On this day, the British attacked the Russian guns in Balaclava on what would inspire the poem 'the charge of the light brigade' byTennyson, a poem that simultaneously praises the brigade whilst mourning the futility of the charge, whilst also criticising the leaders (but in that Victorian way of not naming names).
The Crimean war was one that had a lasting effect on the British public. This was the war that made a name of Florence Nightingale, the nurse and writer and statistician who ran a reform campaign to improve the conditions of sanitation in hosptials.
Curiously, for an event that was so influential on the media of the time, and has remained in our collective memory as a result, I was only able to find two films about it (both called The charge of the light brigade). Apparently the 1936 version is much more historically innacurate than the 1968 version, but that was the intention of the screenwriter as it had based it on research done into the battle,and he had aimed to be realistic. And Britain in the 60s had a strange kind of fascination with the Victorian (and Edwardian) era,probably because it felt quite far away in time but still also quite close - the Empire might have ended in the 50s, but Britain would still be living with the legacy of empire for decades to come; not just in terms of international relations, but also re-defining what Britain was. In the 1960s, it was obvious that the sun had set, but it was still a part of culture, and I think this confusion can be seen in the pop culture of the 60s - interest in the past, but also a reinvention of British icons as something that definitely didn't represent an empire.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Monday, 17 October 2011
Apologies.
For the last week, I have been having technical problems with my blog. For some reason, it was having a problem with the guest blog byDavid Siwik (below). Initially, it wouldn't load up the pictures, and then only some of them, and then it missed out the first line that introduced the author. I've got it fixed now, to what it should have been originally, so hopefully it won't go weird on me again.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Just found an advert in an old Coatbridge and Airdrie advertisier, 1910:
J. LIzars' cinematograph
An entertainment unsurpassed. New subjects - Humorous, Scenic,, Sensational, and Moral Pictures - suitable for consorts, soirees, childrens parties.
LIZARS OPTICAL LANTERNS
Are optically and Mechanically first-class Throughout. Full-sized instruments from 25s. Slides 6d per dozen.
101 Buchanan street, Glasgow.
A cinematograph was a film camera that also acted as a movie projector and a developer. This advert is a little window into the life of Coatbridge in 1910 - there was no local fleapit for the masses to go and watch silent reels yet, so the relatively well off hired them out. Remember, 25 shillings was worth £110 in todays money, back at a time when miners were earning around 30 shillings a week, so this advert is very much an indicator of the class divide in Coatbridge at the time.
J. LIzars' cinematograph
An entertainment unsurpassed. New subjects - Humorous, Scenic,, Sensational, and Moral Pictures - suitable for consorts, soirees, childrens parties.
LIZARS OPTICAL LANTERNS
Are optically and Mechanically first-class Throughout. Full-sized instruments from 25s. Slides 6d per dozen.
101 Buchanan street, Glasgow.
A cinematograph was a film camera that also acted as a movie projector and a developer. This advert is a little window into the life of Coatbridge in 1910 - there was no local fleapit for the masses to go and watch silent reels yet, so the relatively well off hired them out. Remember, 25 shillings was worth £110 in todays money, back at a time when miners were earning around 30 shillings a week, so this advert is very much an indicator of the class divide in Coatbridge at the time.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Guestblog
A guest post by David Siwik, MA History:
GLASGOW ARCHITECTURE – “THE SECOND CITY” OF THE EMPIRE
GLASGOW ARCHITECTURE – “THE SECOND CITY” OF THE EMPIRE
A few years ago, someone told me “the reason why Glasgow’s architecture is so varied and in many ways experimental is because Edinburgh is like a giant museum only forty miles away. This is why Glasgow has been repeatedly ruined architecturally…we still have that giant museum to architecture a few miles away. So, who cares if Glasgow has been laid waste to a bunch of concrete blocks and ugly, incoherent glass structures?” I did not at the time, nor do I agree now, that looking across the city, it has been ruined architecturally. Yes, there are the monstrous council estates that dot the city. And, I will admit, the first time I arrived in Glasgow, looking out the window of the plane as it was on its three mile final, I was dismayed at the preponderance of tall concrete blocks. Yet, to say that Glasgow has been ruined, to say that the concrete block is all that defines Glasgow architecture, and to suggest the city cannot hold its own when it comes to architectural history if it is compared with Edinburgh are all equally inaccurate statements.
