THE ROYAL MILE

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PARLIAMENT HOUSE

Like the castle, Parliament House is an accessible piece of the historic city that is still very much alive. The parliament for which it was built lasted 68 years, before the Act of Union in 1707. At the Last Riding (opening) of parliament, the procession up the street from Holyrood must have been a spectacular sight: first came the commissioners for burghs (each with an attendant); then came the commissioners for shires (each with two attendants); the barons, viscounts and earls followed behind (each with a train-bearer and three attendants); then came the heralds, with splendid tabards, riding in front of the Honours of Scotland (the crown, sword and sceptre), each carried by their hereditary bearer; next came the Lord High Commissioner, the Duke of Queensberry and the Dukes (with gentleman train-bearers and eight attendants each), followed by the Marquises (with their six attendants); the Duke of Argyle brought up the rear with a squadron of Horse Guards. The new parliament has vowed that there will never be such ceremony again.

Inside, the extraordinary hammerbeam ceiling is a wonder in itself, with its great beams of Danish oak pointing down in a threatening manner with decorative corbels. The roof is the best preserved part of the original building, the front being remodelled much later by Robert Reid in the early 19th century, in imitation of Robert Adam, for the Court of Session-the function the place still serves today.

Apart from the roof, other things to look out for include the small late 19th century fireplace with bas-relief scenes from Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice; the statues of justice and mercy by Alexander Mylne ( 1637) outside the south door were originally over the main entrance; most unusual of all, perhaps, is witnessing the scene that the journalist James Bone described in 1926:

Counsel themselves when not in court or consulting near their box are walking up and down their ancient hall where once the Scottish Parliament sat. The ritual is to march in pairs facing towards one another at the turn like officers on board ship. Up and down they go. . . the tragedy and the comedy of the Scots Bar.

Around the walls are portraits of the 18th- and 19th-century lawyers who took hold of the reins of power when the parliament was dissolved, men like Monboddo, Kames, Hailes, Dundas of Arniston and Henry Dundas, Henry Erskine and even, unsuccessfully, Robert Louis Stevenson. There are two particularly fine statues: one of Duncan Forbes by Roubiliac, probably the first marble statue in Scotland, and one of Walter Scott at his ease.

As you leave Parliament House you will be confronted by the statue of Charles 11 as a Roman emperor astride a heavy charger.

The oldest lead statue in Britain, put up in 1685, it was originally going to be of Oliver Cromwell, but the council hastily changed their plans at the Restoration. Later, in the 18th century, they painted it white, which prompted James Boswell to write:

The milk-white steed is well enough,
But why thus daub the man all over,
And to the swarthy Stuart give
the cream complexion of Hanover.

The statue is nicknamed 'Two-faced Charlie' because of the little face attached to the buckle on the back of his suit of armour.

Go around the back of the cathedral to come back out on to the High Street by the Market Cross.

The Mercat Cross was the stone symbol of the medieval Burgh's trading privileges. The capital of the present cross is early 15th century, with dragons emerging from the foliage, but otherwise it's a 19th-century replica or as good as, paid for and positioned by W. E. Gladstone and, like many of its type, not really a cross at all, being topped with the unicorn of Scotland.

In its original position at the top of Fishmarket Close, the cross would have witnessed just about every event of royal importance that happened in the city: it flowed with wine when James IV rode into the city with his new bride in the early 16th century; some years later the man who had held the castle for his granddaughter Queen Mary, Kirkcaldy of Grange, was hanged at it.

Royal proclamations have always been made from it, notably that of Charles II's accession in 1649 on condition that he accepted the National Covenant. Two years later the anti-Covenanting General Montrose was hanged in front of it, a year before the Royal Arms was torn down by an angry mob.

Another couple of years and Cromwell was proclaimed protector at the cross, only for the basin's spouts to flow with claret again six years later when the monarchy was restored in 1660. All the magistrates drank to the king on bended knee, throwing the glasses over their shoulders and breaking '300 dozen'. But then in 1682 the Solemn League and Covenant was ceremonially burned by the hangman here, and seven years later William and Mary were proclaimed King and Queen from it.

Finally it was used in 1745 to proclaim James Vlil as King with Bonnie Prince Charlie standing by to press the claim, though later In the year the Jacobite standards were burnt at its foot. It's not that surprising perhaps that it fell over ten years later and had to wait for the reformer Gladstone to bring it back, after an absence of more than a hundred years.

Cross once more to the north side of the street, to the grand entrance to the City Chambers.

The building of what was the Royal Exchange in the mid 18th century was a sign of a new security in the city after the upheaval of the '45 uprising. Even so, dealers were initially reluctant to use it, being used to conducting their business outside in the open air. It provides the first hint of the Georgian developments that were to come In the valley below, although the arcaded screen you now see on the streetffont, with its simple war memorial, is a much more modern addition.

