On the 7th of January, 1451 (per the Gregorian calendar), a Papal Bull, issued by Pope Nicholas V, ordained that a university be founded in the city of Glasgow.
No bull, I kid you not, Glasgow University was founded by a ‘Papal Bull’. Whether you consider most of what has emanated from the Vatican over the centuries to be something resembling ‘bovine excrement’ or not, the ordainment by Pope Nicholas V that led to the creation of the fourth-oldest university in the English-speaking world has been for the greater good of mankind. For the last five and a half centuries, as you may read on its website, Glasgow University has “constantly worked to push the boundaries of what’s possible”. That has meant fostering the talents of no less than six Nobel Laureates, one Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, and after a Scottish Parliamentary gap spanning three of those centuries, Scotland’s inaugural First Minister, Donald Dewar. To allay your curiosity, those six Nobel Prize winners were: Sir William Ramsay; Frederick Soddy; John Boyd Orr; Sir Alexander Robertus Todd; Sir Derek Barton; and Sir James Black. The greater good was served through the work of five of those six in the science of chemistry and the sixth won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1949.
Not content with that roll of honour, many another equally if not more famous scholar has been associated with the University. Those include: Adam Smith, the founder of modern economic science; James Watt, who developed improvements to the steam engine; Lord Kelvin, who became its youngest ever Professor of Natural Philosophy, by a long way, and had the name of his baronial title given to a system of measuring temperature; John Logie Baird, the pioneer of television; Professor William Macquorn Rankine, who wrote the first authoritative textbook on engineering; Joseph Black, who introduced a modern understanding of gases; and his namesake, Joseph Lister, the pioneer of antiseptic surgery. In addition, there is a roll call of literary giants that includes John Buchan, James Boswell, A. J. Cronin, Osborne Henry Mavor and Tobias Smollett.
To save you looking it up on Wikipedia, a ‘Papal Bull’ is simply the name for a charter issued by a Pope, being so named after the lead ‘bulla’ or seal that was affixed to such documents for authentication and to deter tampering. The ‘bullae’ of a Pope had an image of St. Peter and St. Paul on one side and the name of the issuing Pope on the other. Continuing that theme somewhat tenuously, the founder of Glasgow University was descended from the Turnbulls of Minto and was at the time, Scotland’s Lord Privy Seal. William Turnbull, the very man, who had been consecrated as Bishop of Glasgow in 1448, also became the University’s first Chancellor. Turnbull had studied at the University of St Andrews, founded forty years previous to its new rival, as well as on the Continent. He enjoyed the patronage of the powerful Douglas family and had important connections at the court of King James II. Not content with having that on his ‘curriculum vitae’, Turnbull was also known at the Papal court of the Italian Pope, Tommaso Parentucelli, who took his Papal moniker after his early mentor and predecessor as Bishop of Bologna; Niccolò Albergati.
In line with the multifarious politics and feuding of mid-15th Century Scotland, the foundation of the University became possible as a result of Turnbull’s connections with both the Royal and Papal courts. The ‘Bull’ was procured from the Pope at the request of James II and it authorised the founding of a university in the city of Glasgow, which was wonderfully described as being “a place of renown” where “the air is mild” and “victuals are plentiful”. The Pope, by his “apostolical authority”, ordained that the university should remain “in all times to come for ever, as well in theology and cannon and civil law as in arts, and every other lawful faculty.” His Holiness further decreed that the “doctors, masters, readers and students” of the new university “may brook and enjoy all and sundry privileges, liberties, honours, exceptions, and immunities” as had been granted previously to the Italian city of Bologna.
In such fashion, Glasgow University became part of the continental community of mediaeval European centres of learning. Like the Pope, who had been taught at Bologna, William Turnbull was the product of that community. So, too, were the Dominican Friars who came to teach at Glasgow, bringing with them a wealth of scholarship and intellectual ability, and who, incidentally, provided Glasgow’s first University premises. The academic tradition stemmed from the founding of the first latter day university at Bologna, under a grant of Frederick ‘Barbarossa’, sometime during the 12th Century. What then developed into the so called ‘Italian Model’ was subsequently adopted by St. Andrews in 1411, Glasgow as you’ve just read, in 1451, and Aberdeen in 1494. That early continental model differed from the later Oxford and Cambridge one in that universities weren’t so much led by the masters as by the ‘Dominus Rector’ on behalf of the students. In general, the students had the power to elect the ‘Rector’, who had the authority to hire and fire academics and tutors. Notwithstanding that fact, the Glasgow ‘Bull’ indicated that the position of ‘Rector’ be filled by “our reverend brother, William, Bishop of Glasgow, and his successors for the time being”. The post of Rector still exists in Scotland’s ancient universities, albeit it’s now a largely ceremonial appointment.
In the middle ages, the word ‘university’ didn’t have the meaning it does today. In fact, the Latin word ‘universitas’ should be translated as ‘corporation’ and scholars be seen as a group of professionals banded together in a cooperative enterprise to protect their rights in medieval cities. The term that would’ve been applied to what we now call a university was ‘studium generale’. A ‘studium’ was simply a school, whereas a ‘studium generale’ was a school where students could obtain the ‘licentiae ubique docendi’ – a license entitling the bearer to teach anywhere within Christendom, the granting of which became the hallmark of modern-day universities.
Not to be outdone, James II applied Scotland’s ‘Great Seal’ to his own document; one that granted the King’s firm peace and protection to the new university and its officials. That letter, issued at Stirling on the 20th of April, 1453, exempted the University and its associates from all manner of taxes, tributes, duties, and services. And that same year of His Lord, Bishop Turnbull granted the University ‘duty free’ trading rights within the city and authorised the ‘Rector’ to act as judge in civil and pecuniary cases involving members of the University or between its members and citizens of the city of Glasgow.
Friday, 7 January 2011
Thursday, 6 January 2011
Sir David Lyndsay of the Mount
The masterpiece of Sir David Lyndsay of the Mount, ‘Ane Satyre o’ the Thrie Estaites’ was first performed at Linlithgow Palace on the 6th of January, 1540.
Sir David Lyndsay’s play, ‘Ane Satyre o’ the Thrie Estaites’, otherwise known and referred to as ‘The Three Estaitis’ was first performed at Linlithgow Palace on the 6th of January, 1540 to an audience of royalty and courtiers and since then, it has been performed to all manner of folk, even unto our time. A performance of ‘The Three Estaitis’ has drawn crowds to the Edinburgh Festival and it has been staged all over the world, not just in Lyndsay’s native Scotland. It is a penetrating political satire that calls for reform in both Church and State, and not satisfied with that as provocation, nor was Lyndsay afraid to have a dig at the rule of Kings. It isn’t easy to imagine how Lyndsay enjoyed such unparalleled freedom of speech, but his play chastised all classes, from his Royal Master to the most simple commoner and presents a hilarious masque of corruption and vice in high places.
Lyndsay was probably the best known Scottish poet in the period between his death and the mid-18th Century. Perhaps his was the first literary expression of the Renaissance in Scotland. Undoubtedly, he was certainly a highly influential figure as Nicola Royan explains in the Summer 2000 issue of the ‘ScotLit’ newsletter, “In the late sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a literate household in Scotland was likely to own two books: the Bible and the works of Sir David Lyndsay.” She goes on to suggest that “very little is known about the rest of Lyndsay’s work”, but Sir Walter Scott must’ve found something to like as Lyndsay showed up as a character in ‘Redgauntlet’ and much later, C. S. Lewis wrote of him saying, “what there is of him is good all through”. In addition to being a poet and a harsh satirist, Sir David Lyndsay was also a courtier and diplomat who rose from relative obscurity as the son of a Fife laird to become Lord Lyon King of Arms of Scotland under the patronage of a King, James V. Perhaps the secret of his successful satirical and moralist ‘effrontery’ lay in his early appointment as usher to the infant James, to whom he would’ve been an influential character.
Lyndsay has been widely credited with effecting the reformation of the Scottish Church and given a place second only to that of John Knox in so doing, but that’s without question an exaggeration. Certainly, as a writer, he directed most of his invective against the abuses of the contemporary Roman Catholic Church and his work should be counted amongst the most important and provocative Scottish writing of the Reformation era. However, there is no evidence that he renounced Catholicism and the nature and extent of Lyndsay’s commitment to Protestantism is debatable. He wasn’t a follower of John Knox, that’s for sure. Nevertheless, a leading purpose of Lyndsay’s was to expose the errors and abuses of the Church. There can be no mistaking the vigour of his condemnation of ecclesiastical misconduct, nor thankfully, the dramatic skill with which he brought his arguments to life. He also wrote in the vernacular and in his last work, ‘The Monarchie’, he recommended that the Bible be read, and ordinary prayers be said, in the language of the people, rather than Latin.
The ‘Three Estaitis’ of Lynday’s play are the Clergy, the Nobility and the Burgesses or craftsmen, and their faults are exposed by the character of John of the ‘Common-Weill’. The play was directed against the pride and greed prevalent throughout mid-16th Century Scottish society, and the social ills which hampered the common good of the nation of Scotland. Lindsay’s earliest work on the evils of his time appeared in 1530 as ‘The Testament and Compleynt of Our Soverane Lordis Papyngo’. In that, the Clergy suffer heavily via allegory for their hypocrisy and avarice as the dying Papyngo (a parrot) is abused and ultimately devoured by certain birds of prey. The clergy of the feathered world is represented by a magpie, a raven and a kite, for which read Canon, Benedictine and Friar. As Lord Lyon, Lyndsay had an obvious interest in chivalry and that is evident in his biographical romance, ‘The Historie and Testament of Squyer Meldrum’ and similarly in ‘The Justing betwix James Watsoun and Jhone Barbour’. Lyndsay has been called the ‘Scots Chaucer’ and in his ‘Squyer Meldrum’ you can detect a Scottish ‘Squire’s Tale’.
