‘THERE is a fine line between fact and folklore in Leadhills,” the chairman of the village’s Miners’ Library chuckled. I was pleased to hear it. This queer village high among the heather-laden Lowther Hills was the first stop on my trail to explore some truths and tales of working life along the Clyde.

One piece of folklore is proclaimed on information boards in the library, bus stop, and cemetery. The miner John Taylor, despite a life spent inhaling lead fumes, is said to have worked into his 120s and lived to the age of 137. The mines he hewed with countless others were run from 1734 to 1770 by Sir James Stirling, a Jacobite and mathematical protege of Isaac Newton’s, whose fabled exploits are also common lore.

Over a dram in the Hopetoun Arms, Phil and Ali – not the folk duo, but warm and well-known locals – told me of Stirling’s flight from assassins after stealing the secrets of the Venetian glass-blowers. “James Bond with brains,” Ali dubbed him.

Next morning on Main Street, an older resident regaled me with the story that when Hanoverian Redcoats came to find Stirling during the 1745 rising, they were bopped on the head and buried in his garden. Stirling’s life merits a movie.

The National:

There is no doubt about the fabled heights of the village. The Hopetoun Arms is the “highest residential hotel in Scotland”. I did wonder where to find a non-residential hotel, high or low, but for all its qualifications I found it hale and homely, settled but unstuffy. From my attic room I could see across the village to the wild brown hills, punctured with plugged mineshafts. Setting out, I reached them in minutes, swiftly gaining views of golden hills and valleys, southwards towards Dumfriesshire and north towards Lanarkshire. “God’s Treasure House” is now a grouse moor, thick with heather.

Down below, four streets lined with miners’ houses climb out from the square. Where miners’ wives once spun, today’s cottage industry involves carefully arranging dragons, boats, and other sundry ornaments on window sills and lawns, in kailyard fashion.

Judging from roadside encounters and involuntary eavesdropping, Leadhills has earned a strong reputation as a serene retirement spot and a scenic detour for tourists heading north from England. At first the village seems to nod sleepily, but as I wended my way around, I began to understand what Rab, the hotel proprietor, had said: “There’s a lot of life in Leadhills, once you get the bug.”

I came across a man breaking up wooden pallets next to a flat-tyred old car with an open boot spilling out junk and iron poles. Within a minute of chatting, he picked up some heavy ore sitting in the boot like a prop. It contained not just lead, but silver, ammonite, and locally-discovered leadhillite.

An engineer, he was well aware of the geological cornucopia underfoot. As we wiped our hands on his fleece to avoid lead poisoning, I asked about future prospects. He said that mining companies sometimes scour lead slagheaps for heavy minerals and might do so there one day. Until then, Leadhills would be home to retirees, home-working families, tradespeople and seasonal workers.

Later, when the northern clouds glowed pink in the sunset, I met another local taking his sheepdog to a patch of land above the cottages. He explained that when Stirling arrived, miners got land so their families could grow good food. Today, many cottages still have croft-like strips in their deeds. The problem is that many cottages only have land on the other side of the village, and some have not a scrap, not even a front garden. This, he said, is because many miners got drunk on a Sunday and gambled their land away.

That was after Stirling’s time. When he arrived in 1734, workers were in bad health and worn out. From the Scots Mining Company House, which stands above the village like a benevolent steward, he introduced a new system of working. Groups of workers formed units and negotiated “bargains”, like gigs or sub-contracting agreements, with Stirling’s clerks.

“Bargain books” in the library record every negotiation made by the miners. Overseers checked the work to see that progress was being made and that conditions were safe, then left the miners to their own devices. The working day was drastically reduced, from 12 to six hours on some accounts, and visitors described a population that was immeasurably happier than other mining communities. Miners bought all their own equipment, except timber for propping up the mine shafts, which was scarce in the hills. Perhaps that’s why my engineer was diligently salvaging his pallets.

When not at work, some miners gathered to read, in Britain’s first workers’ library. John Crawford, the library chairman, explained how members sat in rigid rows, and read science, divinity, history, and geography, for their mutual improvement. Next day, Ken Ledger, esteemed local antiquarian, told me of the mining history from the iron age, through the Roman occupation, under the Newbattle monks in the 1200s, to the strikes of the 1830s when Stirling’s reforms had withered.

Before long, Ken’s son arrived for the meeting of the local nature reserve. I walked out into a swirl of leaves, and past the door of a Portaloo blown off in the storm. I saw the curfew bell, erected in Stirling’s memory and rung as a timekeeper for miners: a symbol of well-measured management.

Stirling’s little republic sparked a later myth, that the utopian mill and settlement of New Lanark was inspired by Leadhills. However true that bit of folklore, the curfew bell, the land parcels, the bargain books, and the workers’ library all fit with the remarkable fact that Leadhills once was a frontier of a better kind of working life. There will always be overseers, but if work is arranged according to rules that folk understand, with devices that are their own, then people can remain in command of their labour and their lives.

  • - Hopetoun Arms Hotel is a listed building with a comfortable bar and lounge, with a good traditional menu. Twin rooms including a wholesome breakfast from £99.
  • - Leadhills Miners’ Library is Britain’s oldest subscription library. Open weekend afternoons, May to September, and by arrangement. For a host of resources see leadhillslibrary.co.uk.
  • - Ken Ledger posts research into Leadhills on his fascinating Facebook page, Flashback – Leadhills
  • - The Museum of Lead Mining in nearby Wanlockhead features a real mine, unique in Scotland. It is open from April 13 until the end of September this year
  • - Walks starting from Leadhills include Lowther Hill, which crosses the Southern Upland Way