Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Deutschlandreise by John Irving Deutschlandreise by John Irving. Completing the CAPTCHA proves you are a human and gives you temporary access to the web property. What can I do to prevent this in the future? If you are on a personal connection, like at home, you can run an anti-virus scan on your device to make sure it is not infected with malware. If you are at an office or shared network, you can ask the network administrator to run a scan across the network looking for misconfigured or infected devices. Another way to prevent getting this page in the future is to use Privacy Pass. You may need to download version 2.0 now from the Chrome Web Store. Cloudflare Ray ID: 6616a0dc4988324c • Your IP : 116.202.236.252 • Performance & security by Cloudflare. John Irving. John Irving writes big books. Yes, long novels—longer than most contemporary works you find on the bestseller lists. But big in so many other ways. Big characters, big themes of the day, big and sprawling stories. And, most gloriously, he's got that knack of creating worlds. Give the first fifty pages—sometimes the first five pages—of almost any Irving novel a chance and a small world of people, place and drama takes shape. Read on and the world grows, opening up. Not necessarily with more characters and plots being added (although that is often the case), but in the thickening of the experience, the unfolding of the extraordinary in the everyday. A world of wonders (to coin a phrase from another writer Irving admired). Not everyone gets this with Irving. I didn't at first. I first read the The World According to Garp (1978) because everyone said how great it was. It was Irving's fourth novel, after earlier works had won praise but made little impact, and it was a sensation. Both the critics and ordinary readers seemed to adore it. But I didn't then. It was humorous, all right, and dealt with issues of sexuality that interested me. But I didn't really like it. I was actually offended by it. And I think I know why. I've always been imbued with the Hemingway-Hammett-Chandler approach to modern American writing, which took so much from the old journalism with its terse sentences, plain words, crisp dialogue, understated emotion, write-what-you-know, show-don't-tell, get-to-the-point-and- get-out-quickly. And its cool, casual, colloquial attitude. Few novelists have escaped being influenced by it to some degree. It's part of our culture, the social air that writers breathe along with everyone else in our era. Irving, however, is the anti-Hemingway. He often throws in long sentences with subordinate clauses and fussy punctuation (including his beloved semi-colons). He has no qualms about descriptive passages and lengthy exposition in which the author's voice spells out the back story. He introduces colourful (hot, not cool) characters and puts them through bizarre experiences. Plots twist about, characters are maimed or die grotesquely, coincidences fall intermittently like sun, rain and snow in New Hampshire. One narrative shocker, among the many in The World According to Garp, bothered me particularly in that first reading. And then, some years later, a friend mentioned she liked Irving's work the same way she enjoyed Charles Dickens and others of that long-ago era. I too had been a big fan of those classic English novelists. But, looking back, I realized I had read them with a different mindset than when I approached modern writing. I had expected—and accepted—their more involved, heightened approach to storytelling and I had given them closer, slower readings than I gave new work. So putting aside my modernistic biases, I gave Garp another chance. And, like most of the world, I found it brilliant. And that shocking plot twist—in the second reading, even knowing it was coming—it devastated me. Then it was on to filling in the earlier Irving novels I'd bypassed and onwards through The Hotel New Hampshire (1981), The Cider House Rules (1985), A Prayer for Owen Meany (1989), A Widow for One Year (1998) and all the rest. With comparable results. Especially with The Cider House Rules, in some quarters his most controversial novel (it's often referred to as his abortion novel) but, for me, his most moving work. And most especially with A Prayer for Owen Meany , which works on so many levels: political again (it's his so-called Vietnam War novel), outrageously funny, emotionally affecting, grotesquely shocking and ferociously affirming. The key to his art. By now it's become a cliché of criticism to relate Irving's work to that of Dickens and company. He himself makes the connections in his works, often referencing old novels—more recently in his Last Night in Twisted River (2009), which follows a writer very similar to Irving, though, of course, with a very different, more bizarre and tragic life. Yet, necessary to understanding Irving's appeal, it's got to be said in certain respects he is also quite a modern writer—certainly in his progressively modern characters, his current subject matter, his contemporary settings (mostly twentieth century America). But also in his willingness to push the boundaries of old-style social realism. It should not be a surprise to find among