Thus, I present to you a visual walkthrough of the important historical structures that, in my opinion, make Glasgow architecture interesting, historical, and significant. Being a historian, I like chronology, so these entries will be chronological, beginning with the Middle Ages and going through the nicer examples (yes, there are plenty) of twentieth-century Glasgow architecture. This visual walkthrough will be presented over several entries, beginning with the Middle Ages and Early Modern period. By the end, we will get to some of the more recent buildings in the city.
MEDIEVAL/EARLY MODERN GLASGOW
Not a lot of Medieval or early-Modern era architecture in Glasgow remains, this is true. But it is also true that no city in Britain remains entirely as it was during the Middle Ages. The Middle Ages were a long time ago, and most British cities, like Glasgow, experienced their greatest growth from the mid-eighteenth through the nineteenth century. Yet, you do not have to labor to find what does remain of Glasgow’s medieval architecture. And, as it turns out, what remains is really, really…well, old.
Glasgow Cathedral, built ca. late-1100s through mid-1200s with substantial modifications lasting to 1600
Glasgow Cathedral: One of the finest, and few fully in-tact, surviving Gothic cathedrals or churches in Scotland. This church was built between the late-twelfth century and the mid-thirteenth century, with substantial modifications in the centuries that followed. Glasgow Cathedral, like any building that has survived for 800 years and is still used for the same basic purpose it was built, as been modified somewhat. Yet, the transept, nave and exterior stonework are classic European Gothic architecture, and offer the visitor to this fine edifice a true walk back in time. The cathedral was built (and thus still stands) one of the taller hills in the city. While the area around it was built up substantially beginning in the mid-1700s, the Cathedral itself, as well as the Cathedral Close remain one of the few areas of the city that have remained more or less in tact since the Middle Ages. While the view of the River Clyde one would have enjoyed from the cathedral close 800 years ago has long since been obscured by buildings, climb the tall hill behind the cathedral in the necropolis, and you can imagine what the view must have been like when the church was built (minus the 20 storey council towers in the background).
Tron Kirk Steeple – Trongate, 1631
Tron Kirk – The steeple is all that remains of a church originally built in the 1500s. The steeple was incorporated into a newer church built on the same site as the old one in the 1700s. This is located not far from what remains of Glasgow Cross, and is one of the oldest structures in the city. The pastel colours, especially the blue clock, and the incorporation into the early-modern streetscape would have been typical of the narrow streets of Glasgow of the 1600s. Now a days, the Trongate is one of the wide, and busy shopping streets in the Merchant City area of Glasgow’s city centre. And, as you can see in the above photo, the kirk steeple makes for a convenient way of getting out of the drizzle on a gloomy afternoon.
The original city centre, if you will, of Glasgow was where what remains of the city’s cross. This is located where High Street and Trongate meet in the Merchant City. The tall structure at the centre of this picture is the Tollbooth Steeple. It was built 1625-1627 and designed by John Boyd. In Glasgow, like other European cities, the town cross was the centre of the action, if you will. Here once stood a debtors prison, the city’s main tollbooth, and this was the location of the many public executions that at one time served as a means of both punishment and entertainment. A fire destroyed most of the building that this steeple was once attached to. With its blue clock and seven stories, it not only matches the Tron Kirk Steeple, but it also provides a most unique parking island in the middle of a busy city.
Edinburgh and Stirling aren’t the only Scottish cities with a medieval castle. Although not as palace like as the Edinburgh or Stirling Castles, Glasgow’s Cathcart Castle has its own unique history. Perhaps it is Its location in a residential neighbourhood on the southwest side of the city that makes this one of the city’s least known about historical sites. Regardless, it is an historic and important structure worth making the effort to get to. This castle was initially constructed in the 1400s by the Cathcart family and was transferred to the Semple family in the mid-1500s. Supposedly, Mary Queen of Scots stayed in the castle before the Battle of Langside in 1568. What remains of the castle are essentially the foundations, as many of the ruins were torn down years ago by Glasgow City Council. However, as the pictures show, there is still much to see.
This concludes a very brief overview of three of the more interesting buildings in Glasgow. These four are of the handful from the Middle Ages and Early Modern period that survive. My next entry will contain pictures of Glasgow from the early industrial period…stay tuned.
A scottish murder - part 2
Earlier, I write a post about a book that makes the case that Madeline Smith did not murder her lover, but I didn't really go into details about the case itself.
Scene of Emiles death, 1st floor up above the door |
Anyway, here is the case for the prosecution:
- L'Anglier definitely was blackmailing her.
