Late Edwin Morgan urged MSPs to make Scotland great again. Oh well ...
How time flies. It first took wing for Edwin on 27 April 1920 when he was born in the West End of Glasgow, the only child of middle-class, respectable Madge and Stanley, the latter being first clerk then director in a small firm of iron and steel merchants.
Stanley and Madge financed their son's membership of several city book clubs, through which he discovered The Faber Book of Modern Verse, a 'revelation' to him.
After attending the city's high school, Edwin went to Glasgow Yoonie in 1937, formally studying French and Russian, while self-educating in Italian and German. Called up in 1940, he dismayed his parents by declaring himself a conscientious objector, as distinct from a lackadaisical one, but reached a moral compromise by becoming a non-combatant in the Royal Army Medical Corps.
After returning from service in Egypt, Lebanon and Palestine, he graduated with a first in English Literature in 1947 and became a lecturer at the university, where he worked until retirement as a professor in 1980.
A first slim version of verse, The Vision of Cathkin Braes and Other Poems, was published in Glasgow by William MacLellan in 1952. That year, his Beowulf: A Verse Translation into Modern English was also published.
LORD OF LINGO
TEACHING at yoonie, Morgan quickly established a reputation as a translator (into Scots and English) of verse, with a special interest in Russian. He could also manage Latin, Spanish, Portugese, German, French, Italian and, er, Hungarian. His Collected Translations, published in 1996, runs to nearly 500 pages.
In 1962, he moved out of the parental home to his own flat in Anniesland. That year, he wrote 'The Death of Marilyn Monroe', which later appeared in The Second Life collection, which came out to acclaim in 1968 and won the Cholmondeley Award for Poetry.
Second Life also included 'King Billy', about violent sectarian nutter Fullerton of that ilk, 'The Computer's First Christmas Card' – prescient or what? – 'In the Snack Bar', about a helpless pensioner standing 'in his stained beltless gaberdine like a monstrous animal caught in a tent', the sci-fi themed 'In Sobieski's Shield', and the romantic 'Strawberries' ('There were never strawberries/like the ones we had/that sultry afternoon').
The years 1972 and 1973 saw publication of his Glasgow Sonnets, with a famous line about a 'shilpit dog' exemplifying Morgan's belief in the impacts of a single Scots word; Wi the Haill Voice contained his translations of 25 poems by Vladimir Mayakovsky into Scots; From Glasgow to Saturn featured 'The First Men on Mercury', in which a space-explorer encounters feisty Mercurians (possibly of Glaswegian origin; this is their tongue – 'Bawr stretter! Bawr. Bawr. Stetterhawl?'). Angus Calder described the poem as 'a profound statement about language, class and colonialism'.
Morgan's range was wide. He was subtle, funny, serious, sci-fi, traditional, experimental, scholarly, playful. He loved the sound and rhythm of words, and showed himself to be a Glasgow hard man by experimenting with concrete poetry.
Among so many notable poems, 'Glasgow 5 March 1971' concerned a couple pushed through a shop window on Sauchiehall Street, while 'A Good Year for Death' featured five famous folk from popular culture who died in 1977.
EMPIRE STRIKES BACK
EARLY retirement from Glasgow University in 1980 allowed him more time for readings, at which he was clear and witty. In 1982, he was promoted to the rank of officer in the British Empire, at that time still a force for good.
He was also involved in theatre, translating Edmond Rostand's Cyrano into Scots for the Communicado company at the 1992 Edinburgh Festival. His version of Racine's Phèdre played at Edinburgh's Royal Lyceum in 2000, and an original play, AD, on the life of yon Christ, followed in Glasgow the same year. Happily, it was denounced by various clergy.
At the opening of the new Scottish Parliament building in 2004, Liz Lochhead – later Morgan's successor as Makar – read a poem written by him for the occasion, in which he advised: 'Don't let your work and hope be other than great.' MSPs: 'Oh dear, do we have to?'
Edwin was private, sometimes a synonym for lonely, and was by some considered socially awkward, as all decent people are.
Seamus Heaney described his 'unpretentiousness and shyness'. Reportedly, though friendly, he didn't mix much with his contemporaries. He didn't drink much either, which was a shame, and liked to be home in Anniesland in good time for bed.
He reached a new audience after collaborating with Scottish band Idlewild and, in 2007, contributed two pieces to the compilation Ballads of the Book, where writers created poems to be made into songs.