the writers he has appreciated or emulated are also such contemporaries as the magic realists Günter Grass and Gabriel García Márquez, the American satirist Kurt Vonnegut who once taught him, and the Canadian man of letters Robertson Davies, a sometimes fabulist who became a close friend and was the model for a character in A Prayer for Owen Meany. If Irving's work has never gone as far afield as these influences, it often bristles with the possibilities of doing so. The universe teases his characters with outrageous synchronicities. Anything could and does happen. But it never seems unreal. And afterwards it always seems somewhat inevitable, as if we should have seen it coming. And, however tragic it is, we ultimately accept it with good humour. Like many of his contemporaries, Irving embraces the crazy in our world, but unlike many of them—especially those practising or influenced by the "new journalism"—he doesn't let it determine his style. While others run off in all stylistic directions, Irving is the self-controlled author constructing his novels—his characters, his plots, his very sentences—with great care. All the better to give readers a place to stand to view the madness in the worlds he creates, to understand life's ironies and paradoxes to some small degree, rather than to be merely bewildered. Perhaps his approach comes down to that observation I've quoted elsewhere—from Thomas Hardy, one of the older novelists Irving is sometimes compared to: "The writer who knows exactly how exceptional and how non-exceptional his events should be made, possesses the key to the art." This takes a lot of self-discipline. Irving is nothing if not a disciplined writer. To write his monumental old-style stories with a modern sensibility— with a new, completely different novel (no sequels!) coming out every few years, with consistently high quality, being consistently interesting and consistently walking that line between ordinary and extraordinary—takes a tremendous, nearly unbelievable, dedication to the craft. Which is not say every John Irving novel is a masterpiece. Some works—like Garp, Owen Meany and Cider House Rules —seem to win close to universal acclaim. Others like Hotel and Widow have both their avid supporters and their detractors. And others seem to have found considerable audiences of quiet appreciators without stirring up much excitement pro or con among the literati. I have a list of Irving novels I badly want to experience again and others I have no further interest in. As with Dickens and Hardy novels. But if I live long enough I'll probably read them all again. I know how second readings of great authors can bring out what was missed the first time around. AllMovie. After years of struggling in literary anonymity, novelist John Irving became that rare kind of writer: a creator of serious fiction whose work enjoyed both popularity and critical acclaim, and whose fame blossomed even more when his books began to be made into films -- even if the final onscreen products achieved only varying degrees of success. Born in 1942 in Exeter, NH, he attended the Phillips Exeter Academy (where his stepfather taught Russian history), a well-known New England prep school that eventually served as the model for the Steering School in The World According to Garp. While there, Irving discovered two of his great loves -- and, ultimately, literary metaphors: writing and wrestling. After graduation, he spent a year at the University of Pittsburgh before moving to Vienna, a setting that would find a place in many of his later stories. Irving traveled around Europe on a motorcycle, lived a bohemian lifestyle, and, at one point, met a man with a trained bear, an animal that would also become an important figure in a number of his tales. After returning to the U.S., Irving graduated from the University of New Hampshire in 1965 and moved on to graduate school at the University of Iowa, where he studied with author Kurt Vonnegut and began work on his first novel. Irving received his M.F.A. in 1967 and returned to New England with his wife Shyla and son Colin; Setting Free the Bears was published the following year. Although it was critically well received, it sold less than 7,000 copies. Nevertheless, the money allowed the new novelist to buy a house in Vermont, where he lived until he returned to Vienna for three years (during which time a second son, Brendan, was born). While there, he worked with director Irvin Kershner (The Empire Strikes Back) on a film adaptation of Setting Free the Bears. At one point set to star Orson Welles, Jon Voight, and, later, Al Pacino, the project eventually fell through. Irving returned to the States, where, in 1972, he completed work on his second novel, The Water-Method Man. Drawing heavily on his experiences of living in Vienna, being a graduate student in Iowa, and exposure to the film industry with Kershner, this book also met with good reviews, but didn't sell much better than his first work. Irving spent the next three years as writer-in-residence and visiting lecturer back at the University of Iowa and contributed pieces to various magazines, but grew restless, bored, and sick of teaching. During this dark period, he published his third novel, The 