5-6 November 2005
First Impressions
The National Express bus from London pulled into the city in the early hours of dawn. The august settings of surrounding hills formed a backdrop against which the castle battlements were silhouetted dramatically on top of a cliff. The quiet streets and the pervading peace that is rare in capital cities immediately endeared me to Edinburgh. The firth was visible in the distance. The National Monument at the top of Calton Hill held me spellbound. A walk in the public gardens along Princes Street was beautiful. The roses were still in bloom. I felt the Scott Monument to be a Gothic masterpiece and one of a kind. The sun was just beginning to dress the roofs and chimneys with its radiance. The sky was clear. The day had begun a lot better than I had left London.
The City from the Air
It is rare to be able to see a whole city without actually being in the air. Such is what I’ve achieved today from the hills around the capital, notably from Arthur’s Seat. From Calton Hill the view of Princes Street is an pleasing one. The monuments on this hill cannot easily be appreciated when on the same hill. They are better presented both in form and context from other hills, those that demark the limits of Holyrood Park.
Here is an interesting observation in comparison with a couple of my recent visits. At Stourhead we have classical monuments within a conceived natural setting. At Winkworth we have a similar natural setting bit without the monuments. Here at Edinburgh these monuments stand together alone, not to enhance a natural landscape but to create landscape of their own.
From these hills the whole city opens up like an architectural plan rolled out on a table. The buildings look neatly arranged, well laid out though thickly packed. Architectural merits abound in both old and new. The view of the castle remains a focal point. Then comes everything else vying for attention, in its own space at least. The monuments, towers, spires, domes and even the obelisk from the Old Calton Burial Ground call for attention. Distant hills, the peaks therein, the Bass Rock on the horizon, the firth and its bridges and the variations within the man-made landscape complete the picture. The hills here are not to be taken lightly. Their terrain is rocky and the slopes steep at places. Altogether, the hills have the respectable character of mountains.
The Enigma of Seven
They say there are seven hills around Edinburgh. They say the same of Rome. At least that’s what my guidebook claims. What’s in this number seven, I wonder?
In Indian epics it is common for heroes to cross the seven seas. The holy Indian city of Tirupati is surrounded by seven hills. Mention is made of the Seven Sisters in Southern England although some books mention that there are actually eight. Why are there seven sins? What about the seven wonders of the world or the seven notes in music? Are there not seven colours in white light? Why did God take exactly six days to create the world so that he could have a deserved rest on the seventh? Thus do we not have seven days in a week? What precedence did Shakespeare find to speak of the seven ages of man in “As You Like It”? Finally let us not forget the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
Is there something special about seven or is this a strange coincidence? Is it a deliberate attempt to reduce everything to this number that holds a romantic fascination by tradition? If so, how did such a tradition start and in what culture?
Edinburgh, Then and Now
After a day in Edinburgh the magic of the morning and the favourable first impression that prevailed have lost their appeal. Once I saw MacDonalds, Tescos, O2 and the like, I knew I had not come far.
The whole city wears a dark and gloomy appearance. This comes from the stones that wear the black face of pollution. The streets are narrow in a congested way. They are not the narrow streets that we find so agreeable in little country villages. They have too many intersections making life difficult for the pedestrian. Traffic is heavy. There is no underground but the bus network seems to be doing an excellent job. There is no beauty here. The atmosphere is sombre, almost depressing. The quadrangle at the Edinburgh University is as depressing as it can get. It is a wonder that students can actually be inspired to study in such a building.
The city shows us its past clearly. The hardships of the common people of past generations, their labours, their deplorable living conditions, the overall filth and congestion are not perhaps felt by today’s generation but the city has not forgotten them. It appears that if walls can have ears they can have a tongue too. They tell us the past but in whispers drowned in a modern noise. The settings are as splendid as ever but the gem has lost its lustre. The only redeeming feature seems to be the friendly people. Here too there is a doubt because no general conclusion of a population can be made in a day’s interaction.
A walk out of the city centre is a good thing. The buildings are plainer, a little more recent but architecturally less interesting. With this comes an opening of space. The crowds are less. The roads are quieter. The occasional glimpse of the Salisbury Crags is inferior only to being on top of them. At a deserted cemetery in Grange – deserted in the sense of the living, not the dead – I found an often repeated symbol other than the cross: a classical urn covered by a piece of cloth.
