17 historic Scottish locations as seen in the first OS maps
It took them almost 40 years to gather all the information.
The result was arguably the first comprehensive gazetteer of Scotland. The Ordnance Survey name books detail just about every geographical feature from Out Stack, the most northly part of Shetland, to the Mull of Galloway, the most southerly part of Scotland.
READ MORE: The 13 Scottish words added to the Oxford English Dictionary – see full list
The books offer a snapshot in time, capturing the country as it was in Victorian times. The Wallace Monument in Stirling was only at its foundation course at the time of being surveyed in 1861-1862.
A range of entries for different locations around Scotland:
Standing Stones of Stenness (OS1/23/21/6) – Orkney. Surveyor cites local people and two books about Orkney as sources. 'It can only be supposed as probable that religious zeal impelled the half savage islanders to unite their strength in raising these huge masses of stones as enclosed places of sacrifice, but at best this is only a surmise.'
Borg Pict's Tower (OS1/33/20/239) – Reay, Sutherland. Described as a large circular structure likely built by Picts; includes a sketch showing the scale of the massive stones. It begins: "This name applies to the remains of an ancient building which very probably - belonged to the Picts, from the construction of the building. It is of a circular shape and measures about 70 feet in diameter. It is composed of very large stones so large indeed that it would be thought impossible for any number of men to raise them to such a height without the aid of machinery."
Bronze Spearhead (OS1/7/12/164) – Watten, Caithness. Entry includes a sketch of a bronze spearhead said to be found at this site.
Ardross Castle (OS1/28/2/8) – Ross-shire. In recent years this building has became famous as the location of The Traitors TV reality game show. The entry describes it as "an elegant modern building".
Castle Street (OS1/17/33/125) – Inverness. Formerly known as "Doomesdale Street" due to it being the route to the gallows.
Sculptured Stone (OS1/1/10/42) – Bourtie Parish. Entry includes a sketch of a Pictish symbol stone repurposed into part of a church wall. Entry reads: "In the south wall of the church near the roof on the east side, there is built a curiously carved stone, it is about 30 inches long by about 12 broad. It was discovered in its present position about 10 years ago by a man who was employed in the grave yard lettering tombstones."
Sculptured stones (OS1/1/70/25) – Carden, Logie Elphinstone. Entry includes a sketch: "These stones, three in number, are now built into the wall on the east side of the turnpike road where the north approach to the house of Logie Elphinstone leaves it; two on the South and one on the west side of the lodge. They were found on the moor of Carden and placed where they now are, but Sir J.D.H. Elphinstone thinks of removing to some place nearer his residence. The sculpturing on two of them is pretty perfect, the third is a little defaced."
Maiden Stone (OS1/1/13/58) – Chapel of Garioch. Entry includes a sketch of a Pictish stone cross slab with two possible local legends mentioned about its past neither of which was a happy tale for the eponymous Maiden.
Dunnottar Castle (OS1/19/6/51) – Aberdeenshire. Contains a long descriptive entry from the Statistical Account highlighting the castle's significance.
Balmoral Castle (OS1/1/19/118) – Braemar and Crathie. The entry is long and concludes: "'Property of Queen Victoria'.
Glenfinnan Monument (OS1/17/9/99) Entry describes the monument to Prince Charles Edward Stuart at the site where he is said to have first raised his colours on arrival in Scotland in pursuit of the throne. It quotes the metal plaque: "On this spot where Prince Charles Edward Stuart first raised his standard On XIX day of August MDCCXLV. When he made the daring and romantic attempt to recover a throne lost by the imprudence of his ancestors."
Wallace Monument (OS1/8/6/27) – Stirling. Describes early stages of construction in 1861, highlighting its national importance and intended 220ft height. Entry reads: "The proposal for rearing on the Abbey Craig a monument in honour of National Patriot, Sir William Wallace, was inaugurated at a great national meeting, held in the Kings Park, Stirling, on the 24th June, 1856. The first stone was laid on the 24th June, 1861. The monument is to be erected solely by public subscription. As yet only the foundation course is laid. It is to be two hundred and twenty feet in height, and will combine strength with elegance of design."
