A view of Edinburgh from Arthur’s Seat. The photographer – me – took this picture whilst being subject to near galeforce winds, determined to push me over the edge, and suffering exhaustion at the climb required to reach the summit. See how much I give for you, gentle reader?
For a variety of reasons that need not concern you nor would you be interested in, I spent a large swathe of my teen years living in Scotland. Of course for those born and raised in Dumfries or Aberdeen, this would not raise any eyebrows. However, for somebody of origins in one of the further recesses of South-East London - origins it should be noted that would be overstated if labelled humble - well, it was unheard of. Anyhow, during my sojourn in Scotland I grew to love and admire Edinburgh. Based as I was on the outskirts of Glasgow this infatuation with Auld Reekie was treated by the Glaswegians as being nothing more than the insane ramblings of an Anglo-Saxon reprobate who would never know why their city far outstripped the supposed glamour of Edinburgh. In short I was ‘a stoopit wee anglish barstit’. The title of this post refers to a term often used by Glaswegians to describe their east coast counterparts. Despite this, Edinburgh has maintained its allure.
I love to visit places where I can bury myself in its history without being distracted by the architectural effluence bequeathed to us by the insane city planners of the sixties, seventies and eighties. Edinburgh pronounces its heritage proudly, most noticeably from the castle which squats over the city, looking down in a stern manner at the populace milling about below. The castle dominates Edinburgh. It oozes pride and severity and could quite easily be used as a location in any of the many fantasy films being thrown at us today. Apparently the ancient remains of a volcano that that castle is sited upon has been used by a variety of armies as a point of defence from Roman times. The picture below indicates why. Any approaching invaders can only be overwhelmed at the task of taking such an obstacle.
Edinburgh Castle seen from Princes Street. The craggy outcrop that the castle sits on gives it an imposing air of severity and watchfulness – probably what its makers intended.
Few places can claim to be as important to Scottish history as Edinburgh Castle. King Malcolm III lived in the castle during the eleventh century. He achieved fame as being the son of Duncan, King of the Scots who had been killed by Macbeth in 1040. Following the overthrow of Macbeth, Malcolm was restored part of his father’s kingdom. See?! You thought Macbeth was just a tiresome play by Shakespeare! In fact Malcolm is a fascinating character who was to be very much involved in Anglo-Scottish affairs during the time of the Norman Conquest. He allied himself with Tostig (King Harold’s brother – not a particularly good choice) and, following the conquest he received various exiled Anglo-Saxons who had fled England when William the Conqueror had set about subjugating his new domain. Malcolm’s assistance to the English, and in particular, Edgar Aetheling (whose sister Malcolm married) actually led to William leading an invasion force north of the border, the upshot of which was the Scottish paying homage and offering his son as hostage. This is a prime example of how complex English-Scottish relationships were (and are). It is not just a matter of Braveheart, Culloden and Bannockburn. (1) Having said that, it would be foolish to deny that the English and Scots have not always seen eye-to-eye. Occupations by Oliver Cromwell, Jacobites and others have led to the castle evolving its defensive capabilities. As an example, the picture below shows a view of the Portcullis Gate which is situated inside the main gate and straddles a road which winds into the castle depths. Having gained entrance to the castle the invaders would now have to pass the gate, which it should be remembered would be stationed with determined and angry Scotsmen hurling more than just foul language.
The Portcullis gate inside Edinburgh Castle – installed as further defence in the 16th century – as if the castle needed to be any safer!
