This long-lost holy well was located on the southeast side of the town. It was highlighted on the first OS-map in 1849, but its waters were disrupted shortly after this. Daniel Conway (1882) told that,
“It flowed where there was a quarry used for the harbour works. The writer of this notice heard from two men, John Mulholland and Owen Graham, dwelling at Portpatrick in 1860, that they had seen on the rock beside the well what tradition said was the impression of the knees and left hand of St. Patrick.”
When the holy wells writer E.M.H. M’Kerlie (1916) came to visit this site, it was “no longer to be seen.” He wrote:
“The water which issued from a rock on the south side of the village is now diverted by means of pipes into another course.”
Royal Commission Ancient & Historical Monuments of Scotland,Inventory of Monuments and Constructions in Galloway – County of Wigtown, HMSO: Edinburgh 1912.
Walker, J. Russel, “‘Holy Wells’ in Scotland,” in Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, vol.17 (New Series, volume 5), 1883.
From the main street through Alva, between the Co-op and the corner shop, go up the small road at the side of the Johnstone Arms Hotel (Brook Street) and, at the small crossroads, straight across as if following the sign to the golf course. Stay along the track parallel with the Alva Burn waters and as you go into the trees a hundred yards or so along, to your left is a disused quarry, with a couple of plaques telling you its brief history. This is the spot!
Archaeology & History
This is a truly fascinating site for a number of reasons. Sadly, we can no longer see what had been here for oh so many thousands of years thanks, as usual, to the industrialists destroying the land here. Although in this case, without them we’d be unaware of its very existence. Additionally, there is a twist to the industrial’s find, which seems to have stopped further quarrying by some local people….
The tomb was somewhere in the left-middle
Listed in the relative Royal Commission accounts (1933; 1978), without comments, the tale is a simple one, but was narrated in some detail by J.G. Callander (1914) in Scotland’s prodigious Society of Antiquaries journal. During some quarrying operations over the Christmas period of 1912, James Murdoch “uncovered the remains of a human skeleton which had been buried in a natural cavity in the rock.” Three weeks later, local police officer George Donald and Dr W.L. Cunningham of Alva, accompanied Mr Callander to the site and made a detailed assessment of what had been found. He wrote:
“The quarry in which the grave was found is situated at the mouth of Alva Glen, a few yards distant from the right bank of the burn which flows through it. The body had been placed in a cavity or rock shelter in the face of the cliff, about 40 feet from the base, and about 200 feet above sea-level, and a rough, curved wall of dry-stone building, about 1 foot in thickness, had been built across the opening, which faced the east, the ends of the wall being still in situ when I visited the site. The space enclosed measured about 4 feet 6 inches from north to south, and about 5 feet from east to west. Subsequent to the burial the whole face of the rock and the walling had been covered, to a thickness of probably some 6 feet, by soil and detritus washed down from the hill face above. The greater part of the floor of the cavity was formed of clean, broken, angular stones, but the space on which the body was placed had been covered with a thin layer of soil preparatory to the burial. No charcoal or charred wood, which is so often seen in prehistoric graves, was found in this deposit. The skull lay in the north end of the grave, on its right side, facing the rock to the west, the vertebrae and ribs followed a line to the south, and the nether limbs were inclined towards the interior of the cavity. The whole face, including all the teeth and the lower jaw, was a-wanting. Apparently the body had been placed in a flexed position, half on its side and half on its back. Nothing else was found in the grave but a quantity of snail shells, probably twenty or thirty, which were nearly all broken, the few complete examples being in a very fragile condition.
“Elsewhere it has been stated that these formed a necklace, but while they were strewn out in front of the skeleton for a distance of over 3 feet, none of them showed any signs of artificial perforation. The species of Helixis is probably hortensis, the common garden snail.”