Dragon's Hole (OS1/25/41/19) – Kinnoull Hill, Perth. Entry in full: "A Hole or Cave in the Rocks in the face of Kinnoull Hill, Supposed by some Antiquarians to be designated so on account of its being the residence of a dragon or large Serpent. The entrance to the cave can be seen from the Dundee Road at Lairwell. It is difficult of access, and appears to have been no larger than it is at present, it will contain about 12 persons. This cave has been known by its present name as early as the sixth Century. Prior to the year 1580 this cave was greatly resorted to in the month of May by the young men and women of Perth. On the 2nd May 1580, the Kirk Session of Perth passed an Act prohibiting all persons proceeding to the Dragon Hole superstitiously under a penalty of twenty shillings to the poor to be paid by every person found guilty. Also, that they shall make their public repentance upon a Sabbath-day in the presence of the people."
Edinburgh Castle (OS1/11/105/6) Long entry covering the site's history and the etymology of "Edinburgh"; other related pages available.
Kelvingrove House (OS1/21/29/46) – Glasgow. Referred to as 'a fine old mansion of about 120 years.'
Gretna Green (OS1/10/22/37) – Dumfries and Galloway. Famous for runaway marriages, the entry notes the decline of these after legal changes in 1837.
Lamberton Toll Barr (OS1/5/34/26) – Near Berwick. Known as the "Gretna Green of the East,' with up to 300 marriages performed annually at this border tollhouse. The entry describes a rectangular building two storeys high, in good repair, with an outhouse attached; it is situated about 3 1/2 miles from Berwick on the high road to [Eyemouth?] and is the property of the trustees. This building is on the boundary of England and Scotland and is notorious for being the Gretna Green of the East as 300 marriages take place here [annually?].
The books date from between 1845 and 1880. They contain around 300,000 place entries and include everything from famous castles to small local landmarks.
The Ordnance Survey name books were also the first systematic attempt at recording Gaelic place-names.
Archivist Jessica Evershed said: 'The Ordnance Survey used the name books to inform the spelling of places on their first edition six-inch maps of Scotland. They could be considered the first comprehensive gazetteer of places in Scotland.
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'These records will be fascinating to local and family historians, hoping to understand the evolution of the Scottish landscape and of the places their ancestors worked and lived. They can offer explanations of the origins of place-names from local people, including stories of how place-names came about. Sadly, some of these stories are now forgotten with the passage of time.
'You can search for a favourite historic building or landmark and compare the historical entry with how it looks today.'
Click here to see more records on the Scotland's People website.
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Sunday Post
7 hours ago
- Sunday Post
The Scottish monk who helped in the fight against Napoleon
Get a weekly round-up of stories from The Sunday Post: Thank you for signing up to our Sunday Post newsletter. Something went wrong - please try again later. Sign Up He was described as a 'short, stout, merry little monk' who was always jesting and poking fun, but James Robertson was truly extraordinary. In 1808, as Napoleon neared the peak of his power, it was this middle-aged and overweight Scottish monk to whom the British government turned for a special mission. The unlikely secret agent's task? Travel to Germany to persuade a Spanish general and his troops to betray the French emperor and switch sides. It may sound like something straight out of a war novel, but this is a true story that author Roger Hunt stumbled on and has been enthralled by for nearly 30 years. Robertson was born in 1758 but spent much of his life at a monastery in Regensberg, Germany, at the time known as Ratisbon. © Supplied While reading a biography of the Duke of Wellington, Roger found references to a meeting between the monk and a pre-dukedom Arthur Wellesley in London in the spring of 1808. Robertson was, at that point, a tutor to an aristocratic family in England, and noted that he was willing to aid the British government's struggles against Napoleon. 'I was thinking, what on Earth is a Scottish Benedictine monk whose parents were almost certainly Jacobites doing going on a spying mission for the British Government?' Roger said. 'It was completely bizarre. 'I started digging and in the British Library is a copy of Robertson's memoir, written by his nephew, about his mission to extricate the Spanish Division, commanded by Pedro Caro, Marquis of La Romana. 