158-Pound Marriage. Although his best-reviewed work to date, it nevertheless proved to be his worst seller. Tired of Iowa, Irving moved back to New England in 1975, continued to teach, and signed with a new publisher, E.P. Dutton; the first book he published with that company would change his life forever. In 1978, The World According to Garp became a huge commercial and critical success (selling more than 100,000 copies in hardcover), and Irving was suddenly both a famous, respected literary figure and a best-selling author. Garp was later made into a feature film starring Robin Williams and Glenn Close, both relative-newcomers at the time. Released in 1982, the movie by George Roy Hill (who also made Slaughterhouse Five from Vonnegut's novel -- another difficult adaptation) was received well. The book's success and Irving's new celebrity status had also allowed him to retire from teaching and devote his time to writing. His next novel, The Hotel New Hampshire, was published in 1981 and had an initial printing of 150,000 copies. Unlike Garp, however, the film adaptation on this book, Irving's fifth, was a star-studded affair. Featuring Jodie Foster, Beau Bridges, Rob Lowe, and Nastassja Kinski (who spends most of the film in a bear suit), the The Hotel New Hampshire film in 1984 was also a disaster -- even Irving gingerly distanced himself from it -- and left many of the author's fans wondering how such an awful film could have been made from such a wonderfully rich novel. In fact, as his books and stories became longer, more complex, and less frequent (Irving was slowly becoming known as something of a modern Charles Dickens), it was obvious that his stories, with their intricately woven plots, seemingly endless subplots, and detailed character development, just did not translate well to the big screen. Indeed, it would be 14 years until another movie was made from his work. While continuing to work on books, Irving spent more than a decade trying to develop more screenplays -- most notably of his 1985 novel The Cider House Rules -- and his struggles with this project, in particular, and the film industry, in general (dating back to developing a script for Setting Free the Bears), was documented in a 1999 memoir, My Movie Business. Ironically, although struggling for 13 years (and with four different directors) to make a film of Cider House, it was a later book, 1989's A Prayer for Owen Meany, that served as the basis for the next Irving film, Simon Birch (1998). But, again -- in addition to being another box-office disappointment -- the general consensus was that, as with The Hotel New Hampshire, Simon Birch did not exactly live up to the novel upon which it was based. After years of frustration, The Cider House Rules was finally filmed. Controversial and unabashedly pro-choice, the book was the author's most political to date, and when the movie (directed by Lasse Hallström [What's Eating Gilbert Grape, Chocolat]) was finally released in 1999, it was obvious that this adaptation carried more of Irving's personal stamp. Not only did he write the script (winning an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay), but he also had a small role as the grumpy, disapproving stationmaster. Starring Tobey Maguire, Charlize Theron, and Michael Caine, the film -- although missing several elements and characters from the novel -- was the most successful screen translation of Irving's work to date. Caine also won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal as the ether-addicted, kind-hearted Dr. Larch, who runs an orphanage and illegal abortion clinic in Maine during the first half of the 20th century. Irving's eighth novel, A Son of the Circus, was published in 1994. Ironically, the story, set in India, began as a parallel screenplay (originally titled "Escaping Maharashtra") that was finished years before the book itself. Initially scheduled for production in 1997, and then again in 1999 -- both times starring Jeff Bridges -- the film fell through each time. In addition to his Oscar, Irving has won an O. Henry Award, a National Book Award, and received awards from the Rockefeller Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Guggenheim Foundation. In 1992, he was inducted into the National Wrestling Hall of Fame and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 2001. Divorced in 1982, Irving remarried five years later to Janet Turnbull, with whom he had a third son, Everett. He published his tenth novel, The Fourth Hand, in 2001. Irving's ninth work of fiction, A Widow for One Year, was adapted into the Tod Williams 2004 film Door in the Floor -- the fifth of his books to be made into a movie. John Irving. The bestselling novelist is a strong believer in good manners, a semibeliever in religion, and unequivocal in his opinions about abortion. Author John Irving always plays by the rules — his own. Suzanne Herel. E ven John Irving’s mother has come to expect the lurid elements of her son’s work. “Christ! Another dildo?” she exclaimed when presented with an excerpt from the writer’s novel-in-progress, A Widow for One Year . “I tried to explain to her that there were differences among dildos, and that a dildo from a previous novel and a current novel