David Lyndsay was born in Fife circa 1490, some sources suggest as early as 1485. In terms of his education, it is believed that he attended the University of St Andrews, where he met another David, the man who went on to become Cardinal Beaton. There is an entry in the books of St Andrews, which records the attendance of one ‘Da Lindesay’ for the session 1508-1509. Sir David Lindsay of the Mount was closely connected to the Scottish Royal Court for most of his life and he first appears in court records as a participant in a play performed in 1511. He was engaged as an Equerry and then, in 1512, as an Usher to the infant Prince, who became James V at the age of seventeen months in September, 1513 after his father was killed at the Battle of Flodden Field. Between then and 1523, in the sometimes stormy period of James’ minority rule, Lindsay is variously described as ‘Keeper of the King’s Grace’, and ‘Gentleman of the Bedchamber or Household of the King’. Lindsay’s first heraldic appointment was as ‘Snowdon Herald’ and in 1529, after the Queen Mother and Douglas had been sidelined, he was appointed ‘Lord Lyon King of Arms’, whereupon he was knighted. Lyndsay addressed many of his poems to wee Jamesey, played the lute, told him stories and otherwise entertained the bairn as he later reminded his Monarch in a poem.
Lyndsay was also a bit of an ambassador for Scotland and one of his tasks was to arrange the marriage of James V and Marie de Bourbon. However, famously, James instead fell for the beautiful, but tragic, Madeleine of Valois, for whom Lyndsay later wrote an elegy called ‘The Deploratioun of the Deith of Quene Magdalene’. Madeleine died of course and in 1538, James married Mary of Lorraine who was welcomed to Scotland with an elaborate pageant designed in his official capacity by Scotland’s chief heraldic officer, the ‘Lyon King’. When James V pined awa after the debacle of Solway Moss, Lyndsay had to trot round Europe to return the Order of the Golden Fleece, the Order of St. Michael and the Order of the Garter to Charles V, Francis I and Henry VIII respectively. Thereafter, Lyndsay was less closely attached to the Court and spent more time at the Mount near Cupar, but he did attend Parliament in 1544 and 1545 as Commissioner for Cupar. His last official assignment was as a member of a trade mission to Denmark, which secured some privileges for Scottish merchants. The death of Sir David Lyndsay was recorded in the Register of the Privy Seal in April 1555.
Sir David Lyndsay’s play, ‘Ane Satyre o’ the Thrie Estaites’, otherwise known and referred to as ‘The Three Estaitis’ was first performed at Linlithgow Palace on the 6th of January, 1540 to an audience of royalty and courtiers and since then, it has been performed to all manner of folk, even unto our time. A performance of ‘The Three Estaitis’ has drawn crowds to the Edinburgh Festival and it has been staged all over the world, not just in Lyndsay’s native Scotland. It is a penetrating political satire that calls for reform in both Church and State, and not satisfied with that as provocation, nor was Lyndsay afraid to have a dig at the rule of Kings. It isn’t easy to imagine how Lyndsay enjoyed such unparalleled freedom of speech, but his play chastised all classes, from his Royal Master to the most simple commoner and presents a hilarious masque of corruption and vice in high places.
Lyndsay was probably the best known Scottish poet in the period between his death and the mid-18th Century. Perhaps his was the first literary expression of the Renaissance in Scotland. Undoubtedly, he was certainly a highly influential figure as Nicola Royan explains in the Summer 2000 issue of the ‘ScotLit’ newsletter, “In the late sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a literate household in Scotland was likely to own two books: the Bible and the works of Sir David Lyndsay.” She goes on to suggest that “very little is known about the rest of Lyndsay’s work”, but Sir Walter Scott must’ve found something to like as Lyndsay showed up as a character in ‘Redgauntlet’ and much later, C. S. Lewis wrote of him saying, “what there is of him is good all through”. In addition to being a poet and a harsh satirist, Sir David Lyndsay was also a courtier and diplomat who rose from relative obscurity as the son of a Fife laird to become Lord Lyon King of Arms of Scotland under the patronage of a King, James V. Perhaps the secret of his successful satirical and moralist ‘effrontery’ lay in his early appointment as usher to the infant James, to whom he would’ve been an influential character.
Lyndsay has been widely credited with effecting the reformation of the Scottish Church and given a place second only to that of John Knox in so doing, but that’s without question an exaggeration. Certainly, as a writer, he directed most of his invective against the abuses of the contemporary Roman Catholic Church and his work should be counted amongst the most important and provocative Scottish writing of the Reformation era. However, there is no evidence that he renounced Catholicism and the nature and extent of Lyndsay’s commitment to Protestantism is debatable. He wasn’t a follower of John Knox, that’s for sure. Nevertheless, a leading purpose of Lyndsay’s was to expose the errors and abuses of the Church. There can be no mistaking the vigour of his condemnation of ecclesiastical misconduct, nor thankfully, the dramatic skill with which he brought his arguments to life. He also wrote in the vernacular and in his last work, ‘The Monarchie’, he recommended that the Bible be read, and ordinary prayers be said, in the language of the people, rather than Latin.
The ‘Three Estaitis’ of Lynday’s play are the Clergy, the Nobility and the Burgesses or craftsmen, and their faults are exposed by the character of John of the ‘Common-Weill’. The play was directed against the pride and greed prevalent throughout mid-16th Century Scottish society, and the social ills which hampered the common good of the nation of Scotland. Lindsay’s earliest work on the evils of his time appeared in 1530 as ‘The Testament and Compleynt of Our Soverane Lordis Papyngo’. In that, the Clergy suffer heavily via allegory for their hypocrisy and avarice as the dying Papyngo (a parrot) is abused and ultimately devoured by certain birds of prey. The clergy of the feathered world is represented by a magpie, a raven and a kite, for which read Canon, Benedictine and Friar. As Lord Lyon, Lyndsay had an obvious interest in chivalry and that is evident in his biographical romance, ‘The Historie and Testament of Squyer Meldrum’ and similarly in ‘The Justing betwix James Watsoun and Jhone Barbour’. Lyndsay has been called the ‘Scots Chaucer’ and in his ‘Squyer Meldrum’ you can detect a Scottish ‘Squire’s Tale’.
David Lyndsay was born in Fife circa 1490, some sources suggest as early as 1485. In terms of his education, it is believed that he attended the University of St Andrews, where he met another David, the man who went on to become Cardinal Beaton. There is an entry in the books of St Andrews, which records the attendance of one ‘Da Lindesay’ for the session 1508-1509. Sir David Lindsay of the Mount was closely connected to the Scottish Royal Court for most of his life and he first appears in court records as a participant in a play performed in 1511. He was engaged as an Equerry and then, in 1512, as an Usher to the infant Prince, who became James V at the age of seventeen months in September, 1513 after his father was killed at the Battle of Flodden Field. Between then and 1523, in the sometimes stormy period of James’ minority rule, Lindsay is variously described as ‘Keeper of the King’s Grace’, and ‘Gentleman of the Bedchamber or Household of the King’. Lindsay’s first heraldic appointment was as ‘Snowdon Herald’ and in 1529, after the Queen Mother and Douglas had been sidelined, he was appointed ‘Lord Lyon King of Arms’, whereupon he was knighted. Lyndsay addressed many of his poems to wee Jamesey, played the lute, told him stories and otherwise entertained the bairn as he later reminded his Monarch in a poem.
Lyndsay was also a bit of an ambassador for Scotland and one of his tasks was to arrange the marriage of James V and Marie de Bourbon. However, famously, James instead fell for the beautiful, but tragic, Madeleine of Valois, for whom Lyndsay later wrote an elegy called ‘The Deploratioun of the Deith of Quene Magdalene’. Madeleine died of course and in 1538, James married Mary of Lorraine who was welcomed to Scotland with an elaborate pageant designed in his official capacity by Scotland’s chief heraldic officer, the ‘Lyon King’. When James V pined awa after the debacle of Solway Moss, Lyndsay had to trot round Europe to return the Order of the Golden Fleece, the Order of St. Michael and the Order of the Garter to Charles V, Francis I and Henry VIII respectively. Thereafter, Lyndsay was less closely attached to the Court and spent more time at the Mount near Cupar, but he did attend Parliament in 1544 and 1545 as Commissioner for Cupar. His last official assignment was as a member of a trade mission to Denmark, which secured some privileges for Scottish merchants. The death of Sir David Lyndsay was recorded in the Register of the Privy Seal in April 1555.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Victor Alexander John Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow
Victor Alexander John Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, Governor-General and Viceroy of India from 1936 to 1943, died on the 5th of January, 1952.
The 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, whose ancestors had been Highland Earls in for two centuries, was a British statesman who is best known for having been the Viceroy of India from 1936 until 1943 and the man to have held that post for the longest period. When he retired in 1943, after an eventful seven years in the history of the Raj, Linlithgow’s obituaries were unanimous in considering him to have been one of the most skilful of Colonial Officers to have held high office. It’s debatable with hindsight and in retrospect, but at the time and from a purely British point of view, he was lauded and admired for his achievements. His list of credits focuses on two main themes: furthering the cause of Indian independence through the adoption of a federal form of government; and suppressing opposition to Britain during the Second World War.