Mr Callander then included a lengthy description of the body itself, some of whose bones were fractured. He told that a certain
“Professor Bryce states that the skeleton is that of a dwarf of about 4 feet 2 inches in stature. The epiphyses are all fully united, although the line of union is visible on the surface at some points. Growth must therefore have been completed, and the person must have been, if the union of the epiphyses of the long bones had pursued its normal course, over twenty-one years of age…”
Regarding the sex of the dwarf, Mr Bryce wasn’t 100% certain, but told:
“The calvaria shows the general characters of a female skull, but it cannot be stated definitely that the individual was a woman, because the cranial characters are such as might have been present in a dwarf of the male sex. The calvaria is of moderate size, and is well formed.”
Bryce concluded as a whole that this person was in reasonably good health and, from the condition of the bones, showed “there was no evidence of the disease known as rickets.” In his final remarks he told:
“The general conclusions to which a careful examination of the skeleton leads, is that we have here to do, not with a representative of a dwarfish race, but with an individual who from premature union of the epiphyses was to a remarkable degree stunted in growth. The condition is a well-known one, and the class of dwarfs, in which this individual must be included, is well recognised.”
Probable spot of the lost tomb
The exact spot of the tomb appears to have been destroyed, or at the very least is certainly covered over and no longer visible. The section of the quarry looking east, into which the tomb was built, is all-but gone and no initial evidence prevails to show its exact location. However, it would seem from the description to have been close to the tops of the tree-line, perhaps giving a clear view to the rising sun in the east. Perhaps…
The position of this tomb, enclosed high up in the cliffs, hidden away at the entrance to the deeply cut ravine of the Alva Glen, is intriguing in that it is a rarity. Ravines like this are always peopled by olde spirits in animistic tribal traditions — and this dangerous glen with its fast waters and high falls would have been no different, especially to the Pictish people who we know were still here even after the Romans had buggered off. Is it possible that this figure was a guardian to the Glen itself, a medicine woman or shaman, whose very Glen was her home? We know from traditional accounts in many of the North American tribes that dwarves were accessories to the spirit worlds, and some were shamans. (Park 1938) In northern and central European lore, these small people are “the mysterious craftsmen-priests of early civilizations.” (Motz 1987) Whilst in Scottish lowland lore, the ‘Brown Man of the Muirs’ was a dwarfish creature described by Briggs (1979) as “a guardian spirit of wild beasts”, or watered-down shaman figure. There is more to this burial than meets the eye of dry academia…
Folklore
The Alva Glen—in addition to being beautiful and home to the Ladies Well—was long known to be one of many places in the Ochils that were peopled by the faerie folk. (Fergusson 1912) Local people still say this place is haunted by the spirit of a dangerous witch called Jenny Mutton.
It’s worth reiterating the words of Mr Callander (1914) regarding the finding and subsequent death of the man who uncovered this fascinating tomb, as some folk (then as now) think his demise was as inevitable as the man who planned on building turbines in Glen Cailleach:
“On the 24th December last, while quarrying stone for road metal in a quarry at the foot of the Ochils, at Alva, James Murdoch uncovered the remains of a human skeleton which had been buried in a natural cavity in the rock. Two days later he was killed at the same spot by the fall of a mass of overhanging rock, a tragic sequel, which not long ago would have been considered a judgement on him for disturbing the dead.”
References:
Briggs, Katherine M., A Dictionary of Fairies, Penguin: Harmondsworth 1979.
Corbett, L., et al., The Ochil Hills, Forth Naturalist & Historian 1994.
Drummond, A.L., “The Prehistory and Prehistoric Remains of the Hillfoots and Neighbouring District”, in Transactions Stirling Natural History & Antiquarian Society, volume 59, 1937.
Fergusson, R. Menzies, The Ochil Fairy Tales, David Nutt: London 1912.
Gimbutas, Marija, “Slavic Religion,” in Encyclopedia of Religion – volume 13 (editor M. Eliade), MacMillan: New York 1987.
Motz, Lotte, “Dvergar,” in Encyclopedia of Religion – volume 4 (editor M. Eliade), MacMillan: New York 1987.
Park, Willard Z., Shamanism in Western North America: A Study in Cultural Relationships, Evanston: Chicago 1938.
