Not a drop of rain this morning and although it is only 10o it felt warmer. On our way to Glasgow for our last night in Scotland. We stopped enroute at Blantyre to visit the David Livingstone birthplace and museum (a distant relative of Elizabeth it is believed – her father, grandfather and great-grandfather all had Livingstone as their middle name). And we happened to be there on his 210th birthday! It is all set on 11 acres of land and although the original buildings have had some work done to them, particularly to enable a very interesting walk-through timeline and display, the room he was born in has not been touched. Eight people lived in that room at one time.
Information
about his upbringing, his education (including his training as a doctor to
supplement his missionary training – opposed by his missionary father), his
spreading of Christianity to the African natives, his expeditions (both
successful and unsuccessful), his campaigning to abolish slavery, his love of
and curiosity about all things related to nature, were laid out in detail, with
photographs, dioramas and sketches. He
died in 1873 while in Africa, at age 60, and such was the devotion of his
native followers that he was embalmed then carried on a litter for 1,000 miles
over a period of nine months before being shipped back to England, where he was
afforded a state funeral and buried in Westminster Cathedral. His heart was buried under a tree in
Africa. A fascinating man who presented
a paradox: he worked to improve the lives of the African people; he campaigned
vigorously against slavery and contributed in no small way to the British
government decision to actually enforce its 1933 ban on slavery. On the other hand, his later expeditions,
financed by the British government, were for the express purpose of showing how
ripe the country was for development. Of
course this led to colonisation and exploitation, by Britain and several other
European countries, of the inhabitants who have only regained independent
control of their traditional lands in the past several decades. And now
Elizabeth has a lot more research to do to settle her connection to the
Livingstone legacy.
On the road
again and a drive through the small town of Airdrie, where Elizabeth’s father
was born and lived for a brief time.
We spent
the afternoon visiting Glasgow Cathedral and the Necropolis. The Cathedral, opened in 1197, is the oldest
cathedral in mainland Scotland and the oldest building in Glasgow and is the
only major church to have survived the English Reformation intact. It was built
on the site of the original small church of Saint Mungo (also known as Saint Kentigern
– we mentioned him yesterday). It is
huge, Gothic in style, with high vaulted ceilings and an unusual array of three
vaulted aisles around the presbytery and choir.
We came across a plaque dedicated to a Professor Andrew Ure – a
Professor of Chemistry, not an Adjunct Professor of Intelligence Studies.
The
Necropolis, behind the cathedral is enormous and stretches up over a hill, with
steep tiered, ground. It contains a
memorial to William Wallace (of course), the grave of William Miller, author of
Wee Willy Winky and a memorial to John Knox and headstones of countless numbers
of Andersons.
We later
checked into our digs – the GoGlasgow Hotel - for our last night in Glasgow.
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