If the popular tourist attractions tell us of royalty and aristocracy, the People’s Story is an eye-opener. This museum relates the lives of the common people, people like me who have to struggle every breath of their lives to survive and improve. The fish-wife living in 1953 worked 11 hours a day, her creel loaded to 140 pounds. Such creels were carried by creel-bands of cloth or leather slung across the forehead. The town crier with the town drummer made public announcements such as a forthcoming spectacle of an execution. The story of Thomas Muir is related. He was tried and executed for sedition and his only fault was to campaign for universal suffrage. The maltsters who once found well-paying jobs have been replaced by machines. The effect of World War II in empowering and liberating women was unexpected. Women suddenly found themselves capable of doing jobs previously thought possible only by men.
Thus, Edinburgh is a great place for the tourists. It is a destination for a short visit. It has many architectural treasures. The monument to Sir Walter Scott is my favourite. It has many fine statues. The one of Alexander and Bucephalus (his horse) has captured my fascination. It is a good starting point towards learning Scottish history and culture. But there is no charm, no magnetic allure to compel a longer stay.
Without Itinerary
This visit has not been a customary one. I didn’t have much time to plan the limited hours of my brief stay. I had a vague idea of visiting the galleries or the castle but nothing had been decided for sure. No definite allocation of time had been made. It was expected that two days would hardly be enough to see everything but sufficient to get a fair idea of the city and its history. In any case, I am likely to pass Edinburgh in future, en route to my greater travels in Scotland.
One of the faults of not planning is to miss out on worthy places of interest. These are missed either because one is unaware of their existence or their opening times. Thus it happened that I visited St Giles Cathedral in the evening for an organ recital. Unfortunately, at this time the Thistle Chapel was closed.
The flip side of not planning offers an excitement that is hard to equal. To travel without an itinerary is not about enjoying a holiday. It is all about discovery of people, culture and oneself. It is not about travelling to see something specific, be it popular, precious or interesting. It is all about travelling without expectations, to see what is present, to witness what one encounters and to observe things as they are. Indeed, to travel without a predisposed plan is to be impartial and open-minded. It is to let the moment determine the next step. I can hardly be new to this thinking. Back in the 14th century when the famous traveller Ibn Battuta left his town of Tangier he could have barely planned or expected the shape and form of his travels. He could have never known the cultures and kingdoms he would traverse in the coming years. His was truly a journey of discovery into the unknown. Such comments apply equally to Fa Hsien and Al Beruni. Such should and can be the pursuit of every modern traveller. One must travel to discover, not to merely see what is written in travel books or visit places praised in television travel programmes.
So it happened that once I left the bus station at Edinburgh I was immediately attracted to the Scott Monument. From here a walk along the Princes Street Gardens was an enjoyable one. On turning back, the view of Nelson Monument on Calton Hill and the National Monument beyond acted like a magnet. Soon I found myself walking towards them. On the way I discovered the Old Calton Burial Ground. Here I learnt that David Hume hails from this city. Here I saw some connection between the American Civil War and Scotland – Abraham Lincoln stands on a pedestal looking forward with determination while a slave stretches out an arm and looks up to him with hope. Four words are embossed on the pedestal:
EDUCATION
UNION
SUFFRAGE
These are accompanied with the following quote:
To preserve the jewel of liberty in the framework of freedom.
Nearby stands an obelisk that honours local political martyrs. Once on the summit of Calton Hill I realised that the Salisbury Crags weren’t that far. While walking towards them I passed the monument dedicated to the famous poet, Robert Burns. The climb up to the crags wasn’t difficult and with a little more effort it was rewarding to get to Arthur’s Seat. When I eventually descended to Holyrood Park a visit to the palace happened as everything else, without forward planning. Opposite the palace is a modern building housing the Scottish Parliament. It is artistic and beautiful. The motifs on the exterior seem to suggest the solidarity of the people and democratic principles of a nation.
The next day saw me walking the streets without reference to a map, without destination or without purpose save the simple joy of following where curiosity leads.
