Dear readers.

I hope you’re enjoying the summer and keeping well, far from the heatwaves and devastating wildfires we are currently experiencing in France., and that you’re ready to embark on another fascinating Scottish adventure. It is always a real pleasure to share new stories with you.

The title of this post has probably already given you a clue about our destination.  It will take us to St Ronan’s Well, one of the most mysterious and legendary places in the Scottish Borders.

Sir Walter Scott, whose novel St Ronan’s Well (1823) contributed greatly to the site’s fame, will join us later, in the second part of our journey and you will be able to discover it soon under the title of  “Notes about St Ronan’s Well by Sir Walter Scott”…

The story had simply become too rich for a single post, so I decided to divide it into two parts.😉

So, let us begin our journey now…

---

I – From Prestonpans to Innerleithen

 

This adventure began many years ago… during our sixth Scottish Itinerary,  in July and August 2007.

 

 

On the evening of 25 August, after a wonderful day spent in Edinburgh during the Fringe Festival, one of Scotland’s most unforgettable festivals,  we pitched our tent at the Drum-Mohr Caravan and Camping Site in Prestonpans—not far from the place where the young Walter Scott had once stayed to recover his health.

 

 

It was a beautiful late-summer day. After photographing the Mercat Cross, crowned by its magnificent golden unicorn, and the picturesque ruined tower, we set off around noon for the Scottish Borders.

We reached Innerleithen, not far from Peebles, at about half past one to visit St Ronan’s Well, located there on Wells Brae.

We were drawn to St Ronan’s Well for two reasons. It is one of the legendary places of the Scottish Borders and it also gave its name to Sir Walter Scott’s novel. We didn’t know then that one year later, on 5 november 2008, our second grandson would be born and that he would be called « Ronan ».😉

When Ronan was born, we immediately thought back to our visit to St Ronan’s Well.

The days slip quietly away…

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine…

Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure

Les jours s’en vont je demeure…

(Guillaume Apollinaire, Alcools, 1913)

A few days ago, our grandson Ronan passed his baccalauréat with honours. It suddenly felt like the right moment to dedicate this post to him. His name has always brought back memories of this peaceful Scottish healing spring we had visited twenty years ago, and I wanted to tell him the story of the saint whose name he bears.

---

 

II – Discovering St Ronan’s Well and its area

 

1 – Innerleithen

Innerleithen (“Scottish Gaelic meaningconfluence of the Leithen) is dominated by the surrounding hills.

To the north the peaked hill of Lee Pen (502m), and its southerly spur Caerlee Hill (258m). To the east the rounded hill of Pirn Craig (363m) – locally known as “Rocky” – and its townward spur of Windy Knowe (155m), also known as “Pirn Hill”, and to the south, beyond the Tweed, the extended of ridge of Plora Craig rises sharply from the southerly bank.

Thus the town has grown in an inverted ‘T’ shape north up the valley of the Leithen and east-west along north bank flood plain of the Tweed.

(Wikipedia)

 

 

 

The famous healing spring is situated 3 Wells Brae in Innerleithen and it is called today « St Ronan’s Well » although it must have survived through the centuries under various names, even without a name for a very long time…

 

We just passed through Innerleithen, where St. Ronan’s Well—the highlight of our trip that day—was located. Our stay was far too short to discover all the charms of the place: a beautiful landscape typical of the Scottish Borders, with its green hills overlooking the tranquil waters of the Leithen which join the Tweed River not far from here.

There are many fascinating walks to take in the area to explore the beautiful surrounding scenery, as well as a number of historical sites (Traquair Castle for example) and literary landmarks associated with great Scottish writers (Walter Scott, James Hogg…)

A source of life and prosperity, water is omnipresent in the area and the rivers seem to murmur echoes of centuries past.. I try to imagine the faces of all those who have come here to test the benefits of the mysterious healing source…

 

As I take in all these magnificent  surrounding the town of Innerleithen, I find myself dreaming of putting on my walking boots

Standing there, surrounded by these magnificent hills, I cannot help imagining myself pulling on my walking boots to go and take in the view from above (Lee Pen) and to discover the historical treasures and artistic riches hidden there

 

• the ruins of an old iron age fort on Caerlee Hill, it reminds me of Tap O’ Noth with its ancient fort and vitrified stones.Two vitrified stones have made the journey from beautiful Alba to France in remembrance of the Auld Alliance, which has united and continues to unite our two countries in a loyal and enduring friendship…
• the six sandstone tablets  set in 2005 on the summit of  Pirn Hill. These artistic gems were carved by Mary Kenny, an Innerleithen artist and sculptor and they beautifully illustrate the history of Innerleithen. Last but not least, try to imagine that :   “her musician brother John, from Edinburgh, caused the historic site to reverberate with the sound of a reproduction carynx, the powerful war trumpet of the Celtic peoples.” (Source: The Modern Antiquarian)

 

 

 

Our visit lasted only a short while, yet it was long enough for us to fall under the spell of the place… and for a small door to open onto its many mysteries.

History and legend have always walked hand in hand in Scotland. And whenever literature joins them, an entirely new world begins to unfold.