Victor Alexander John Hope was born in Hopetoun House, in South Queensferry, on the 24th of September, 1887. He received a privileged education at Eton College and, on the 29th of February, 1908, he succeeded his father as 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow. During the First World War, Linlithgow was decorated whilst serving as an officer on the Western Front and ended the War with the rank of Colonel and command of a battalion of the Royal Scots. His early political career saw him serve in various minor roles in the Tory governments of the 1920s and 1930s. In between times, from 1922 until 1924, he served as the Civil Lord of the Admiralty and as if that wasn’t odd enough for an ex-squaddie, he also served as President of the Navy League, from 1924 until 1931.
Linlithgow made a habit out of ‘chairmanships’ as he served in that capacity for the Unionist Party Organization, for two years from 1924; for the Medical Research Council; for the Governing Body of the Imperial College London; for the Committee on the Distribution and Prices of Agricultural Produce; for the Royal Commission on Agriculture in India, from 1926 to 1928; and from 1933 to 1935, for the Joint Select Committee on Indian Constitutional Reform, which produced the famed ‘Linlithgow Report’. He was President of the Edinburgh and East of Scotland College of Agriculture until 1933 and, in 1944 and 1945, good Presbyterian that he was, he served as Lord High Commissioner to the Church of Scotland. He became Viceroy of India on the 18th of April, 1936, after having declined the post of Governor-General of Australia, a position that his father had held previously as the very first such office holder.
Prior to his being appointed Viceroy of India, Linlithgow had earned a reputation as a specialist in Indian politics, having overseen the introduction of the 1935 ‘Government of India Act’. As ‘Time Magazine’ of Monday, the 27th April, 1936 reported his arrival in India, “Ahead of him had arrived his ‘New Deal’, the renovated and liberalized Indian Constitution, based on Lord Linlithgow’s own exhaustive 350-page investigation and recommendations.” The article in ‘Time’ went on to add, “What made 350,000,000 Indians so anxious last week for a sight of …their new Viceroy was that the new Constitution gives him the power to be either a messiah or a tyrant.” His remit was the creation of autonomous Indian Provinces and a self-ruling, all-India Federal Government. The bottom line was to create a genuinely British India or perpetuate British rule by force. As Viceroy, Linlithgow retained absolute powers, such as the right to single-handedly overrule his own Executive Council and to veto laws passed by the Indian Legislature if he thought they would “affect the safety or tranquillity of British India”.
The year after he became Viceroy, he successfully oversaw the implementation of those plans for local self government in India, initiating the first provincial general elections in India. During the course of the Act’s implementation, Linlithgow made several significant, constitutional and political changes, which resulted in government led by the Congress Party in five of the eleven Provinces, which had been made autonomous units of a Federation. He also oversaw the separation of Burma, which was given its own constitution. At the time, the conflict between the Indian National Congress and the Muslim League prevented the full establishment of Indian self government. Nevertheless and significantly, Linlithgow’s reasonable belief in preserving and protecting the interests of minority communities ensured that they had representatives in every provincial government. Part one of the story ends thus, reasonably positively.
It is claimed that Linlithgow’s reforms later allowed India to become fully independent without armed conflict. Whatever you might think of that, India’s independence wasn’t achieved without a good deal of strife. The period of the Second World War was a critical one in the history of India, during which independence became the major theme. At its outset, Linlithgow displayed a high-handed disregard for India’s ruling Congress when he declared war on Nazi Germany without bothering to consult its leaders. The likes of Ghandi and Nehru temporarily resigned, but far from appealing for unity, Linlithgow’s subsequent actions only served to encourage the Muslim League, at odds with the predominantly Hindu Congress, in its desire for separate nationhood.
Throughout the War, Congress, which professed to speak for all Indians, was emasculated by the refusal of Muhammed Ali Jinnah, the leader of the Muslims, to cooperate. In 1940, the Viceroy, who was unrelenting in his belief that the Raj shouldn’t come to an end, produced the ‘Linlithgow Offer’, which would’ve conceded Dominion status to India after the War, but behind the public facade, rather than calming things down, the Viceroy’s actions served only to foster the unrest and lack of cooperation between the Muslims and the Hindus. The inability of Congress to unite and the lack of agreement on independence eventually led to massive civil disobedience and the ‘Quit India’ resolution of 1942. In one area of Bengal, nationalists declared themselves a part of ‘Free India’, but Linlithgow brutally suppressed all disturbances. His administration jailed thirteen thousand Indians and over one thousand people were killed. By the time that he stood down in 1943, Lord Linlithgow, despite his intentions, was largely responsible for creating the conditions that ultimately led to the break up of his beloved Raj, the creation of an independent India and, significantly, the formation of the ‘Land of the Pure’ – Pakistan – in 1947. Thus ends part two of the story. Victor Alexander John Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, who died on the 5th of January, 1952, was certainly no messiah, but you can decide for yourself whether or not he was a tyrant.
The 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, whose ancestors had been Highland Earls in for two centuries, was a British statesman who is best known for having been the Viceroy of India from 1936 until 1943 and the man to have held that post for the longest period. When he retired in 1943, after an eventful seven years in the history of the Raj, Linlithgow’s obituaries were unanimous in considering him to have been one of the most skilful of Colonial Officers to have held high office. It’s debatable with hindsight and in retrospect, but at the time and from a purely British point of view, he was lauded and admired for his achievements. His list of credits focuses on two main themes: furthering the cause of Indian independence through the adoption of a federal form of government; and suppressing opposition to Britain during the Second World War.
Victor Alexander John Hope was born in Hopetoun House, in South Queensferry, on the 24th of September, 1887. He received a privileged education at Eton College and, on the 29th of February, 1908, he succeeded his father as 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow. During the First World War, Linlithgow was decorated whilst serving as an officer on the Western Front and ended the War with the rank of Colonel and command of a battalion of the Royal Scots. His early political career saw him serve in various minor roles in the Tory governments of the 1920s and 1930s. In between times, from 1922 until 1924, he served as the Civil Lord of the Admiralty and as if that wasn’t odd enough for an ex-squaddie, he also served as President of the Navy League, from 1924 until 1931.
Linlithgow made a habit out of ‘chairmanships’ as he served in that capacity for the Unionist Party Organization, for two years from 1924; for the Medical Research Council; for the Governing Body of the Imperial College London; for the Committee on the Distribution and Prices of Agricultural Produce; for the Royal Commission on Agriculture in India, from 1926 to 1928; and from 1933 to 1935, for the Joint Select Committee on Indian Constitutional Reform, which produced the famed ‘Linlithgow Report’. He was President of the Edinburgh and East of Scotland College of Agriculture until 1933 and, in 1944 and 1945, good Presbyterian that he was, he served as Lord High Commissioner to the Church of Scotland. He became Viceroy of India on the 18th of April, 1936, after having declined the post of Governor-General of Australia, a position that his father had held previously as the very first such office holder.
Prior to his being appointed Viceroy of India, Linlithgow had earned a reputation as a specialist in Indian politics, having overseen the introduction of the 1935 ‘Government of India Act’. As ‘Time Magazine’ of Monday, the 27th April, 1936 reported his arrival in India, “Ahead of him had arrived his ‘New Deal’, the renovated and liberalized Indian Constitution, based on Lord Linlithgow’s own exhaustive 350-page investigation and recommendations.” The article in ‘Time’ went on to add, “What made 350,000,000 Indians so anxious last week for a sight of …their new Viceroy was that the new Constitution gives him the power to be either a messiah or a tyrant.” His remit was the creation of autonomous Indian Provinces and a self-ruling, all-India Federal Government. The bottom line was to create a genuinely British India or perpetuate British rule by force. As Viceroy, Linlithgow retained absolute powers, such as the right to single-handedly overrule his own Executive Council and to veto laws passed by the Indian Legislature if he thought they would “affect the safety or tranquillity of British India”.
The year after he became Viceroy, he successfully oversaw the implementation of those plans for local self government in India, initiating the first provincial general elections in India. During the course of the Act’s implementation, Linlithgow made several significant, constitutional and political changes, which resulted in government led by the Congress Party in five of the eleven Provinces, which had been made autonomous units of a Federation. He also oversaw the separation of Burma, which was given its own constitution. At the time, the conflict between the Indian National Congress and the Muslim League prevented the full establishment of Indian self government. Nevertheless and significantly, Linlithgow’s reasonable belief in preserving and protecting the interests of minority communities ensured that they had representatives in every provincial government. Part one of the story ends thus, reasonably positively.
It is claimed that Linlithgow’s reforms later allowed India to become fully independent without armed conflict. Whatever you might think of that, India’s independence wasn’t achieved without a good deal of strife. The period of the Second World War was a critical one in the history of India, during which independence became the major theme. At its outset, Linlithgow displayed a high-handed disregard for India’s ruling Congress when he declared war on Nazi Germany without bothering to consult its leaders. The likes of Ghandi and Nehru temporarily resigned, but far from appealing for unity, Linlithgow’s subsequent actions only served to encourage the Muslim League, at odds with the predominantly Hindu Congress, in its desire for separate nationhood.
