Allan Ramsay, wigmaker, bookseller, poet, makar, playwright, publisher, literary antiquary, burgess, auctioneer, and founder of the first circulating library in the UK, was born on the 15th of October, 1686.
Allan Ramsay ‘the Elder’ was the famous father of the famous artist, Allan Ramsay ‘the Younger’. The elder Ramsay was a wigmaker turned bookseller and makar who achieved widespread literary fame and a certain notoriety in early 18th Century Scotland. The genial, and somewhat vain and be-turbaned Ramsay cut a familiar, dashing figure in Edinburgh’s Old Town, where he lived and worked not far from his statue that stands today overlooking Princes Street on the edge of the Gardens. He was immune to the envious and even malicious accusations of “upstart vanity” from dour Presbyterians and his entire life was a ‘poke in the eye’ for such as would deny life’s “joyous pleasures”. Ramsay was a collector of old Scottish songs and ballads, some of which he rewrote, but by his groundbreaking preservation of the work of earlier Scottish poets, he ensured that the Scots vernacular, so well utilised in later years by Burns and Fergusson, survived the ‘anglicisation’ that was a natural consequence of the Union of 1707. His own poetry was written in Scots and English, albeit he had more original style and success in the former. The popular success of his early ‘single sheets at a small price’ was such that Edinburgh ladies used to send out their children with a penny to buy ‘Ramsay's last piece’. By 1721, Ramsay was an ‘established man of letters’ and was able to abandon wig making for book selling and it was in that capacity that another of his ‘claims to fame’ arose. In 1725, he opened the new United Kingdom’s first ever circulating library, based out of his premises at the Luckenbooth in the High Street.
Ramsay’s work is an essential ingredient of Scottish literature and his contribution is vital on many levels. Although he is not regarded as a truly great poet, he made much subsequent Scots poetry possible and was, according to Leigh Hunt, “in some respects the best pastoral writer in the world” – referring to his masterpiece the ‘Gentle Shepherd’. In addition, he is the link between the ‘Makars’ of the 15th and 16th Centuries, and poets such as Fergusson and Burns, and the ballad collectors, notably Sir Walter Scott. Ramsay played a large part in the foundation of the 18th Century revival of the Scottish literary tradition and without his endeavours, many Scottish works would have been lost. He directly inspired the genius of his greater successors. Both Roberts, Fergusson and Burns, acknowledged a debt to Ramsay and if the latter drew more from the former in his satires and epistles, he drew on Ramsay as far as his songs were concerned. In his first ‘Commonplace Book’, Burns recorded his pleasure in “the works of our Scotch Poets, particularly the excellent Ramsay”. Here’s a snippety tribute:
“My senses wad be in a creel,
Should I but dare a hope to speel,
Wi' Allan, or wi' Gilbertfield,
The braes o' fame....”
Allan Ramsay was born in Scotland's highest village, Leadhills in Lanarkshire, on the 15th of October, 1686. He was educated at Crawfordmoor Parish School until he was in his fifteenth year. Interestingly, that was a lot longer than was common in Scotland at that time, unless attendance at a University was included. Ramsay moved to Edinburgh in 1701, when he was apprenticed to a wig maker and on the 19th of July, 1710, he became a Burgess of Edinburgh with his own shop in the Grassmarket. Many of Ramsay's early poems had their first outing at the ‘Easy Club’, a forum for intellectual, political and literary discussion that Ramsay helped to set up in Edinburgh. In 1715, he was humorously appointed its ‘poet-laureate’. One of his well known poems is ‘Elegy on Maggie Johnstone’, who was a famous brewer and vender of ale. Amusingly, upon her death, his verse mourns the loss of the ale rather than her passing. The club had nationalist and Jacobite sympathies and the 1715 Rising put an end to its meetings, but Ramsay’s support for the Stuart cause remains evident throughout his work.
By 1724, Ramsay was fully engaged in writing verse and collecting and editing older Scots literature. He published ‘The Ever Green, being a Collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious before 1600’ in that year and his five-volume ‘Tea Table Miscellany’ between 1724 and 1737. Although some folks have criticised Ramsay for his having had a tendency to edit traditional work to suit his own taste, Sir Walter Scott was surely grateful for his having restored to circulation many traditional songs and ballads of the medieval makars. Ramsay’s preface to his ‘Ever Green’ displays his patriotism and conviction that Scots poetry is a literary mode worthy of conservation and distribution. In it, Ramsay pleas for a return to simple Scottish tradition and protests against “imported trimming” and “foreign embroidery in our writings”. The 1720s were Ramsay’s busiest period and perhaps his greatest and most enduring success was with his Scots pastoral play, ‘The Gentle Shepherd’; published in 1725. Ramsay’s ‘poem as a play’ of five ‘acts’ gives a vivid description of rural scenery and was performed as a ballad-opera, in 1729. It later formed the basis of John Gay's ‘The Beggar's Opera’. It began life as a number of single-sheet ‘pastoral dialogues’, which Ramsay extended and to which he added songs to form his ‘dramatic pastoral’ after getting encouragement from his friends and public.
Famously, in 1736, due to his interest in drama and support of the ‘Company of Players’ for whom he sold tickets in his shop, Ramsay set about building a new theatre “at vast expense” in Carrubber's Close. His ‘New Theatre’, where he managed a Company, was shut down by order of the City Bailies in the following year. Under pressure from the Calvinist Kirk, the Magistrates misused the newly passed ‘Licence Act’, which was designed to prevent attacks on Walpole, and forced the closure of Ramsay's theatre. At that, Ramsay suffered financial loss and his antagonism to Presbyterian dourness was further incensed. He wrote numerous poems against its hypocrisy.
Alan Ramsay died of what was called 'scurvy of the gums' on the 7th of January, 1758, and was buried in Greyfriars' Kirkyard.
Friday, 15 October 2010
Thursday, 14 October 2010
Sir Edward de Brus, High King of Ireland
Sir Edward Bruce, High King of Ireland, Earl of Carrick, and brother of Robert I, King of Scots, died on the 14th of October, 1318.
By the year 1315, there were only two de Brus brothers left in Scotland; Robert de Brus and his younger sibling Edward. The English Plantagenet Edwards, I and II, between them had the others chopped into pieces in the manner Longshanks had practiced on yon Welshman, Dafydd ap Gruffudd, in 1283, and perfected as his way of dispatching William Wallace in 1305. Sometime between the Spring of 1307 and the 7th of July that year, when the ‘Hammer of the Scots’ died, he had caused Neil de Brus, the youngest of the brothers, to be drawn, hanged and quartered. The other two Bruce brothers, Alexander and Thomas, had suffered a similar fate at the hands of Edward II after being captured in the Spring of 1308 in the vicinity of Loch Ryan. Bannockburn kinda settled the score to some extent, but the English threat wouldn’t go away and neither Robert nor Edward de Brus were the kind to sit content on their laurels.
One year AB (after Bannockburn), Robert I of Scotland, sent his wee brother to Ireland. Edward's main mission was to make a nuisance o’ himsel’ and create a second front in the ongoing war against England. The Plantagenet dynasty’s right to rule over Ireland had been ‘confirmed’ by the ‘Laudabiliter’ in 1155 – a Papal Bull issued by the English Pope, Adrian IV, in favour of Henry II of England. Thereafter, between 1169 and 1171, the invasion of Ireland consolidated the English rule and afterwards, the country was divided between the surviving Irish dynasties in the west and the Anglo-Norman-Irish Lordship in the east. The Bruces, buoyed by their success against Edward II and in anticipation of support from the Irish, decided it would be a good idea to invade Ireland; if not to drive out the English, at least to keep them on the defensive. In support of their planned invasion of Ireland, the Bruces organised a propaganda campaign, which majored on the close cultural, ethnic and tribal links between the two countries. That was stretching things a bit for a Norman-Scot, but for someone who later subscribed to the notion of the cradle of Scotland’s existence being far off Egypt, it wasn’t too much of a stretch. The Bruces’ vision was of a pan-Gaelic alliance, between the predominantly Gaelic Irish and the part-Gaelic, part-Norman, part-Scottish, emergent Bruce dynasty. You might think that Robert de Brus’ second marriage, to Elizabeth de Burgh, daughter of the Earl of Ulster, would have been a factor, but it shouldn’t be forgotten that the de Burghs were no less Norman than the Bruces and they were certainly no friends to the indigenous Gaelic hierarchy, and particulary the Ó Néills. Robert de Brus wrote a letter to the Irish chiefs in which he stressed the ancient heritage and common language of the Scots and Irish, using the phrase ‘nostra nacio’ (our nation) in his Latin missive, which read in part:
“Whereas we and you and our people and your people, free since ancient times, share the same national ancestry and are urged to come together more eagerly and joyfully in friendship by a common language and by common custom, we have sent you our beloved kinsman, the bearers of this letter, to negotiate with you in our name about permanently strengthening and maintaining inviolate the special friendship between us and you, so that with God's will our nation may be able to recover her ancient liberty.”
