The Real Mary King's Close:
Subterranean History
Beneath the famous Royal Mile of Edinburgh’s Old Town lies an almost perfectly preserved secret street. Named for Mary King, a Scottish burgess and fabric trader who was born in the late 16th century, Mary King’s Close wasn’t always subterranean. It started as a bustling, open air street until the Royal Exchange (now the City Chambers) was commissioned in the 18th century. The close, which is actually a series of narrow streets and alleys (called ‘wynds’), was partially demolished or buried to make way for the new building. However, a lot of it remained, sealed off underground, dormant.
I’ve since read that Mary herself died before the street was named in her honour, which is rubbish! It was so rare back then (and even now, tbh) for a street to be named after a woman, and she didn’t even get to know about it!
Black Death
Unsanitary conditions and small, densely-populated spaces made the Close a perfect breeding ground for Yersinia Pestis, the bacteria that causes the Plague. It broke out in Edinburgh in 1645, and Mary King’s Close was struck hard. The council moved away the people who were healthy and able (or willing) to relocate. The remaining sick and poor were instructed to stay in their homes, and the Close itself was sealed to stop the infection from spreading further. For many, their homes became their tombs as they succumbed to the pestilence.
These people weren’t entirely abandoned, however. Those unable to leave their houses would place a white flag in their windows. This signalled council workers to leave coal and food on their doorsteps. Even if they died, they at least died with some semblance of comfort.
A notable hero from this dark time is one George Rae, the plague doctor. He would enter the sealed Close, at huge risk to himself, and attempt to treat the sick and dying. Rae used the established method of cutting open the plague sores, letting them drain, and then cauterising the wound. Despite the now-archaic methods, he actually did save some lives!
Miraculously, George survived the plague, probably due to his outfit. Plague doctors of the time would wear thick leather coats and gloves, with the iconic mask shaped like a bird skull. The ‘beak’ of the mask only had two small holes for breathing, and was stuffed with a variety of aromatic ingredients believed to stop ‘miasma’ from gaining entry to the body and causing disease. Some of those ingredients included: dried flowers and herbs, small sponges soaked with vinegar or camphor, and ointments like myrrh and theriac.
I’ve read that Rae didn’t receive his pay for the selfless work he did in Mary King’s Close. I imagine this is because the council didn’t expect him to survive. They must have owed him a massive sum at the end, and it’s so cheeky of them to have dodged the responsibility. I hope he haunted them forever.
Ghost Stories
The partial burial and eventual sealing of Mary King’s Close gave the place an air of mystique. It sparked gruesome stories and spooky tales, becoming almost legendary in status.
Historically, the tales of hauntings at Mary King’s Close have been around since the 17th century. So they are contemporary with the plague times, as opposed to because of them. Later research has suggested that biogas escaping from nearby fetid marshland caused hallucinations, and produced strange looking lights (will-o’-the-wisps), and thus the ‘hauntings’. I don’t like to be that cynical, though it’s a strong contender for an explanation.
Some of the historical hauntings include: scratching from inside a chimney, with people who dared to reach up inside getting scratched by an unseen spirit; a disembodied arm; and a man’s severed head floating through the air. There is one particularly famous ghost down there – that of a child named Annie, who I’ll talk about properly below.
Mary King’s Close was fully closed in 1902 after its last, rather persistent, resident left. His name was Andrew Chesney, a sawmaker. He was eventually compelled to leave by further expansion of the Royal Exchange buildings. Again, you’ll hear more about him later. Apart from being used as a bomb shelter in the Second World War, the streets remained deserted (except for ghosts).
The Close has been featured on programmes like Most Haunted and Haunted History, keeping the paranormal allure alive right in to the 21st century.
Mary King’s Close: The Tour
The story didn’t end there. Under Continuum Attractions, Mary King’s Close started official guided tours in 2003. They’re still going strong today, telling the real stories and bringing the history of the Close to vivid life. The tour lasts for about an hour, and you’re led through the streets by one of a group of characters. These characters are based on the residents who actually lived, worked, and (sometimes) died there.
Of course, I had to go. It was to be my first visit to Edinburgh – to Scotland full-stop, in fact! – and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend time there.
It was mid-afternoon when I went to Mary King’s Close – not that that matters when you’re underground! Photos weren’t permitted once you were Beneath, as the little lanes run under the City Chambers, where the City of Edinburgh Council resides. It’s a safety concern (we DON’T need anyone mapping the Close and trying to pull a Guy Fawkes), and that makes perfect sense, but I was still disappointed. So, for illustrative purposes, I’ve borrowed some photos from the official website and Facebook page. It’s times like these I wish I was good at drawing. Then I’d be able to ~illustrate~ the experience instead!
I met my guide and tour group in the lobby and we descended down some steps to get in. It was chilly and smelled really old down there. Not super unpleasant, just very musty. Older lines on the London Underground smell similar to me.
The streets were incredibly narrow. I can’t imagine how claustrophobic it would’ve been when it was filled with people, merchant stalls, animals, and tradesmen. There was one little offshoot that was barely a metre wide! Apparently people regularly used that too! There are whole houses buried down there, a few storeys high. They marked out a hierarchy – wealthier people lived higher up and the poor lived at the very bottom, with conditions deteriorating the lower you went.