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, Inventory of Monuments and Constructions in the Counties of Fife, Kinross and Clackmannan, HMSO: Edinburgh 1933.
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, The Archaeological Sites and Monuments of Clackmannan District and Falkirk District, Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 1978.
Follow the same directions as if you’re going to the Maiden Castle fairy hill. About 100 yards before reaching the hill, on the right-hand side of the footpath between the tree-line and the small stream, you’ll see a small pool of water. This is Maiden’s Well.
Archaeology & History
Maiden’s Well – and the fairy haunt of Maiden Castle hill behind
A mile northeast of the faerie-haunted Butter Well, just on the border of Clackmannanshire and Perthshire, we find this little-known magickal spring. More than a century ago, the story of this remote well was heard about hundreds of miles away by one Rev. Andrew Clark of Oxford, “who heard it from the late sexton of the parish of Dollar, in the county of Clackmannan” and who then mentioned its existence to the great Victorian Celtic scholar John Rhys (1901), who subsequently wrote of it as being “a fine spring bordered with flat stones, in the middle of a neat, turfy spot”, close to the legendary faerie hall of Maiden Castle. The well itself has now given birth to a pool whose waters, so folklore and text ascribe, always provides good clear water even in the height of summer.
The local historian Hugh Haliburton (1905) told that the well obtained its name from a princess who was held captive in Castle Campbell in the valley to the southwest, and that she was sometimes allowed out of prison by her captors, to walk to the well and drink its waters.
Folklore
This tale has been mentioned by various historians and, no doubt, has some religious relevance to the faerie lore of Maiden Castle, close by, Bruce Baillie (1998) told:
“A story associated with it states that it is haunted by the spirit of a beautiful maiden which only appears at night and, should any male attempt to kiss her, coronary thrombosis occurs.”!
The Maiden’s Well pool
Earlier accounts tell of magickal rites that could be used to invoke the beautiful maiden, but once again dire consequences may befall the poor practitioner.
To this day, local people visit the well and make offerings to the spirit of the waters, as you’ll see if you come here. Some of the remains here are very old; and a visit not long ago indicated that offerings were made even when surrounded by depths of snow in the middle of a freezing winter.
References:
Baillie, Bruce, History of Dollar, DMT: Dollar 1998.
Fergusson, R. Menzies, The Ochil Fairy Tales, Clackmannan District Libaries 1985.
From the bus station in town, walk across the road and to your right, as if you’re heading into the town centre. Barely 100 yards on where you turn left, you’ll see the Blue Stane Hotel across the road right in front of you. The stone in question sits in a small forecourt on the other side of the metal fence (as the plaque describing the stone tells).
Archaeology & History
Although the Blue Stane is well known to local people in the ancient coastal town of St. Andrews, outside of the area little seems to be known of the place. Even the Royal Commission (1933) report for Fife didn’t include the stone in its survey – and the site is east enough to miss it if you walk past too quickly and don’t have an eye for all things megalithic! When Paul Hornby and I came here, it was pretty easy to find. It helps with there being a small plaque in front of the aptly-named hotel, giving a small history of the stone.
The plaque that tells the taleThe Blue Stane
Standing—or rather, resting—in front of the Blue Stane Hotel, the stone has obviously seen better days. Cut in half from its original size, the small upright block certainly has a very blue haze to it and was probably a prehistoric memorial stone, perhaps attached to a long forgotten tomb somewhere close by. Nowadays the little fella is only 2 feet high … and is somewhat reminiscent of a petrified Tyrion Lannister: proudly assertive despite his shortcomings! And long may he reign…
Folklore
The historian and folkorist, A. Lindsay Mitchell (1992) told that the stone here was “more of a reddish sandstone colour”, which passed me by, as I’m brilliantly colourblind! But the fine lady also gave us one of the little known creation myths of the stone, saying:
“Legend has it that an angry giant threw this substantial block of whinstone at the missionary, St. Rule, who had usurped the giant’s influence. However, legend also records that the giant was not one of life’s bolder characters. He made sure that he remained far enough away frm this upstart, St. Rule, and threw the stone from the safe vantage point of Blebo Craigs, about 5 miles away.”
