Jan 29 2010
Heave Awa’, lads!
Edinburgh’s Royal Mile is amazing – a medieval street built on a crag-and-tail ridge of volcanic rock, with the castle and the head and the Palace of Holyroodhouse at the tail. Running off the spine are dozens of closes – narrow, steep, cobbled alleyways where many a secret lurks.
In the Old Town today (comprising the Royal Mile, Cowgate and Grassmarket), there are approximately 6,000 residents. In 1850 there were 60,000. The medieval buildings were tall and narrow, sometimes reaching twenty storeys high. At the top of the close, the bit that faced onto the Royal Mile, there might be six or seven storeys; but the roofs of the buildings were level, which meant by the time you got down to the bottom of the close, the tenements were towering above you. Raw sewage was thrown from the windows (with the cry of ‘Gardyloo!’) and would run down the close to the pool of stinking filth below, the Nor’ Loch, now Princes Street Gardens.
In 1861 the closes of the High Street were disease-ridden, overcrowded and neglected – all the wealthy inhabitants had made the move across to the swanky Georgian New Town, where they had their own front door and streets wide enough to turn a coach and four without unhitching the horses. The poor remained in the medieval Old Town and conditions were insanitary and congested.
Half way down the High Street, a local baker had his premises: a shop and bakery on the ground floor, and his house the level above. Attempting to increase the size of his ovens, he set about knocking down several walls. Unfortunately the walls were load-bearing, and were essential for the stability of the building – a stone-built tenement some 12 storeys high. It is testament to the medieval builders’ skills that the structure stayed up as long as it did, but within 48 hours the building began to submit to gravity. The residents of the surrounding streets were awoken in the small hours by a deep rumbling and an ear-splitting crack as the tenement buckled under its own weight and came crashing to the ground. Folk from all the houses round about rushed out with lamps and shovels and tried to pull away the rubble to see if there were any survivors.
Before the night was over, 35 bodies had been pulled from the wreckage. It became increasingly clear that no-one could possibly have survived such a devastating event. The rescuers wiped their faces, blew out their lamps as dawn broke, and prepared to head for home and get ready for their normal day. Just as they were turning away, someone caught a faint sound……a voice, very faint, buried deep beneath the rubble. They shouted back, and heard it again, a distant but definite human voice. With renewed vigour and hope, the High Street residents rolled up their sleeves and started to dig for all they were worth. Ton after ton of rubble was dragged away, and the voice of young Joseph McIvor could be heard loud and clear. The 14 year old boy did not actually live in the building – he had been visiting an uncle, who sadly perished in the collapse. Joseph began to encourage his rescuers, and they in turn shouted to him to raise his spirits – in response to the diggers’ shouts, he yelled back ‘Heave awa’ lads! I’m no deid yet!’
Joseph McIvor was the only survivor of the tragedy. His father was so thankful to God for sparing his son, and so grateful to his rescuers, that when the new Paisley Close was built on the site of the old houses, he had a special door lintel carved, showing his son and the words he had shouted from under the rubble. So that the words would be understood by all, they were slightly modified, so the close bears the legend ‘Heave awa chaps, I’m no dead yet!’
In the light of this terrible event, the City Council took it upon themselves for the first time to draw up some form of building controls, and it also prompted them to address the issue of overcrowding in Edinburgh’s Old Town. Now visitors from all over the world stand and admire Joseph McIvor; I hope none of them have the cheek to criticise modern Health and Safety laws!
20 responses so far
Another great story…am enjoying each one. Keep it up please.
Thank you Bobbi - I’m enjoying writing them! Don’t know if I can keep up the one-a-day level after January, but I’ll certainly do my best to post a couple a week. It’s nice to know somebody’s reading them
Fascinating story, SD!
Excellent, SD, what a good story. I must look out for that when I go to Edinburgh again. More seriously, this is the other side of the Health and Safety coin, and a very salutary reminder of what happens when all the (often petty) rules are not there.