The Irish had ceased to be coherent enough to support a High King and some of them recognised the need for a unifying leader. One of these was Domnál mac Brian Ó Néill, notionally King of Ulster, who had been Ard Rí himsel’ briefly, between 1258 and 1260. Clearly, he saw the advantages of the Bruces’ plan and promptly extended an invite to Edward de Brus to become High King. For Ed, it was a ‘no brainer’ that would elevate him to King in his own right and out of the shadow of his elder brother and, on the 26th of May, 1315, he landed with more than 6,000 men near Larne in County Antrim. Edward, aided by Ó Néill, quickly defeated the Norman vassals of Robert de Brus’ father-in-law, the Earl of Ulster, and their Irish allies, and subsequently captured the town of Carrickfergus. Then, at Faughart in County Louth, sometime in early June of 1315, Edward de Brus was proclaimed High King of Ireland by Ó Néill and twelve or so of his northern Irish Kinglings. It was recorded by the Irish Annals that “all the Gaels of Ireland agreed to grant him lordship and they called him King of Ireland.” However, in practice, it was a fairly nominal recognition by many, although Bruce did have ‘de facto’ rule over much of eastern and mid-Ulster for a time. Later, in 1317, Ó Néill even went as far as to write to Pope John XXII, where he described Edward as “pious and prudent, humble and chaste, exceedingly temperate, in all things sedate and moderate, and possessing power (God on high be praised) to snatch us mightily from the house of bondage” and demanded the revoking of the Papal Bull. Pope John said “Bullocks!”
Edward de Brus spent three and a half years in Ireland. During that time he attempted to subdue the island and bring both the Anglo-Norman-Irish and the native Irish Gaels to heel. Prominent battles were fought at Dundalk, Connor and Kells; in each of which Edward was victorious. Robert the Bruce came over for a time ‘to crack a few heids’, but he went back to Scotland in the Spring of 1317 after famine had stricken most of Ireland. The end of Edward’s ‘reign’ came at the Battle of Faughart – the same place where he had been crowned just over three years previously – on the 14th of October, 1318. Edward de Brus was defeated by Anglo-Norman-Irish forces under John de Berminghan, thus ending forever the hopes of a combined Scots-Irish resistance to England. Like his brothers before him, Edward de Brus was chopped up and pieces of his body were displayed in the chief towns of the east. His head was lightly salted and presented to King Edward II in a box, albeit locals can still point to what is supposed to be the grave of de Brus in the churchyard on the Hill of Faughart.
The Bruces’ propaganda had suggested that there was a strong fellow feeling amongst the mediaeval Scottish and Irish and that they had a common enemy in England. However, the Annals of Ulster, referring to Edward de Brus’ death, recorded that “…there was not done from the beginning of the world a deed that was better for the Men of Ireland than that deed” The Annals were reflecting the public joy at the end of the famine and pillaging caused by the fighting between the ‘Foreigners of Ireland’.
By the year 1315, there were only two de Brus brothers left in Scotland; Robert de Brus and his younger sibling Edward. The English Plantagenet Edwards, I and II, between them had the others chopped into pieces in the manner Longshanks had practiced on yon Welshman, Dafydd ap Gruffudd, in 1283, and perfected as his way of dispatching William Wallace in 1305. Sometime between the Spring of 1307 and the 7th of July that year, when the ‘Hammer of the Scots’ died, he had caused Neil de Brus, the youngest of the brothers, to be drawn, hanged and quartered. The other two Bruce brothers, Alexander and Thomas, had suffered a similar fate at the hands of Edward II after being captured in the Spring of 1308 in the vicinity of Loch Ryan. Bannockburn kinda settled the score to some extent, but the English threat wouldn’t go away and neither Robert nor Edward de Brus were the kind to sit content on their laurels.
One year AB (after Bannockburn), Robert I of Scotland, sent his wee brother to Ireland. Edward's main mission was to make a nuisance o’ himsel’ and create a second front in the ongoing war against England. The Plantagenet dynasty’s right to rule over Ireland had been ‘confirmed’ by the ‘Laudabiliter’ in 1155 – a Papal Bull issued by the English Pope, Adrian IV, in favour of Henry II of England. Thereafter, between 1169 and 1171, the invasion of Ireland consolidated the English rule and afterwards, the country was divided between the surviving Irish dynasties in the west and the Anglo-Norman-Irish Lordship in the east. The Bruces, buoyed by their success against Edward II and in anticipation of support from the Irish, decided it would be a good idea to invade Ireland; if not to drive out the English, at least to keep them on the defensive. In support of their planned invasion of Ireland, the Bruces organised a propaganda campaign, which majored on the close cultural, ethnic and tribal links between the two countries. That was stretching things a bit for a Norman-Scot, but for someone who later subscribed to the notion of the cradle of Scotland’s existence being far off Egypt, it wasn’t too much of a stretch. The Bruces’ vision was of a pan-Gaelic alliance, between the predominantly Gaelic Irish and the part-Gaelic, part-Norman, part-Scottish, emergent Bruce dynasty. You might think that Robert de Brus’ second marriage, to Elizabeth de Burgh, daughter of the Earl of Ulster, would have been a factor, but it shouldn’t be forgotten that the de Burghs were no less Norman than the Bruces and they were certainly no friends to the indigenous Gaelic hierarchy, and particulary the Ó Néills. Robert de Brus wrote a letter to the Irish chiefs in which he stressed the ancient heritage and common language of the Scots and Irish, using the phrase ‘nostra nacio’ (our nation) in his Latin missive, which read in part:
“Whereas we and you and our people and your people, free since ancient times, share the same national ancestry and are urged to come together more eagerly and joyfully in friendship by a common language and by common custom, we have sent you our beloved kinsman, the bearers of this letter, to negotiate with you in our name about permanently strengthening and maintaining inviolate the special friendship between us and you, so that with God's will our nation may be able to recover her ancient liberty.”
The Irish had ceased to be coherent enough to support a High King and some of them recognised the need for a unifying leader. One of these was Domnál mac Brian Ó Néill, notionally King of Ulster, who had been Ard Rí himsel’ briefly, between 1258 and 1260. Clearly, he saw the advantages of the Bruces’ plan and promptly extended an invite to Edward de Brus to become High King. For Ed, it was a ‘no brainer’ that would elevate him to King in his own right and out of the shadow of his elder brother and, on the 26th of May, 1315, he landed with more than 6,000 men near Larne in County Antrim. Edward, aided by Ó Néill, quickly defeated the Norman vassals of Robert de Brus’ father-in-law, the Earl of Ulster, and their Irish allies, and subsequently captured the town of Carrickfergus. Then, at Faughart in County Louth, sometime in early June of 1315, Edward de Brus was proclaimed High King of Ireland by Ó Néill and twelve or so of his northern Irish Kinglings. It was recorded by the Irish Annals that “all the Gaels of Ireland agreed to grant him lordship and they called him King of Ireland.” However, in practice, it was a fairly nominal recognition by many, although Bruce did have ‘de facto’ rule over much of eastern and mid-Ulster for a time. Later, in 1317, Ó Néill even went as far as to write to Pope John XXII, where he described Edward as “pious and prudent, humble and chaste, exceedingly temperate, in all things sedate and moderate, and possessing power (God on high be praised) to snatch us mightily from the house of bondage” and demanded the revoking of the Papal Bull. Pope John said “Bullocks!”
Edward de Brus spent three and a half years in Ireland. During that time he attempted to subdue the island and bring both the Anglo-Norman-Irish and the native Irish Gaels to heel. Prominent battles were fought at Dundalk, Connor and Kells; in each of which Edward was victorious. Robert the Bruce came over for a time ‘to crack a few heids’, but he went back to Scotland in the Spring of 1317 after famine had stricken most of Ireland. The end of Edward’s ‘reign’ came at the Battle of Faughart – the same place where he had been crowned just over three years previously – on the 14th of October, 1318. Edward de Brus was defeated by Anglo-Norman-Irish forces under John de Berminghan, thus ending forever the hopes of a combined Scots-Irish resistance to England. Like his brothers before him, Edward de Brus was chopped up and pieces of his body were displayed in the chief towns of the east. His head was lightly salted and presented to King Edward II in a box, albeit locals can still point to what is supposed to be the grave of de Brus in the churchyard on the Hill of Faughart.
The Bruces’ propaganda had suggested that there was a strong fellow feeling amongst the mediaeval Scottish and Irish and that they had a common enemy in England. However, the Annals of Ulster, referring to Edward de Brus’ death, recorded that “…there was not done from the beginning of the world a deed that was better for the Men of Ireland than that deed” The Annals were reflecting the public joy at the end of the famine and pillaging caused by the fighting between the ‘Foreigners of Ireland’.
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Allan Ramsay ‘the Younger’
Allan Ramsay, artist, portrait painter and writer, was born on the 13th of October, 1713.
Allan Ramsay ‘the Younger’ was the famous son of the famous poet of the same name. The younger Ramsay was the leading portrait painter of his day and, in many people's eyes, the greatest portrait painter of the 18th Century. He was the master of the direct informal portrait, being instrumental in formulating a native Scottish style of painting as his father had done for poetry. His subjects included the historian, Edward Gibbon, the Scottish philosopher, David Hume, and the Jacobite heroine, Flora MacDonald, who turns out to be rather attractive. However, not all those who sat for him were overjoyed with the results. The French philosopher, Jean Jacques Rousseau, was sulkily unimpressed by his portrait, but “ye cannae mak a silk purse oot o’ a coo’s lug.” During his prime period, Ramsey had a virtual monopoly on court painting, becoming the official painter to George III, in 1760, and ‘Principal Painter-in-Ordinary’, in 1767. Of course, this aroused a bit of envy amongst the artistic types, with one such rival, Joshua Reynolds, tritely commenting that Ramsay was “not a good painter.” The National Portrait Galleries in London and Edinburgh have examples of his work.