In Robertson’s (1973) fine work on the history of St. Andrews, he tells how the Blue Stane,
“comes down in the annals as having been a stone altar of pagan times. It was used for long as a meeting or trysting place, and was regarded with superstitious awe by passers-by. Men would give it placatory pat and women a cautious curtsey in the way-going. It is said that the pikemen of St. Andrews touched it assurance before departing in 1314 for (the battle of) Bannockburn.”
References:
Mitchell, A. Lindsay, Hidden Scotland, Lochar: Moffat 1992.
Robertson, James K., About St. Andrews – and About, J. & G. Innes: St Andrews 1973.
Acknowledgments: Huge thanks to Paul Hornby for use of his photos for this site-profile.
This once important healing stone that was moved a short distance (from grid reference SN 1775 1875 to SN 1770 1874 according to officials) to its present spot, around 1925, whilst having a long history according to the folk traditions of Carmarthenshire, was previously questioned as an authentic site by none other than Prof John Rhys (1875), following his visit to the site in the 1870s. Although Rhys seemed an isolated voice, some modern archaeologists have also questioned its veracity. It’s difficult to say precisely what the original nature of the stone may have been, but it was certainly accommodated in medieval times as a healing stone and used in conjunction with a pagan well – which was of course, accommodated by the Church. If the stone itself had a megalithic pedigree, as some have believed, we know not what it may have been…
As Janet & Colin Bord (2006) wrote, the stone “still survives, but to the casual observer it looks like any other abandoned block of stone,” sitting innocuously within the ring of trees surrounding the church. An early account of the stone was written by E.L. Barnwell (1872), who told:
“The present church of Llangan in Carmarthenshire is a wretched structure, built in 1820, and is about to be removed, as the population has long since migrated to some distance from it, and in a few years even the memory of Canna’s church having once existed here may cease. There is, however, a relic still left, which we trust will not be overlooked by the local authorities, as indeed it seems to have been hitherto ; for no notice occurs of it in the account of the parish in Lewis’s Topographical Dictionary or any other work. This relic is a rude stone, forming a kind of chair, lying in a field adjoining the churchyard, and about thirty or forty yards from it. When it was removed to its present position is unknown. There was also a well below the church called Ffynnon Canna; and there is still a small brook available, if required, for following the rules prescribed to those who wish to avail themselves of the curative powers of the saint’s chair. It appears that the principal maladies which are thus supposed to be cured are ague and intestinal complaints. The prescribed practice was as follows. The patient first threw some pins into the well, a common practice in many other parts of Wales, where wells are still thought to be invested with certain powers. Then he drank a fixed quantity of the water, and sometimes bathed in the well, for the bath was not always resorted to. The third step was to sit down in the chair for a certain length of time; and if the patient could manage to sleep under these circumstances, the curative effects of the operation were considerably increased. This process was continued for some days, even for a fortnight or longer. A man aged seventy-eight, still living near the spot, remembers the well and hundreds of pins in it, as well as patients undergoing the treatment; but, about thirty or thirty- five years ago, the tenant carried off the soil between the well and the watercourse, so as to make the spring level with the well, which soon after partly disappeared, and from that time the medical reputation of the saint and her chair has gradually faded away, and will, in the course of a generation or two, be altogether forgotten.”
Folklore
In Wirt Sykes (1880) classic text, he told us that the field where the original Canna’s Chair may have been, possessed fairy-lore that we find at other sites, usually ascribed as prehistoric. He wrote:
“In the middle of this parish there is a field called Parc y Fonwent, or the churchyard field, where, according to local tradition, the church was to have been originally built; but the stones brought to the spot during the day were at night removed by invisible hands to the site of the present church. Watchers in the dark heard the goblins engaged in this work and pronouncing in clear and correct Welsh these words, “Llangan, dyma’r fan,” which means, “Llangan, here is the spot.””
References:
Allen, J. Romilly, The Monumental History of the Early British Church, SPCK: London 1889.