The remarkable statue in the courtyard, Alexander taming Bucephalus by John Steell, made the sculptor's reputation and ensured that he would find plenty of work adorning the New Town. A plaque records the fact that the building went up over Craig's Close, which was where the Cape Club used to be frequented by the poet Robert Fergusson. Also buried beneath the building is Mary King's Close, which can be visited.

Continue down the other side of the street and take a look into Old Fishmarket Close.

The eminent judge and 19th-century memorialist Lord Cockburn wrote that, in the previous century, this was:

"where fish were thrown out on the street at the head of the close, whence they were dragged down by dirty boys and dirtier women, and then sold unwashed-for there was not a drop of water in the place-from old rickety, scaly wooden tables, exposed to all the rain, dust and filth: an abomination the recollection of which greatly impaired the pleasantness of the fish at a later hour of the day. "

Its residents-the likes of the rich jeweller George Heriot, and later the English spy and novelist Daniel Defoe; and also traditionally the town's hangman- would no doubt have been perfectly used to the stench.

Continue down past the Police Museum next door and, during the Festival, through the crowds outside the Festival Fringe Society, a few doors further on, to New Assembly Close.

Here there is a surprising Georgian building belonging to the Faculty of Advocates, whose Roman Doric columns look quite out of place in this part of town. It was designed in 1813 by Gillespie Graham, as St David's Masonic Chapel, and is now the home of the Law Society of Edinburgh.

Carry on until you come to the tall steeple of the Tron Kirk.

Much altered since it was first built in the early 17th century to absorb some of St Giles' congregation, the Tron church is named after the market weighbeam that stood in Hunter Square behind it. Services here were known as the Maiden Market' because of their popularity with the fashionable set of the day. A fire in the 1820s destroyed the original steeple, permanently silencing the bell that the poet Robert Fergusson described as a iwanwordy, crazy, dinsome thing'. For many years this was the traditional place to see in the New Year, before the celebrations recently became more professionally packaged. Now the church is occupied by the Old Town Information Centre 10 (0131) 557 1700; open daily in summer).

During the excavations for the centre, another old close was discovered, named Marlin's Wynd after the Frenchman who claimed to have paved the High Street. With a little imagination, it now offers a fascinating glimpse into what 17th-century Edinburgh streets were really like. Hunter Square, behind the church, has recently been the subject of an ambitious urban renewal scheme, responsible for some carefully placed bronze fruit baskets by the Scottish artist lan Hamilton Finlay. The Tron stands at the busiest crossroads on the Royal Mile, where traffic thunders over the Bridges to the Southside and north to New Town.

Somewhere beneath here is the 'Union Cellar' where the nobles putting their signatures to the Treaty of Union were forced to flee from the disgruntled crowds.

Cross over the Bridges and walk past the Crowne Plaza Hotel, a partly successful modern attempt to imitate a High Street 'land' or tenement, to Paisley Close, on the other side of the street.

Above the entrance, adorned with the Anglo-Scottish inscription 'Heave awe' chaps, I'm no' dead yet' is the bust of a youth. In 1861 the boy was a lucky sur vivor dug out of the rubble of a collapsed land that killed 35 out of a suggested total of about 100 inhabitants. Clearly not all of them were at home at the time.

To visit Trinity Church and the Brass Rubbing Centre go down Chalmer's Close across the road.

Trinity Church was one of the grandest in Edinburgh, originally founded in 1462 where Waverley Station now stands, and forced to suffer the indignity of being relocated. It was demolished in 1848 and rebuilt here some 20 years later with the original stones after they had been not very carefully stored on Calton Hill. Partly demolished some more soon after, only the apse now survives In the medieval stone. Two-thirds of the original altarpiece are now housed in the National Gallery on the Mound.

The main reason for a visit here though is the Brass Rubbing Centre (open June-Sept Mon-Sat 10-6; Oct-May Mon-Sat 10-5; during the Festival also Sun 2 - 5. It is is run by enthusiastic helpers and there's a wide variety of different patterns and figures to try out, from the impossibly complex to the really very simple. It's not a bad introduction to church history either.

Emerge back on to the Royal Mile from Chalmer's Close and, a few doors further down on the other side of the road, you can visit the Museum of Chiidhood (open Mon-Sat 10-5, 2-5 during the Festival.

Founded by a man who hated children and was keen to emphasize the difference between a Museum of Childhood and a Museum for Children, this place now happily fulfils both functions. Some younger children may become frustrated by the tempting and untouchable array of toys behind glass, but there's an activity area and fun library for them. Nostalgic children aged 30 and over will be delighted to recognise some of their childhood toys and intrigued by some of the examples of the toys their grandparents might have played with. There's also an impressive though rather disturbing doll collection.

Almost immediately opposite the museum is Moubray House.

Built around 1462 and distinguished by its outside stair, Moubray House is one of the oldest houses on the Royal Mile, with some 16th- and 17th-century additions and alterations. Daniel Defoe briefly edited the Edinburgh Courant here in 1710.

Next door to Moubray House is John Knox's House.