One of the more famous disagreements between England and Scotland involved Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobites. I am falling over myself to add that the previous sentence is a gross over-simplification and that Charlie himself had a small support base within Scotland. In very rough terms, Bonnie Prince Charlie’s escapades were the last instalment of general Scottish dissatisfaction with loss of independence following the Act Of Union in 1707. A serious rebellion had been fought to a draw between the forces of the Jacobites and the Hanoverian George I in 1715. The Young Pretender’s attempt at ‘making Scotland happy’ was never remotely likely to succeed. However, in 1745 and after landing at Glenfinnan, Charlie’s army made its way south, took Edinburgh and defeated Westminster’s General Cope at Prestonpans. Now unsure whether to simply be the saviour of Scotland or to go full steam ahead and restore the Stuart dynasty as sovereign over all of Britain, the Young Pretender, prevaricated. It was after all no mean feat to conquer England. The issue was decided in Holyrood House, Edinburgh (picture below) with the decision to invade England. The Prince’s army marched south pretty much unopposed and upon reaching Derby had another council of war. This time Charlie lost the argument (possibly due to concerns about consolidating any form of control over what they had conquered)and it was decided that the army should retreat northwards. Of course the Hanoverians were not likely to let this young upstart off of the hook and the Duke of Cumberland was sent to harry the Jacobite forces as the moved back towards the border. The armies finally met at Culloden on the April 16 1746 where a by now wraith -like shadow of the Jacobite army faced a now resurgent, larger, better armed, better fed Hanoverian force. The result was the decimation of the Jacobites which included mutilation and murder of the wounded, trial executions of the leaders and the infamous flight of the prince which has become etched into British folklore. (2)
The remains of Holyrood Abbey which sits within the grounds of the Palace of Holyroodhouse. The majority of the ruins date from about 12th century. The palace is younger and indeed an offshoot of the abbey. It was here that Bonnie Prince Billy convinced his army generals to march on England and attempt to restore the Stuart dynasty.
Even the most blinkered (or Buckfast drenched) of visitors to Edinburgh would be hard pressed to miss the major geographical features of the city: hills. Oh, my Lordy! Is it hilly. Believing that I am fit and healthy I approached the volcanic plug that is Arthur’s Seat (picture below) with a misplaced confidence in my mountaineering skills.
The steep and imposing (have I used the work ‘imposing’ enough times in this essay?) Arthur’s Seat. Picture taken by me prior to my attempt to scale the peak. Halfway up I considered alerting the local Paramedic service that they should go on standby as I felt I might be in need of their services!
As my beautiful beloved was accompanying me on my reprise of Edmund Hilary, I felt I would take advantage of this. “My dear,” I opined, “that is most verily an arduous and vertiginous climb we see before us, wouldst thou not be better suited to taking the more gentle and docile Queen’s Drive, and in doing so save your fair footsie-wootsies from rambling related erosion?” Or words to that effect. What was I to do? I couldn’t admit to the fact that my aged knackeredness was the real reason for the suggestion, my testosterone y-chromosome credibility would be flushed away, if I did. Fortunately she agreed and so we took the more circuitous but equally beautiful Queen’s drive route to the peak.
Arthur’s Seat is dotted with lochs and we passed Duddingston and Dun Sapie lochs before having to admit defeat and take the more direct route to the summit. One of the more curious stories concerning Arthur’s Seat was the discovery of seventeen 10cm long wooden coffins buried under a pile of rocks. Discovered by local youths in 1836, each coffin contained an irregular human-shaped carving, each of which had been attired with hand made clothes. This being the early nineteenth century, the local populace and press came to the obvious conclusion that the coffins and their dolls were the work of witches. Stands to reason doesn’t it? More recently, another theory has been offered. In the sixteenth century, The Royal College Of Surgeons was allowed to open up and play around with the corpse of one executed criminal per year. But curiosity being what it is, this wasn’t enough for some erstwhile anatomists. They argued that, for example, to fully appreciate how the gall bladder receives bile formed in and delivered from the liver, via the hepatic duct, which is then released into the duodenum (through the common bile duct), all done under the influence of the hormone cholecystokomin which itself is secreted when there is food in the duodenum, obviously requires the opening up of more than one body! As such an illegal trade developed whereby graveyards such a Greyfriars Kirkyard (see below) were plundered to provide the college with specimens. Most famous amongst the suppliers of corpses were William Hare and William Burke. They operated a lodging house in the Grassmarket area of the city (where we stayed incidentally) and when an elderly tenant died, they offered him up for anatomical investigation to the surgeons. Not slow to see an opening in the market, they rationalised that they could make a killing (sorry, couldn’t resist it!) by hastening the departure of their tenants through a combination of drink and the application of a pillow over their faces. They then sold the cadavers to the grateful College of Surgeons. Sixteen people were hastened towards their maker in this manner until the Police finally arrested the pair. Hare turned King’s evidence and testified against Burke who was hung and his body passed to the college for public dissection. But what of the coffins I hear you ask? Well, people of the nineteenth century were still fairly superstitious (or religious if you prefer) as was attested by the claims of witchcraft when the coffins were found. Part of the belief included the notion that a body which had been dissected by the surgeons would not be able to pass into heaven. Therefore, it has been suggested that as there were seventeen victims of Burke and Hare and also seventeen coffins, somebody had taken the time and effort to make the figurines in order to provide an approximate Christian Burial.