Baring-Gould, S. & Fisher, John, Lives of the British Saints – volume 2, London 1907.
The holy well/spring can be reached by following the Worsthorne road south from Haggate to Cockden Bridge over the River Don, then following the footpath due east beside the river for about a quarter of a mile. At the Ormroyd footbridge where the River Don becomes Thursden brook head in a north-easterly direction up the hillside. The well, or what’s left of it, can be found beside a trackway.
Archaeology & History
Around twenty-five years ago Calf Hey Well was described as being a square-shaped structure made of five stone slabs, one of which makes the roof. The water, which most probably had some form of mineral content, bubbles up into the large square basin which is a little lower than ground level. Today, the well is still there but I don’t know in what condition it is.
Folklore
According to Clifford Byrne in his book The Holy Wells and Mineral Springs of N.E.Lancashire,
“Calf Hey Well is a strong spring which rises out of the hillside, but in medieval times it was believed that the waters here had special qualities. Some people thought it was a holy well and reputedly many people visited Calf Hey on holy days when jugs of water were sold. A few accounts state that stalls were set up on a flat piece of land to the west of the well, Here vendors not only sold water but other things (food, religious objects and trinkets) and a market atmosphere must have pervaded the site”.
In 1819 the local water company took over the well and began to use its supply of water for the ever growing population of Burnley a few miles west of here. After this the fairie people were never seen again at the well – they were probably feeling very indignant at what had transpired.
Folklore has played its part here too. Fairies are said to have inhabited the well in days gone by – indeed they were often seen dancing around the well in the moonlight. These fairies or “little people” were not just creatures of the night which our ancestors delighted in when they could catch a rare glimpse of them. In fact these little people were quite normally formed although small in stature. Though not human they had the capacity to intervene in our human affairs – usually but not always for the good of it. They were known to steal little children and babies, supplanting them with their own offspring. So the parents of newly born babies had to be very vigilant and get their babies baptised as quickly as possible.
There are a few lesser-known wells in the same area as Calf Hey. These include The Jam Well at Worsthorne, Sweet Well at Holden Clough and Robin Hood’s Well at Black Clough, Thursden.
References:
Byrne, Clifford, The Holy Wells and Mineral Springs of Northeast Lancashire, MS copy in Nelson Public Library (Reference).
Frost, Roger., A Lancashire Township – The History of Briercliffe-with-Extwistle, Rieve Edge Press: Briercliffe 1982.
This fascinating looking carving (in my personal Top 10 of all-time favourites cup-and-rings in the UK!) was unfortunately destroyed sometime between 1918 and 1920. A huge pity, as the design on the rock is almost unique in its ‘linear’ system of cups running a considerable length across the surface of the stone (like the similar design found at Old Bewick in Northumberland).
Wilson’s 1851 drawing of the Witches’ StoneSimpson’s 1866 drawing of the Witches Stone
Shown first of all on Kirkwood’s Environs of Edinburgh map in 1817 (above), this legendary rock was found amidst a cluster of other cup-and-ring stones at Tormain (some are still there) and was initially said by Daniel Wilson (1851) to have been the giant capstone of a cromlech that once stood here, but whose structure had fallen away. This idea is implied in the earliest drawing we have of the stone in Wilson’s magnum opus (above); Sir J.Y. Simpson (1867) gave us a similar impression with his drawing a few years later. But upon visiting the Witches Stone just as his book was going to the press, Mr Wilson visited the site and proclaimed that he “altogether doubted if they are the remains of a cromlech”, and what rested here were more probably just fascinating geological remains, with even more fascinating carvings on top!