I am also impressed by your series of blogs - surely you’ll run out of inspiration soon?!
The Dragon goes from strength to strength!!!
fantastic blog–yet again!!!I for one hope you don’t run out of tales to tell. Thinking of the phrase “gardyloo” I was/have been told so many times that in actual fact the phrase orginally was “gardez-vous”each time I reply”in history lessons at school it was gardyloo,but apparantley thats wrong: maybe you can tell me the true version
Great, I love your tales, lets have some more.
Taddoe (and indeed all), my understanding was that the original cry was ‘Gardez l’eau!’ - except of course, what was thrown oot the windae was seldom water…..
Thank you all for your nice comments - I hope I don’t run out of inspiration either!
the expression”gardyloo” does seem more appropiate somehow
That was my understanding too, SD, although why the Edinburghers were shouting in French has always puzzled me.
Jill - I think it’s part of the general ‘French connection’ - the Auld Alliance, all that, and Mary Q of S had all French servants (hence Little France) and so on. Lots of Scots words are French - eg ashet for plate.
On the other hand, maybe the ladies of Edinburgh would have been offended by ‘Look out for the sh*t!’
Yes, SD, but I would have thought your average Edinburgher, auld alliance or not, would have been shouting in English/Scots. Unless, as you suggest, it was more polite. And maybe only the more polite citizens bothered to shout at all
Brilliant story. If you want to bring those days back to life, try & visit Mary Kings Close, a re-opened excavated tenement area actually under the royal mile. We were there around Halloween last year, it was a very “atmospheric” visit. the staff all dress in 16th Century outfits and tell you the stories associated with the families who lived there… its a peedie bitty spooky … and great fun !
I like a nice gigot on ma ashet. Vive l’Auld Alliance! Great tale SD. When you run out of tales, there’ll be no more displacement activity…(washes face, stares fixedly, examines paw minutely, stares fixedly, gives face a wipe, stares…) We cats know all about it
the word ashet is derived from the french word “assiette” (plate),which in turn comes from the latin word”assedita”
Hi Mara, thanks for your comment! Re Mary King’s Close…yes, I used to work there, once upon a decade or two ago….
A very timely tale too with all the scenes of the poor Haitian folks pulled from the rubble recently.
I had no idea The Old Town was once home to 60,000 people S.D. Forgive my ignorance but where did they go to? That’s a lot of folks to spread out. Is there a basic answer or is it something that developed over time?
Thanks again for making history fun and informative.
Greg - Edinburgh did get bigger! The 18th century New Town was an amazing and ambitious idea, intended to make Edinburgh twice the size it was. The Old Town had become cramped and insanitary, especially for the upper classes who lived cheek-by-jowl with the lower orders - they soon migrated north to the fresh air of Princes Street, George Street and Queen Street. The design for Edinburgh New Town (an elegant, Georgian grid) came from George Meikle Kemp, a self-taught draughtsman - he did not live to see his plan come to fruition as he was drowned in the Union Canal.
After the success of the first New Town, more new streets were built, particularly in the west of the city - lovely sweeping crescents with tall-ceilinged townhouses.
It was also the case that at the time, it was legal and ‘acceptable’ for dozens of people to share very small rooms, with little in the way of sanitation or health regulations. The same overcrowded slums could be seen in Glasgow, Dundee and other industrialised towns in Scotland.
Well, you did ask!
Indeed I did and I am most grateful for your very informative answer Mrs. Dragon. I have often heard Edinburgh called The Crescent City and now thanks to you I know the origins of that.
The shared rooms you describe sound a lot like the rooms my Uncle told us about in Manhattan in the early 1900’s. He said “you could buy a flop for a quarter.” A flop being a flophouse with lots of rooms filled with mattresses and the loo down the hall or outside, available for 25 cents, or about 10p per night with the same quality health & sanitation as in Edinburgh.
Your wonderful blog is very much appreciated; as is the time your spend with your answers.