Throughout the War, Congress, which professed to speak for all Indians, was emasculated by the refusal of Muhammed Ali Jinnah, the leader of the Muslims, to cooperate. In 1940, the Viceroy, who was unrelenting in his belief that the Raj shouldn’t come to an end, produced the ‘Linlithgow Offer’, which would’ve conceded Dominion status to India after the War, but behind the public facade, rather than calming things down, the Viceroy’s actions served only to foster the unrest and lack of cooperation between the Muslims and the Hindus. The inability of Congress to unite and the lack of agreement on independence eventually led to massive civil disobedience and the ‘Quit India’ resolution of 1942. In one area of Bengal, nationalists declared themselves a part of ‘Free India’, but Linlithgow brutally suppressed all disturbances. His administration jailed thirteen thousand Indians and over one thousand people were killed. By the time that he stood down in 1943, Lord Linlithgow, despite his intentions, was largely responsible for creating the conditions that ultimately led to the break up of his beloved Raj, the creation of an independent India and, significantly, the formation of the ‘Land of the Pure’ – Pakistan – in 1947. Thus ends part two of the story. Victor Alexander John Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, who died on the 5th of January, 1952, was certainly no messiah, but you can decide for yourself whether or not he was a tyrant.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Dr. George Cathcart
Dr. George Cathcart, otolaryngologist and financier, died on the 4th of January, 1951.
Most anyone with an interest in classical music would recognise the name of Sir Henry Wood. Mention of ‘The Proms’ or the ‘BBC Proms’ or the ‘Henry Wood Promenade Concerts’ as they were called for many years, would undoubtedly encounter similar recognition. However, it’s fair to suggest that there are few who would recollect or even profess to know of two other men who were far more responsible for the inception and launch of ‘The Proms’ over one hundred years ago in 1895. The series of classical concerts now known as the ‘BBC Proms’ and performed at the Royal Albert Hall each year in London are famous the world over and fairly entitled to the accolade of “the greatest series of concerts the world has ever seen”. But when the original event was first conceived, Henry Wood, who went on to become forever eponymously associated with the concerts, was only a bit part player. The two main protagonists were an Englishman called Robert Newman and a Scot from Edinburgh by the name of George Cathcart.
Unlike Robert Newman, George Cathcart has been honoured in recent times. His memory was celebrated by the ‘Cathcart Spring Proms’ at the Royal Albert Hall, an annual event that ran for thirteen years until 2008. Regrettably, the 2009 concert was cancelled after the collapse of the promoter and since then, it hasn’t been reinstated. George Cathcart was an Edinburgh Doctor and according to the publicity material for the 2008 concert in aid of the World Wide Fund for Nature, his was the idea of staging Promenade Concerts. It’s a nice thought to have that credited to a Scotsman, but to be fair to Newman, that’s stretching the truth more than just a wee bit. Until the concerts dedicated to his name, Dr George Cathcart also remained an unsung hero in the annals of classical music. George Cathcart was born in Edinburgh in 1860 and after he qualified as a doctor, he became an eminent otolaryngologist – or an ear, nose and throat specialist. In 1891, he moved to London, to work at the Children’s Hospital in Great Ormond Street. Cathcart, not unnaturally in terms of his chosen career, had developed an interest in throat problems experienced by singers, several of whom had visited him in his professional capacity as a Harley Street specialist, seeking advice.
Cathcart was also an aurist who advocated the use of the ‘diapason normal pitch’ for singers, otherwise known as the ‘low’ or ‘Continental Pitch’ and which was in general use by continental musicians in Europe, whereas in Britain at the time, the majority of singers ‘favoured’ the higher ‘English pitch’. Unfortunately, that had the side-effect of causing strain to the voice – or more properly, to the voice box or larynx. It wasn’t that British singers really favoured the higher pitch in the sense that they preferred it; it was more to do with fashion – as ever. The pitch in general use in Britain at the time was A=452.5 vibrations per second, also known as the ‘Philharmonic Pitch’. The ‘Continental Pitch’ became known as the ‘New Philharmonic Pitch’ and is A=439 vibrations at 68 degrees Fahrenheit (or 435 vibrations at 59 degrees). Of course, Cathcart knew what damage the vogue for high pitch had on the voices of native, British singers. The ‘Catch-22’ for those performers was that most British organs and wind instruments were pitched high, so singers had a simple choice; strain their voices or get no work.
Robert Newman conceived the idea of ‘Promenade Concerts’ based on the French model and he should be remembered for that and his perseverance in making it happen. But he couldn’t have realised his dream without the young Henry Wood, who became the conductor for many a year, nor Cathcart in particular, who put up the money for the first concert. Newman first mentioned his concept for the concerts to Wood in 1894 and then again, enthusiastically, the following year as Sir Henry later recollected, “With hardly a word of greeting, he [Newman] tackled the question of what was obviously uppermost in his mind [saying] ‘I have decided to run those Promenade Concerts I told you about last year…’.” However, Newman’s problem was that he didn’t have the wherewithal to finance the concerts.
Perhaps fatefully and shortly afterwards, Wood was due to give a singing lesson to a Scotsman called Peterkin and, coincidentally, that creatur’ was accompanied by a friend who had come to listen. When Wood mentioned Newman’s plans to Peterkin and his mate, Cathcart, for it was he, said, “Please tell me more about this project, Mr Wood.” Cathcart became hooked on the idea, being a cultural kind of a guy and after Wood introduced him to Newman, Cathcart agreed to underwrite the cost of the first series of concerts on two conditions. The first of those, according to Wood’s recollection, was for Newman “to establish the low pitch” and, despite his liking for the high pitch, Newman “succumbed to the Doctor’s better judgement” The other condition was to engage Wood as the sole conductor of the Queen’s Hall Orchestra.
One major problem that Cathcart’s financing resolved had to do with the orchestra. You see, the woodwind and brass players in the orchestra were unwilling or unable to purchase low-pitch instruments. So Cathcart imported instruments from Belgium and lent them to the players for the first season, afterwards selling them to the musicians. The first concert took place in the Queen’s Hall, in Langham Place, on the 10th of August, 1895, with an orchestra of eighty players. Interestingly, Queen’s Hall was acoustically almost perfect and in comparison to the Royal Albert Hall, it didn’t have that perplexing echo and there were no ‘dead spots’. The first, seven week season of ‘Mr Robert Newman’s Promenade Concerts’ consisted of forty-two concerts and the very affordable ticket prices were one shilling for a single Promenade ticket, two shillings for the Balcony, three or five shillings for the Grand Circle, and one guinea for a transferable season ticket, valid for all that season’s concerts.
Apart from the investment in the instruments, according to Wood, who knew practically nothing of the financial arrangements, Cathcart was “Personally and directly responsible for the inception of the Promenade Concerts in August, 1895.” Cathcart knew the arrangements all right and his statement puts the relative success of those first concerts into perspective. He said that there was a loss of not less than £50 on every concert of the first season except for two, where the singer Sims Reeves performed and which were a sell-out. Nevertheless, Newman’s concept of ‘The Proms’ had seen the light of day, thanks to Cathcart. Thanks to Sir Henry Wood and the BBC, they survive to this day.
Most anyone with an interest in classical music would recognise the name of Sir Henry Wood. Mention of ‘The Proms’ or the ‘BBC Proms’ or the ‘Henry Wood Promenade Concerts’ as they were called for many years, would undoubtedly encounter similar recognition. However, it’s fair to suggest that there are few who would recollect or even profess to know of two other men who were far more responsible for the inception and launch of ‘The Proms’ over one hundred years ago in 1895. The series of classical concerts now known as the ‘BBC Proms’ and performed at the Royal Albert Hall each year in London are famous the world over and fairly entitled to the accolade of “the greatest series of concerts the world has ever seen”. But when the original event was first conceived, Henry Wood, who went on to become forever eponymously associated with the concerts, was only a bit part player. The two main protagonists were an Englishman called Robert Newman and a Scot from Edinburgh by the name of George Cathcart.
Unlike Robert Newman, George Cathcart has been honoured in recent times. His memory was celebrated by the ‘Cathcart Spring Proms’ at the Royal Albert Hall, an annual event that ran for thirteen years until 2008. Regrettably, the 2009 concert was cancelled after the collapse of the promoter and since then, it hasn’t been reinstated. George Cathcart was an Edinburgh Doctor and according to the publicity material for the 2008 concert in aid of the World Wide Fund for Nature, his was the idea of staging Promenade Concerts. It’s a nice thought to have that credited to a Scotsman, but to be fair to Newman, that’s stretching the truth more than just a wee bit. Until the concerts dedicated to his name, Dr George Cathcart also remained an unsung hero in the annals of classical music. George Cathcart was born in Edinburgh in 1860 and after he qualified as a doctor, he became an eminent otolaryngologist – or an ear, nose and throat specialist. In 1891, he moved to London, to work at the Children’s Hospital in Great Ormond Street. Cathcart, not unnaturally in terms of his chosen career, had developed an interest in throat problems experienced by singers, several of whom had visited him in his professional capacity as a Harley Street specialist, seeking advice.
Cathcart was also an aurist who advocated the use of the ‘diapason normal pitch’ for singers, otherwise known as the ‘low’ or ‘Continental Pitch’ and which was in general use by continental musicians in Europe, whereas in Britain at the time, the majority of singers ‘favoured’ the higher ‘English pitch’. Unfortunately, that had the side-effect of causing strain to the voice – or more properly, to the voice box or larynx. It wasn’t that British singers really favoured the higher pitch in the sense that they preferred it; it was more to do with fashion – as ever. The pitch in general use in Britain at the time was A=452.5 vibrations per second, also known as the ‘Philharmonic Pitch’. The ‘Continental Pitch’ became known as the ‘New Philharmonic Pitch’ and is A=439 vibrations at 68 degrees Fahrenheit (or 435 vibrations at 59 degrees). Of course, Cathcart knew what damage the vogue for high pitch had on the voices of native, British singers. The ‘Catch-22’ for those performers was that most British organs and wind instruments were pitched high, so singers had a simple choice; strain their voices or get no work.