In the years that followed Wilson’s initial description, the Witches Stone was visited and described by a number of eager antiquarians. Simpson (1867) gave us a quite revealing account, telling:
“On the farm of Bonnington, about a mile beyond the village of Ratho…are the remains of ‘this partially ruined cromlech’…with the capstones partially displaced, as if it had slid backwards upon the oblique plane of the huge stones or stone which still supports it. Two or three large blocks lie in front of the present props. Its site occupies a most commanding view of the valley of the Almond, and of the country and hills beyond. The large capstone is a block of secondary basalt or whinstone, about twelve feet long, ten in breadth and two in thickness. Its upper surface has sculptured along its median line a long row of some twenty-two cup-cuttings; and two more cup-cuttings are placed laterally: one, half a foot to the left of the central row and at its base; the other, two feet to the right of the tenth central cup and near the edge of the block. The largest of the cups are about three inches in diameter and half an inch in depth; but most of them are smaller and shallower than this…”
A few years later another early petroglyph authority, J. Romilly Allen (1882), visited the Witches Stone and found “an Ordnance bench mark (had been) cut on the stone itself”! He then continued with his own description of this once-important megalithic site:
“The Witch’s Stone is a natural boulder of whinstone, rounded and smoothed by glacial action, whoso upper surface slopes at an angle of about 35° with the horizon. The length of the sloping face is 8 feet and at the top is a flat place 2 feet wide. The breadth of the stone is 11 feet 3 inches at the upper end, and 4 feet at the lower end. The thickness varies from 2 to 3 feet. The highest part of the stone is 6 feet 6 inches above the ground, and the lowest 1 foot 6 inches. It rests on what has originally been a portion of the same boulder, but is now a mass of whinstone broken up into several fragments, which serve as supports to prop up the stone above. Viewed from the north side the whole presents the appearance of a cromlech, the upper stone forming the cap, and the disintegrated portion below the supports. This notion, however, will be clearly seen to be erroneous on looking at it from the opposite side, as shown on the accompanying sketch…where the crack separating the two portions of the boulder is very apparent… The sculpturings consist of twenty-four cups varying in diameter from 1½ to 3 inches. Twenty-two of these cups are arranged in an approximately straight line along the sloping face of the stone, and divide it into two almost equal parts. The two remaining cups lie, one 7½ inches to the left of the lowest cup of the central row, and the other 2 feet 3 inches to the right of the ninth cup up the stone… The field in which the Witch’s Stone is situated is called “Knock-about.” The sloping face of the stone has been much polished by the practice of people climbing on to the top and sliding down. Some of the cups are almost obliterated in consequence. The stone forms a very prominent feature in the view, and must always have attracted attention from its peculiar shape.”
Some twenty years after Allen, the megalithomaniac Fred Coles (1903) came and checked the Witches Stone out for himself and, as happens, had a few additional things to say about the place:
“Although this huge boulder and its cup-marks have been more than once figured and described, I found, on a close examination of the broad surface of the Stone, that none of the illustrations showed the cup-marks in their exact relation to each other, nor in their true relation to the contour of the Stone. The drawing shown above…was made after a careful measurement by triangulation of the Stone; and it is claimed to be the first that shows that the cups, two and twenty in number, are not disposed in one continuous line, but that thirteen follow each other from the high south edge of the stone for a distance of exactly 6 feet, and nine others lie a few inches to the west, occupying a space 3 feet long of the overcurving edge of the north end. It is further shown that, at a point 2 feet 3 inches west of the ninth cup-mark, there is another one quite as large as the largest in the rows near the middle of the Stone. The south edge (A B) has slipped a little down from its original height, the boulder being frost-split horizontally; its height there above ground is 8 feet. The northern and narrower end is about 2 feet above ground, and does not touch the ground, as it rests upon its lower portion, beyond which it projects a few inches. The cup-marks run due north.”
Fred Coles 1903 drawing
If the Witches Stone was in fact a natural outcrop stone and not a cromlech, this very last point telling that “the cup-marks run due north” probably had much greater importance than a mere compass-bearing to the people who etched this carving. For in pre-christian religious structures across the northern hemisphere, north is commonly representative of death and the land of the gods. In magickal rites “it is the place of greatest symbolic darkness,” as neither sun nor moon ever rise or set there. Additionally, north is the place where, in shamanic traditions, the heavens are tied to the Earth: the cosmic axis itself that links heaven, Earth and underworld revolve around the northern axis in the skies. In early neolithic traditions this mythic structure was endemic. Whether its magickal relevance was intended here, at this stone, we will probably never know…
Folklore
Folklore tells that the Witches Stone was one of the sites used in magickal rites by the Scottish occultist, Michael Scot. J.R. Allen’s (1882) description of “the sloping face of the stone has been much polished by the practice of people climbing on to the top and sliding down,” may relate to folk memory of fertility rites once practised here, as found at similarly carved rocks in the UK and across the world.