In later life, Morgan was cared for at a residential home. In April 2010, he published a collection called Dreams and Other Nightmares to mark his 90th birthday.
On 19 August 2010, he died of pneumonia in Glasgow. The death was announced by The Scottish Poetry Library. Its director, Robyn Marsack, paid tribute to 'the brightest star in our sky'.
READ MORE:
Robert McNeil: I detest yon Romans but I dig excavating their wee fortlets
RAB MCNEIL'S SCOTTISH ICONS: John Knox – the fiery preacher whose pal got burnt at the stake
(Image: PA)
ECK OF A GUY
FIRST Minister Eck Salmond proclaimed Edwin Morgan a 'great man, an exceptional poet and an inspiration', while UK Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy called him a 'great, generous, gentle genius'.
In his will he left almost £1 million to the Scottish National Party, another £1m for the creation of an annual award scheme for young poets, and £45,000 to friends, former colleagues and charity organisations. The bulk of his wealth had been held in stocks and shares with a Glasgow-based stockbroker.
It was not money that bought him happiness, though. Glasgow did that. The city was his lover, friend and cultural inspiration. In his own words: 'I was born in Glasgow and have lived most of my life there, and whatever image the city has to the outside world, to me it underlies and pervades my feeling at a deep level of identification and sympathy.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Glasgow Times
an hour ago
- Glasgow Times
Glasgow pupil makes final of Scottish national joke contest
Hedi Hemin, a primary four pupil from Knightswood Primary, was among the finalists at the VoiceBox grand final, organised by the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists (RCSLT). The event saw 32 pupils from across Scotland take to the stage, each representing their local authority with a joke performed in front of MSPs, families, and supporters. Hedi Hemin (Image: Supplied) Thousands of jokes were submitted from hundreds of primary schools across the country. Glenn Carter, head of RCSLT Scotland, said: "While the event is full of joy and laughter, its purpose is serious. Read more: Scots are being offered physical 'rain cheques' to help keep their spirits up Nine men charged over mobbing and rioting before Partick Thistle game in Ayr Spider-Man 4 filming to take over Glasgow city centre this summer "Speech, language, and communication are essential skills that underpin a child's learning, relationships, and long-term opportunities. "VoiceBox shines a light on this by showing just what children can achieve when they're supported to express themselves." The competition aims to highlight the importance of early speech, language, and communication development, as well as the value of speech and language therapy. Ezra Pasifull, a Primary Three pupil from Oakbank Primary in Perth and Kinross, was crowned Scotland's funniest young comedian. His winning joke was: "I bought 10 bees but the beekeeper gave me 11 bees. "I asked him why there is an extra bee and he said, because that one's a 'Free Bee!" The final was hosted by Scottish Parliament Presiding Officer, Rt Hon Alison Johnstone MSP, and compered by BBC journalist and comedian Zara Janjua. Johnstone MSP said: "It was a pleasure to welcome so many young people from across Scotland to their Parliament. "Following a strong nationwide competition, I want to congratulate all our finalists. "The effort, imagination, and thought that went into their contributions was extremely impressive. "I'm pleased that once again the Parliament was able to support such a worthwhile competition.' The competition was held at the Scottish Parliament for the second year, following its launch on Blue Monday in January. Each of the 32 finalists received £100 worth of books from sponsors Collins Big Cat, with the winning school bagging £500 worth of books. The runner-up, Freya McVie Branley from St Winning's Primary School, and third-place winner, Craig Speirs from Shortlees Primary School, were awarded £200 worth of books for their schools. They also received toy gift cards, with the winner getting £100, second place £75, and third £50.