- Madeline has the motive to poison L'Angelier. Madeline repeatedly bought arsenic in this period.
- L'Angelier dies of arsenic poisoning.
- L'Angelier frequently mentions suspicions that Madeline is poisoning him.
Case for the defence:
Madelines house, 3 years later |
- L'Angelier was an arsenic eater, which he consumed because he believed it gave him health benefits. It is possible that he consumed it as part of his blackmail attempt, believing himself to be more immune to its poison than your average person.
- At the autopsy, L'Angeliers stomach was found to contain 87 grains of arsenic. That's way too much for him to have swallowed and not to have been aware.
Case for ambiguity:
- When the arsenic was autopsied from his stomach, the coroner did not check the colour of the arsenic, he only checked for the presence of arsenic. If he had checked for colour, this would have indicated the source of the arsenic poisoning (it would certainly have confirmed or denied the case for the prosecution, that it was fed to him through hot chocolate).
Again, I have no idea if Madeline Smith did it. She had a lot to lose socially, and she did buy a lot of arsenic. On the other hand, Emile's behaviour was downright odd in the weeks and months leading up to his death. But then, this is what makes it one of those mysteries that'll never go away.
Labels:
Blytheswood square,
Emile L'Angelier,
Madeline smith
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
A Scottish Murder, part 1.
I've been reading a book on the Madeleine Smith story (the title of this blog), and in it the author (Jimmy Powdrell Campbell) makes the interesting claim that she was actually innocent. I have no idea if this is true, but he does make some good points, which I'll post, as I continue to read the book.
In case anyone isn't familiar with the story, a young Glasgow Victorian socialite has an affair with an older Frenchman (Emile L'Angelier), she jilts him, he threatens to tell her family, and she poisons him with arsenic. That she was guilty is the prevailing consensus, because she did act oddly - the houseboy reported her as wanting arsenic as soon as she got the blackmail letters. She claimed it was for cosmetic purposes, but she did get rather a lot of arsenic in the period Emile was dying, and the claim that she did really use it for cosmetic was disputed in court as being quite unusual.
But...
In the murder trial, it turned out Emile was an 'arsenic eater', someone who consumed small amounts of arsenic in the belief that this promoted good health. And when Madeleine went to buy arsenic, she would go with a friend, and use her real name in the poisons register (a book that you had to sign if you bought poison), indicating that either a) she was careless, or b) not intending to use it for poison.
I will post more on this as I read more of the book! Because it is fascinating - Glasgow in the Victorian period is an amazing time in the city's history. Glasgow in the 19th century was undergoing massive expansion and refinement as a result of empire, world-class education, and of civic pride. There were protests and disorder, terrible poverty and a feeling that things had to get better. On top of this, there was an absurdly-respectable upper class, effectively living in another world. And when this case happened, the world did pay attention - this repeatedly made the international news when it came to court. The book makes a good effort to describe what's happening beyond the particulars of the case, which fleshes out the world that these real people lived in.
In case anyone isn't familiar with the story, a young Glasgow Victorian socialite has an affair with an older Frenchman (Emile L'Angelier), she jilts him, he threatens to tell her family, and she poisons him with arsenic. That she was guilty is the prevailing consensus, because she did act oddly - the houseboy reported her as wanting arsenic as soon as she got the blackmail letters. She claimed it was for cosmetic purposes, but she did get rather a lot of arsenic in the period Emile was dying, and the claim that she did really use it for cosmetic was disputed in court as being quite unusual.
But...
In the murder trial, it turned out Emile was an 'arsenic eater', someone who consumed small amounts of arsenic in the belief that this promoted good health. And when Madeleine went to buy arsenic, she would go with a friend, and use her real name in the poisons register (a book that you had to sign if you bought poison), indicating that either a) she was careless, or b) not intending to use it for poison.
I will post more on this as I read more of the book! Because it is fascinating - Glasgow in the Victorian period is an amazing time in the city's history. Glasgow in the 19th century was undergoing massive expansion and refinement as a result of empire, world-class education, and of civic pride. There were protests and disorder, terrible poverty and a feeling that things had to get better. On top of this, there was an absurdly-respectable upper class, effectively living in another world. And when this case happened, the world did pay attention - this repeatedly made the international news when it came to court. The book makes a good effort to describe what's happening beyond the particulars of the case, which fleshes out the world that these real people lived in.
Labels:
arsenic.,
blackmail,
Emile L'Angelier,
Glasgow,
Madeleine Smith,
Victorian
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