Ramsey was part of the intellectual society of the ‘Scottish Enlightenment’ and was a friend of Dr Johnson. He was also the founder, in 1754, of the ‘Select Society’ of Edinburgh, the aims of which were to promote "literary discussions, philosophical enquiry, and improvement in public speaking." The founding membership reads like a ‘Who’s Who’ of the period, including: David Hume, the celebrated historian and philosopher, Dr. Adam Smith, distinguished writer on morals and political economy, Alexander Wedderburn, Earl of Rosslyn and distinguished lawyer, and Dr. Alexander Carlyle, an accomplished Presbyterian divine.
Allan Ramsay was born in Edinburgh on the 13th of October, 1713. He was encouraged by his father, who had always interested in the visual arts and, in 1729, had helped to found the Academy of St. Luke, named after the patron saint of painting. Allan Ramsay Snr was the artist’s first portraiture subject at St. Luke’s, but it seems he also studied decorating and house-painting under James Norie, a friend of his father. We’re not talking Dulux here mind; more the decorative frieze kind of painting. During his early days as an artist, Ramsay studied in London at the studio of Hans Hysing (Hyffidg), the Swedish portrait painter, and at the Academy in St. Martin's Lane, run by Hogarth. Thereafter, he went to Italy, where he studied the Old Masters and copied works by his teachers.
There are some gems worth repeating from a letter his father wrote to the artist, John Smibert, in 1736. He wrote, "My son Allan has been pursuing your science since he was a dozen years auld” and “[he] has since been painting here like a Raphael.” Commenting in his son’s imminent departure for Italy, he added, “[he] sets out for the seat of the beast beyond the Alps within a month hence” and “I’m sweer to part with him, but canna stem the current which flows from the advice of his patrons and his own inclination.” During the two years of 1736 and 1738, Ramsay studied at the French Academy in Rome, under Francesco Imperiali and Vlenghels, and with Francesco Solimena in Naples. The Baroque subject matter of most of his teachers' paintings were not much of an influence, with those guys being into religious and historical themes, but they had plenty to teach in terms of style, technique and colour. In France, Ramsay displayed an aptitude for painting nudes and was described as a "diligent and observant student, rapidly gaining anatomical knowledge” – and who wouldn’t be?
Ramsay was also a correspondent of Voltaire and the aforementioned Rousseau, and a writer of poetry and essays. In ‘On Ridicule’, from 1753, he wrote that truth was “the leading and inseparable principle in all works of art”. William Anderson, in ‘The Scottish Nation: Biographical History of the People of Scotland’, wrote that during the 1740s and ‘50s Ramsay can be seen “equally successful in a style of polished elegance on the one hand and of extreme simplicity on the other.” In his ‘Dialogue on Taste’, of 1755, Ramsay wrote about poetry, and rejected the "absurd metaphysics" of Spenser and his like, suggesting that "instead of representations of truth and the real existence of things", those guys were writing about the exploits of impossible beings in an impossible world. No doubt something of his attitude to the place of simple realism in painting may be inferred from those remarks. Experts would agree that Ramsay's portraits should be celebrated for their resemblance to nature and their unstudied simplicity.
After his return from Rome, Ramsay divided his time between Edinburgh and London, and set about enhancing his reputation as a portrait painter. He was elected a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, in 1743, and was introduced to George III, whose portrait he painted both in whole length and in profile. Later, in March of 1767, he was appointed principal painter to the King. Around the time he was sixty-two. Poor Ramsay shattered his right arm in some kind of an accident and was thereafter unable to paint. A tragedy for the man, but he compensated by retiring to Rome in 1775, where he amused himself with literary pursuits. Then, in 1784, sensing his end, he decided that he wasn’t going to be buried in Rome. Allan Ramsay determined to return to his native Scotland, but he never made it. He got as far as Dover, where he died on the 10th of August, 1784.
Allan Ramsay ‘the Younger’ was the famous son of the famous poet of the same name. The younger Ramsay was the leading portrait painter of his day and, in many people's eyes, the greatest portrait painter of the 18th Century. He was the master of the direct informal portrait, being instrumental in formulating a native Scottish style of painting as his father had done for poetry. His subjects included the historian, Edward Gibbon, the Scottish philosopher, David Hume, and the Jacobite heroine, Flora MacDonald, who turns out to be rather attractive. However, not all those who sat for him were overjoyed with the results. The French philosopher, Jean Jacques Rousseau, was sulkily unimpressed by his portrait, but “ye cannae mak a silk purse oot o’ a coo’s lug.” During his prime period, Ramsey had a virtual monopoly on court painting, becoming the official painter to George III, in 1760, and ‘Principal Painter-in-Ordinary’, in 1767. Of course, this aroused a bit of envy amongst the artistic types, with one such rival, Joshua Reynolds, tritely commenting that Ramsay was “not a good painter.” The National Portrait Galleries in London and Edinburgh have examples of his work.
Ramsey was part of the intellectual society of the ‘Scottish Enlightenment’ and was a friend of Dr Johnson. He was also the founder, in 1754, of the ‘Select Society’ of Edinburgh, the aims of which were to promote "literary discussions, philosophical enquiry, and improvement in public speaking." The founding membership reads like a ‘Who’s Who’ of the period, including: David Hume, the celebrated historian and philosopher, Dr. Adam Smith, distinguished writer on morals and political economy, Alexander Wedderburn, Earl of Rosslyn and distinguished lawyer, and Dr. Alexander Carlyle, an accomplished Presbyterian divine.
Allan Ramsay was born in Edinburgh on the 13th of October, 1713. He was encouraged by his father, who had always interested in the visual arts and, in 1729, had helped to found the Academy of St. Luke, named after the patron saint of painting. Allan Ramsay Snr was the artist’s first portraiture subject at St. Luke’s, but it seems he also studied decorating and house-painting under James Norie, a friend of his father. We’re not talking Dulux here mind; more the decorative frieze kind of painting. During his early days as an artist, Ramsay studied in London at the studio of Hans Hysing (Hyffidg), the Swedish portrait painter, and at the Academy in St. Martin's Lane, run by Hogarth. Thereafter, he went to Italy, where he studied the Old Masters and copied works by his teachers.
There are some gems worth repeating from a letter his father wrote to the artist, John Smibert, in 1736. He wrote, "My son Allan has been pursuing your science since he was a dozen years auld” and “[he] has since been painting here like a Raphael.” Commenting in his son’s imminent departure for Italy, he added, “[he] sets out for the seat of the beast beyond the Alps within a month hence” and “I’m sweer to part with him, but canna stem the current which flows from the advice of his patrons and his own inclination.” During the two years of 1736 and 1738, Ramsay studied at the French Academy in Rome, under Francesco Imperiali and Vlenghels, and with Francesco Solimena in Naples. The Baroque subject matter of most of his teachers' paintings were not much of an influence, with those guys being into religious and historical themes, but they had plenty to teach in terms of style, technique and colour. In France, Ramsay displayed an aptitude for painting nudes and was described as a "diligent and observant student, rapidly gaining anatomical knowledge” – and who wouldn’t be?
Ramsay was also a correspondent of Voltaire and the aforementioned Rousseau, and a writer of poetry and essays. In ‘On Ridicule’, from 1753, he wrote that truth was “the leading and inseparable principle in all works of art”. William Anderson, in ‘The Scottish Nation: Biographical History of the People of Scotland’, wrote that during the 1740s and ‘50s Ramsay can be seen “equally successful in a style of polished elegance on the one hand and of extreme simplicity on the other.” In his ‘Dialogue on Taste’, of 1755, Ramsay wrote about poetry, and rejected the "absurd metaphysics" of Spenser and his like, suggesting that "instead of representations of truth and the real existence of things", those guys were writing about the exploits of impossible beings in an impossible world. No doubt something of his attitude to the place of simple realism in painting may be inferred from those remarks. Experts would agree that Ramsay's portraits should be celebrated for their resemblance to nature and their unstudied simplicity.
After his return from Rome, Ramsay divided his time between Edinburgh and London, and set about enhancing his reputation as a portrait painter. He was elected a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, in 1743, and was introduced to George III, whose portrait he painted both in whole length and in profile. Later, in March of 1767, he was appointed principal painter to the King. Around the time he was sixty-two. Poor Ramsay shattered his right arm in some kind of an accident and was thereafter unable to paint. A tragedy for the man, but he compensated by retiring to Rome in 1775, where he amused himself with literary pursuits. Then, in 1784, sensing his end, he decided that he wasn’t going to be buried in Rome. Allan Ramsay determined to return to his native Scotland, but he never made it. He got as far as Dover, where he died on the 10th of August, 1784.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Ramsay Macdonald
James Macdonald Ramsay (Ramsay MacDonald), pupil teacher, invoice clerk, private secretary, journalist, author, biographer, County Councillor, politician, Member of Parliament, and the first Labour Prime Minister in British history, was born on the 12th of October, 1866.