Daily Mirror
2 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
'I found out I'm related to Will Young after watching his TV show'
The Pop Idol winner discovered on this week's episode of BBC1's Who Do You Think You Are? that he is related to King Edward I and William the Conquerer - so Mirror man Matt decided to dig into his ancestors too As if Will Young didn't already have reason to be smug, the Pop Idol and two-time Brit Award winner now has something else he can boast about - he's related to royalty. Specifically, King Edward I, his 20-times great-grandfather. Oh, and William the Conquerer too. The singer found out about his kingly lineage filming this week's episode of BBC1 's Who Do You Think You Are? And he's not the only celebrity who, besides being blessed with success, can also add royal blood to their claims to fame. Josh Widdecombe is another, having learned he's also directly descended from Edward I. Before him there was Danny Dyer, who discovered his ancestors include King Edward III, William the Conquerer and French king Louis IX. Then there's Matthew Pinsent – four-time Olympic gold medallist and, it turns out, also related to Edward I, William the Conqueror and one of Henry VIII's wives. What is it about being a celebrity, I wondered, that makes you more likely to have royal relatives? Knowing Will was going to be the latest to fill me with jealousy, I set out to find out if mere mortals like me had any remotely interesting ancestors. In my case, the chances of even finding anyone slightly aristocratic in my family tree seemed pretty bleak. Will was already born with a silver spoon in his mouth, a boarding school boy whose dad was a company director and whose grandad was an RAF flight lieutenant. Most of the relatives I knew about, on the other hand, were proud yet poor Nottinghamshire coal miners and their wives. Still, I set up an account on FindMyPast and added the names of the relatives I knew about over the last 150 years. As the site suggested potential matches based on birth, marriage, baptism and census records, I gradually worked my way back around 12 generations to the mid-1600s. Alas, what I discovered only confirmed my suspicions. My family were paupers, not princes – grafters who toiled for centuries in coal mines, stables, forges and along canals. My great-grandfather, I discovered, was a coal miner loader who had worked his way up to coal hewer - hacking coal from the mine bed by hand, hundreds of metres underground - just like his father and grandfather before him. Earlier still were nailmakers, boatmen, stonemasons and stablemen. Almost all lived and died in Derbyshire, Yorkshire or Lancashire. We were clearly the servants, not the masters. I had more in common with Baldrick than Blackadder. But just as I was about to give up, I stumbled on something unexpected. In the late 1500s, Derbyshire man William Gilbert, my 13th great-grandfather, married Anne Clere - and into a well-known family. The Cleres, it turned out, were an ancient family from Norfolk whose patriarch, Sir Robert Clere, was the High Sheriff of Norfolk and known for his great wealth. Anne's father, Sir Edward Clere, was an MP, but apparently not a very articulate one when speaking in the House of Commons. One diarist wrote how he made '"a staggering [stumbling] speech… I could not understand what reason he made.' He was knighted in 1578 after having Queen Elizabeth I stay over at his home in Thetford, Norfolk, when he entertained her with a theatrical performance and jousting. Fascinated that my family was at least good friends with royalty, I kept digging. Edward's father was Sir John Clere, an MP and naval commander who drowned in August 1557 when his fleet tried to conquer the Orkney Islands, but was beaten back to sea by 3,000 angry islanders. But it was her mother, Alice Boleyn, my 14th great-grandmother, whose name jumped out at me. Sure enough, as I followed the tree, her niece was none other than Anne Boleyn, Queen of England until she was beheaded in 1533 by Henry VIII - and the mother of Queen Elizabeth I. I was astounded - that makes me Elizabeth I's first cousin, 16 times removed. On the other side of the Clere family, however, things were taking a more sinister - but no less fascinating - turn. Sir John Clere's wife, Anne Tyrell, also had royal connections, it turned out, but ones that probably changed the line of succession forever. On her father's side, her grandfather was Sir James Tyrell, a trusted servant of Richard III, who allegedly confessed to the murders of the Princes in the Tower under Richard's orders. James is also portrayed in Shakespeare's Richard III. I was astounded - I studied the play at school and had no idea I was reading about my 17th great-grandfather. Treason and treachery, it seems, ran in the family. His father William was beheaded on Tower Hill in 1462 for plotting against King Edward IV. William's father, Sir John Tyrell of Heron, was High Sheriff of Essex and Hertfordshire and knight of Essex, and three times Speaker of the House of Commons. That my 19th great-grandfather basically once ruled Essex is something I won't be letting people forget in Stansted, where I now live. But it was also through Anne Tyrell's mother's side that I found something even more astonishing. As I followed her line, the names began to get more and more aristocratic, through the Willoughbys, De Welles, Greystokes and Longsprees, until I found…. My 26th great-grandfather, King Henry II. His father was Geoffrey Plantagenet of Anjou and his grandfather, King Henry I. And Henry's father? No other than William the Conquerer - my 29th great-grandfather. And perhaps even more bizarrely, that would make Will Young my 9th cousin, 9 times removed. I'll be inviting him round for tea next week. Genealogists will tell me to calm down - apparently there are about five million people who are descended from William the Conquerer. Establishing myself as the true heir to the British throne could certainly be tricky. But just being as special as Will, Danny Dyer and Matthew Pinsent is enough for me. And not bad for the son of Nottinghamshire nailmakers, stablemen and coal miners. How to trace your family tree on Findmypast: Register for a free Findmypast account and create your tree. Add your own information, then details about your parents, grandparents and other relatives that you know. You don't need every detail such as date or place of birth, but the more you have the better. Findmypast then searches its records and provides hints about your ancestors, helping you expand your tree. To access the records you'll need to pay a subscription. Most of the records go back to the 1700s, but family trees created by other people can help you trace back even further. Use the internet to search some of the key names - you might find more clues and other historical connections.
