Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs

by James M. Mackinlay

And set upon the nurse’s knee.

And I mysel were dead and gane,

And the green grass growing over me!”

Fortunately, the associations of St. Anthony’s Well have not all been so sad as the above. Many a hopeful moment has been passed beside its margin. A little girl from Aberdeenshire, when on a visit to friends in Edinburgh, made trial of the sacred spring. She was cautioned not to tell anyone what her wish was, else the charm would have no effect. On her return home, however, her eagerness to know whether the wish had, in the meantime, been fulfilled, quite overcame her ability to keep the secret. Her first words were, “Has the pony come?” St. Anthony must have been in good humour with the child, for he provided the pony, thus evidently condoning the breach of silence in deference to her youth. Surely there must be something in wishing-wells, after all, besides water.

CHAPTER XIX.

Meaning of Marvels.

Mystery of a Spring—Marvel and Magic—Misinterpretation of Natural Phenomena—Healing Power of Springs—Peterhead—Poetry and Superstition—MacCulloch—Mistake about a Tree—Strange Appearances of Nature—Spring at Kintail—Disappearance of Spring near Perth—Saints and Storms—St. Milburga—Water like Blood—Origin of Belief in Guardian Spirits—Why Gifts were Offered—Weather Charms—Coincidences—Prophecy of Water—Philosophy of Wishing Wells—Worship of Trees and Springs—Charm-Stones—Continued Reverence for Holy Wells—Conclusion.

Mr. J. M. Barrie is a true interpreter of the youthful mind when he says, in the “Little Minister,” “Children like to peer into wells to see what the world is like at the other side.” Grown-up people are also alive to the mystery of a spring. “Look into its depth,” observes Mr. E. H. Barker in his “Wayfaring in France,” “until the eye, getting reconciled to the darkness, catches the gleam of the still water far below the ferns that hang from the gaping places in the mossy wall, and you will find yourself spellbound by the great enchantress, Nature, while understanding nothing of the mysterious influence.” In days of less enlightenment “the weight of all this unintelligible world” was even more felt than now, and the minds of men were ever on the outlook for the marvellous. What is to us a source of not unpleasing mystery was then a cause of dread. We marvel and make poetry. Our far-off ancestors trembled and sought refuge in magical rites. We still speak of the charms of nature, but the phrase has to us an altered meaning. When we remember how little science there was at one time, we need not be surprised that the phenomena of the outer world were misinterpreted, and hence gave rise to fallacies. This was markedly so in the case of springs. While quenching thirst—a natural function to perform—they became endowed with virtues of an exceptional character, and were esteemed as the givers of health. Even amid the darkness of those distant days we can detect a glimmering of light, for such ideas were not wholly false. Erroneous ideas seldom are. Springs have indeed a health-giving power. Whether or not we accept the full-blown doctrines of modern hydropathy, we must allow that cold water is an excellent tonic. As an acute writer has remarked, “Cold braces the nerves and muscles, and, by strengthening the glands, promotes secretion and circulation, the two grand ministers of health.” Allusion has been made to the mineral waters of Peterhead. The secret of their power is well described by Cordiner in his “Antiquities and Scenery of the North of Scotland,” where he says:—“A mineral well in the summer months gives great gaiety to the place; its salutary virtues have been long, I believe, justly celebrated. The salt-water baths adjoining are much frequented in nervous disorders: their effect in strengthening the constitution is often surprising. Owing to the open peninsulated situation, the air of this place is esteemed peculiarly pure and healthful; even the fogs rising from the sea are thought to be medicinal; the town is therefore much enlivened by the concourse of company who frequent it on these accounts. Without derogating anything from the merits of the baths and mineral, one may reasonably conclude that the custom of walking several hours before breakfast, and meeting the morning breezes from the sea along these cool and refreshing shores, the probability of meeting with choice of companions as an inducement to these early rambles, the perpetual cheerfulness indulged by society entirely disengaged from business and care, and their various inventions to chase away languor, probably contribute no less to the health of the company than the peculiar virtues of the healing spring.”

Truth can commonly be found underlying superstition. The power, possessed by certain aspects of external nature to soothe the troubles of the mind, is one of the commonplaces of modern poetry. This thought, when rendered into folklore, becomes the idea that certain spots are “places of safety from supernatural visitants.” Such was the belief connected with Our Lady’s Well, at Threshfield, near Linton, in Craven, Yorkshire. Whoever took refuge there was free from the power of magical spells. When sailing among the sea-lochs of Lewis, MacCulloch had an experience which he thus describes in his “Western Islands”:—“On one occasion the water was like a mirror, but black as jet, from its depth and from the shadow of the high cliffs which overhung it. The tide, flowing with the rapidity of a torrent, glided past without a ripple to indicate its movement, while the sail aloft was filled by a breeze that did not reach the surface. There was a death-like silence while the boat shot along under the dark rocks like an arrow; to a poetical imagination it might have appeared under a supernatural influence: like the bark of Dante, angel-borne.” If such were the reflections of an educated man like MacCulloch, what must have been the thoughts of our ignorant forefathers when confronted by the ever-recurring marvels of the outer world! Nature is still misinterpreted by credulous people through a lack of knowledge of her laws. A good example of this, bearing, not, however, on water, but on tree-worship, is given by Dr. J. Fergusson, in his “Tree and Serpent Worship.” A god was said to have appeared in a certain date-palm in a village a few miles from Tessore, and the tree was promptly adorned by the Brahmins with garlands and offerings. Dr. Fergusson observes:—“On my inquiring how the god manifested his presence, I was informed that, soon after the sun rose in the morning, the tree raised its head to welcome him, and bowed it down again when he departed. As this was a miracle easily tested, I returned at noon and found it was so. After a little study and investigation, the mystery did not seem difficult of explanation. The tree had originally grown across the principal pathway through the village, but at last hung so low that, in order to enable people to pass under it, it had been turned aside and fastened parallel to the road. In the operation the bundle of fibres which composed the root had become twisted like the strands of a rope. When the morning sun struck on the upper surface of them, they contracted in drying, and hence a tendency to untwist, which raised the head of the tree. With the evening dews they relaxed, and the head of the tree declined.”