Nestled into the hind of central Edinburgh is a quaint little area known as “Dean Village”. The name comes from “dene”, derived from the Old English “denu”, meaning “valley”. It’s an apt name, as the village is situated within the depths of a ravine, the Water of Leith—Edinburgh’s central river—cutting through it.
(The ravine as seen from either side of the Dean Bridge)
The village, due to its proximity to the river, supported mills for hundreds of years.
(Old milling building with waterway)
What struck me first while descending to Dean Village is the variety of architecture, something characteristic of Edinburgh as a city. As mentioned by a tour guide at Edinburgh castle, Edinburgh is a unique city in that not only is it old (at least Bronze Age, perhaps even Mesolithic), but it has consistently been inhabited. While there are older areas in the UK—such as Stone Henge—people have not lived there for some time. As a result, the city echoes its history with its layout and architecture. Buildings will dance from medieval, to Gothic, to everything in between, reflecting the city’s various occupiers and rulers, the eras that came and went.
(Edinburgh as seen from Edinburgh castle)
Dean Village is no exception—old stone converges with Victorian and Bavarian style structures, all ensconced around the tranquil river. It’s sometimes hard to tell what came first and what came after—the originals and their successful imitations disturbing the chronology.
Leveling out at the bottom of the ravine are signs for the “Water of Leith Walkway”, a nature path spanning a neck of the river. It’s quiet, the trees at either end of the river silencing the sounds of the roads above. It’s a common place of respite for locals; students walk and discuss their busy week ahead; a biker skirts past; teenagers sit below on the banks smoking weed and playing music from their phones.
(Approaching the Dean Bridge from below)
Near the end of the path, past the graffiti strewn arches of the Dean Bridge, stands another structure plucked from history—this time an antiquated statue, something that might be found preserved in a museum in Rome.
Though the structure isn’t quite that old, what it enshrines is. Below the statue rests Saint Bernard’s well, a well rumored to have been discovered by a crew of schoolboys in the late eighteenth century. In the proceeding years, talk began to spread of the well’s apparent healing properties, drawing the attention of a wealthy benefactor and anti-slavery advocate, Lord Gardenstone, who purchased the well and commissioned the Scottish artist Alexander Nasmyth to create the surrounding structure, completing it in 1789.
As outlined in this article, Nasmyth chose the Greco-Roman design in commemoration to the Scottish enlightenment, the leading lady representing Hyigeia, the goddess of health (hence, “hygiene”).
(Hyigeia. Snake “takes the waters”)
Inscribed on the roof of the structure is “Bibendo Valeris”, Latin for “Drink, and you will be well”, referring to the practice of “taking the waters”, said to miraculously aid or cure a “variety of ailments”.
The well takes its name not from the very cute, gigantic breed of dog, but from the 10th/11th century Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the very same who founded the Knights Templar. Legend has it that he visited Scotland during the second crusade, promised “a country rich in faith and fighting men”. Falling ill, he sequestered himself in a cave nearby, where the scenic beauty and waters rejuvenated him, causing him to bless the people of the district and its water.
Pretty neat!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed these pictures taken by yours truly, and a little history lesson to go with them. I very much enjoyed my time in Edinburgh.