'When I retired, I started really properly having a look and also made contact with the Robertson clan, who had some records as well. It was an extraordinary story that turned out to be true.' Roger's aim was to put together a history book but, realising that details were scant, he decided to write a work of fiction based on the monk's extraordinary life and sticking closely to actual reported events. He was so fascinated by the story that, as well as hours in libraries and archives, he and his wife travelled to Europe and retraced Robertson's steps through northern Germany into Denmark and visited some of the sites of the action. © Supplied The result is Vindicta, which introduces French spy-hunter Jacques Marquet as a nemesis to Robertson. A game of cat and mouse unfolds in the book as Robertson tries to find and persuade the Spanish general to defect, while all the time avoiding capture by Marquet, a real-life figure whose portrait hangs in the National Gallery in London. 'Robertson is described as very intelligent,' Roger said. 'He had a superb education at the Scottish Seminary, first in Douai in northern France and then in Dinant in Belgium, until that was closed down by the French. 'He was fluent in German, French, Latin, Greek. He took his religious vows, where he was called Gallus after a Scottish Irish saint, and used that as his religious name. 'Wellesley at that stage was secretary to the Viceroy of Ireland, the Duke of Richmond, who while touring round Europe had stayed in the Scottish monastery in Ratisbon. He probably introduced Robertson to Wellesley, and hence set up the meeting with George Canning, the foreign secretary, who then employed Robertson on the mission. It's amazing all the different connections.' While Robertson may have been a surprise choice for such a daring mission, he had previous. Indeed, he had already met Napoleon, having been sent on a visit to the then consul to try to save the monastery in Ratisbon. 'Napoleon had closed a whole load of others, but Robertson was successful in persuading him not to order the closure of this monastery,' Roger said. 'Obviously, as well as being a 'merry little monk', he was incredibly persuasive and brave. Maybe that's why Wellesley and then Canning accepted that this man was going to be able to persuade La Romana to change sides. And so he did. 'He was extraordinarily courageous. I think his motivation was that he wanted revenge on Napoleon for what he'd done to the Catholic Church in Europe, as well as to help the British who were on the back foot in the wars.' Just being able to meet the Spanish in the first place had involved a few Mission Impossible-style tricks. Robertson arrived in Germany only to discover that the troops had moved on to Denmark, where they were part of the forces set to take part in an invasion of Sweden. He needed a cover story to make it across the border and earn an audience with La Romana. 'He took the name Adam Rorauer, a Bavarian he knew in London and disguised himself as a chocolate and cigar salesman, which is absolutely brilliant,' Roger said. 'The Spaniards were running out of supplies. That was the way he wangled his way to see La Romana.' © Supplied The fact that Napoleon had overthrown King Charles IV and Prince Ferdinand and placed his brother Joseph on the Spanish throne helped convince La Romana's division to discard their loyalty to Imperial France. Robertson's work paved the way for a crucial military operation in which most of the troops were successfully evacuated from Denmark by the British navy and shipped to Spain to fight against France in the Peninsular War. Roger was assisted in piecing together the story by descendants in the clan Robertson, who provided him with some of their records. The monk's will is held in Downside Abbey in Somerset. 'I went there as well to have a look,' Roger said. 'It doesn't say a lot, but again it was helpful in proving that a) he existed and b) what I'd read was reasonably true, hence the determination that the novel would be based as close as I could on true events.' With so many extra pieces of information jumping out to Roger throughout his research, the job isn't yet complete and he hopes to write a prequel to Vindicta telling of Robertson's early life. 'I enjoyed the writing process,' he said. 'I discovered that Robertson actually taught German to Lord Palmerston, later the British Prime Minister. 'The research never finishes. You think you've learned all you can, and that's not the case at all. 'Before he was sent on this mission, Robertson was in Ireland teaching French at Maynooth University, so that will form some idea as to a prequel. 'He's an absolutely amazing character and the story is quite extraordinary. A very, very brave Scotsman.' Vindicta by Roger Hunt is available now from Troubador Publishing
The Herald Scotland
19 hours ago
- The Herald Scotland
The castle rebuilt after decades of struggle and tapestries from eBay