Robert Newman conceived the idea of ‘Promenade Concerts’ based on the French model and he should be remembered for that and his perseverance in making it happen. But he couldn’t have realised his dream without the young Henry Wood, who became the conductor for many a year, nor Cathcart in particular, who put up the money for the first concert. Newman first mentioned his concept for the concerts to Wood in 1894 and then again, enthusiastically, the following year as Sir Henry later recollected, “With hardly a word of greeting, he [Newman] tackled the question of what was obviously uppermost in his mind [saying] ‘I have decided to run those Promenade Concerts I told you about last year…’.” However, Newman’s problem was that he didn’t have the wherewithal to finance the concerts.
Perhaps fatefully and shortly afterwards, Wood was due to give a singing lesson to a Scotsman called Peterkin and, coincidentally, that creatur’ was accompanied by a friend who had come to listen. When Wood mentioned Newman’s plans to Peterkin and his mate, Cathcart, for it was he, said, “Please tell me more about this project, Mr Wood.” Cathcart became hooked on the idea, being a cultural kind of a guy and after Wood introduced him to Newman, Cathcart agreed to underwrite the cost of the first series of concerts on two conditions. The first of those, according to Wood’s recollection, was for Newman “to establish the low pitch” and, despite his liking for the high pitch, Newman “succumbed to the Doctor’s better judgement” The other condition was to engage Wood as the sole conductor of the Queen’s Hall Orchestra.
One major problem that Cathcart’s financing resolved had to do with the orchestra. You see, the woodwind and brass players in the orchestra were unwilling or unable to purchase low-pitch instruments. So Cathcart imported instruments from Belgium and lent them to the players for the first season, afterwards selling them to the musicians. The first concert took place in the Queen’s Hall, in Langham Place, on the 10th of August, 1895, with an orchestra of eighty players. Interestingly, Queen’s Hall was acoustically almost perfect and in comparison to the Royal Albert Hall, it didn’t have that perplexing echo and there were no ‘dead spots’. The first, seven week season of ‘Mr Robert Newman’s Promenade Concerts’ consisted of forty-two concerts and the very affordable ticket prices were one shilling for a single Promenade ticket, two shillings for the Balcony, three or five shillings for the Grand Circle, and one guinea for a transferable season ticket, valid for all that season’s concerts.
Apart from the investment in the instruments, according to Wood, who knew practically nothing of the financial arrangements, Cathcart was “Personally and directly responsible for the inception of the Promenade Concerts in August, 1895.” Cathcart knew the arrangements all right and his statement puts the relative success of those first concerts into perspective. He said that there was a loss of not less than £50 on every concert of the first season except for two, where the singer Sims Reeves performed and which were a sell-out. Nevertheless, Newman’s concept of ‘The Proms’ had seen the light of day, thanks to Cathcart. Thanks to Sir Henry Wood and the BBC, they survive to this day.
Monday, 3 January 2011
Osborne Henry Mavor
Osborne Henry Mavor, physician, playwright and screenwriter, was born on the 3rd of January, 1888.
Osborne Henry Mavor was sometimes known as O. H. Mavor, more often than not under the pseudonym of James Bridie, for a while under the ‘nom de plume’ of Mary Henderson and, just for good measure, once as J. P. Kellock. He sounds like a man who couldn’t make up his mind, but he was no schizophrenic. As James Bridie, a pen name he adopted in the late 1920s to avoid conflict between his theatrical work and his position as a GP and consulting physician, Mavor wrote plays and screenplays, quite prolifically in fact as he wrote over forty plays in his lifetime. He used the name of ‘Kellock’ once, when he co-wrote ‘The Tintock Cup’ with George Munro towards the end of the 1940s.
Bridie was one of the leading British playwrights of his generation and his popular and witty comedies were significant to the revival of Scottish drama during the 1930s. He was also a significant contributor to ‘the Arts’ in Scotland as he founded Glasgow’s Citizens’ Theatre in 1943, was the first Chairman of the Scottish Committee of the Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts, in 1942, and was instrumental in the establishment of the College of Dramatic Art in 1950, the year before his death. He was also a Director of the Scottish National Theatre Society. Mavor’s work in bringing about ‘theatre for all’ was recognised on the 17th of September, 1956, when J. B. Priestley unveiled a bronze plaque in his memory; appropriately, at the Citizen’s Theatre.
Bridie’s first performed play was ‘The Sunlight Sonata’, but it was ‘The Anatomist’, produced in 1930 and based on the life of the 19th Century vivisectionist, Dr. Robert Knox, the Edinburgh surgeon who was supplied by the notorious body-snatchers, Burke and Hare, which really began his writing career and is considered to be his first major success. Bridie’s work included contemporary renderings of biblical stories, such as ‘Tobias and the Angel’ and fantasies, usually centred upon a ‘devil’ figure, such as ‘Mr Bolfry’ and ‘The Baikie Charivari’. He was considered to be the first Scottish dramatist since J. M. Barrie who managed to live comfortably by the pen. Bridie worked on scripts several times together with Alfred Hitchcock; notably on ‘Stage Fright’ in 1950. Bridie’s other famous play is ‘Gog and Magog’ with which he won the ‘Bernard Shaw Birthday Prize’ also in 1950. He was certainly a busy man and not just making up pseudonyms. He didn’t have time to get bored, that’s for sure and once commented that; “Boredom is a sign of satisfied ignorance, blunted apprehension, crass sympathies, dull understanding, feeble powers of attention, and irreclaimable weakness of character.” So there!
Osborne Henry Mavor was born in Glasgow on the 3rd of January, 1888. He was educated at Glasgow Academy before studying medicine for ten years at Glasgow University. It was whilst there that he developed an interest in theatre, drawn by the work of the Glasgow Repertory Company, an enterprise funded by the citizens’ subscritions. Osbourne became the Editor of the University magazine and contributed critical theatre reviews and sketches, which marked him out as a talented writer. Osborne was also a mainstay of the University Union and, with Walter Elliott, a future Secretary of State for Scotland, he co-authored the Union song ‘Ygorra’. Curiously, in 1905, Osborne ‘invented’ the annual, University social event known as ‘Daft Friday’. That is an evening in honour of the President of the Union, with a secret ‘theme’ that is kept hidden from him/her until the night. On ‘Daft Friday, students celebrate the end of the Martinmas term at Glasgow University with twelve hours of live music, dancing and general frivolity in a tradition that is now over one hundred years old! In 1955, some years after Mavor’s death, the Glasgow University Union introduced ‘The Bridie Dinner’, which is now a feature of the event.
Despite those distractions, in 1913, Osborne eventually graduated M.B, Ch.B. After that, until the outbreak of the World War I, Mavor worked as a physician and house surgeon at Glasgow Royal Infirmary. He enlisted in the Royal Army Medical Corps and served in France. In 1917, he was sent further east to serve in Mesopotamia, India, Persia and Constantinople. It was whilst stationed in those countries that Mavor collected lots of stories, and many biblical and apocryphal legends, most of which were to surface in his plays. After the Great War, Mavor began a general practise at Longside in Glasgow. Later, he was appointed extra physician at the Sick Children’s Hospital and in 1923, set himself up as a consultant. For a while, he held the post of Professor of Medicine at the Anderson College of Medicine and was a consulting physician to the Victoria Infirmary. During that time, he added to his qualifications by becoming F.R.F.P.S Glas in 1921 and graduating M.D. (with commendation) in 1929. However, in 1934, Mavor’s increasing success as a dramatist led to his abandoning medicine for literature and the theatre. He gave up his practise and moved his family to Helensburgh.
That theatrical success had begun in 1928, with the appearance of Mavor’s first performed play, written under the name of ‘Mary Henderson’ and entitled ‘The Sunlight Sonata’. It was presented in Glasgow by the Scottish National Players, an amateur company which employed professional producers, and directed by Tyrone Guthrie. Mavor adopted the pseudonym of ‘James Bridie’ for his subsequent works such as 1929s ‘The Switchback’, which was presented in Birmingham and later at the 1931 ‘Malvern Festival’. His desire for professional production of his work, however, led to many of his dramas being presented first on the London West End stage. Bridie’s success then continued throughout the 1930s and 40s until 1950 with, amongst others, ‘Jonah and the Whale’ and ‘The King of Nowhere’ in 1938 with a yet to be famous Laurence Olivier.
In 1939, as Bridie, Mavor was awarded an honorary L.L.D. from Glasgow University, which meant he was a ‘bona fide’ Dr. in both his real and assumed names. Despite his literary and theatrical success, Mavor maintained his interest in medicine. That same year of 1939, he published a ‘Study of the Umbilicus’ and when War broke out once more, Mavor returned to the fray after he managed to persuade the ‘authorities’ to allow him to actively serve. After serving on a Hospital Ship in Norway, he returned to civilian life with the rank of Major and, in 1946, he was granted a CBE. Osborne Henry Mavor alias O. H. Mavor alias Mary Henderson alias James Bridie alias J. P. Kellock, died in Edinburgh Royal Infirmary of a brain haemorrhage on the 29th of January, 1951. He was buried in Glasgow’s Western Necropolis on the 1st of February.