McLean, Adam, The Standing Stones of the Lothians, Megalithic Research Publications: Edinburgh no date (c.1978).
Morris, Ronald W.B., The Prehistoric Rock Art of Southern Scotland, BAR: Oxford 1981.
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments of Scotland, Inventory of Monuments and Constructions in the Counties of Midlothian and West Lothian, HMSO: Edinburgh 1929.
Simpson, James, Archaic Sculpturings of Cups, Circles, etc., Upon Stones and Rocks in Scotland, England and other Countries, Edmonston & Douglas: Edinburgh 1867.
The stone marking the position of the well is situated on the north side of the road at the east end of Grange Loan, a few yards west of the junction with Findhorn Place, at Newington on the south side of Edinburgh. Unfortunately, all that now remains of the well is a red sandstone front with two pieces of metal on each side.
Archaeology & History
Set back a little into the wall alongside the road, we today see only the architectural memory of this once famous and much-reputed holy well, whose waters sadly no longer flow. Curiously omitted from the primary Scottish surveys on holy wells, it was long known as an important water source by the people of Edinburgh in ages past. The best article on the site was written by W.F. Gray (1962) some fifty years ago, in which he told:
“Built against a garden wall, the Penny Well looks rather forlorn. Now that a plentiful supply of water is in every dwelling, its public usefulness is definitely at an end, though it may slake the thirst of a passer-by. But however that may be, the Penny Well has a long if not distinguished history, though fact and fiction, it is to be feared, are inextricably linked.
“And first, as to its age. There is documentary evidence of the existence of the Penny Well as far back as 1716. In that year Sir William Johnston of Westerhall, Dumfriesshire, disposed to William Dick of Grange three acres of his lands of Sciennes, which are described as bounded on the west by the lands belonging to “said William Dick and the Penny Well.” The well really marked the south-east boundary of the lands of Grange.
“The actual age of the Penny Well is unknown. All that can be positively stated is that it has existed for at least two hundred years… How the Penny Well came by its name is another unsolved mystery. There is a story to the effect that in the earlier half of the nineteenth century an old woman who lived in the cottage opposite the well had charge of the spring and sold the water to wayfarers at a penny a glass. A very plausible story by which to account for the name! Unfortunately its credibility is shaken by the fact that…the spring was known as the Penny Well fully a century before…
“Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, when he took up residence at Grange House in 1832, was deeply interested in the well at the east end of his property. He had it restored and above it placed a tablet with the words, ‘Penny Well’ inscribed on it.
“About 1870, when feuing operations were in progress and there was much digging in the vicinity of the well, the water suddenly ceased to flow. After an interval, however, it again became copious, so much so that it formed a tiny pond in front of an adjoining house. In the hope of drawing off the water, a pit was dug. This led to an interesting discovery. Five feet below the surface, workmen came upon what there seems no reason for doubting was the original trough of the Penny Well. This “interesting and unexpected find” (to quote from The Scotsman) was covered by a large block of hard sandstone. The trough, which was circular, measured 32 inches across and had a depth of fully 1o inches in the centre.
“The Society of Antiquaries made investigations and the opinion was hazarded that “the basin into which the water ran was without doubt a baptismal font,” possibly the one which once stood beside St. Roque’s Chapel, situated at the southwest end of Grange Loan, but long since removed.
“In the (1890s) the Penny Well underwent a second restoration, the Town Council providing £30 for the purpose. By this time however, the spring was found to be impure, but the trouble was got over by substituting the town water.”