The Palace of Holyroodhouse
The first thing to note is the name. We may think of it as a palace but for kings and queens it is no more than a house, a simple house of four walls lined with portraits and a simple roof plastered to necessary details.
The palace did not impress. It did not spring any surprises. After a year in Britain, the general scheme of layout, decorations and architectural ornaments have become too familiar. The plastered ceilings are certainly stunning but too ornate for my taste. The tapestries are the work of skilled craftsmen but they are too worn-out and little uplifting. The long Picture Gallery has little remarkable in its paintings. More remarkable is a well-crafted chair made of bog oak, a type of hard and brittle oak that has been submerged in a bog for over 1000 years. The Dining Room is the only room I really liked. It was bright, cheerful and elegant. The quadrangle is a revelation of classical conventions – the ground floor columns are of the simple Doric order, the first floor columns are of the Ionic order that has a little more style, while above them are columns with elaborate Corinthian capitals.
The palace has many notable paintings. The exaggerated portrait of Charles I by David Metyns effectively disguises the diminutive presence of the king. The portraits of Charles II and his wife Catherine of Braganza by Sir Peter Lely are of curious interest. This interest lies in their role in forwarding the fortunes of the British East India Company, something with which every student of Indian history is familiar. Bombay became part of the British Crown when Catherine brought it with her as marriage dowry in 1661. This came into the hands of the Company in 1668. Who can guess how the rest of Indian history would have turned out if not for this marriage?
Outside the palace is The Queen’s Gallery that exhibits watercolours and drawings from the collection of Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother. This too had many wonderful pictures. I remember admiring the works of John Piper at Tate Britain. Once more I was thrilled to see his work, this time ominous war time views of Windsor Castle. Never have there been paintings true to an age, intensely reflecting the emotions and fears of a nation under threat. Once more I am inspired to try my hand with watercolours.
Finally, the abbey adjacent to the palace could not be overlooked. It is in a ruinous state but it has enough substance to inspire. The day had been exciting already and the overnight bus ride from London was beginning to have its effect. I was too tired for inspiration of any sort. I had to satisfy myself with knowing that Mendelssohn was inspired at this abbey to compose his Scottish Symphony. The least I can do over the week is to listen to this.
I took my leave of the palace but not before enjoying a good lunch at the palace cafe. The main course was shreds of salmon mixed with mashed potato, formed into cakes that had been lightly pan-fried. It was lovely. For starter I had yellow split lentil soup. This was nothing more than North Indian daal or South Indian sambar. The difference is that in Indian cuisine many spices are used. These hide the basic flavour that is in yellow lentil. While these have an almost watery consistency, the soup I tasted today had a creamy consistency and true to the flavour that is of its main ingredient. I make no claim that one is better than the other. Each has its role – one as a starter, the other as accompaniment to the main course. Interestingly, in Singapore the same stuff is cooked to a sweet dessert called tau suan, which is one of my favourites.
The Art Collections
For most of Sunday I was in the National Gallery of Scotland and the Royal Scottish Academy. It is impossible to comment and analyze. Here I record some brief thoughts:
- Once again, as in the National Gallery in London, I was bored with paintings of “The Virgin and The Child” or “The Adoration of the Shepherds”.
- Turner’s “Bell Rock Lighthouse” is brilliant. I wonder if this is in someway connected to Robert Southey’s poem “The Inchcape Rock”.
- The face of Mrs Graham is unforgettable. Should it be thanks to God or to Thomas Gainsborough? To me, this is the most memorable painting of this visit.
- Antonio Canova’s “The Three Graces” is a study of composition. The central figure embraces the other two, thereby making the whole composition a close-knit group. The flow of arms and folded drapery brings them closer to make a more intimate picture. This is not a wall piece or a corner piece. This is a centrepiece; that is, there is beauty in every angle.
- Claude Lorrain’s “Landscape with Apollo and the Muses” reminded me very much of Stourhead.
- To study all the subplots in “The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania” would easily require an hour or two.
- Gen. Sir David Baird stands in a romantic pose over the body of Tipu Sultan. We must remember that this painting was commissioned by Lady Baird. Who is to say who is the greater hero? To the Scottish, William Wallace is a hero; but not to the English.