But abandoned for decades by absent owners, its magnificence had long faded; all grandeur deteriorated to little more than a collapsed husk of rubble and weeds. And by the time David Johnston became Balintore's owner, windows were smashed, floors had collapsed and its centrepiece, a dramatic Great Hall that had once echoed with tales of days on the moor and after-hours gatherings, had been silenced by decades of neglect. To some it may have looked like a lost cause; yet another grand Scottish building condemned to ruin. Balintore Castle's Great Hall before undergoing restoration (Image: David Johnston) But the sandstone castle overlooking Glen Quharity, had already stolen his heart. And what happened next would take him on a gruelling journey spanning over two decades: a true labour of love that would take its toll on his health and his pocket, bring immense highs and soul-destroying lows, a lot of frustrations and one or two surprises. Among them is one that's come with the latest milestone in what must be Scotland's most determined castle restoration project: the revival of that magnificent Great Hall. Faced with trying to figure out how to appropriately dress such a daunting space, David would find a solution in, of all places – eBay. 'Certain things are only useful if you happen to have a great hall,' he muses. 'And for first time in my life I have had to think about tapestries. 'I ended up looking on eBay and found these Chinese tapestries. I bought one - and it's really pretty good.' The jacquard-woven fabric was far better than the cheaper, printed silk versions he'd spotted in another unlikely place for kitting out a Scottish castle: Temu. This Great Hall, after all, demands far more - with sweeping balcony views from the upper bedroom corridor and a revived stateliness, it's the room he set his heart on bringing back to life. Read more by Sandra Dick: Now just days away from its grand opening, it has emerged even better than he expected it might: 'And I have pretty high expectations,' he says. Next month will see a reopening celebration that will signify not just the rebirth of the castle's heart, but the closing lines in another chapter in a story of relentless graft, heartbreak, and devotion to a building which, in his own words, only a 'lunatic' would take on. It's one rooted in personal grief as David, a software engineer, navigated life in the wake of losing both of his parents. 'You ask yourself that question, 'what am I going to do with my life?' It's such a hard time. 'I took time out, I did a PhD as a mature student. Then I thought what next?' The newly-restored Great Hall at Balintore Castle (Image: David Johnston) Niggling away was the thought of taking on a building restoration project although, perhaps, not one quite as all-consuming as Balintore Castle would turn out to be... It began when a friend sent him a link to an early first version of Scotland's Buildings at Risk Register. It opened a portal into a world of crumbling but magnificent ruins: manors, mansions, baronial follies – all long forgotten and fading, all in dire need of rescuing. Among them was Balintore. 'I thought, 'That would be insanity,' and put it to the back of my mind,' says David. Instead, he set his sights instead on another castle only for it to fall through after a year of planning. Balintore remained in the background. Before long, he was hooked. Its owner, however, was an absent businessman in the Far East and David's phone calls, letters and emails enquiring over whether it might be for sale went unanswered. After decades of neglect, Balintore Castle near Kirriemuir is being carefully restored to former glory (Image: David Johnston) What followed was an eight-year struggle leading to Angus Council stepping in to carry out a compulsory purchase order – the first of its kind - and David finally having his £80,000 bid to become its new owner accepted in 2007. All the while, Balintore Castle had crumbled further. 'If I'd known how long it would take I would not have started the journey,' says David. 'But once on it, you can't give up.' He's far from the only one to become hooked on the dream of breathing life back into a piece of crumbling Scottish heritage: since the 1950s, around 250 Scottish castles and tower houses have been restored, including around 100 reborn from derelict or ruined state, mostly for private occupation. Among them, Culdees Castle near Muthill in Perthshire, which Tracey and Rob Beaton found as a tumbledown wreck and in just a few years have ploughed around £2.5 million into teasing back to life. Culdees Castle in Perthshire before restoration work to bring it back to life (Image: Culdees Castle Estate/Tracey Beaton) Others include Category B-Listed Cavers Castle, near Hawick – which has a history stretching to the 13th century - at the centre of restoration plans by an American-based owner after years languishing on the Buildings at Risk Register. An American couple, David and Chelom Leavitt, are currently restoring Knockderry Castle in Cove, Argyll. At Torwood Castle, near Larbert, keeper Gary Grant is at the helm of a huge community project to halt its deterioration and bring some of its rooms back into use, and in Lanarkshire, businesswoman Nicole Rudder, has spent £235,000 buying B-Listed Garrion Tower, an imposing Victorian pile in the Clyde Valley that was being consumed by nature. Read more by Sandra Dick: Having spent years waiting to become Balintore Castle's owner, David's first visit was always going to be memorable - except it would be for all the wrong reasons. 'It was terrifying," he remembers. "I asked what am I letting myself in for? But I had already lost my heart to the building. 'It was totally depressing,' he adds. 