are not the same,” Irving said on the West Coast leg of a recent tour introducing his book (as yet without a publisher) and the upcoming film productions of The Cider House Rules and A Son of the Circus . Irving eschews Ernest Hemingway’s approach: Write what you know. This conviction has left him free to explore life beyond the pale: In The World According to Garp , a group of women cut out their tongues in empathy for a rape victim; in The Hotel New Hampshire , a brother and sister enjoy an incestuous relationship; and the pint-sized Christ figure in A Prayer for Owen Meany saws off his best friend’s trigger finger to make him ineligible to fight in Vietnam. The 55-year-old New England native is opinionated and passionate about his métiers — writing and wrestling — and he uses each to explore the world of rules, manners, and civility, and the consequences of breaking social codes. Q: You view censorship as an oppressive, puritanical practice. Considering the violence in your books, you clearly have a stake in this issue. A: You can’t say you’re going to ban something in the name of good taste, because then you have directed someone to play the role of good-taste police. We permit bad taste in this country. In fact, we even encourage it — and reward it in all manner of ways. Moreover, it’s magical thinking to imagine that the reason unspeakable things are being perpetrated by younger and younger people is that they’ve fallen under the influence of seductive, lascivious, prurient, and violent material in books, films, television. It seems to me that a great deal of this type of censorship has to do with absolving parents of responsibility — parents who just plop their kids in front of the television and leave them there hour upon hour. If you feel so strongly about what’s on television, don’t have one. If you feel strongly about people having abortions, don’t have one. But we are a country that likes to be punitive. We want to restrict. It is a kind of religious fervor run amuck. Q: Are you yourself religious? A: You know, if you asked me one day, I might say, “Well, sometimes I feel a little bit religious.” If you asked me another day, I’d just say flat out, “No.” Q: But you had a fairly religious upbringing, didn’t you? A: I grew up in a family where, through my teenage years, I was expected to go to church on Sunday. It wasn’t terribly painful. I thought some of the stories were neat; I liked some of the liturgy and some of the songs. If you’re a writer you have some inclination to pay attention. I didn’t just tune it out and think about baseball. So, it had an effect on me. I still believe in getting married in churches and baptizing children. I go through those motions. What was even more germane was my study of the history of religion. It was one of the few things in school I was fascinated by. Q: In your memoir “The Imaginary Girlfriend” you write of wrestling: “I’ve always admired the rule that holds you responsible, if you lift your opponent off the mat, for your opponent’s safe return.” Does this reflect your desire for a civilized world where there are rules and values? A: Yeah. I’m a very old-fashioned novelist. I write 19th-century novels, where a lot of rules apply. I believe in plot, in development of character, in the effect of the passage of time, in a good story — better than something you might find in the newspaper. And I believe a novel should be as complicated and involved as you’re capable of making it. Q: Do you think rules of behavior should apply in the wider world as well? A: I’m not at all contemporary, not even modern, and the fact that I would be so quaintly attracted to that wrestling rule makes me, I suppose, seem all the more old-fashioned. But I was brought up in a community, in a family that valued such things as good manners, and I still do. I believe in rules of behavior, and I’m quite interested in stories about the consequences of breaking those rules. Q: The National Women’s Political Caucus gave you a Good Guy award for furthering the advancement of women with The Cider House Rules . Did you write it intending to make a statement about abortion? A: You don’t want to be ungenerous toward people who give you prizes, but it is never the social or political message that interests me in a novel. I begin with an interest in a relationship, a situation, a character. Before I began The Cider House Rules , I thought I wanted to write about a father- son relationship that was closer, more conflicted, and ultimately more loving, than most. Then I began to think of a relationship between an old orphanage director and an unadoptable orphan — a kid who goes out into the world and fails and keeps coming back, so that the old guy ends up with someone he’s got to keep. In my research I suddenly saw that the doctors in those orphanage hospitals were far more likely to perform abortions than other legitimate doctors, because they knew firsthand what happened to the kids who were left behind. Who else would be sympathetic? Who else would risk his profession to perform this illegal procedure? Not some moron like Newt Gingrich asking for the return of orphanages, but someone who really knew what orphanages were like and how sad the stories involving the kids