Osborne Henry Mavor was sometimes known as O. H. Mavor, more often than not under the pseudonym of James Bridie, for a while under the ‘nom de plume’ of Mary Henderson and, just for good measure, once as J. P. Kellock. He sounds like a man who couldn’t make up his mind, but he was no schizophrenic. As James Bridie, a pen name he adopted in the late 1920s to avoid conflict between his theatrical work and his position as a GP and consulting physician, Mavor wrote plays and screenplays, quite prolifically in fact as he wrote over forty plays in his lifetime. He used the name of ‘Kellock’ once, when he co-wrote ‘The Tintock Cup’ with George Munro towards the end of the 1940s.
Bridie was one of the leading British playwrights of his generation and his popular and witty comedies were significant to the revival of Scottish drama during the 1930s. He was also a significant contributor to ‘the Arts’ in Scotland as he founded Glasgow’s Citizens’ Theatre in 1943, was the first Chairman of the Scottish Committee of the Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts, in 1942, and was instrumental in the establishment of the College of Dramatic Art in 1950, the year before his death. He was also a Director of the Scottish National Theatre Society. Mavor’s work in bringing about ‘theatre for all’ was recognised on the 17th of September, 1956, when J. B. Priestley unveiled a bronze plaque in his memory; appropriately, at the Citizen’s Theatre.
Bridie’s first performed play was ‘The Sunlight Sonata’, but it was ‘The Anatomist’, produced in 1930 and based on the life of the 19th Century vivisectionist, Dr. Robert Knox, the Edinburgh surgeon who was supplied by the notorious body-snatchers, Burke and Hare, which really began his writing career and is considered to be his first major success. Bridie’s work included contemporary renderings of biblical stories, such as ‘Tobias and the Angel’ and fantasies, usually centred upon a ‘devil’ figure, such as ‘Mr Bolfry’ and ‘The Baikie Charivari’. He was considered to be the first Scottish dramatist since J. M. Barrie who managed to live comfortably by the pen. Bridie worked on scripts several times together with Alfred Hitchcock; notably on ‘Stage Fright’ in 1950. Bridie’s other famous play is ‘Gog and Magog’ with which he won the ‘Bernard Shaw Birthday Prize’ also in 1950. He was certainly a busy man and not just making up pseudonyms. He didn’t have time to get bored, that’s for sure and once commented that; “Boredom is a sign of satisfied ignorance, blunted apprehension, crass sympathies, dull understanding, feeble powers of attention, and irreclaimable weakness of character.” So there!
Osborne Henry Mavor was born in Glasgow on the 3rd of January, 1888. He was educated at Glasgow Academy before studying medicine for ten years at Glasgow University. It was whilst there that he developed an interest in theatre, drawn by the work of the Glasgow Repertory Company, an enterprise funded by the citizens’ subscritions. Osbourne became the Editor of the University magazine and contributed critical theatre reviews and sketches, which marked him out as a talented writer. Osborne was also a mainstay of the University Union and, with Walter Elliott, a future Secretary of State for Scotland, he co-authored the Union song ‘Ygorra’. Curiously, in 1905, Osborne ‘invented’ the annual, University social event known as ‘Daft Friday’. That is an evening in honour of the President of the Union, with a secret ‘theme’ that is kept hidden from him/her until the night. On ‘Daft Friday, students celebrate the end of the Martinmas term at Glasgow University with twelve hours of live music, dancing and general frivolity in a tradition that is now over one hundred years old! In 1955, some years after Mavor’s death, the Glasgow University Union introduced ‘The Bridie Dinner’, which is now a feature of the event.
Despite those distractions, in 1913, Osborne eventually graduated M.B, Ch.B. After that, until the outbreak of the World War I, Mavor worked as a physician and house surgeon at Glasgow Royal Infirmary. He enlisted in the Royal Army Medical Corps and served in France. In 1917, he was sent further east to serve in Mesopotamia, India, Persia and Constantinople. It was whilst stationed in those countries that Mavor collected lots of stories, and many biblical and apocryphal legends, most of which were to surface in his plays. After the Great War, Mavor began a general practise at Longside in Glasgow. Later, he was appointed extra physician at the Sick Children’s Hospital and in 1923, set himself up as a consultant. For a while, he held the post of Professor of Medicine at the Anderson College of Medicine and was a consulting physician to the Victoria Infirmary. During that time, he added to his qualifications by becoming F.R.F.P.S Glas in 1921 and graduating M.D. (with commendation) in 1929. However, in 1934, Mavor’s increasing success as a dramatist led to his abandoning medicine for literature and the theatre. He gave up his practise and moved his family to Helensburgh.
That theatrical success had begun in 1928, with the appearance of Mavor’s first performed play, written under the name of ‘Mary Henderson’ and entitled ‘The Sunlight Sonata’. It was presented in Glasgow by the Scottish National Players, an amateur company which employed professional producers, and directed by Tyrone Guthrie. Mavor adopted the pseudonym of ‘James Bridie’ for his subsequent works such as 1929s ‘The Switchback’, which was presented in Birmingham and later at the 1931 ‘Malvern Festival’. His desire for professional production of his work, however, led to many of his dramas being presented first on the London West End stage. Bridie’s success then continued throughout the 1930s and 40s until 1950 with, amongst others, ‘Jonah and the Whale’ and ‘The King of Nowhere’ in 1938 with a yet to be famous Laurence Olivier.
In 1939, as Bridie, Mavor was awarded an honorary L.L.D. from Glasgow University, which meant he was a ‘bona fide’ Dr. in both his real and assumed names. Despite his literary and theatrical success, Mavor maintained his interest in medicine. That same year of 1939, he published a ‘Study of the Umbilicus’ and when War broke out once more, Mavor returned to the fray after he managed to persuade the ‘authorities’ to allow him to actively serve. After serving on a Hospital Ship in Norway, he returned to civilian life with the rank of Major and, in 1946, he was granted a CBE. Osborne Henry Mavor alias O. H. Mavor alias Mary Henderson alias James Bridie alias J. P. Kellock, died in Edinburgh Royal Infirmary of a brain haemorrhage on the 29th of January, 1951. He was buried in Glasgow’s Western Necropolis on the 1st of February.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Thomas Muir of Huntershill
Thomas Muir of Huntershill, advocate and political activist, was arrested for sedition on the 2nd of January, 1793.
According to Don Martin of the ‘Friends of Thomas Muir’ in East Dunbartonshire, “If William Wallace and Robert the Bruce were champions of freedom; Thomas Muir was the champion of democracy”. Thomas Muir of Huntershill was also a ‘Friend’. He was the founder of the Scottish branch of the radical political activist group ‘Friends of the People’. The ‘people’ didn’t include the judge, Lord Braxfield, Robert McQueen, otherwise known as the ‘hanging judge’ and Muir’s ‘unfriend’. In the early 1790s, the purpose of the ‘Friends of the People’ was to promote the new democratic and republican ideas of the likes of Thomas Paine, who famously wrote ‘Rights of Man’ and ‘The Age of Reason’. It was also heavily influenced by the emergent revolution in France and resultant Irish republican ideals. For his involvement in being too much of a ‘Friend’ to the ‘wrong’ kind of people, puir Thomas Muir was arrested for sedition, tried, sentenced and transported to Australia.
Muir’s life story would make a terrific movie, but it would have to be a three-hour epic or maybe even a three-part, blockbusting adventure. Thomas Muir became a revolutionary hero in America, was cheekily appointed ‘Minister of the Scottish Republic’ by the French Revolutionary Government and was the most important of the five Scottish Political Martyrs; the others being Thomas Fyshe Palmer, William Skirving, Maurice Margarot and Joseph Gerrald. In 1793, Muir and two others were sentenced to transportation to Australia for ‘sedition’. They are commemorated by the obelisk in the Old Calton Cemetery, in Edinburgh, incorporating a quote from Muir; “I have devoted myself to the cause of The People. It is a good cause – it shall ultimately prevail – it shall finally triumph.” For such words, Muir was an inspiration to Robert Burns, who apparently wrote ‘Scots Wha Hae’ with Wallace as an allegorical substitute for Muir. However, it’s only in the last verse that anything of the sort is remotely obvious from Burns’ paraphrasing of the French ‘tennis court oath’ in “Let us do, or die!”
Thomas Muir was born in Huntershill House, in Bishopbriggs, on the 24th of August, 1765. From the age of five, Thomas was taught by a private tutor until, at the age of ten, he became a divinity student at Glasgow University. However, Muir’s plans were altered irrevocably under the influence of the Professor of Civil Law, John Miller. Forsaking the Kirk, Muir embarked upon studies in Law and Government, but was expelled in 1785 for organising a petition in defence of Professor John Anderson (of ‘Andersonian Institute’ fame). He was able to resume his studies in Edinburgh and in 1787, Muir was admitted to the Faculty of Advocates. He was an early exponent of ‘legal aid’ as he offered his services gratis to those too poor to afford the exorbitant going rate. He also caused a stir by representing the Parish of Cadder in a notable case against local gentry demanding to ‘choose’ the Kirk Minister.
As a Whig, Muir became an advocate of Parliamentary reform, arguing against only wealthy landowners being entitled to vote in elections. That upset ‘Harry the Ninth’, a.k.a. Henry Dundas, Viscount Melville, often referred to as ‘the uncrowned King of Scotland’. The reformists cause was boosted by the events of 1789 in France and empathetic ideas quickly spread in Edinburgh. Such a movement was an anathema to Dundas and his ilk as it represented a threat to their system of patronage and privilege. The publication of Thomas Paine’s ‘The Rights of Man’ led to frenzied attempts by the Government to suppress its distribution. Those proved futile and thousands of copies were read, including by Thomas Muir, who, along with William Skirving, a farmer from Fife, formed the ‘Friends of the People’ in July, 1792.