2 – The Garden: “Un amour de jardin” 😉

 

Flowers and animals have a language of their own, and as soon as I entered the garden, one magnificent shrub in full bloom seemed to beckon to me.

I bowed before the flower, complimented it on its beauty and watched the ceaseless comings and goings of the bees and bumblebees gathering nectar from its lovely yellow blossoms… stunning!

 

Naturally, I wanted to know the name of this little marvel.

It was a ‘Santolina’..

Its name, I thought, was almost as beautiful as the flower itself.

With our changing climate, perhaps it will feel more and more at home here.

 

It’s a wonderful little garden that we came across when we entered St Ronan. You can see just how lovingly it must be tended throughout the seasons by its gardeners.

Summer seems to be a particularly good time to visit St Ronan’s Well garden, but it must be a very beautiful garden in all four seasons.

 

There’s a real sense of creativity in this garden: the great variety and choice of flowers – the original wooden benches, the sort of bench that invites you to sit down and stay a little longer – pretty terracotta sculptures shaped like leaves with quotes attached to a wall…

 

Then came the loveliest surprise of all: a little bronze boy patiently trying to guide his tiny boat through the little stream that tumbles down the garden.

As I sat quietly on one of the wooden benches beside the little stream, my thoughts slowly drifted backwards through the centuries.

The bright flowers around me gradually faded.

The carefully tended paths disappeared beneath marshy ground.

The cheerful garden fell silent.

For a fleeting moment, I tried to picture the place as it might once have been, long before the pavilion, before the museum, before even the name of St Ronan had become attached to these waters…

 

 

The little bronze boy was absorbed in launching his tiny boat and I could not help thinking of Jean et Ronan as little boys. Children have a wonderful gift: they can make us believe that legends are still alive.

And my thoughts kept wandering… I tried to imagine the history of the place…  images flashed by, silhouettes of famous people appeared and disappeared but the mist was rising now… already, the name of St. Ronan was no longer visible on the sign, and the sign had vanished too… before the pavilion, before the museum, before even the name of St Ronan, and the garden had now turned into a gloomy marsh over which flocks of pigeons fly…

A child’s joyful cry suddenly brought me back to reality… the little bronze boy was still there; Did I dream that he had smiled at me and that his little boat was sailing away…

Anyway, I’d better go read the signs and visit the museum… maybe I’ll find a few answers to my questions…

 

3 – From History to Legend…

 

I began to wonder whether historians, archaeologists, geographers, topographers and experts of every kind could really answer all the questions that came to my mind.

When it comes to the earliest history of St Ronan’s Well, I suspect that certainty gives way to conjecture, and facts quietly fade into hypothesis.

So where should I begin?

Perhaps with the information panels scattered through the garden, the little museum and the documents preserved there.

Then another thought crossed my mind. Would I perhaps have found more answers in Abbotsford? Sir Walter Scott knew these hills almost as well as his own library.He delighted in local traditions and old songs, and never hesitated to seek out elderly people whose memories still preserved fragments of forgotten storie

 

One fact surprised me more than any other. The name “St Ronan’s Well” is much more recent than I had imagined.

In fact, it was only in 1826 that the 7th Earl of Traquair had the pavilion built, officially adopting for the place the name of « St Ronan’s Well » . Until then, it seems that the place had been known under the name of “Doo Well » (Dove Well).

While pursuing my research, I discovered a remarkable website: The Modern Antiquarian, a collaborative guide to ancient sites throughout Britain and Europe inspired by Julian Cope’s famous book of the same name. For anyone fascinated by Scotland’s past, it is a treasure trove of photographs, articles and forgotten references.

A whole page is dedicated to St Ronan’s Well, where I’ve just come across a very interesting article about the 18th history of St Ronan’s Well. The article was originally published in 1868 in The Imperial Gazetteer of Scotland.

The spa does not appear to have been remarked for its medicinal properties till about the commencement of the present century. Till then it was noted chiefly or altogether as the resort of pigeons from the circumjacent country, and bore the name of the Doo-well (…)

Even after it came into late notice, the well was a trivial, repulsive-looking fountain, bubbling up amidst a little marsh; and had no better appliance than a rude bench placed at its side for the accommodation of the infirm invalids who crept or were carried to it in quest of health. A simple pump afterwards rose gauntly from its mouth, amidst the wet miry puddle around it.

But about 35 years ago, [±1833] or not much earlier, the spa, with remarkable suddenness, and in a way nearly unaccountable, became celebritous among valetudinarians of all classes in Edinburgh and throughout the south of Scotland. The well, in the decorations built over and around it, in the character assigned it by popular opinion, and in the influence it exerted on the village in its vicinity, now rose, as if by magic, from the status of a watery hole in a quagmire, to that of an infant competitor with the proud spas of England.

In 1824, the publication of Sir Walter Scott’s tale of St. Ronan’s Well, greatly enhanced its celebrity, and poured down upon it some rays of that lustre which popular opinion then assigned to ‘the Great Unknown;’ for nearly all the readers of light literature, in spite of the utter difficulty which a topographist would have felt to discover resemblances, unhesitatingly identified the Marchthorn and the St. Ronan’s of the tale with Peebles and Innerleithen.