Duddingston and Dun Sapie Lochs (above and below respectively). Despite taking the infinitely more sedate route to the summit of Arthur’s Seat, I was near a state of terminal exhaustion by the time I took the picture of Dun Sapie Loch. This does not bode well for the 10km run I have promised to do in a few months time!
After reaching the top, we both clung tenaciously to any available rocky outcrop whilst the wind did its level best to pick us up and drop us over the nearest and most vertical precipice. The picture at the top of the post was taken from the summit – don’t be fooled by the clear skies! The descent back down to Holyrood Park was uneventful, although in places the steepness of the path meant that our legs got carried away. This meant that we looked like a running character from a seventies cartoon: you know the type, where a circle is drawn to describe their leg movement. Anyhow, we reached the bottom and headed towards my favourite part of the city: St Anthony’s Chapel, or more accurately, what is left of St Anthony’s Chapel (below).
I don’t know if you have noticed, but I am very keen on history. More than any other part of the city, this little ruin reaches across the ages to me. Most people do not given a moments notice. Although its origins are obscure, it probably dates from the early fifteenth century. A record exists which shows that the Pope donated money to assist in its repair. The last recorded chaplain was resident in 1581. More than that I couldn’t really say (I can hear your sighs of relief!), although I do intend to investigate at a later date.
Just around the corner from where we were staying is Greyfriars Kirk. The first thing that ones notices about the graveyard is that the headstones are either leaning against or in some cases part of the houses which surround the yard. Many famous people are buried there including the superbly entitled William Smellie. Mr Smellie was the editor of the first edition of the Encyclopedia Brittanica which automatically makes him one of my favourite people, ever.
Greyfriars Kirk – Here Be Ghosts (apparently)
In 1638 a national covenant was signed in Greyfriars Church (also in the cemetery) which in effect proclaimed the independence of the Scottish Church and firmly rejecting Charles I attempts to impose a uniform prayer book. Of course, such an action was viewed as at best, an embarrassment to the King’s authority and at worst seditious. The response was to hang many of signatories of the covenant and to imprison others, a duty which was carried out to the letter by Sir George Mackenzie. The eagerness with which he went to the task earned him the nickname ‘bloody’ Mackenzie and it is within Greyfriars Kirk that he is buried (somewhat ironically). Upon his death his body was entombed within a large mausoleum which it is said is haunted by his spirit. Furthermore, it is alleged that the poltergeist that haunts both the mausoleum and Mackenzie’s old house has been the cause of at least 350 paranormal incidents, in which 170 have actually collapsed. Just thought you should know, should ever decide to pay the place a visit.
Edinburgh is both beautiful and vast. To my mind the nearest English equivalents are at York and Canterbury. Yet it retains a unique Scottishness which is hard to define but sets it apart from other cities. I love it there and could honestly see myself settling down in ‘auld reekie’. As a parting gesture I have attached a picture of Princes Street (below) as seen from Calton Hill. It is on Princess Street that one can stare at the ‘Fur coat and no knickers’ brigade as they sip their teas in Jenners, Britain’s oldest department store.
Further Reading:
(1) The are many books available which describe the relationship between the Anglo-Saxons and the Scots. For the above details on Malcolm III, I leaned heavily on: Stenton, F (1971). Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford University Press, Oxford
(2) The Jacobite uprising described above has gained credence through selective pilfering of: Schama, S (2001). A History Of Britain – 1603 – 1776. The author has described this period extensively and with his own brilliant style in: Chapter 5: Britannia Incorporated. BBC Books, London