That same year, Muir agreed to defend James Tytler on charges of sedition, after a three-day riot in Edinburgh, which was partly inspired by Tytler’s propaganda. Later, in December, 1792, the ‘Friends of the People’ gathered in Edinburgh for the first time. Muir was a radical, convinced of the need for parliamentary reform, but more than that, he was also an advocate for the cause of Scottish independence. Muir read an address of support for the ‘United Irishmen’ and it was primarily for that act as much as anything else that he was singled out as a major threat. On the 2nd of January, 1793, Muir was arrested on charges of sedition, but strangely enough, he was allowed bail. He went to France, but the authorities craftily brought forward his trial and, when he failed to appear, declared him a fugitive from justice. And whilst travelling back to Scotland via Dublin, he was sworn in as an honorary ‘United Irishmen’, which further damaged his cause.
Muir was arrested immediately upon his arrival in Scotland and charged with several offences, which included having ‘exhorted three (!) people to buy and read Paine’s book’. Muir defended himself brilliantly and eloquently, but the paranoid, Tory-centric jury was rigged. Muir was found guilty and his sentence was transportation to ‘Van Diemen’s Land’ for fourteen years. In his final speech on the 30th of August, 1793, which was once taught to schoolchildren in America, Muir said, “What has been my crime? Not the lending to a relation of mine a copy of Mr Paine’s work; not the giving away a few copies of an innocent and constitutional publication; but for having dared to be a strenuous and active advocate for an equal representation of the people, in the House of the people.”
In May 1794, after being imprisoned in a rotting hulk at Woolwich and forced to work on a chain gang, Muir and his fellow ‘Scottish Martyrs’ were sent to Botany Bay. Significantly, because of Muir’s international impact, George Washington sent the ‘Otter’ to rescue Muir. In February, 1795, Muir set sail from Port Jackson, but he never got to meet Washington as his ship was wrecked. Muir and two others survived, only to be captured by natives, incarcerated in Mexico, shipped to Cuba, and imprisoned in a dungeon before finally managing to board the ‘Ninfa’ bound for Spain. However, the ‘Adventures of Thomas Muir’ didn’t stop there as the ship was attacked outside Cadiz harbour and Muir seriously wounded. Those pictures of Muir with a cloth draped over his left eye are because shrapnel smashed into his face, removing one eye and damaging the other. Muir was saved by an incredible coincidence as the British surgeon on board H.M.S. ‘Invincible’ recognised him from schooldays and made sure he was sent to Cadiz rather than recaptured. Miraculously, Muir survived and was eventually transferred to France, where he received a hero’s welcome. Muir arrived in Paris on the 4th of February, 1798, where he was proclaimed ‘Minister of The Scottish Republic’. He died from his wounds and ‘complications’ on the 26th of January, 1799. Thomas Muir never produced a written manifesto; his fame as the ‘Champion of Democracy’ stems from his oratory and his courage.
According to Don Martin of the ‘Friends of Thomas Muir’ in East Dunbartonshire, “If William Wallace and Robert the Bruce were champions of freedom; Thomas Muir was the champion of democracy”. Thomas Muir of Huntershill was also a ‘Friend’. He was the founder of the Scottish branch of the radical political activist group ‘Friends of the People’. The ‘people’ didn’t include the judge, Lord Braxfield, Robert McQueen, otherwise known as the ‘hanging judge’ and Muir’s ‘unfriend’. In the early 1790s, the purpose of the ‘Friends of the People’ was to promote the new democratic and republican ideas of the likes of Thomas Paine, who famously wrote ‘Rights of Man’ and ‘The Age of Reason’. It was also heavily influenced by the emergent revolution in France and resultant Irish republican ideals. For his involvement in being too much of a ‘Friend’ to the ‘wrong’ kind of people, puir Thomas Muir was arrested for sedition, tried, sentenced and transported to Australia.
Muir’s life story would make a terrific movie, but it would have to be a three-hour epic or maybe even a three-part, blockbusting adventure. Thomas Muir became a revolutionary hero in America, was cheekily appointed ‘Minister of the Scottish Republic’ by the French Revolutionary Government and was the most important of the five Scottish Political Martyrs; the others being Thomas Fyshe Palmer, William Skirving, Maurice Margarot and Joseph Gerrald. In 1793, Muir and two others were sentenced to transportation to Australia for ‘sedition’. They are commemorated by the obelisk in the Old Calton Cemetery, in Edinburgh, incorporating a quote from Muir; “I have devoted myself to the cause of The People. It is a good cause – it shall ultimately prevail – it shall finally triumph.” For such words, Muir was an inspiration to Robert Burns, who apparently wrote ‘Scots Wha Hae’ with Wallace as an allegorical substitute for Muir. However, it’s only in the last verse that anything of the sort is remotely obvious from Burns’ paraphrasing of the French ‘tennis court oath’ in “Let us do, or die!”
Thomas Muir was born in Huntershill House, in Bishopbriggs, on the 24th of August, 1765. From the age of five, Thomas was taught by a private tutor until, at the age of ten, he became a divinity student at Glasgow University. However, Muir’s plans were altered irrevocably under the influence of the Professor of Civil Law, John Miller. Forsaking the Kirk, Muir embarked upon studies in Law and Government, but was expelled in 1785 for organising a petition in defence of Professor John Anderson (of ‘Andersonian Institute’ fame). He was able to resume his studies in Edinburgh and in 1787, Muir was admitted to the Faculty of Advocates. He was an early exponent of ‘legal aid’ as he offered his services gratis to those too poor to afford the exorbitant going rate. He also caused a stir by representing the Parish of Cadder in a notable case against local gentry demanding to ‘choose’ the Kirk Minister.
As a Whig, Muir became an advocate of Parliamentary reform, arguing against only wealthy landowners being entitled to vote in elections. That upset ‘Harry the Ninth’, a.k.a. Henry Dundas, Viscount Melville, often referred to as ‘the uncrowned King of Scotland’. The reformists cause was boosted by the events of 1789 in France and empathetic ideas quickly spread in Edinburgh. Such a movement was an anathema to Dundas and his ilk as it represented a threat to their system of patronage and privilege. The publication of Thomas Paine’s ‘The Rights of Man’ led to frenzied attempts by the Government to suppress its distribution. Those proved futile and thousands of copies were read, including by Thomas Muir, who, along with William Skirving, a farmer from Fife, formed the ‘Friends of the People’ in July, 1792.
That same year, Muir agreed to defend James Tytler on charges of sedition, after a three-day riot in Edinburgh, which was partly inspired by Tytler’s propaganda. Later, in December, 1792, the ‘Friends of the People’ gathered in Edinburgh for the first time. Muir was a radical, convinced of the need for parliamentary reform, but more than that, he was also an advocate for the cause of Scottish independence. Muir read an address of support for the ‘United Irishmen’ and it was primarily for that act as much as anything else that he was singled out as a major threat. On the 2nd of January, 1793, Muir was arrested on charges of sedition, but strangely enough, he was allowed bail. He went to France, but the authorities craftily brought forward his trial and, when he failed to appear, declared him a fugitive from justice. And whilst travelling back to Scotland via Dublin, he was sworn in as an honorary ‘United Irishmen’, which further damaged his cause.
Muir was arrested immediately upon his arrival in Scotland and charged with several offences, which included having ‘exhorted three (!) people to buy and read Paine’s book’. Muir defended himself brilliantly and eloquently, but the paranoid, Tory-centric jury was rigged. Muir was found guilty and his sentence was transportation to ‘Van Diemen’s Land’ for fourteen years. In his final speech on the 30th of August, 1793, which was once taught to schoolchildren in America, Muir said, “What has been my crime? Not the lending to a relation of mine a copy of Mr Paine’s work; not the giving away a few copies of an innocent and constitutional publication; but for having dared to be a strenuous and active advocate for an equal representation of the people, in the House of the people.”
In May 1794, after being imprisoned in a rotting hulk at Woolwich and forced to work on a chain gang, Muir and his fellow ‘Scottish Martyrs’ were sent to Botany Bay. Significantly, because of Muir’s international impact, George Washington sent the ‘Otter’ to rescue Muir. In February, 1795, Muir set sail from Port Jackson, but he never got to meet Washington as his ship was wrecked. Muir and two others survived, only to be captured by natives, incarcerated in Mexico, shipped to Cuba, and imprisoned in a dungeon before finally managing to board the ‘Ninfa’ bound for Spain. However, the ‘Adventures of Thomas Muir’ didn’t stop there as the ship was attacked outside Cadiz harbour and Muir seriously wounded. Those pictures of Muir with a cloth draped over his left eye are because shrapnel smashed into his face, removing one eye and damaging the other. Muir was saved by an incredible coincidence as the British surgeon on board H.M.S. ‘Invincible’ recognised him from schooldays and made sure he was sent to Cadiz rather than recaptured. Miraculously, Muir survived and was eventually transferred to France, where he received a hero’s welcome. Muir arrived in Paris on the 4th of February, 1798, where he was proclaimed ‘Minister of The Scottish Republic’. He died from his wounds and ‘complications’ on the 26th of January, 1799. Thomas Muir never produced a written manifesto; his fame as the ‘Champion of Democracy’ stems from his oratory and his courage.
Saturday, 1 January 2011
Glasgow Chamber of Commerce
The first meeting of the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce took place on the 1st of January, 1783.