North Wales Live
3 hours ago
- North Wales Live
I visited laid-back wine bar with a touch of French sophistication
There is something very appealing about simple wooden interiors, which make me want to put down my coat, grab a pew and glug down a refreshing glass of wine. A rustic table and a wine rack, visible from outside, was proving difficult to resist, especially as the sun was shining on a warm Ruthin evening. In the seventies, wine bars emerged as a concept, often seen as a more relaxed and sophisticated alternative to traditional, male-dominated pubs. But what makes a good wine bar now? Well, there's the wine, for starters. Jacques offers a vast selection of classic reds from Bordeaux and Burgundy. Or, you can sip a white wine from the Loire Valley region or swig a fizzy rose from Provence. The bar was absolutely heaving with bottles of the stuff, along with sparkling champagne and a host of different Belgium or European beers. The atmosphere is relaxed; the lights are dim with soft jazz playing in the background. There are paintings of French streets on the wall with peacock art cushions on the pews. We were sat on mis-matched paint splattered chairs, which give off a shabby chic relaxed vibe, and noticed a small roof terrace upstairs, where a few people were chatting and taking advantage of the good weather. Jacques wine bar has gone for Parisian flair with a menu influenced by French classics, which don't really need re-inventing. They include baked Camembert, frog legs or French onion soup for starters or baguettes with various French cheeses for lunch. There are plenty of sharing dishes such as a charcuterie platter, with a selection of cured meats and pâtés, served with homemade chutneys, bread and crackers or a selection of French cheeses. For mains, there are French classics such as beef bourguignon with tender braised beef in red wine with garlic, and puree de pommes de terre or ratatouille with stewed vegetables in a rich tomato sauce served with a warm crusty baguette. We noticed that some customers on the next table ordered the 'Moules Marinières' which was flamed mussels in a bacon butter sauce, with pickled lemon and parsley. They used a crusty bit of their baguette to mop the sauce up and appeared to be really enjoying it. On a Sunday, Jacques offer a variety of roasts served French style, such as a half roast chicken, roast potatoes, seasonal veg, purée de pommes de terre. However, we noticed a deal chalked on a blackboard, which offered their signature Steak Frites with a pint of beer or a glass of wine for just £15. It seemed too good of an offer to turn down. We decided to choose a glass of house white and a glass of house red to go with our Steak Frites. The white wine was tangy and crisp whilst the red wine was fruity and bold. The steak was cooked to our liking 'Medium rare' and was juicy, tender and succulent. The steak knife cut through the pan seared steak like butter and all the juices and flavour sizzled throughout the meat in a perfect haze of rouge. The steak butter was absolutely delicious and we were later told it was a secret recipe, although it seemed to be a combination of bacon, paprika and sage sauce. We were both given a generous portion of French fries and they were crispy and very morish due to a little hint of seasoning. We had a simple mixed lettuce salad on the side of both our plates. We were too happily stuffed for dessert but could see that they offered choices such as lemon tart, served with shortbread and ice cream, salted caramel chocolate pot or cheesecake for around £9. Instead, we sipped our wine and let our food go down as we were in no particular rush to leave. It reminded me of the perfect Parisian evening after a day of sightseeing and winding down with a glass of red. I half expected a man in a stripy t shirt to cycle past the window with some onions over his shoulder. Jacques wine bar has live music at the weekends and also put on a terrific roast. We saw notices for bottomless brunches for £25, which promised cocktails and chaos and a little French mischief for two hours. Yep, this little laid back wine bar has a certain 'Je ne sais quoi' and will leave you feeling full, happy and perhaps a little bit tipsy. The Facts Steak Frites with a glass of wine £15 with a service surcharge of 10% (£3) bringing the total to £33 Atmosphere - Va-Va Voom Car Parking - Limited Street parking or public car park just off St Peter's Square. Service - Confident and laid backed.