Ramsay MacDonald was a remarkable man and he had a political career to match. He rose from a working class background to become Britain's first Labour Prime Minister. That occurred in 1924, thirty years after he joined the Labour movement as a member of the Independent Labour Party alongside another famous Scottish politician, Keir Hardie. Reflecting his humble origins, MacDonald was also one of the very few men to become Prime Minister without having had a university education. Nevertheless, he was a brilliant speaker who could make a lot of empty non-sense sound alluring. He became highly respected, not only for his oratory and debating skills, but also due to his capacity for mastering legislative detail. In his prime, he was regarded as the outstanding Parliamentary performer on the Labour bench; a man whom Balfour called “a born parliamentarian”. Along with Hardie, he was one of the great architects of the British Labour party and he perhaps contributed more than anyone else to its becoming a credible party of government. MacDonald sought to give the new party a distinct ideology and throughout his career he retained a clear vision of a democratic, socialist movement, intended to unite middle class radicalism with working class votes. He wrote numerous pamphlets and books on that theme and forced the pace on the shift from the Liberal tradition to the real new Labour movement. He was a proponent of evolutionary socialism in a Fabian sense and firmly rejected the notions of revolution and class conflict. His was more of a Darwinian approach than that of a Karl Marx.
As an MP, he first represented the Leicester constituency and subsequently Aberavon in Glamorganshire, Seaham in County Durham, and latterly, he held the combined Scottish Universities seat. He was singularly responsible for the great Labour breakthrough in the 1906 General Election, when he negotiated an electoral pact with Herbert Gladstone’s Liberal Party. That deal, which gave Labour candidates a clear run at a number of seats in working class areas, firmly established the Party, with its twenty-nine elected MPs led by MacDonald and Keir Hardie. In total, MacDonald formed three governments, but he never had the luxury of having been backed by an overall party majority. His legacy is that Labour's rapid growth from pressure group to a party of government was played out during his lifetime; an achievement for which he was largely responsible. He has had his critics and he certainly had critical moments, which perhaps he could have handled better, but war and economic crises put a ‘spanner in the works’. He would have made a wonderful Foreign Secretary, but who amongst his colleagues would have – could have – taken his place and achieved what he did for the Party. In her ‘Diary’ in 1930, Beatrice Webb wrote of MacDonald, stating, “[he] owes his pre-eminence largely to the fact that he is the only talent in a Party of plebeians and plain men.” Unjustly, he has been accused of being a traitor to the Labour Party, but in truth he was caught ‘between a rock and a hard place’. Without MacDonald, there would not have been a Party to betray.
MacDonald was born in Lossiemouth on the 12th of October, 1866, and registered under the name of James MacDonald Ramsay. Whilst growing up, he was known as Jaimie MacDonald and in adulthood up to 1910, his name was usually styled Ramsay Macdonald; thereafter Ramsay MacDonald. The MacDonald stemmed from his father and Ramsay was his mother’s surname; he was born illegitimate and brought up by his mum and her mum. Wee Jaimie was educated at the Free Kirk School, then at Drainie Parish School where, in 1881, the star pupil became a pupil teacher. In 1885, MacDonald worked for a while in Bristol and associated with the local branch of the Marxist-oriented Social Democratic Federation (SDF). Then, in 1886, after a brief return to Lossiemouth, he went to London, where he earned a living as a clerk, then as a political secretary for a Liberal candidate and became involved in journalism. He immediately became interested in politics, and joined the London Trades Council and the Fabian Society, whose intellectual approach to socialism he found more to his liking than that of the SDF. In 1894, he joined up with Keir Hardie as a member of the newly formed Independent Labour Party and the stage was set.
MacDonald rose through the Party ranks, got elected with the other twenty-eight MPs in 1906 and, in 1911, became leader of what had by then become the Parliamentary Labour Party. In 1914, MacDonald got a taste for foreign policy when he helped found the Union of Democratic Control, which sought parliamentary control over overseas policy and the repudiation of hitherto ‘secret’ diplomacy. That same year, he resigned as Party leader, because, although not a pacifist, he was opposed to Britain's participation in World War One. His stance led to public accusations of treason and cowardice, and the scurrilous ‘John Bull’ magazine even tried to blacken his name by revealing his illegitimacy and confusion over his name. Such jingoistic larceny and vilification convinced the public that he had betrayed his country, despite his having been one of very few senior politicians to have visited the Western Front. In 1918, he lost his seat in Parliament and remained out of political office for the next four years.
However, all was forgiven in 1922, when he was restored as Leader of the Opposition; the Liberals had become a spent force. In fact, as public opinion had turned against the War and its toll of casualties, MacDonald gained a lot of credit for his principled stand. Famously then, on the 21st of January, 1924, Ramsay MacDonald frae Lossiemouth became Prime Minister at the head of the first ever Labour Government in Great Britain. MacDonald also took on the role of Foreign Secretary, but did suffer from the strain of two demanding roles. To some extent, he neglected domestic for foreign affairs and his minority Government soon ran into problems. However, he achieved success through the ‘Dawes Plan’, which ammended the reparations imposed on Germany under the ‘Treaty of Versailles’ and he also set a precedent as the first British Prime Minister to visit the United States, but above all, MacDonald took pride in showing Labour's fitness to govern. His landmark Labour Government was overwhelmingly defeated in October, 1924, when the fear of Bolsheviks and media manufactured 'red scares' over proposed trade agreements with the Soviet Union caused its downfall.
MacDonald returned to power in 1929, in another minority government, but his Cabinet was soon faced with the Great Depression. It became badly split between devaluation and dramatic cuts in spending and, in 1931, a General Election was called. Labour didn’t win and although MacDonald went to resign, the King persuaded him to stay and form the ‘National Government Coalition’ with its massively Tory-dominated administration. The shock of MacDonald’s capitulation, coupled with Labour having been almost wiped out at the Election, is still seen as ‘the great betrayal’. MacDonald soldiered on until 1935, when he lost his seat at Westminster. He spent his last years in Parliament, until 1937, as Lord President of the Council. James MacDonald Ramsay died of heart failure aboard the liner ‘Reina del Pacifico’ in the Atlantic en route to South America on the 9th of November, 1937.
Ramsay MacDonald was a remarkable man and he had a political career to match. He rose from a working class background to become Britain's first Labour Prime Minister. That occurred in 1924, thirty years after he joined the Labour movement as a member of the Independent Labour Party alongside another famous Scottish politician, Keir Hardie. Reflecting his humble origins, MacDonald was also one of the very few men to become Prime Minister without having had a university education. Nevertheless, he was a brilliant speaker who could make a lot of empty non-sense sound alluring. He became highly respected, not only for his oratory and debating skills, but also due to his capacity for mastering legislative detail. In his prime, he was regarded as the outstanding Parliamentary performer on the Labour bench; a man whom Balfour called “a born parliamentarian”. Along with Hardie, he was one of the great architects of the British Labour party and he perhaps contributed more than anyone else to its becoming a credible party of government. MacDonald sought to give the new party a distinct ideology and throughout his career he retained a clear vision of a democratic, socialist movement, intended to unite middle class radicalism with working class votes. He wrote numerous pamphlets and books on that theme and forced the pace on the shift from the Liberal tradition to the real new Labour movement. He was a proponent of evolutionary socialism in a Fabian sense and firmly rejected the notions of revolution and class conflict. His was more of a Darwinian approach than that of a Karl Marx.
As an MP, he first represented the Leicester constituency and subsequently Aberavon in Glamorganshire, Seaham in County Durham, and latterly, he held the combined Scottish Universities seat. He was singularly responsible for the great Labour breakthrough in the 1906 General Election, when he negotiated an electoral pact with Herbert Gladstone’s Liberal Party. That deal, which gave Labour candidates a clear run at a number of seats in working class areas, firmly established the Party, with its twenty-nine elected MPs led by MacDonald and Keir Hardie. In total, MacDonald formed three governments, but he never had the luxury of having been backed by an overall party majority. His legacy is that Labour's rapid growth from pressure group to a party of government was played out during his lifetime; an achievement for which he was largely responsible. He has had his critics and he certainly had critical moments, which perhaps he could have handled better, but war and economic crises put a ‘spanner in the works’. He would have made a wonderful Foreign Secretary, but who amongst his colleagues would have – could have – taken his place and achieved what he did for the Party. In her ‘Diary’ in 1930, Beatrice Webb wrote of MacDonald, stating, “[he] owes his pre-eminence largely to the fact that he is the only talent in a Party of plebeians and plain men.” Unjustly, he has been accused of being a traitor to the Labour Party, but in truth he was caught ‘between a rock and a hard place’. Without MacDonald, there would not have been a Party to betray.
