly, looked quietly, and even thought quietly. He lived under his breath So completely was he imbued with the spirit of quietness, . . . that he acquired a trick of interjecting the word "quietly" whenever he opened his mouth, or adding it to the ends of all his little quiet sentences. . . .

      Daunie's Tavern was remarkable, above all other things, for its cheap and comfortable suppers. Vast numbers of people of every rank and profession, not excepting noblemen and judges, used to frequent it on this account. Tripe, minced collops, rizzared haddocks, and haches, were the general fare; and, what will surprise the modern hosts, as well as modern guests, sixpence a-head was the humble charge for all these plenteous purveyances! Yet, such were the effects of Daniel's good management, that he got rich upon these charges, and left Mrs. Douglas, when he died, in very good circumstances.

      The convivialities of the time appear to have often assumed the shape of supper parties. Undisguised 'even down drinking; was not the habit of all. There was a considerable minority of respectable persons, who wished to have some excuse for their potations, and this was afforded by their professing to meet at supper. Nevertheless, perhaps, while they seemed to gather together, as by chance, in Mrs. Douglas's, for the mere sake of the 'crumb o' tripe,' or the 'twa-three peas,' or the 'bit lug o' haddo' (for such were the phrases), social mirth was in true verity their only object. Nor was the supper without its use; for, though some partook of it only as an incentive to subsequent potations, it generally acted as a sort of ballast in steadying their over-crowded top-sails through the tempests of the night.

      The rooms in Daunie's tavern were all in a string, the kitchen being placed in the first rank, like a fugle-man, and serving to remind the guests, at their entry, of certain treats and indulgences which their stomachs would not otherwise have thought of. Beyond this, there was a passage or gallery, from which the rooms were entered, as well as lighted, and at the end was a large room, lighted from both sides. The latter was the scene of many a game . . . played on Saturday nights by a club of venerable compotators, who had met regularly for the better part of a century, and grown, not gray, but red, in each other's company." (This game was a lot like the drinking game high jinks described below).

High Jinks.

      This drinking sport, well known in Scotland, Allan Ramsey calls a 'drunken game, or new project to drink and be rich.' Thus, the quaff or cup is filled to the brim; then one of the company takes a pair of dice, and after crying Hyjinks, he throws them out; the number he casts up points out the person that must drink; he who threw beginning with himself as No. 1, and so round till the number of the persons agreed with that the dice (which may fall upon himself if the number be within twelve); then he sets the dice to him, or bids him take them; he on whom they fall is obliged to drink, or pay a small forfeiture in money; then throws, and so on; but if he forgets to cry Hyjinks he pays a forfeiture to the bank. Now he on whom it falls to drink, if there be any thing in the bank worth drawing, gets it all if he drinks. Then, with a great deal of caution, he empties his cup, sweeps up the money, and orders the cup to be filled again, and then throws; for if he err in the articles, he loses the privilege of drawing the money. The articles are (1) Drink (2) Draw (3)Fill (4) Cry Hyjinks (5) Count just (6) Choose your doublet man, viz, when two equal numbers of the dice are thrown, the person whom you choose must pay double of the common forfeiture, and so must you when the dice is in hand. 'A rare project this,' adds honest Allan, 'and no bubble, I can assure you; for a covetous man may save money, and get himself as drunk as he can desire, in less than an hour's time.’