An Act of the Scottish Legislature was found absolutely necessary to curb the rage for stupendous houses, and in 1698 it was enacted, that none should be erected within the liberties of the city exceeding five stories in height. Prior to the middle of the seventeenth century Edinburgh could not boast of one court or square save that of White Horse Hostel, if indeed it could be termed either.
The access to these vast and imperishable piles was by turnpike stairs, steep, narrow, dark, and mysterious. The population of the city was then about 50,000; but as it increased, so did the denseness of the houses; even the buttresses of the great cathedral were all occupied by little dwellings, till the venerable church resembled a hen with a brood under her wings. Year by year for seven centuries the alleys had become higher and narrower, till Edinburgh looked like a vast city crowded in close column on the steep faces of a hill, until the building of a bridge to the north, when it burst from the embattled girdle that for ages had pent it up, and more like another Babylon than a "modern Athens" spread picturesquely over every steep rock and deep defile in its vicinity. But to return:
On a dusky evening Walter Fenton and Douglas of Finland, muffled in their ample scarlet rocquelaures, which completely hid their rich dresses, came stumbling along the dark and narrow Potter's Row, towards the gate of the General's House, where a mounted guard of the Grey Dragoons sat motionless as twenty statues, the conical fur cap of each trooper forming the apex of a pyramid, which his wide cloak made, when spread over the crupper of his horse. Still and firm as if cast in bronze, were every horse and man. Each trooper rested his short musquetoon on his thigh, with the long dagger screwed on its muzzle. This guard of honour was under arms to receive the General's military guests, and the fanfare of the trumpets and a ruffle on the kettle-drum announced that Sir Thomas Dalyel of Binns had just arrived.
In the entry stood a foot soldier muffled in his sentinel's coat.
"One of ours, I think," said Douglas; "Art one of the old Die-hards, good fellow?"
"Hab Elshender, at your service, Laird."
"Hah! hath the Lady Bruntisfield arrived?" asked Walter.
"Ay, Sir," replied Hab, with a knowing Scots' grin; for he understood the drift of the question: "Ay, Sir—and Madam Lilian too—looking for a' the world like the queen of the fairies."
Within the gate the court was filled with light and bustle. Carriages of ancient fashion and clumsy construction profusely decorated with painting and gilding, with coats armorial on the polished pannels and waving hammer-cloths, rolled up successively to the doorway; sedans gaudy with brass nails, red silk blinds, and scarlet poles, military chargers, and servants on foot and horseback in gorgeous liveries, all glittering in the light of the flaring links which usually preceded every person of note when threading the gloomy and narrow thoroughfares of Edinburgh after nightfall.
Impatient at every moment which detained him from the side of Lilian, now, when he could appear before her to the utmost advantage, Walter, heedless of preceding his friend, sprang up the handsome staircase of carved oak, the walls of which were covered with painted panels and trophies of arms, conspicuous among which was the standard of the unfortunate Argyle taken in the conflict of Muirdykes three years before. Here they threw their broad hats and red mantles to the servants, and were immediately ushered into a long suite of apartments, which were redolent of perfume and brilliant with light and gaiety.