Reflections on a folly.

As a feller with too much times on his hands and a zealous desire to smite porkies and fibs promulgated by those delectable anti-Independence coves in the British media, I was somewhat struck in the awe, when I happened upon an article in the FT t'other day there. The happy journalist one, Kiran Stacey, appeared to be suggesting that not only should Scotland give up all our claims on North Sea oil revenue, but also that we should also assume the debts of all banks and agree to allow the Chancellor of the Exchequer Droit de seigneur with all Scottish women in possession of child bearing thighs, in addition any future offspring born in Auld Scotia from this coupling would be christened Gideon. 

A look at the comments section beneath the article, was akin to wading through a fetid swamp of daily mail gibberish whilst wearing only in a tight fitting mini kilt and a frayed string vest. I was however, struck by some chap going by the appellation 'Bonzo' who seemed to infer that the very notion of Scottish Independence was sheer folly, and cited the National Monument of Scotland as evidence for our genetic propensity to suck, in the old arena of achievement. Now, to be perfectly honest, I'd never given the folly atop Calton Hill in Embra much thought, I'd see it the odd times whilst looking out of an office window in the parliament, or whilst trudging up the hill from Waverley station to the High Street. Being a typical denizen of weegieland it never impinged on my consciousness, other than the thought that Edinburgh isnae very good at finishing things, like err trams and parliament buildings...

So, despite being in possession of a history degree from one of our other ancient seats of learning, I realised this gap in my knowledge and embarked on a wee cyber road of discovery about our National Monument of Scotland.

Francis Watt writing in 1912 in his hugely extensive and pertinent record of 'Edinburgh and The Lothians' describes it thus:

'There are two pretentious and costly structures on the Calton about which it is hard, honestly, to make up one’s mind or purge the soul from prejudice. The first is the National Monument. When, after Waterloo, the minds of men were uplifted, it was determined to commemorate the victory by a great monument—nothing less than to reproduce the Parthenon. The pillars cost £1000 each, but only twelve were completed. Funds failed and the thing stuck. It has ever since been a laughing - stock. "Scotland’s pride and poverty" it was called, but it was not a mere question of money. The great war was too much connected in people’s minds with a system of government and dissolute and selfish rulers to excite real national enthusiasm. It were easy today for many a wealthy Scotsman to complete it; perhaps it will be, and re-dedicated to something else; but then is it not better as it is? Is not the look of ruin a distinct advantage? Ah, but the sham of it all! and that is what imagination boggles at.' 

Hysterical Scotland record its genesis as follows:

'The idea of a National Monument to honour the dead of the Napoleonic Wars was first suggested by the Highland Society of Scotland in 1816. The decision to have a separate monument for Scotland was highly significant culturally and politically. Some argued that the function of commemoration would be more appropriately fulfilled by a single British monument in London. However, following Edinburgh's more overtly pro-Union stance in the later eighteenth century, it was felt by many that Edinburgh, and Scotland in general, although part of the Empire, should be able to express their individuality and national identity. The situation was likened to that of Athens under Roman rule, subsumed into a wider empire, but seen as stronger in terms of intellect and culture. Edinburgh was therefore beginning to be seen as Athens to London's Rome, a claim which was strengthened by Scots achievements during the Enlightenment, and the extensive adoption of the Greek Revival style of the architecture of Edinburgh in the early nineteenth century. '
   
It strikes me as somewhat incongruous that it was the Highland Society who first suggested this hubristic homage to the fallen soldiers, a Parthenon to the cannon fodder who laid down there life for King and Country. I say incongruous, as I'm reminded of the many accounts of near limbless or partially sighted Highland soldiers returning to their ancestral homes from the killing fields of Waterloo to discover the timbers of their house pulled down by the factors of aristocratic estate owners and their families sitting by the quayside waiting on the boat to Canada. Hindsight allows me to suggest that a public subscription to provide homes for Highlanders cleared from their ancestral land, may have been more popular than an attempt to glorify Empire and Union.

The laying of the foundation stone was rushed forward to coincide with Sir Walter Scott's Disneyesque PR exercise in parading the wee fat German Lairdie's great grandson, King George IV, around Edinburgh for a fortnight in August 1822. Jing's it'll be the 190th anniversary later this year! The visit of George IV was reported as a great success, with Scots allowed to wear a somewhat alien form of the tartan again and the tailoring industry coining it in by inventing tartans for lowland aristocracy, determined not to be left out of the Heraldic beano.  Highland clan chieftains determined to show off the pomp and pageantry by having their troops parade through the city and quash rumours of the beastly rumours of a campaign of land clearances. Unfortunately, as the clan chiefs returned from their Southern estates, they were somewhat dismayed to discover that their personal troop numbers were somewhat depleted by the ... err, highland clearances.

This may sound a wee bit familiar, but in 1825-6 a banking crisis hit the financial institutions of both London and Edinburgh. Pleas for additional funding to be made to this vainglorious monument fell on deaf ears. It appears that in 'Regency England' we were indeed all in it together. By 1829 the decision was taken to abandon the project. And there it has sat ever since as a testament to the folly of aristocratic mortals aping the classics.

It has been described throughout the ages variously as 'Edinburgh's Shame', 'Scotland's Disgrace' and rather eloquently as 'The Pride and Poverty of Scotland'. I get what Mr Bonzo of the FT was saying, allusions of the organisation difficulties of combining piss ups and breweries spring to mind about Scotland's compelling ability to shoot ourselves in the collective feet. Naturally there have been many plans to resurrect and complete the Monument atop Calton hill over the last 190 years. They've ranged from the rather touching and humanistic Tibetan peace poles, to further Empire polishing as a tribute to Queen Victoria and even, yes, even, in 1907, further funding was called for to create a lasting monument to the then 200 year old 1707 Act of Union. Oddly enough even 105 years ago at the height of Empire and Union strength, the good burghers of Edinburgh and the citizens of Scotland thought that was stretching credulity too far, and so, there it sits the haunt of tourists, firedancers and the demi monde of Auld Reekie. 

Naturally I doubt Mr Bonzo's slur on Scotland's inability to complete and carry through grand schemes. If anything history teaches us that true achievements come about not through artifice and throwing money at an idea, instead genuine achievement comes from the people, from a movement, who (if you'll excuse me purloining the word) 'unite' behind an idea whose time has come. 

Perhaps if Walter Scott and his noble chums had chosen a different builder to complete the monument it may have been completed and Scotland would have no desire to end the Union and this inate desire for Independence would dwell among the swivel eyed and many tongued. The builder they chose? His company was called 'William Wallace and Sons.'