MacDonald was born in Lossiemouth on the 12th of October, 1866, and registered under the name of James MacDonald Ramsay. Whilst growing up, he was known as Jaimie MacDonald and in adulthood up to 1910, his name was usually styled Ramsay Macdonald; thereafter Ramsay MacDonald. The MacDonald stemmed from his father and Ramsay was his mother’s surname; he was born illegitimate and brought up by his mum and her mum. Wee Jaimie was educated at the Free Kirk School, then at Drainie Parish School where, in 1881, the star pupil became a pupil teacher. In 1885, MacDonald worked for a while in Bristol and associated with the local branch of the Marxist-oriented Social Democratic Federation (SDF). Then, in 1886, after a brief return to Lossiemouth, he went to London, where he earned a living as a clerk, then as a political secretary for a Liberal candidate and became involved in journalism. He immediately became interested in politics, and joined the London Trades Council and the Fabian Society, whose intellectual approach to socialism he found more to his liking than that of the SDF. In 1894, he joined up with Keir Hardie as a member of the newly formed Independent Labour Party and the stage was set.
MacDonald rose through the Party ranks, got elected with the other twenty-eight MPs in 1906 and, in 1911, became leader of what had by then become the Parliamentary Labour Party. In 1914, MacDonald got a taste for foreign policy when he helped found the Union of Democratic Control, which sought parliamentary control over overseas policy and the repudiation of hitherto ‘secret’ diplomacy. That same year, he resigned as Party leader, because, although not a pacifist, he was opposed to Britain's participation in World War One. His stance led to public accusations of treason and cowardice, and the scurrilous ‘John Bull’ magazine even tried to blacken his name by revealing his illegitimacy and confusion over his name. Such jingoistic larceny and vilification convinced the public that he had betrayed his country, despite his having been one of very few senior politicians to have visited the Western Front. In 1918, he lost his seat in Parliament and remained out of political office for the next four years.
However, all was forgiven in 1922, when he was restored as Leader of the Opposition; the Liberals had become a spent force. In fact, as public opinion had turned against the War and its toll of casualties, MacDonald gained a lot of credit for his principled stand. Famously then, on the 21st of January, 1924, Ramsay MacDonald frae Lossiemouth became Prime Minister at the head of the first ever Labour Government in Great Britain. MacDonald also took on the role of Foreign Secretary, but did suffer from the strain of two demanding roles. To some extent, he neglected domestic for foreign affairs and his minority Government soon ran into problems. However, he achieved success through the ‘Dawes Plan’, which ammended the reparations imposed on Germany under the ‘Treaty of Versailles’ and he also set a precedent as the first British Prime Minister to visit the United States, but above all, MacDonald took pride in showing Labour's fitness to govern. His landmark Labour Government was overwhelmingly defeated in October, 1924, when the fear of Bolsheviks and media manufactured 'red scares' over proposed trade agreements with the Soviet Union caused its downfall.
MacDonald returned to power in 1929, in another minority government, but his Cabinet was soon faced with the Great Depression. It became badly split between devaluation and dramatic cuts in spending and, in 1931, a General Election was called. Labour didn’t win and although MacDonald went to resign, the King persuaded him to stay and form the ‘National Government Coalition’ with its massively Tory-dominated administration. The shock of MacDonald’s capitulation, coupled with Labour having been almost wiped out at the Election, is still seen as ‘the great betrayal’. MacDonald soldiered on until 1935, when he lost his seat at Westminster. He spent his last years in Parliament, until 1937, as Lord President of the Council. James MacDonald Ramsay died of heart failure aboard the liner ‘Reina del Pacifico’ in the Atlantic en route to South America on the 9th of November, 1937.
The ‘Lübeck letter’
William Wallace and Andrew de Moray wrote a famous letter to the Mayors and citizens of Lübeck and Hamburg on the 11th of October, 1297.
When he wasn’t fighting the English, William Wallace and his northern compadre, Andrew Moray, found time to write the odd letter or two. In addition to the usual missives to friend and family, they found time to write a letter that would become famous. In those days BF (before Facebook) folks used to write proper letters and some clever guys, like Wallace and Moray, were even able to write in Latin. Not many artifacts still exist pertaining to Wallace, but sandwiched between the Battle of Stirling Bridge, which the Wallace and Moray won, and Falkirk, which Wallace lost, occurred an event that is represented today by one of the few remaining relics of Scotland’s great hero. The event was the writing of a letter and the relic is that famous letter. It became known as the ‘Lübeck letter’, because for a long time, it was kept in ‘das Archiv der Hansestadt’ in a museum in that northern German City.
In 1296, the year before the battle at Stirling Bridge, the English were in possession of many Scottish towns and ports, which was a major blow to Scotland’s economy. Leading up to the defeat of Surrey and Cressingham at Stirling, the only places of note that remained in English hands were Stirling Castle and the port of Berwick. In fact, the English army had marched on Stirling due to the success of the Scottish guerilla forces in recapturing many of the towns north of the Forth and regaining access to their sea ports. So, with the victory at Stirling, and despite not having access to Berwick, Wallace and Moray felt secure enough to attempt to re-establish trading links with the Hanseatic League towns of Hamburg and Lübeck. The Hanseatic League was an economic alliance of cities and their guilds that dominated trade along the coast of northern Europe during the Late Middle Ages; between the 13th and 17th Centuries. It stretched from the Baltic to the North Sea and inland to a variety of Major towns and cities in various ‘Hanseatic circles’. Those included the likes of Hamburg, Lübeck, Kiel, Braunchweig, Hannover, Kraków, Danzik (now Gdańsk), Berlin, Minden, Dortmund, Antwerp, Berwick upon Tweed, Aberdeen, and Hull, to name just a few. The Hanseatic cities had their own legal system and furnished their own protection and mutual aid. In that way, they established a sort of political autonomy and in some cases, created political entities of their own.
Originally, there were two letters; one to Lübeck and one to Hamburg. The contents were identical and the letters were scribed within a month of the Scots’ success at Stirling Bridge. In the letter, the victorious commanders informed their erstwhile European trading partners that Scottish ports were open for business and once again safe to approach. Here is an English transcript of the letter, originally written in Latin on a now faded parchment by a medieval Monk as they used to call Civil Servants in the Middle Ages:
“Andrew Moray and William Wallace, leaders of the army of the Kingdom of Scotland and the Community, to their worthy and beloved friends, the Mayors and citizens of Lübeck and Hamburg, greeting. We have been told by trustworthy merchants of the Kingdom of Scotland that you are giving help and favour in all business concerning us and our merchants for which we thank you. We ask that it be made known among your merchants that they will now have safe access to all ports in the Kingdom of Scotland, since Scotland, blessed be God, has been rescued from the power of the English by force of arms. Given at Haddington in Scotland, on the 11th day of October in the year of grace one thousand two hundred and ninety seven.”
The ‘Lübeck letter’ is the only surviving original document issued by Wallace, but as the Hamburg letter was destroyed in the Second World War, most historians assumed the copy sent to Lübeck had suffered a similar fate. However, it was recently found intact in ‘das Archiv der Hansestadt’ in a Lübeck museum. The document is a vitally important piece of Scotland’s cultural heritage and when news of its existence emerged, a campaign was begun for its return to Scotland. In February 1999, the ‘Daily Telegraph’ reported that the letter was put on display in Scotland for the first time ‘on loan’. However, it has in fact been exhibited three times in Scotland in the past hundred years. It was exhibited in 2005, at the National Archives of Scotland’s ‘For Freedom Alone’ exhibition in the Scottish Parliament. Earlier, in 1999 as reported by the ‘Telegraph’, the new National Museum of Scotland borrowed for its opening exhibition. And in 1911, well before it was believed lost or destroyed, it was borrowed for the Glasgow ‘Palace Of History’ exhibition. Recently, in 2009, Murdo Fraser, the MSP for mid-Scotland and Fife raised a parliamentary motion for the permanent return of the document to Scotland. He said, “I would welcome the day when Scots are able to see the ‘Lübeck letter’ …[it] is a link to a pivotal point in Scotland's history and gives an insight into William Wallace as the statesman and politician. …this letter reveals another side to [Wallace] which is not always mentioned in the history books.” The document is very old and fragile and at present is quite safe in the hands of the National Archives of Lübeck.
Significantly, the letter carries the only known impression of William Wallace's personal seal, which shows the Scottish Lion Rampant on the front and on the reverse, a strung bow with a protruding arrow. The inscription appears to read ‘William, son of Alan Wallace’, which is interesting in relation to determining just who Wallace was exactly. An Aleyn Waleys – described as ‘tenant le Roi du counte de Are’ – signed the 1296 ‘Ragman Roll’ and he is quite possibly William Wallace’s father.
The final piece of the jigsaw is the controversy over the death of Moray. There is evidence the Moray was ‘slain at Stirling against the King (Edward I)’, but if that were true, he couldn’t have signed the Hamburg and Lübeck letters, let alone the one addressed to the Prior of Hexam on the 7th of November, 1297. The Hexam letter has not survived, but it is known that Moray’s name appeared on it, however, his name does not appear on any subsequent, surviving document. The interpretation of most historians is that Moray was injured at Stirling Bridge and died sometime after the 7th of November. There is no record of his having been present at Hexam, which fits with his being mortally wounded, but surely Wallace would have been entitled to include his name as long as he remained alive.