Folklore
Penny Well in 1959
Although there are no documents proving with certainty, local tradition reputed this to be one of Edinburgh’s numerous holy wells. It probably was. And whilst W. Forbes Gray seemed at a loss to explain the name of this old water source, it probably comes from the old practice of local people dropping pennies and other offerings into the well in the hope that the spirit of the waters would confer good health or other benefits upon the hopeful pilgrim. Such rites, of course, are very ancient indeed and relate specifically to the animistic spirit-nature of the site. In Mr Gray ‘s (1962) essay on the Penny Well he also had this to say:
“According to one statement, it was a holy well attached to the Convent of St. Catherine of Sienna (which stood at the foot of St. Catherine’s Place), a well whose waters were possessed of miraculous powers of healing those afflicted with blindness, in which case it would be in the same category as the well of St. Triduana at Restalrig, and the Balm Well at Liberton.”
Reputed in times gone by to be one of the never-failing springs, this clear and sparkling water supply would keep bubbling away long after all others in the area had dried-up during summer droughts.
“It is also said that the ubiquitous Mary Queen of Scots, when she visited the religious sisterhood at Sciennes, partook of the waters of the Penny Well. “
Maypole (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SE 0458 9121
Redmire’s ancient Oak
Archaeology & History
As with many of Britain’s old maypoles, the one at Redmire has long since disappeared and no local in the 20th century appears to have had any memory of it. However, it was mentioned in Victorian times and described in McGregor’s (1989) fine history work on the village:
“At one time, somewhere on the Green, stood a maypole which was destroyed by lightning. I never heard the memory of it recalled during my early life, but it is mentioned in their books by both Barker and Bogg. The remnants of it appear to have been there in 1850 or 1852, as Barker, writing at that time says, ‘A maypole, rare in Yorkshire, stands on the Green. It was shivered to pieces by the electric fluid, during a thunderstorm, in the summer of 1849. This poor maypoles catastrophe would have been regarded by the old Puritans as a direct and visible manifestation of the wrath of heaven at such a heathenish practice.’ Redmire, as we know, took pleasure in dancing in the 19th century, and continued to do so, especially after the building of the Town Hall…”
When Edmund Bogg came here at the end of th 19th century, he saw “the base of the ancient maypole…near to, a twisted and ancient oak” whose ancient branches were being held upright by large wooden posts. This sacred oak itself was said to “still cast its shade over a small spring of water.” Unfortunately I ‘ve found no more about this lost pagan relic…
References:
Barker, W.G.M.J., The Three Days of Wensleydale, Charles Dolman: London 1854.
Bogg, Edmund, Wensleydale and the Lower Vale of Yore, E. Bogg: Leeds n.d. (c.1900)
McGregor, Isabelle, Redmire – A Patchwork of its History, privately printed: Redmire 1989.
The Fairy Stone, on the south-west corner of Clunbury Hill, measures some 3ft by 2 ft 3 in and is some 2ft 6 in high. Local lore tells that it was once a standing stone, but this may not be the case; it’s thought more likely to be a simple glacial erratic. The stone is granite with quartz veins and stands very close to the local boundary line.
Folklore
Local researcher Jonathon Mullard found this stone, not surprisingly, to have “had a long tradition of fairy lights associated with it; they were said to appear at certain times of year.” And Mullard found one very intriguing encounter of these supernatural forms, later narrated in Paul Devereux’s (1990) excellent tome, which told:
“The legend would seem to relate to actual folk knowledge of the site, because Mullard was informed by an elderly woman living locally that she recalled her grandfather telling of an encounter with the lights. Returning home one evening across Clunbury Hill, he saw the whole area around the stone filled with small lights of a gaseous appearance bobbing up and down a short distance above the ground. Not wanting to go out of his way, the man walked through them. He found that any lights he happened to touch against adhered to his trousers. He briskly brushed them off, but found when he got home that the fabric was scorched. The woman had actually kept the trousers up until a decade or so before talking with Mullard!”
References:
Devereux, Paul, Places of Power, Blandford: London 1990.