'The impression was one of intense sadness that this building had declined so much. 'I thought it would be a whole load of money and a whole load of love to turn it around.' First task would be clearing rubble piled six to ten feet high, caused when upper floors had collapsed to the ground. 'I had this very romantic notion I would learn carpentry and do it all myself,' says David. 'But then reality comes in. 'To get it done you need proper builders that can go quicker and move it forward. 'But it was very hard to find a builder. The Great Hall at Balintore Castle pictured in 1968 before it fell into disrepair (Image: David Johnston) 'Some would come and take one look then literally flee. I needed to find a builder who was fearless with a range of skills.' Against the odds, he found Andy, a slater by trade, who helped him with the roof and to reclaim floors in the building. Then came Gregor, whose carpentry skills turned out to be invaluable. He brought his son, Greg who, confronted by one of the castle's round turrets that couldn't be fitted with plasterboard, discovered a hidden talent for plastering. Next arrived George – 'an amazing electrician'. Snow covers the floor of the Great Hall at Balintore Castle, pictured before restoration (Image: David Johnston) The restoration has been without any grant funding; David has paid for most from it from his own pocket, taking work in IT in London's financial sector to help, and some thanks to crowdfunding via a GoFundMe page. But the sheer volume of what needed done was staggering. Designed in 1859 by the architect William Burn as a sporting lodge for wealthy shipping merchant David Lyon, the castle has 84 rooms. Some of them, David only discovered as work evolved and floors reopened, allowing him to explore hidden passages and peek into long shut doors. Read more by Sandra Dick: Along the way, there were always more hurdles to overcome. Such as when he sought planning permission to turn a kitchen wing into holiday accommodation to help fund work on the castle which stalled for seven years. When David had finally managed to get it ready to welcome AirBnB guests, Covid hit and all bookings had to be cancelled. He soldiered on even when the stress took its toll on his heart and then on his own mental wellbeing, leading his friends to urge him to hit pause. At times the restoration of the castle's Great Hall seemed out of reach. Without it, though, Balintore Castle felt hollow and incomplete. In its heyday it was the castle's beating heart, where guests included Hollywood legends Clark Gable, David Niven and Alan Ladd and author J. M. Barrie. Hollywood star Clark Gable was among the 1930s visitors to Balintore Castle (Image: Movie studio, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons) The Queen Mother visited in the 1950s, while the last resident, Lady Eleanor Langman – known affectionately as Auntie Nellie and who believed the building had almost spiritual powers - hosted many parties. 'After 16 years at Balintore, I went to Gregor and said 'let's go for broke, let's go for the Great Hall,' says David. Now finally complete – its grand public opening is planned for Sunday, August 3 – David hopes it will become a venue again for celebrations and gatherings. And having poured heart and soul into Balintore Castle for more than two decades, it's time for a new phase: David hopes it can now 'sing for its supper', possibly run by a charity and with a castle manager in place to keep it ticking along. Builders' materials stored in Balintore Castle's dining room during restoration work (Image: David Johnston) It's also been a time to reflect on a journey that could have been less stressful. With Scotland's wealth of old buildings at risk, David believes it should be far easier for people like him to take on and restore them. 'The whole system should be radically simplified with incentives and removal of barriers to re-use old buildings,' he adds. 'Large old buildings suffer from 'dodgy owner syndrome' who promise the world but do absolutely nothing. 'I'm putting the castle back exactly as it was,' he adds. 'I love historic room settings, I'm not changing anything, it's repairing – it should not be that difficult.' Read more by Sandra Dick: Meanwhile, Balintore's rebirth is still a work in progress: high on the 'to do' list is a drawing room that needs attention, and a missing spiral staircase. Two gate lodges need re-roofed, there's a garden that's mostly bog and a vision that the castle, which once enjoyed the use of an old hydroelectric station, can once again be powered using renewable energy. After more than 20 years, there is still work to be done to restore Balintore Castle (Image: David Johnston) And for any budding castle owners considering their own restoration project, David suggests key to surviving the ups and downs is simple: don't think about it too much. 'To talk about how much has been completed and what's still to do is the path to utter insanity. It will destroy you. 'We are the lunatic fringe,' he adds. 'I know people restoring buildings larger than this castle. 'And if someone is doing a bigger building than this on less money, that makes us the sane ones.'