When he wasn’t fighting the English, William Wallace and his northern compadre, Andrew Moray, found time to write the odd letter or two. In addition to the usual missives to friend and family, they found time to write a letter that would become famous. In those days BF (before Facebook) folks used to write proper letters and some clever guys, like Wallace and Moray, were even able to write in Latin. Not many artifacts still exist pertaining to Wallace, but sandwiched between the Battle of Stirling Bridge, which the Wallace and Moray won, and Falkirk, which Wallace lost, occurred an event that is represented today by one of the few remaining relics of Scotland’s great hero. The event was the writing of a letter and the relic is that famous letter. It became known as the ‘Lübeck letter’, because for a long time, it was kept in ‘das Archiv der Hansestadt’ in a museum in that northern German City.
In 1296, the year before the battle at Stirling Bridge, the English were in possession of many Scottish towns and ports, which was a major blow to Scotland’s economy. Leading up to the defeat of Surrey and Cressingham at Stirling, the only places of note that remained in English hands were Stirling Castle and the port of Berwick. In fact, the English army had marched on Stirling due to the success of the Scottish guerilla forces in recapturing many of the towns north of the Forth and regaining access to their sea ports. So, with the victory at Stirling, and despite not having access to Berwick, Wallace and Moray felt secure enough to attempt to re-establish trading links with the Hanseatic League towns of Hamburg and Lübeck. The Hanseatic League was an economic alliance of cities and their guilds that dominated trade along the coast of northern Europe during the Late Middle Ages; between the 13th and 17th Centuries. It stretched from the Baltic to the North Sea and inland to a variety of Major towns and cities in various ‘Hanseatic circles’. Those included the likes of Hamburg, Lübeck, Kiel, Braunchweig, Hannover, Kraków, Danzik (now Gdańsk), Berlin, Minden, Dortmund, Antwerp, Berwick upon Tweed, Aberdeen, and Hull, to name just a few. The Hanseatic cities had their own legal system and furnished their own protection and mutual aid. In that way, they established a sort of political autonomy and in some cases, created political entities of their own.
Originally, there were two letters; one to Lübeck and one to Hamburg. The contents were identical and the letters were scribed within a month of the Scots’ success at Stirling Bridge. In the letter, the victorious commanders informed their erstwhile European trading partners that Scottish ports were open for business and once again safe to approach. Here is an English transcript of the letter, originally written in Latin on a now faded parchment by a medieval Monk as they used to call Civil Servants in the Middle Ages:
“Andrew Moray and William Wallace, leaders of the army of the Kingdom of Scotland and the Community, to their worthy and beloved friends, the Mayors and citizens of Lübeck and Hamburg, greeting. We have been told by trustworthy merchants of the Kingdom of Scotland that you are giving help and favour in all business concerning us and our merchants for which we thank you. We ask that it be made known among your merchants that they will now have safe access to all ports in the Kingdom of Scotland, since Scotland, blessed be God, has been rescued from the power of the English by force of arms. Given at Haddington in Scotland, on the 11th day of October in the year of grace one thousand two hundred and ninety seven.”
The ‘Lübeck letter’ is the only surviving original document issued by Wallace, but as the Hamburg letter was destroyed in the Second World War, most historians assumed the copy sent to Lübeck had suffered a similar fate. However, it was recently found intact in ‘das Archiv der Hansestadt’ in a Lübeck museum. The document is a vitally important piece of Scotland’s cultural heritage and when news of its existence emerged, a campaign was begun for its return to Scotland. In February 1999, the ‘Daily Telegraph’ reported that the letter was put on display in Scotland for the first time ‘on loan’. However, it has in fact been exhibited three times in Scotland in the past hundred years. It was exhibited in 2005, at the National Archives of Scotland’s ‘For Freedom Alone’ exhibition in the Scottish Parliament. Earlier, in 1999 as reported by the ‘Telegraph’, the new National Museum of Scotland borrowed for its opening exhibition. And in 1911, well before it was believed lost or destroyed, it was borrowed for the Glasgow ‘Palace Of History’ exhibition. Recently, in 2009, Murdo Fraser, the MSP for mid-Scotland and Fife raised a parliamentary motion for the permanent return of the document to Scotland. He said, “I would welcome the day when Scots are able to see the ‘Lübeck letter’ …[it] is a link to a pivotal point in Scotland's history and gives an insight into William Wallace as the statesman and politician. …this letter reveals another side to [Wallace] which is not always mentioned in the history books.” The document is very old and fragile and at present is quite safe in the hands of the National Archives of Lübeck.
Significantly, the letter carries the only known impression of William Wallace's personal seal, which shows the Scottish Lion Rampant on the front and on the reverse, a strung bow with a protruding arrow. The inscription appears to read ‘William, son of Alan Wallace’, which is interesting in relation to determining just who Wallace was exactly. An Aleyn Waleys – described as ‘tenant le Roi du counte de Are’ – signed the 1296 ‘Ragman Roll’ and he is quite possibly William Wallace’s father.
The final piece of the jigsaw is the controversy over the death of Moray. There is evidence the Moray was ‘slain at Stirling against the King (Edward I)’, but if that were true, he couldn’t have signed the Hamburg and Lübeck letters, let alone the one addressed to the Prior of Hexam on the 7th of November, 1297. The Hexam letter has not survived, but it is known that Moray’s name appeared on it, however, his name does not appear on any subsequent, surviving document. The interpretation of most historians is that Moray was injured at Stirling Bridge and died sometime after the 7th of November. There is no record of his having been present at Hexam, which fits with his being mortally wounded, but surely Wallace would have been entitled to include his name as long as he remained alive.
Saturday, 9 October 2010
Hugh Miller
Hugh Miller, stonemason turned geologist, palaeontologist, poet, collector of Scottish folklore, economist, writer, journalist, author, artist, and religious reformer, was born on the 10th of October, 1802.
Hugh Miller was a self-taught geologist who wrote about the history of the Earth with imagination, eloquence, and a marvellous power of vivid description that no one else has since achieved. His intellect and inquiring nature took him in many and varied directions and perhaps ultimately, tied him in knots. He is best known for having pioneered research into fossils and is mainly associated with the Devonian epoch, which is also, thanks to Miller’s work, known as the ‘age of fishes’. Miller’s massive, personally gathered, fossil collection of over 6,000 specimens is now in the Royal Scottish Museum in Edinburgh. He reputation stems from his books on geology, the first of which was inspired by his meeting some of the foremost paleontologists of the day at an event hosted by the British Association for the Advancement of Science, in Glasgow, on the 23rd of September, 1840. Amongst those luminaries were Sir Charles Lyell, ‘Sir to be’ Roderick Murchison, the eminent Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz, and William Buckland. These guys heaped praise on oor Hughie’s work and his previous articles and papers, and Agassiz honoured him by giving the scientific name of ‘Pterichthys Milleri’ to one of Miller’s fossils. Miller’s first and the best known of his three books on geology appeared in 1841, and became a bestseller and classic. That book, ‘The Old Red Sandstone’, first appeared as a series of sketches on popular geology that Miller wrote for ‘The Witness’. It was dedicated to Murchison, who Miller had said encouraged him when “prosecuting my humble researches in obscurity and solitude.”
Miller had become a founding editor of ‘The Witness’, based in Edinburgh, in 1840 and was to retain his association with that highly influential religious journal until his death. He was an evangelical Christian and ferociously aggressive in ‘debate’ with opponents via the columns of his newspaper. He opposed the ‘Reform Bill’ and argued over patronage, and he became a leader of the ‘Distuption’ of 1843, which led to the formation of the Free Kirk. Sadly, Miller’s strong religious principles led to his bitter opposition to the then emerging theories of evolution. He argued that the complexity of ancient fish fossils was evidence that God had created them fully formed. He believed, as did most scientists of the time, that the fossil record represented a series of separate special creations and subsequent mass extinctions. Miller struggled to reconcile his religious views with his scientific research, but his work as a geologist and paleontologist can not be diminished. His 1847 book, ‘Foot-Prints of the Creator; Or, The Asterolepis of Stromness’ proselytised that fossil fish anatomy failed to substantiate the “development hypothesis” – the pre-Darwinian evolutionary theory – of fellow Scot, Robert Chambers.
Hugh Miller was born in Cromarty, in the Black Isle district of Ross and Cromarty, on the 10th of October, 1802. He had an ordinary parish school education, but was a bit lazy and his schooling is said to have ended abruptly after a violent disagreement with the schoolmaster. In any event, he showed a remarkable love of reading as, when still a boy, he searched out everyone in Cromarty who owned books in order to extend his reading. Years later, he was to say that he considered the grand acquirement of his life to be his “mastery of the art of holding converse with books.” When he was seventeen, he became apprenticed to a stonemason and in 1824, he worked in Edinburgh, helping to restore the City after the ‘Great Fire’. Later, he worked as a monumental mason in Inverness, but his lungs had been damaged by the dust and he sought a new occupation. His first venture into writing was a volume of poems, which he had published in 1829, but his next job, which he took up in 1834, was as an accountant in a bank. A year later, he brought out ‘Scenes and Legends in the North of Scotland’, which drew him to the attention of the scientific community. His interest in the natural world had been encouraged by his two uncles who had helped to raise him after his father’s untimely death. Miller once said of his knowledgeable and influential uncle Sandy that “some professors of natural history knew less of living nature.” Miller had scoured the quarries and coasts of the Black Isle for fossils and after moving to Edinburgh to take up his post with ‘The Witness’, he continued his study of geology and his path to renown.