Hands up who believes Margaret Thatcher had a sense of humour? Well, even the ‘Iron Lady’ could raise a smile or was it merely a simile when she addressed the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce on its 200th Anniversary, an occasion shared by the Glasgow Herald, in 1983. Maggie was glad haggis wasn’t on the menu and professed her intent not to quote Burns in public, but she was more than happy to give a mention to McGonagall. In fact, she recited one of her own compositions in the style of McGonagall. Now, there’s a tribute if ever there was. A British Prime Minister honouring Scotland’s greatest rhymer; or was it she had a Scots scriptwriter? Here’s her wee bit poem from that night’s address:
“The Glasgow Chamber of Commerce
Has been going for two hundred years,
So has the Glasgow Herald;
To them both we say three cheers,
’Twas in the year of 1783 they started;
Now they’re flourishing and sage;
Which goes to show what we all know:
That Scotch improves with age.”
Not only did she so honour William Topaz McGonagall, she also quoted Adam Smith and David Hume in the context of her address. She knew of course that the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce was the first Chamber of Commerce to be founded in Britain and she was gracious enough to have said, “Where your forefathers in Glasgow led, we in England have gladly followed”. She went on to suggest that the forefathers of Glasgow’s Chamber of Commerce would have heard in their youth the lectures of Adam Smith and absorbed the practical common sense displayed when he wrote that “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest”. Her quote from Hume, regarding the nation’s finances and the accumulation of debt, was apposite as it is even more so today, “The source of degeneracy which may be remarked in free Governments consists in the practice of contracting debt and mortgaging the public revenue, by which taxes may in time become altogether intolerable”. Anyone for a VAT rise?
The first Chambers of Commerce were founded in 1599, in continental Europe. Those were in Marseille and Brugge, but the world’s oldest English-speaking Chamber of Commerce is reputedly that of New York City, which was established in 1768. The Glasgow Chamber of Commerce is the oldest known existing chamber in the English-speaking world with continuous records and with its first meeting on the 1st of January, 1783, it became the first such Chamber in the UK. A Chamber of Commerce or Board of Trade is a form of business network; an organisation of local businesses whose goal is to further their mutual interests. Local owners in towns and cities formed such local societies in order to advocate on behalf of their business community. The incentive for the formation of the Glasgow Chamber derived from the gloomy commercial prospects of late 18th Century Glasgow after the end of the American War of Independence (or Revolution if you prefer) and the loss of the Virginia trade. Cotton spinning was as yet unknown and, in fact, except for a growing traffic with the West Indies and the manufacture of a few domestic fabrics, Glasgow’s trade was fairly limited. It became apparent that opening up new sources of trade and commerce, and establishing direct communication between the trade of the West and the Government and Legislature, would be a good idea. It was the first institution of its kind in the United Kingdom and what Glasgow did in January, 1783, it took Edinburgh nearly three years, until December, 1785, to copy.
At that first meeting in 1783, which was held in the Town House, the Chairman, Patrick Colquhoun, Glasgow’s Lord Provost, submitted the proposed constitution, which he had drafted. That stated that the Association be established on the most liberal and equitable foundation, and that it should include in its membership the merchants of the principal towns in the west of Scotland. The Constitution outlined eight principle goals or intentions, which included the development of systems to protect and improve those branches of Trade and Manufactures “peculiar to this country”; regulation in “all matters respecting any branch of Trade or Manufacture”; affording aid to members and “interposing the weight and influence of the Directors” in matters relating to Parliament and “the King’s Ministers”; consideration of the ‘Corn Laws’ as “being of the utmost consequence” to “this part of the United Kingdom”; and in general, to “take cognisance of every matter and thing that shall be in the least degree connected with the interests of Commerce”.
The Chamber’s early priorities were to raise the quality of goods produced and to lobby the Government to lower taxes, reduce tariffs and abolish smuggling. The Chamber also fiercely opposed the East India Company’s trade monopoly with India and all territories beyond the Cape. After the first meeting in the Town House, the Glasgow Chamber’s early meetings were held at the Tontine Tavern, then at premises in Virginia Street. Later, in 1877, it moved to offices in its present home, the Merchants House. The Chamber was first incorporated by Royal Charter, granted by George III on the 31st of July, 1783, which out the its powers and privileges. A new Charter, obtained on the 28th of July, 1860, was deemed necessary, because of the growth of the City and the extension of trade and manufactures. Supplementary Charters were granted by Queen Victoria, Edward VII and Elizabeth II.
Patrick Colquhoun was an interesting character. By the time he was twenty-one, he had experienced the heyday of the Virginia trade and when he returned to Glasgow, in 1766, he set up his own business as a merchant. He was elected Lord Provost in 1782 and it was his estate of Kelvingrove that now forms the greater part of Glasgow’s spacious West End Park.
Hands up who believes Margaret Thatcher had a sense of humour? Well, even the ‘Iron Lady’ could raise a smile or was it merely a simile when she addressed the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce on its 200th Anniversary, an occasion shared by the Glasgow Herald, in 1983. Maggie was glad haggis wasn’t on the menu and professed her intent not to quote Burns in public, but she was more than happy to give a mention to McGonagall. In fact, she recited one of her own compositions in the style of McGonagall. Now, there’s a tribute if ever there was. A British Prime Minister honouring Scotland’s greatest rhymer; or was it she had a Scots scriptwriter? Here’s her wee bit poem from that night’s address:
“The Glasgow Chamber of Commerce
Has been going for two hundred years,
So has the Glasgow Herald;
To them both we say three cheers,
’Twas in the year of 1783 they started;
Now they’re flourishing and sage;
Which goes to show what we all know:
That Scotch improves with age.”
Not only did she so honour William Topaz McGonagall, she also quoted Adam Smith and David Hume in the context of her address. She knew of course that the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce was the first Chamber of Commerce to be founded in Britain and she was gracious enough to have said, “Where your forefathers in Glasgow led, we in England have gladly followed”. She went on to suggest that the forefathers of Glasgow’s Chamber of Commerce would have heard in their youth the lectures of Adam Smith and absorbed the practical common sense displayed when he wrote that “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest”. Her quote from Hume, regarding the nation’s finances and the accumulation of debt, was apposite as it is even more so today, “The source of degeneracy which may be remarked in free Governments consists in the practice of contracting debt and mortgaging the public revenue, by which taxes may in time become altogether intolerable”. Anyone for a VAT rise?
The first Chambers of Commerce were founded in 1599, in continental Europe. Those were in Marseille and Brugge, but the world’s oldest English-speaking Chamber of Commerce is reputedly that of New York City, which was established in 1768. The Glasgow Chamber of Commerce is the oldest known existing chamber in the English-speaking world with continuous records and with its first meeting on the 1st of January, 1783, it became the first such Chamber in the UK. A Chamber of Commerce or Board of Trade is a form of business network; an organisation of local businesses whose goal is to further their mutual interests. Local owners in towns and cities formed such local societies in order to advocate on behalf of their business community. The incentive for the formation of the Glasgow Chamber derived from the gloomy commercial prospects of late 18th Century Glasgow after the end of the American War of Independence (or Revolution if you prefer) and the loss of the Virginia trade. Cotton spinning was as yet unknown and, in fact, except for a growing traffic with the West Indies and the manufacture of a few domestic fabrics, Glasgow’s trade was fairly limited. It became apparent that opening up new sources of trade and commerce, and establishing direct communication between the trade of the West and the Government and Legislature, would be a good idea. It was the first institution of its kind in the United Kingdom and what Glasgow did in January, 1783, it took Edinburgh nearly three years, until December, 1785, to copy.
At that first meeting in 1783, which was held in the Town House, the Chairman, Patrick Colquhoun, Glasgow’s Lord Provost, submitted the proposed constitution, which he had drafted. That stated that the Association be established on the most liberal and equitable foundation, and that it should include in its membership the merchants of the principal towns in the west of Scotland. The Constitution outlined eight principle goals or intentions, which included the development of systems to protect and improve those branches of Trade and Manufactures “peculiar to this country”; regulation in “all matters respecting any branch of Trade or Manufacture”; affording aid to members and “interposing the weight and influence of the Directors” in matters relating to Parliament and “the King’s Ministers”; consideration of the ‘Corn Laws’ as “being of the utmost consequence” to “this part of the United Kingdom”; and in general, to “take cognisance of every matter and thing that shall be in the least degree connected with the interests of Commerce”.
The Chamber’s early priorities were to raise the quality of goods produced and to lobby the Government to lower taxes, reduce tariffs and abolish smuggling. The Chamber also fiercely opposed the East India Company’s trade monopoly with India and all territories beyond the Cape. After the first meeting in the Town House, the Glasgow Chamber’s early meetings were held at the Tontine Tavern, then at premises in Virginia Street. Later, in 1877, it moved to offices in its present home, the Merchants House. The Chamber was first incorporated by Royal Charter, granted by George III on the 31st of July, 1783, which out the its powers and privileges. A new Charter, obtained on the 28th of July, 1860, was deemed necessary, because of the growth of the City and the extension of trade and manufactures. Supplementary Charters were granted by Queen Victoria, Edward VII and Elizabeth II.
Patrick Colquhoun was an interesting character. By the time he was twenty-one, he had experienced the heyday of the Virginia trade and when he returned to Glasgow, in 1766, he set up his own business as a merchant. He was elected Lord Provost in 1782 and it was his estate of Kelvingrove that now forms the greater part of Glasgow’s spacious West End Park.
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