The Home of Giants

Edinburgh is a remarkable place.

As soon as I turned the corner onto the Royal Mile, I saw statues of Philosopher David Hume and Economist Adam Smith. I knew I was in the right place. Edinburgh has produced more than its share of thinkers who have changed the world. In the eighteenth century philosopher David Hume cut through much of the sludge that had impeded philosophical studies since the time of the ancient Greeks. He proposed a philosophy which maintained, in effect, that if you see a tree in front of you, the tree is really there, and you really are seeing the tree. His approach eventually became known as the Scottish “Common Sense” school of philosophy. Adam Smith tracked the ebb and flow of capital in his book “The Wealth of Nations,” and identified the currents and eddies that affect the movement of money. The dynamics of the transfer of wealth he described still apply today. They still work, notwithstanding the shouts of short-sighted demonstrators who occupy Wall Street arguing that the bankers are too rich so we must do away with money. Do they not realize that money is nothing more than a token that represents value? Have they no understanding that supply and demand determine value, not the number of coins or bills required to purchase an item?

Forgive me. I rant. But Edinburgh is a remarkable place.

Edinburgh was not only the home of Hume and Smith, however. It was here that Robert the Bruce and John Wallace resisted English tyranny. It was here that the Protestant King James VI of Scotland became King James I of England who authorized an English translation of the Bible we still use today. It was here that his hapless mother, Mary Queen of Scots, was imprisoned and eventually executed by Queen Elizabeth I, even though the Catholic Mary had an arguably stronger claim to the British throne than did her cousin. It was here that we saw five years ago the Royal Edinburgh Tattoo in a castle whose origins go back at least as far as the eighth century. But this was the fortress of James and Mary, of Robert and John. In the last thousand years it has been besieged 28 times. Edinburgh is different from our cities. Our cities have no fortresses; they have never needed them. We may be thankful that they have never been attacked. However, this city, which has been attacked repeatedly, has a character and a ruggedness that New York, Chicago and Los Angeles lack. It was here that tough Reformer John Knox developed a form of Calvinism that produced the Presbyterian Church. It is here in Edinburgh that Queen Elizabeth II resides this week. She is at Holyrood House Castle for her annual official visit to Scotland.

Today we walked and watched people. Some Scottish, some Japanese, German, French, old and young. Some straight, some gay. All beautiful. We boarded a tender, then a bus that brought us to Charlotte Square, the end point of a district called New Town that contains some of the most beautiful, symmetrical, well constructed buildings I have ever seen—all Georgian. But, of course, I must confess that I am outrageously prejudiced. It is my favorite style of architecture, and here it runs for miles. There is more of it here than any other place in the world. Some of the buildings are restored, some need cleaning, but all are stately. Integrated. Substantial. All beautiful.

We walked through Princess Street Gardens. This lovely park contains roses, millions of them. It also contains mementos—of the Norwegian troops recruited here to fight the Nazis, of preacher-philanthropist Thomas Guthrie and of other heroes. Not that these men are not memorable. They certainly are, but statues like theirs can be found in many places. We found here, however, memorials to other saints which I have found nowhere else.

We saw a huge statue of a toy, stuffed elephant with the inscription, “In memory of our precious babies, gone but not forgotten.”

We saw a statue of a large dog. The inscription told us that he was part of a litter born in San Diego, California. His litter mates remained in America, but “Bobby” was brought by his owners here to Edinburgh. He loved this park and came here every day, staying from early morning until it closed at nightfall, greeting visitors with a warm tongue, playing with children who passed by. He became part of Princess Street Gardens, and everyone who came to the park regularly would drop by the area just behind St. Cuthbert’s Church to pat him on the head or toss him a little stick. Bobby loved sticks. He would fetch them, or just lie down and gnaw on them. But he became part of the park. And when he died, the proprietors of the Princess Street Gardens allowed a statue with the dog’s likeness to be erected behind St. Cuthbert’s Church.

You can still come to Princess Street Gardens to see Bobby, or at least his statue. And if you do, you might just toss him a stick. We saw a pile of them today between his paws, brought by his grateful friends who still visit the park.

Edinburgh is a remarkable place. I hope you have an opportunity to come here soon.Read more