Spectator
a day ago
- Spectator
Why I'm still wearing black
When my father passed away suddenly in April, I committed to wearing only black until after the funeral. I'm still struggling to properly articulate my feelings, but wearing black seems like a mark – albeit a feeble one – of respect to the memory of the best man I will ever know, and a small hold-out against fully returning to real life. I'm obviously not the first to wear black in mourning; the colour has held a near-mystical appeal for millennia. The Romans used to don a toga pulla when grieving. In the early medieval period, black symbolised malevolence, but by the 12th century the colour was associated with dignity, austerity and moral authority. It was adopted by many religious orders, including the Benedictines and the Dominicans. Black as mourning-wear was popularised in the 19th century under Queen Victoria. Women and children were expected to forego all colourful clothes for a year following the death of the family's patriarch. The rise in elaborate and ostentatious mourning outfits turned grieving into a business: the jet trade in England, particularly in Whitby, flourished because of the demand for mourning jewellery. After her husband Prince Albert died, Queen Victoria famously wore black for the final four decades of her life, including at her daughters' weddings. The Victorians had other, more eccentric grieving habits. Covering mirrors was one practice, as was 'telling the bees'. Beekeepers would whisper the news of a death in the family to their insects and would cover the hives in black fabric. A Victorian rector wrote in 1886 that the news should be delivered to the bees at midnight; others said it must be sung to in rhyme. I understand why such mourning rituals have gone out of fashion, and I can see that wearing black feels anachronistic in 2025, if not a bit pretentious. Most people probably haven't even noticed my new obsession, and my family and friends have been a little baffled as to why I have felt so compelled to do it. My father would probably think it all quite ridiculous. Wearing black to every occasion has been impractical and often quite silly. Rather than being dignified, my attempt at this high-minded solemnity has meant sweltering in the same black suit through successive heatwaves, interviews and parties. Still, I can't help but think that it's a shame – for both the living and the dead – that we've lost some of these traditions. They offer comfort and a degree of protection when even small things can feel daunting. I've certainly struggled to do anything without thinking of my dad. A couple of days before he died, he asked to see a priest and receive the Last Rites. I was suddenly reminded of his Catholic upbringing, and that he had lived decades of his life before I came along. I have realised I never really knew much about him beyond the fact that he was my dad. Contemplating the decades of life ahead now he's gone seems just as hard to get my head around. Weeks pass in a rush of hen dos, friends' newborn babies and work deadlines, and April has somehow turned into July. I am grateful for the distractions of day-to-day life. At the same time, I sometimes find myself in panicked disbelief that a full calendar month could pass without him. The funeral has come and gone and I'm still wearing black. While I doubt I will stick to this forever like Queen Victoria, I'm not sure when I'll return to my normal wardrobe. I miss him terribly. Wearing black has turned into a welcome constant – a line of defence. I've realised that a speedy return to 'normal' life has come with some other strange concessions. There are lots of things besides wearing other colours that I'm not sure when I'll start doing: listening to music again, checking the weather forecast, reading whole books, talking about him in the past tense. But for the time being I will stay in this slightly muted, quietly beautiful world of mourning. I want to keep remembering him.