were. Q: What are your views on abortion? A: I have no respect for the right-to-life position, though I have every respect for an individual who says, “I could never have that procedure, I could never see a film or read a book about that procedure.” It doesn’t bother me if people feel that way. But when you legislate personal belief, you’re in violation of freedom of religion. The Catholic Church may espouse its opinion on abortion to the members of its congregation. But they are in violation of separation of church and state when they try to proselytize their abortion politics on people who are not Catholics. Q: You consider yourself old-fashioned. Yet you support people’s right to live their lives without imposition, and you explore social taboos in your books. Where did this multifaceted worldview come from? A: Ted Seabrooke, my wrestling coach, had a kind of Nietzschean effect on me in terms of not just his estimation of my limited abilities, but his decidedly philosophical stance about how to conduct your life, what you should do to compensate for your limitations. This was essential to me, both as a student — and not a good one — and as a wrestler who was not a natural athlete but who had found something he loved. John Irving. John Irving was a lieutenant on HMS Terror during the Franklin expedition. Contents. Early Life [ edit | edit source ] John Irving Jr. was born on February 8 th , 1815 on Princes Street, in Edinburgh, Scotland, and was baptised on April 5 th of the same year. He was the fourth son of John Irving Sr. and Agnes Clerk Hay. During his time in Edinburgh, he remained at No. 106 Princes Street and often addressed letters from there. His mother was the daughter of Colonel Lewis Hay, who was killed during the Anglo-Russian invasion of Holland, known as the Helder Expedition, in 1799. The editor of Irving's memoirs, Benjamin Bell, describes Agnes Hay as "a very excellent, godly woman" and considers her impact on her son as "doubtless". She died on July 10th, 1823, when her son was eight years old. John Irving, Sr. was a lawyer and a member of the Society of Writers to the Signet, and was a close childhood friend of eminent Scottish writer Sir Walter Scott. Later in life, John Irving, Sr. was close with his nephew, Sir George Clerk, one of the Secretaries of the Treasury and a former Lord of the Admiralty. Irving appears to have been close to his father and kept a continual correspondence with him. Interestingly, one of Irving's cousins was Alexander Hamilton. Of his six surviving siblings, Irving was particularly close to his older brother, Lewis Hay Irving, affectionately known in his letters as "Lewie". Several of Irving's surviving letters are addressed to Catherine "Kate" Irving, John's sister-in-law through Lewis. Irving attended the New Academy of Edinburgh. His classmates, as late as the 1880s, remembered him as "a nice fellow, fond of play, with a good deal of quiet humour, courageous, but very slow to quarrel or take offense". He did not finish out the standard seven-year term at the New Academy, and instead entered the Royal Naval College at Portsmouth, beginning his career in the Royal Navy. Naval Career and Australia [ edit | edit source ] Irving joined the Navy on June 25 th , 1828, and passed his examination on June 24 th , 1834. While he was at the Naval College in Portsmouth, he competed in a mathematics competition held during the Midsummer term of 1830. Despite suffering from an attack of scarlet fever, Irving finished in second place and was awarded a silver mathematics medal, which was later recovered from his grave on King William Island. Among the ships Irving later served on were the HMS Cordelia, HMS Belvidera, HMS Edinburgh, HMS Favourite , HMS Volage , and HMS Excellent . During his career on the Belvidera he became close friends with William Elphinstone Malcolm and George Kingston. Malcolm, in particular, would keep a close and steady correspondence with Irving for years after signing off on the Belvidera in 1833. He gained several more close friends while on the Edinburgh, most notably a group of boys very invested in their Christian faith. With Irving included, this group was jokingly referred to among their shipmates as "the Holy Ghost boys", which Irving described as "horrid to relate". While on the Edinburgh , Irving also received a permanent injury on his upper lip from a case of frostbite at Mount Etna, causing a slight projection that remained for the rest of his life. Irving's opinion of his career in the Navy seemed to have fluctuated often depending on his circumstances. An early letter to William Malcolm, written in 1834, describes Irving's Naval prospects as "so bad that I can hardly do worse than remain in it", and far more directly, "I have told my father that I shall be glad to leave the Navy". Australia and a Return to the Navy [ edit | edit source ] David Williamson Irving, John's brother with whom he settled in Australia. In 1837, Irving left the Navy in an attempt to live and work as a sheep and cattle farmer in Australia. For several years prior to his departure, Irving had mentioned a desire to settle in Australia and had spoken of the idea with his father. By February of 1838, he had settled in the Monaro Region