What is interesting about Miller is that he was what you might call a ‘stay at home’ geologist. All of his important discoveries were made while he was living in obscurity and obliged to confine his field of investigation to the Cromarty Firth. As he later wrote, he “found within the limits of the parish, work enough for the patient study of many years.” Miller was also an artist, who illustrated his work with etchings of the fishes and their skeletal components. However, unlike that surreal fantasist, Buckland, Miller’s art was accurate in its representation. He had the discipline of a detective and the mind of a novelist and gained tributes from many eminent men of his time. Long Johnnie Muir named an Alaskan glacier after Miller and Thomas Chalmers called Miller “the greatest Scotchman alive after Sir Walter Scott's death.” His autobiography was highly praised by none other than Thomas Carlyle and his mentor, Murchison, said that Miller’s writing was “so beautiful and poetical as to throw plain geologists like himself into the shade.” Even Buckland was impressed, stating that, “I would give my left hand to possess such powers of description as had made me feel ashamed of my own descriptions.” He was probably right handed. Miller left a heritage of new discoveries of primarily Devonian examples, all of which were wonderfully described in his popular books. He had no academic credentials, but this Scottish stonemason is considered to be one of the world’s premier early paleontologists.
Tragically, Hugh Miller shot himself at his home in Shrub Mount, in Portobello, on Christmas Eve, 1856. He was buried in Grange Cemetery, in Edinburgh, after a funeral ceremony that was attended by thousands. Folks say he did so because he could no longer reconcile his understanding of evolution with his religious beliefs; others say overwork and stress, coupled with his long standing silicosis, made him succumb to depression. Whatever the cause, he was tormented by nightmares and fears of approaching insanity, and as his post mortem revealed, he had suffered from psychotic depression.
Hugh Miller was a self-taught geologist who wrote about the history of the Earth with imagination, eloquence, and a marvellous power of vivid description that no one else has since achieved. His intellect and inquiring nature took him in many and varied directions and perhaps ultimately, tied him in knots. He is best known for having pioneered research into fossils and is mainly associated with the Devonian epoch, which is also, thanks to Miller’s work, known as the ‘age of fishes’. Miller’s massive, personally gathered, fossil collection of over 6,000 specimens is now in the Royal Scottish Museum in Edinburgh. He reputation stems from his books on geology, the first of which was inspired by his meeting some of the foremost paleontologists of the day at an event hosted by the British Association for the Advancement of Science, in Glasgow, on the 23rd of September, 1840. Amongst those luminaries were Sir Charles Lyell, ‘Sir to be’ Roderick Murchison, the eminent Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz, and William Buckland. These guys heaped praise on oor Hughie’s work and his previous articles and papers, and Agassiz honoured him by giving the scientific name of ‘Pterichthys Milleri’ to one of Miller’s fossils. Miller’s first and the best known of his three books on geology appeared in 1841, and became a bestseller and classic. That book, ‘The Old Red Sandstone’, first appeared as a series of sketches on popular geology that Miller wrote for ‘The Witness’. It was dedicated to Murchison, who Miller had said encouraged him when “prosecuting my humble researches in obscurity and solitude.”
Miller had become a founding editor of ‘The Witness’, based in Edinburgh, in 1840 and was to retain his association with that highly influential religious journal until his death. He was an evangelical Christian and ferociously aggressive in ‘debate’ with opponents via the columns of his newspaper. He opposed the ‘Reform Bill’ and argued over patronage, and he became a leader of the ‘Distuption’ of 1843, which led to the formation of the Free Kirk. Sadly, Miller’s strong religious principles led to his bitter opposition to the then emerging theories of evolution. He argued that the complexity of ancient fish fossils was evidence that God had created them fully formed. He believed, as did most scientists of the time, that the fossil record represented a series of separate special creations and subsequent mass extinctions. Miller struggled to reconcile his religious views with his scientific research, but his work as a geologist and paleontologist can not be diminished. His 1847 book, ‘Foot-Prints of the Creator; Or, The Asterolepis of Stromness’ proselytised that fossil fish anatomy failed to substantiate the “development hypothesis” – the pre-Darwinian evolutionary theory – of fellow Scot, Robert Chambers.
Hugh Miller was born in Cromarty, in the Black Isle district of Ross and Cromarty, on the 10th of October, 1802. He had an ordinary parish school education, but was a bit lazy and his schooling is said to have ended abruptly after a violent disagreement with the schoolmaster. In any event, he showed a remarkable love of reading as, when still a boy, he searched out everyone in Cromarty who owned books in order to extend his reading. Years later, he was to say that he considered the grand acquirement of his life to be his “mastery of the art of holding converse with books.” When he was seventeen, he became apprenticed to a stonemason and in 1824, he worked in Edinburgh, helping to restore the City after the ‘Great Fire’. Later, he worked as a monumental mason in Inverness, but his lungs had been damaged by the dust and he sought a new occupation. His first venture into writing was a volume of poems, which he had published in 1829, but his next job, which he took up in 1834, was as an accountant in a bank. A year later, he brought out ‘Scenes and Legends in the North of Scotland’, which drew him to the attention of the scientific community. His interest in the natural world had been encouraged by his two uncles who had helped to raise him after his father’s untimely death. Miller once said of his knowledgeable and influential uncle Sandy that “some professors of natural history knew less of living nature.” Miller had scoured the quarries and coasts of the Black Isle for fossils and after moving to Edinburgh to take up his post with ‘The Witness’, he continued his study of geology and his path to renown.
What is interesting about Miller is that he was what you might call a ‘stay at home’ geologist. All of his important discoveries were made while he was living in obscurity and obliged to confine his field of investigation to the Cromarty Firth. As he later wrote, he “found within the limits of the parish, work enough for the patient study of many years.” Miller was also an artist, who illustrated his work with etchings of the fishes and their skeletal components. However, unlike that surreal fantasist, Buckland, Miller’s art was accurate in its representation. He had the discipline of a detective and the mind of a novelist and gained tributes from many eminent men of his time. Long Johnnie Muir named an Alaskan glacier after Miller and Thomas Chalmers called Miller “the greatest Scotchman alive after Sir Walter Scott's death.” His autobiography was highly praised by none other than Thomas Carlyle and his mentor, Murchison, said that Miller’s writing was “so beautiful and poetical as to throw plain geologists like himself into the shade.” Even Buckland was impressed, stating that, “I would give my left hand to possess such powers of description as had made me feel ashamed of my own descriptions.” He was probably right handed. Miller left a heritage of new discoveries of primarily Devonian examples, all of which were wonderfully described in his popular books. He had no academic credentials, but this Scottish stonemason is considered to be one of the world’s premier early paleontologists.
Tragically, Hugh Miller shot himself at his home in Shrub Mount, in Portobello, on Christmas Eve, 1856. He was buried in Grange Cemetery, in Edinburgh, after a funeral ceremony that was attended by thousands. Folks say he did so because he could no longer reconcile his understanding of evolution with his religious beliefs; others say overwork and stress, coupled with his long standing silicosis, made him succumb to depression. Whatever the cause, he was tormented by nightmares and fears of approaching insanity, and as his post mortem revealed, he had suffered from psychotic depression.
Archibald Thorburn
Archibald Thorburn, ornithologist, painter and illustrator, died on the 9th of October, 1935.
Archibald Thorburn was a richt braw painter. He was from the old fashioned school of painting, where the artist depicts subjects from life such that you can easily recognise what they are. For many of his contemporaries, Thorburn was the greatest natural history painter Britain had produced. He was “A giant who represented the culmination of a great nineteenth century tradition and showed the way forward to greater naturalism.” His skill, artistic talent, and the quality of his scientific observation, which shines through in his paintings, mean that he is now acknowledged as one of the greatest wildlife artists of all time. Many of you will have read or at least glanced through, ‘The Observer Book of British Birds’ and been amazed at the illustrations, with their evocative and dramatic backgrounds. Pick up a copy today and you will find that those widely reproduced images of British wildlife, still popular today, were created by Thorburn over one hundred years ago. Thorburn specialised in painting birds and, although many artists have since emulated him, few have captured so realistically the glint in an eye or such a natural feeling of life and movement. His technique was initially unique as he made his sketches in the wild and painted in the open under natural light. Instead of painting stuffed birds in a studio, he keenly observed his specimens in their natural habitat. Undoubtedly, his style of painting represented a step change in wildlife art around the turn of the 20th Century.
Thorburn was a member of the British Ornithologists' Union and a Fellow of the Zoological Society. He was also a keen sportsman and excelled at depicting game birds and wildfowl as well as shooting them – but he painted them first. His paintings were technically flawless and beautifully colored. And according to John Southern, founder of the Thorburn Museum in Cornwall, Thorburn “succeeded where others have faltered because he unsparingly gave his entire life to a minutely detailed and orderly study of our wildlife and its ways, relentlessly prising the deepest secrets from Nature herself in all her changeable moods.” Thorburn sometimes worked in oils, but his favourite mediums were watercolour and gouache as he believed those were more suited to birds and their plumage. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Thorburn was also a highly skilled landscape painter, and excelled at creating evocative and often dramatic backgrounds for his subjects. In addition to painting burdies, he painted animals and flowers and Queen Victoria. Not only did he produce a prolific number of original watercolours and grisailles, but he illustrated scores of natural history books and found the time to write and illustrate six of his own.