In one of the rooms, we met a lovely statue of George Rae tending to one of the bedridden residents. It wasn’t looking promising, but Rae was still at the ready to examine his patient.
I had one small niggle about the tour at this point: On the website, it kind of appeared as if you’d meet all of the dressed up people as you went along, but that wasn’t the case. (Editor’s Note: this was back when I visited – the website is much clearer now!) You get one guide on the tour, and I suppose it could end up being any of the ‘characters’. I think I’m just bitter because I didn’t get to meet the plague doctor in person – we all know they’re my favourite.
I’m also going to have a rant about another tourist. We were told by our guide that the next room we were visiting had modern metal poles in it. These are actually load-bearing and hold up the original ceiling (made of lath, plaster, and horsehair). We were asked very politely not to touch them and warned emphatically that it could be dangerous.
So OF COURSE, the second we gathered in there, some dunce decided to grab one of the poles and shake it, hard. He was looking around like it was a hilarious joke and all of us were just gobsmacked. I took the very British route of saying, “Really??” in an incredulous voice. Our guide was an absolute champion, reiterating his point without breaking character or getting angry. “Yes, I’d rather you didn’t do that. This ceiling is over 600 years old, I quite like it up there and not on my head (along with the whole Royal Exchange building!!).” The man was American, so maybe the concept of a ceiling older than the founding of the United States wasn’t sinking in. (Editor’s note: This is a joke, please don’t shout at me)
Seriously though, if your guide gives you instructions, L I S T E N. They’re not being killjoys and it’s not funny to disobey them – that’s how people get hurt or killed. I thought fully-grown people didn’t need to be told that, but that man proved me wrong.
The guide glossed over the awkward moment by launching into a story of a previous tour, in which he’d jumped up to gently touch the ceiling (he did this to show how low it was). However, he misjudged the power of his leap and ended up hitting the ceiling a bit too hard, causing plaster and horsehair to rain down upon him. Worse, he had been talking at the time. So the ancient, horrid mix fell right into his open mouth! We all laughed and cringed in equal measure.
Annie & Her Doll
In 1992, a Japanese medium named Aiko Gibo visited Mary King’s Close. While in a particular area, Gibo was overcome with a strong presence and told her guide that ‘someone’ was occupying the room. She even felt that ‘someone’ tugging at her trouser leg beseechingly. The presence spoke of immense emotional pain that threatened to overwhelm Gibo. Thus the little ghost girl known as ‘Annie’ was discovered.
Annie was reportedly sad because she couldn’t find her favourite doll anywhere. It’s believed that Annie had passed away from plague, with her family eventually moving on and ‘abandoning’ her. Aiko Gibo returned to Annie later with a doll she’d bought especially. On receiving this gift, Gibo told staff that Annie was greatly comforted and that the toy should never be removed from her room.
Since then, Annie’s story has been part of the official tour at Mary King’s Close. Visitors have been so moved by her plight that many bring their own gifts and toys for her, creating an impressive pile in her room. I also spotted sew-on badges from various first responders around the world, and souvenirs from other countries. It seems people want to teach Annie more about the world outside of her sealed-off Close. It was so heart-warming to see, and I wished I’d known about it before!
One day, I will return with my own gift for little Annie – especially now that I’ve read that the original doll gifted by Gibo disappeared without a trace in April 2019. Luckily, Annie seems to still be happy with her many other gifts. If it was stolen, shame on that thief. Imagine stealing from a dead little girl, SO rude.
Chesney’s Thunderbox
Remember Andrew Chesney? The last ever resident of Mary King’s Close was another interesting character in its history. He was particularly proud of his ‘thunderbox’ – a wooden, box-shaped commode that contained a chamber pot. At a time when one would routinely hear the call of “Gardyloo!” (the Scots’ interpretation of the French ‘gardez l’eau!’ or ‘mind the water!’) before the contents of a chamber pot or bucket would potentially land on your head, the ‘thunderbox’ was a much classier-looking option.
The thunderbox nickname came from the, er, audio experience it gave the user. Luckily, Chesney was a generous man and left the door wide open for others to see (and hear) the spectacle. He would even wave at passers-by as he created his own thunderous soundscape!
Supposedly, Andrew Chesney still wanders around the home that he so regretfully left. There have been reports of his rather mournful-looking ghost roaming around the alleys of Mary King’s Close.
I’ve only written about a couple of my tour highlights, as I don’t like to spoil too much for people. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour, though, and regret not having my photo taken at the famous sloped street inside. I was having a bad face day – maybe I’ll do it when I return to Edinburgh.
At the gift shop, I picked up my ‘plague survival kit’ – a pre-ordered collection of souvenirs. It included a plague doctor mask, two coasters (one wood and one glass), a plague doctor keyring, and a canvas tote with a plague doctor on it. I went a little bit mad with excitement and also bought a chocolate bar and a tea towel with plague doctors on it.
If you like history – particularly the gritty, pestilent side of it – go to The Real Mary Kings Close. They often have great events on offer, which you can check out here. Currently, you can help Dr Arnott sample the ‘urine’ of his patients to test for disease, find out more about the medical history of Edinburgh, or celebrate historical women in the Herstory Tour!