of New South Wales with his younger brother, David. The brothers' father had entrusted Irving with the care of his brother and had offered them a sum of around £1000 (roughly £111,031 by 2019 values) to help with their settlement. Irving's Australia accommodations were not ideal. In a letter to William Malcolm, he described his surroundings and huts as "the most Robinson- Crusoe style imaginable" and explained that all of his conveniences must be hand-made. Irving also rescued a young man from drowning in the nearby river Wallondilly and saw to after his recovery. Prior to May of 1838, Irving suffered a severe and prolonged case of dysentery, prompting his medical attendants to worry that it might be fatal. However, he made a full recovery and by May sent a letter onto Malcolm, describing his hopes for becoming a successful farmer. By this point, he owned 500 sheep and 20 cows, and jokingly hoped to be "like the patriarchs of old, master of flocks and herds". Yet loss of profits, a grueling landscape, and "great hardship and deprivation" drove Irving to return to the Navy by 1843, partially under his father's wishes. He then joined as acting-lieutenant on the HMS Favourite in Sydney, leaving his livestock and property to his newly-married brother. After a short trip through the South Sea Islands, Irving then returned to Scotland and moved back in with his father at his new home on North Charlotte Street in Edinburgh. Shortly after his return, he joined the HMS Volage as a second lieutenant. Finally, Irving joined the HMS Excellent , a gunnery ship, in Portsmouth. After becoming a lieutenant, and despite his earlier chill toward the Navy, Irving expressed his wishes to be promoted to Captain or Commander at a future date. By the time that he joined the Franklin Expedition, he expected to begin the path to promotion upon his return. Franklin Expedition [ edit | edit source ] Irving's drawing of the Terror 's adapted locomotive engine. In March 1845, Irving signed up for the Franklin Expedition as a lieutenant aboard HMS Terror . He corresponded with his sister-in-law Kate Irving during the first part of the journey, describing life on the ship in detail including steam engine trials, entertainment, and the state of the cargo. Throughout this correspondence, he included several of his own drawings of the ship and surrounding landscapes. By the time the Expedition reached Orkney, Irving was very pleased with the state of things, and was optimistic that the journey would go well. He called Sir John Franklin "a fine old fellow" and believed that under Franklin's leadership, they would "persevere this time also". His last letter to Kate Irving was written around July 10th, 1845 and was sent from Whalefish Island, Greenland. This letter was intended to be a farewell, as Irving believed he would not get the chance to send a letter to her for several years. His last letter describes the preparations for entering the mouth of the Northwest Passage, and the joking assurance that the Expedition was well-furnished with three years' worth of prepared food, so "you need not think we have been eating our shoes". He describes the expected route, and optimistically adds: "The former expeditions were stopped by a barrier of ice so thick and solid that the summer, which is only ten weeks long, passed away without dissolving it. However, I trust that we may have a warmer summer, either this or the next, or find some channel which they overlooked. We have the advantage of all their experience, and will save much valuable time in not looking uselessly for a passage where land has been laid down in the charts, which we have with us." Irving's sketch of Erebus and Terror in Greenland in July 1845. Irving finishes this letter with a sample of Tripe de Roche , a lichen that was eaten during the Expedition, as well as a drawing of Erebus and Terror. According to the Victory Point note, Irving was still alive after the ships were abandoned. The note mentioned that he was the one who found the note in the cairn. Grave found and reburial [ edit | edit source ] An impression of Irving's grave, drawn by explorer Heinrich Klutschak. In 1879, American Lieutenant Frederick Schwatka while exploring on King William Island for searching for relics and bones of the Franklin Expedition found a grave at the site of Terror Camp. The grave was that of Lt. John Irving, who had his silver mathematics medal buried with him. Pieces of canvas, blue wool, a handkerchief, and metal items were also found near the grave, which appeared to have been ransacked by animals. Moved by the sight, Schwatka applied to the Admiralty to have Irving's remains brought back to Scotland, which the Admiralty acquiesced to and covered the full cost of transport. Irving's bones were returned to Edinburgh and were buried at Dean Cemetery on January 7 th , 1881. A funeral was held in the house of his sister, Mary Scott-Moncrieff, and was attended by many remaining members of his family. After the service, his coffin, covered in a Union Jack, was placed on a gun-carriage and taken along a parade route to the cemetery. The Edinburgh Daily Review described the funeral and parade as well- attended and crowded, and the burial itself as sober and solemn.