Archibald Thorburn was born at Viewfield House in Lasswade, Midlothian, on the 31st of May, 1860. He took a delight in drawing from an early age, having inherited his father’s artistic skills and he filled numerous sketchbooks with studies of flora and fauna. Such direct observation from nature formed the foundation of his art and by the time he was twelve, he had produced some beautiful watercolour and pen and ink studies that showed his exceptional talent. He was educated at Dalkieth and in Edinburgh, but received little formal artistic training apart from a stint at the then newly founded St. John's Wood School of Art. Thorburn presented his first exhibition at the Royal Academy in 1880, where he became a regular throughout the next two decades, but his first ever bird illustrations were made later, in 1882, in J. E. Harting’s ‘Sketches of Bird Life’. The following year, he illustrated his first important ‘book of birds’. His contribution consisted of a number of plates to the first of four volumes of ‘Familiar Wild Birds’ by Walter F. Swaysland, a naturalist and taxidermist. Over the next five years, he produced a total of one hundred and forty-four individual plates, which dealt with all the familiar birds of the English countryside, from owls to sparrows.
His early accomplishment in capturing the detail of birds and their plumage brought him to the attention of Lord Lilford, who then invited Thorburn to provide illustrations for his monumental survey ‘Coloured Figures of the Birds of the British Isles’. That seven-volume masterpiece, to which Thorburn eventually contributed two hundred and sixty-eight watercolour plates between 1885 and 1897, can be seen today in the library of Godalming Museum. When it was first published, it was observed that “demand has dramatically increased upon sight of the young Mr Thorburn’s illustrations. Never before have such beautiful plates of birds been seen and the success of his Lordship’s volumes seems firmly assured.” During that period, Thorburn moved to London, where he studied with Joseph Wolf and became friends with other ‘bird illustrators’; such as George Edward Lodge. Later in life, Thorburn taught guys like Otto Murray Dixon and Philip Rickman and, in 1902, he moved to High Leybourne, near Hascombe in west Surrey.
At High Leybourne, Thorburn established a routine of sketching on his morning walk and then working up finished compositions in his studio until the light failed. His obstinate reliance on natural light was amusingly reported in the following fashion, in 1930. “Mr Thorburn …steadfastly refuses to install electricity… As a painter he relies solely on natural light… Just occasionally he resorts to the use of oil lamps, especially if drawing mice in the dimness of his garden shed.” Thankfuly, Thorburn didn’t confine himself to the countryside in Surrey, where the majority of his pictures of pheasant were painted. He often visited the Forest of Gaick in Invernesshire, which was the setting for almost all his depictions of ptarmigan and red deer. We can also thank the Scottish landscape and its wonderful variations of light for many of Thorburn's watercolours, which are remarkable for their sense of time and place, and their ability to capture season and weather.
Archibald Thorburn was a keen conservationist and, in recognition of his services on behalf of bird preservation, he was elected Vice President of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. In 1899, he designed the Royal Academy’s first ever Christmas card for the RSPB, and he donated nineteen further cards between then and 1935. During his career he produced over two hundred prints, all of which are catalogued in a book by D. Waters entitled, ‘Archibald Thorburn: Artist and Illustrator – The Prints and Proofs 1889 – 1934’, published in 2009 by Langford Press. Archibald Thorburn died at High Leybourne on the 9th of October, 1935, and he was buried at St John the Baptist Church, in Busbridge, Godalming, Surrey.
Archibald Thorburn was a richt braw painter. He was from the old fashioned school of painting, where the artist depicts subjects from life such that you can easily recognise what they are. For many of his contemporaries, Thorburn was the greatest natural history painter Britain had produced. He was “A giant who represented the culmination of a great nineteenth century tradition and showed the way forward to greater naturalism.” His skill, artistic talent, and the quality of his scientific observation, which shines through in his paintings, mean that he is now acknowledged as one of the greatest wildlife artists of all time. Many of you will have read or at least glanced through, ‘The Observer Book of British Birds’ and been amazed at the illustrations, with their evocative and dramatic backgrounds. Pick up a copy today and you will find that those widely reproduced images of British wildlife, still popular today, were created by Thorburn over one hundred years ago. Thorburn specialised in painting birds and, although many artists have since emulated him, few have captured so realistically the glint in an eye or such a natural feeling of life and movement. His technique was initially unique as he made his sketches in the wild and painted in the open under natural light. Instead of painting stuffed birds in a studio, he keenly observed his specimens in their natural habitat. Undoubtedly, his style of painting represented a step change in wildlife art around the turn of the 20th Century.
Thorburn was a member of the British Ornithologists' Union and a Fellow of the Zoological Society. He was also a keen sportsman and excelled at depicting game birds and wildfowl as well as shooting them – but he painted them first. His paintings were technically flawless and beautifully colored. And according to John Southern, founder of the Thorburn Museum in Cornwall, Thorburn “succeeded where others have faltered because he unsparingly gave his entire life to a minutely detailed and orderly study of our wildlife and its ways, relentlessly prising the deepest secrets from Nature herself in all her changeable moods.” Thorburn sometimes worked in oils, but his favourite mediums were watercolour and gouache as he believed those were more suited to birds and their plumage. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Thorburn was also a highly skilled landscape painter, and excelled at creating evocative and often dramatic backgrounds for his subjects. In addition to painting burdies, he painted animals and flowers and Queen Victoria. Not only did he produce a prolific number of original watercolours and grisailles, but he illustrated scores of natural history books and found the time to write and illustrate six of his own.
Archibald Thorburn was born at Viewfield House in Lasswade, Midlothian, on the 31st of May, 1860. He took a delight in drawing from an early age, having inherited his father’s artistic skills and he filled numerous sketchbooks with studies of flora and fauna. Such direct observation from nature formed the foundation of his art and by the time he was twelve, he had produced some beautiful watercolour and pen and ink studies that showed his exceptional talent. He was educated at Dalkieth and in Edinburgh, but received little formal artistic training apart from a stint at the then newly founded St. John's Wood School of Art. Thorburn presented his first exhibition at the Royal Academy in 1880, where he became a regular throughout the next two decades, but his first ever bird illustrations were made later, in 1882, in J. E. Harting’s ‘Sketches of Bird Life’. The following year, he illustrated his first important ‘book of birds’. His contribution consisted of a number of plates to the first of four volumes of ‘Familiar Wild Birds’ by Walter F. Swaysland, a naturalist and taxidermist. Over the next five years, he produced a total of one hundred and forty-four individual plates, which dealt with all the familiar birds of the English countryside, from owls to sparrows.
His early accomplishment in capturing the detail of birds and their plumage brought him to the attention of Lord Lilford, who then invited Thorburn to provide illustrations for his monumental survey ‘Coloured Figures of the Birds of the British Isles’. That seven-volume masterpiece, to which Thorburn eventually contributed two hundred and sixty-eight watercolour plates between 1885 and 1897, can be seen today in the library of Godalming Museum. When it was first published, it was observed that “demand has dramatically increased upon sight of the young Mr Thorburn’s illustrations. Never before have such beautiful plates of birds been seen and the success of his Lordship’s volumes seems firmly assured.” During that period, Thorburn moved to London, where he studied with Joseph Wolf and became friends with other ‘bird illustrators’; such as George Edward Lodge. Later in life, Thorburn taught guys like Otto Murray Dixon and Philip Rickman and, in 1902, he moved to High Leybourne, near Hascombe in west Surrey.
At High Leybourne, Thorburn established a routine of sketching on his morning walk and then working up finished compositions in his studio until the light failed. His obstinate reliance on natural light was amusingly reported in the following fashion, in 1930. “Mr Thorburn …steadfastly refuses to install electricity… As a painter he relies solely on natural light… Just occasionally he resorts to the use of oil lamps, especially if drawing mice in the dimness of his garden shed.” Thankfuly, Thorburn didn’t confine himself to the countryside in Surrey, where the majority of his pictures of pheasant were painted. He often visited the Forest of Gaick in Invernesshire, which was the setting for almost all his depictions of ptarmigan and red deer. We can also thank the Scottish landscape and its wonderful variations of light for many of Thorburn's watercolours, which are remarkable for their sense of time and place, and their ability to capture season and weather.
Archibald Thorburn was a keen conservationist and, in recognition of his services on behalf of bird preservation, he was elected Vice President of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. In 1899, he designed the Royal Academy’s first ever Christmas card for the RSPB, and he donated nineteen further cards between then and 1935. During his career he produced over two hundred prints, all of which are catalogued in a book by D. Waters entitled, ‘Archibald Thorburn: Artist and Illustrator – The Prints and Proofs 1889 – 1934’, published in 2009 by Langford Press. Archibald Thorburn died at High Leybourne on the 9th of October, 1935, and he was buried at St John the Baptist Church, in Busbridge, Godalming, Surrey.
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