 

At least one question had now been answered. But another immediately took its place. Who exactly was St Ronan?

 

 

The name immediately brought two places to my mind.

First came Iona…

Then came Brittany…

I remember pretty well the lovely little chapel dedicated to St Ronan on the island of Iona, and also, having spent many holidays in Brittany, the charming little town of  Locronan. Its patron saint is Saint Ronan who is venerated there.

While researching the subject I came across a delightful little French book published in 1925 by Dr Louis Dujardin, a very well-known figure in Locronan. In this book I learned that there were at least a dozen of saints bearing the name of Ronan.

 

I’ve downloaded  Saint Ronan, but I’ve only read the beginning so far – though enough to realise that there are a number of saints named Saint Ronan. The author also mentions St Ronan’s Well by Walter Scott, but only to say that he didn’t learn much from that book about the true history of St Ronan’s Well. I would like to add, in defence of one of my favourite Scottish authors, that I have read the beginning of his book and learnt a great deal about the geography and even a little history about Innerleithen and its surroundings. No one knew this region better than Sir Walter, who had his magnificent Abbotsford house built there.

Among the many saints named “Ronan” who appear in early Celtic tradition one is the solitary hermit of North Rona, whose tiny island still lies exposed to the restless Atlantic. I must confess that he quickly became my favourite but it’s unlikely that he was the one who chose to leave his lonely island and journey all the way to Innerleithen in pursuit of the Devil.

It would seem, rather, that it was St Ronan of Iona who, whilst on a pilgrimage to France, stopped off at Innerleithen and suddenly found himself face to face with the devil. That is where the legend begins…

Did either of these two saints ever set foot at Innerleithen? We simply do not know.  History offers clues.Tradition tells stories. And somewhere between the two, imagination quietly continues the journey…

The legend of the devil in Innerleithen tells the story of St. Ronan, a pilgrim monk who hooked the Devil by the hind leg with his shepherd’s crook (or “cleikit the de’il”) and chased him out of town.

The legend has never really disappeared. Even today it lives on every July during the St. Ronan’s Border Games via the Cleikum ceremonies and the “Burnin’ the De’il” torchlit procession

 

 

“La beauté du diable“… hum,  if he looks anything like that, I think I’d run for my life if I ever happened to bump into him at dusk…

If you’d like to see for yourself what better way to immerse in the atmosphere of the story than to attend the Cleikum ceremonies held every July?

 

4- The Well

 

The well… sheltered in a wooden building with a ceiling decorated with flowers…

… a place where visitors, spa guests, passing travelers, and pilgrims make wishes by tossing coins and enjoy watching the reflections of their faces dance on the clear, calm waters of this healing spring…

 

A small notice invited visitors to sample the spring water. We smiled at each other. There are moments when curiosity gives way to common sense—or perhaps simply to a preference for Scottish tea and warm scones.😉

We therefore cannot tell you whether the water truly deserves its legendary reputation—we shall have to rely on the testimonies of those who believed in its healing powers.😉

Visitors can taste the spring water from a cast-iron cistern tap built into the wall on the veranda and located on the building’s veranda. I hesitated for a moment in front of the little tap… “the water is good to drink but it has a strong mineral taste”, hum…

Apparently, despite its strong mineral taste, the water is good to drink; it is reputed to improve one’s overall well-being and—which is by no means insignificant—to protects against evil force. I might end up regretting not having drunk some.

 

5 – Sir Walter Scott is not far…

Now, my favourite memory of St Ronan’s Well is its delightful little garden, where a little bronze boy quietly plays with his tiny boat. But we have reached the end of this first journey…

But I’m eager to explore Sir Walter Scott’s vision of this legendary place in his novel St Ronan’s Well.

The very thought  of  opening the first page of another novel by Sir Walter fills me with immense joy…

Every new Walter Scott novel feels like setting off on yet another journey through Scotland. Before the first chapter is over, I find myself walking ancient roads once more, meeting unforgettable characters, and listening to the echoes of a country I never tire of exploring.

And there is one promise I have certainly not forgotten.

” Our promise had been made during one of our unforgettable visits at Abbotsford, the writer’s beloved home in the Scottish Borders and it was nothing less than to read all Sir Walter’s books! I’m not sure we realized then what a big challenge it would be. Just have a look at the wikipedia article devoted to Sir Walter Scott to see the number of books he wrote including novels, short stories, poetry, essays…”

(From Celebrating the 200th birthday anniversary of Walter Scott)

So, our walk through St Ronan’s Well is over—for now. But Sir Walter Scott is already waiting just around the corner.

And, if you feel like following me once again through the Scottish Borders, I’ll meet you very soon at Abbotsford…😉

Á bientôt.

Mairiuna

 

Our walk through St Ronan’s Well is over—for now. But Sir Walter Scott is already waiting just around the corner.

So, if you feel like following me once again through the Scottish Borders, I’ll meet you very soon at Abbotsford…😉

Á bientôt.

Mairiuna