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CHAPTER XXX.

NEWHAVEN AND ITS FISHWIVES.

Musselburgh-Fisherrow-Portobello-The Scottish Margate
-Bathing Scenes-Leith-The Landing of a Scottish Queen
and English King - Newhaven-The Fishwives - Heavy
Weights Creeling Custom-Keeping a Man-Scandinavian
Origin The Old Volunteers-The Fishwives' Criticism-
Robert Fergusson-Fishwives' Junkettings-Christie John-
stone The Novelist's Fishwives-Appearance and Costume-
Dressed-up Specimens-The Ideal and the Real.

VISIT to the many objects of interest in the en

virons of Edinburgh should include a drive or ramble along that portion of the coast of the Firth of Forth from Musselburgh to Granton, of which Leith is the capital.

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Musselburgh is a goodly town, with an old Roman bridge to mark its antiquity, and a handsome portraitmonument to its modern poet, D. M. Moir, the 'Delta' of Blackwood.' On the Musselburgh Links, between the town and the sea, where Cromwell quartered his infantry, the Edinburgh races are now held. The suburb of Fisherrow, with its squalid houses and dirty exterior, supplies many of those (so-called) Newhaven' fishwomen, with whom we will presently make acquaintance. Passing Joppa, we come to Portobello, a fashionable watering-place that has arisen since the days when Scott was so fond of riding his horse into the surf on the Portobello sands. It is now to Edinburgh what Margate is to London; except that Portobello is only

SATIRE ON BATHING SCENES.

299

three miles distant from the metropolis, and consequently is of easier and cheaper access. If you are so inclined, you can take an omnibus from Princes Street to Portobello for fourpence; and, when you are there, have a bathe for threepence. But whether or no a bashful man is able to do so without any violation to his own modesty, I am not able to say from experience. I find, however, in a clever brochure published at Edinburghten years since, and chiefly dealing with Scottish art and artists, that one of the characters asks,

How do Scotch artists study from the nude,
Where men are saints and every girl a prude? &c.

and is answered,

The artist who for travel has not wealth,

Must take the nude from statues, or by stealth:

No land is perfect, so, we have some traces
Of modesty outraged at bathing-places.
The high-art youth, the anxious rising fellow

May sketch the nude from scenes at Portobello;
There draw a soldier, and a smooth-faced deacon,
Castor and Pollux-like upon the beacon.

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The sketch of this poetical satirist is certainly not contradicted by the writer of an article (cleverly illustrated by J. Doyle) in the 'Illustrated Times' for Aug. 30, 1856, who, after describing the leading characteristics of the place, gives this summary of its rise and fall: The history of Portobello is brief and simple. About this time last century, an old sailor who had taken part in the capture of Portobello in America, built a house by the seaside to the south-east of Edinburgh. Intending this, doubtless, as a memorial of his exploit, he called it Portobello. The citizens of Edinburgh, considering that the air was pure and the beach agreeably soft, cast their eyes towards it as a favourable situation for

private residences; and, forthwith, up sprang a pretty seaside town. With all its advantages and chances, Portobello has since been a bathing-place and little else. Mr. Ruskin would not find a single fishing-boat to excite his poetic sympathies or rouse his artistic enthusiasm. But, though having to support the character of a bathingplace and little else, the glory of Portobello has for some time, I am informed, been departing, and down the place goes, year after year, in public estimation.' It is now, however, recovering itself, and building and improvement are going briskly forward.

From here to Leith is three miles. It is the seaport of Edinburgh, and the most important station on the east coast of Scotland. The walk along its mile-long pier is well worth taking, not only for a sniff of the seabreeze, and the prospect of the shining Firth of Forth dotted everywhere with sailing craft, but also for the view afforded in the return walk of the grand outline of Edinburgh and its triple hills. Here, on an August day, in 1561, the lovely widowed queen of nineteen years landed on her native shores, amid the acclamations of her subjects, who escorted her to Holyrood, and there serenaded her with the Queen's Wake.' And here, also, on an August day, in 1822, an English king stepped on shore amid the unbounded enthusiasm of his Scottish subjects, whose laureate celebrated the event with his broadside ballad Carle, now the King's come!' This is not the place to dilate on the visit of George the Fourth to Edinburgh; but I have just been looking through the descriptions of that memorable visit as published in the earliest volumes of Blackwood's Magazine,' and also in the Herald's official account of the proceedings, and I know not whether more to admire the frantic loyalty of the Scots, or the wonderful tact

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NEWHAVEN FISHWIVES.

301

with which their sovereign accepted their homage, and adapted himself to their predilections. During the fourteen days of his visit, his presence gave rise to a brilliant series of events which will long be remembered in Edinburgh. Wilkie was commissioned to hand down to posterity the record of the king's entrance into Holyrood; but the painter had not a genial subject for his pencil, and his picture was a failure. Edinburgh certainly owed much to this visit of George the Fourth; but what far greater things she owes to his royal niece and her late illustrious consort, the present condition of the Scottish metropolis and its Queen's palace amply testify.

Midway between Leith pier and Granton pier is a third pier, which belongs to the fishing village of Newhaven. The population of the place, more especially the female portion, is distinguished by certain characteristics that merit more than a few passing lines. The Newhaven fishwives form a distinct race, with customs and costumes peculiar to themselves. They are among the lions' of the metropolis of the North,' and not the least picturesque of its thousandand-one picturesque features. They attract a good deal of the stranger's attention; and, as I bestowed no little trouble in investigating their history and noticing their . manners, I will devote the remainder of this chapter to the consideration of this peculiar class of women-the Newhaven fishwives.

The wives of Musselburgh mechanics were accustomed to carry into Edinburgh heavy burdens of salt, sand, and other articles for sale; but, although this custom has now dropped through, the fishwives of Musselburgh, Fisherrow, and more particularly of Newhaven, still retain their ancient characters and

manners, and carry up to the city on their shoulders the fish that have been caught by their husbands, fathers, and brothers. They are as distinct a race as the gipsies, and rarely marry out of their own community.* Their laborious occupation, to which they are inured from early years, makes them very Amazons in strength, and enables them to carry upon their backs loads equally as heavy as those borne by the stoutest porters and coal-heavers. A burden of 250lbs. is frequently carried by them; and it is said that on one occasion three fishwives, each laden with a creelt of herrings weighing 200lbs., walked from Dunbar to Edinburgh, a distance of twenty-seven miles, in five hours. They certainly can go at a slapping pace' up the steepest streets of Edinburgh, when laden with a full creel.

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As it is upon their labours and their skilful method of bargaining that the males of the household have to depend for their living, the females are necessarily the masters of the house; and, at such times as the inferior beings are compelled to remain on land from stress of weather, oblige them to do women's household work, while they themselves go abroad as the bread-winners. Hout!' said one, when it was told her that a certain young woman of their community was about to be

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*This is also the case with the Foot Dee or Fittie' fisher-folk of Aberdeen.

The creel is a basket of strong willow-plait. A curious custom called creeling is observed by the people of Eccles, a Tweed-side parish in Berwickshire. On a certain day, all the men who have been married within the preceding twelvemonth are furnished with a creel. With this upon his back, the first starts off at a run to the house of his nearest newly-married neighbour, followed in hot pursuit by all the bachelors of the place, who endeavour to fill the creel with stones. The wife has the privilege of running by her husband's side and severing the strap of the creel with a knife-if she has the opportunity. When the first man has been creeled, his burden is passed on to his successor.

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