When water first emerges from the Earth they’re known as ’springs’ of water; those with stone troughs or basins into which the water falls are ‘wells.’ I don’t see much difference misself! And if water was of any importance to our ancestors (anyone who thinks it wasn’t is probably a bit slow…), such a clinical definition is of little importance. Many water-sites possessed great healing or therapeutic properties, as evidenced by chemical analyses (mainly in Victorian times, when a bittova craze on these wells was in vogue), aswell as folk-tradition, plus vast numbers of subjective encounters. To ancient societies – indeed, to myself – water is our blood, or the blood of the Earth. Treating this liquid as little more than a ‘commodity’, aswell as polluting it, should be a criminal offence – simple as!
An early dedication to the St Martin of this well is from the 13th century, when referring to the “church of sanctus Martinus” in 1282, whose building is a half-mile to the north. The well itself is located on the old parish boundary, on the footpath today known as the North View.
In earlier days, the water from this site came “flowing out of a rock” giving birth to St Martin’s stream (Quiller-Couch, 1894). “It was much used by the villagers,” they wrote, “because of the excellent quality of the water; now it is covered in with an ordinary wooden lid, and is used to supply the town of Looe with water.”
Things hadn’t changed when Mr Lane-Davies (1970) visited the place, who was far from pleased at its status. “The spring,” he told, “has been enclosed in an ugly shed and the water piped away.”
Despite this, when Meyrick (1982) came here, he thought the site had “a romantic and grotto-like air” to it, but he was equally displeased by barbed wire preventing folk from easily accessing the waters and “spoilt by a certain amount of rubbish.” Unfortunately due to a dreadful accident here in 1993, when a young child fell into the waters and drowned, the site is now completely enclosed by railings to prevent this happening to anyone else.
References:
Bond, Thomas, Topographical and Historical Sketches of the Boroughs of East and West Looe, J. Nichols: London 1823.
Lane-Davies, A., Holy Wells of Cornwall, FOCS: St Ives 1970.
Meyrick, J., A Pilgrims Guide to the Holy Wells of Cornwall, Falmouth 1982.
Quiller-Couch, M. & L., Ancient and Holy Wells of Cornwall, C.J. Clark: London 1894.
Straffon, Cheryl, Fentynyow Kernow: In Search of Cornwall’s Holy Wells, Meyn Mamvro: Penzance 1998.
Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NO 180 452
Archaeology & History
The Well Meadow in the middle of Blairgowrie was once the place where the 5th century Apostle of the Southern Picts, or St Ninian, baptised local folk into the so-called “new faith”. It’s long since gone. The local historian John MacDonald (1899) told that it was located opposite the buildings on the north-side of the square, adding:
“St Ninian, one of the earliest Christian Celtic missionaries, on his tour through Scotland, pitched his camp where the Wellmeadow now is, and quenched his thirst at an old well or spring which ever afterwards bore the name of “St Ninian’s Well,” until it was covered in and the water led into the town drains.”
Holy Well (lost?): OS Grid reference – SX 2258 5311
Archaeology & History
This spot is where an old field-name has preserved the memory of an all-but-forgotten holy well, known as the “Holywell Ground.” Although it may have fallen back to Earth, there are two possible spots regarding its position: i) a spring that was marked on the 1882 OS-map at SX 2258 5315, and ii) a “Well” that’s shown on the recent OS-maps (SX 2257 5306). Hence, the grid-reference I’ve given to this place is the halfway spot between them both. (it has to be pointed out that the “well” on recent maps occurs right next to an old quarry, which are well known to bring forth water sources that were previously deep underground) Whether or not Sclerder Abbey—about 400 yards west of here and only built in 1843—had anything to do with the sanctifying this well, I do not know.
There are numerous ways to get here from all directions: i) from the west-side of Wimbledon Common, on the Robin Hood’s Way A3 road, keep your eyes peeled for the small crossroad of Robin Hood Lane and Road, obivously taking the one into the park. Keep on the dead straight Robin Hood Ride path until your hit the carpark ¾-mile on; and from here, bear sharp left (NW) for 250 yards or so, where a small slope down on your left takes you there; or, ii) from Wimbledon village side on the A219 Parkside A219 road, where the War Memorial stands, head onto the Common along The Causeway, past the Fox & Grapes going on Camp Road, then up the Sunset Road towards the carpark. And then, once again go NW for 250 yards or so, where the small slope on your left takes you there. You’ll find it.
Archaeology & History
Described by William Bartlett (1865) as “the never-failing spring of water, improperly called the Roman Well”, its constant flow was severely tested in the great drought of 1976—and it kept on flowing. Only just though! It was highlighted on the early Ordnance Survey map with the plain name of the Springpond Well. The great historian and folklorist Walter Johnson (1912) gave us the best historical resumé of the site, telling that,
Caesar’s Well around 1900Caesar’s Well around 1911
“Caesar’s Well, formerly known as Robin Hood or Roman Well—the Springpond Well on the Ordnance Map—issues on the other side of the little watershed above mentioned, at a height of 149 feet O.D. The well lies in a little hollow, now ringed with Scottish pines. The gathering ground is the land to the east, rising to 198 feet O.D. This area is not large, but quite sufficient to maintain a permanent rill of pure water. The well, the waters of which once were deemed of special medicinal merit, was enclosed with brick in 1829, and, as the inscription tells us, refaced with granite blocks by Sir Henry W. Peek, M.P., in 1872. The outflowing waters descend to Brickfield Cottage, where they expand into a turbid duckpond; thence the course is through the yard behind the house, and along the north side of Robin Hood Road to Brook Cottage. During 1911 the “Well” proper altogether dried up, but water still issued from the stand spout a few yards below, which is supplied by an artificial boring and pipe that tap the spring at a depth of 18 feet.”
Site shown on the 1874 map
The proximity of this never-failing spring to the huge prehistoric enclosure of Caesar’s Camp just a few hundred yards to the south would indicate it was an important water source in Bronze Age times and, I’d hazard, would have been bestowed with some sanctity, as many such wells tended to be.
Folklore
James Rattue (2008) informed us that the name Robin Hood’s Well was known here in the 18th century prior to it being known as Caesar’s Well, but there seems to be no known relationship between Robin Hood and this site. However, a piece written in 1922 told that there was a lingering tradition that Julius Caesar encamped on Wimbledon Common in 51 BCE and that this folk memory was kept alive in the lore of local children who devoutly believed that the great Roman Emperor drank from the cool depths of this well.
References:
Bartlett, William A., The History and Antiquities of the Parish of Wimbledon, Simpkin Marsall: London 1865.
Hughes, John L., “Caesar’s Well, Wimbledon Common,” in Source magazine, no.9, Spring 1989.
Johnson, Walter, Wimbledon Common – Its Geology, Antiquities and Natural History, T.Fisher Unwin: London 1912.
Rattue, James, Holy Wells of Surrey, Umbra: Weybridge 2008.
Sacred Wells (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – TF 32603 87555
Also Known as:
Little Wells
Archaeology & History
Small Well on 1834 map
Of the three wells in old Louth around which local ceremonies occurred, the Small Wells were apparently the least impressive. Its ritualised compatriots south of the River Lud in St. Helen’s Well and the Ash Well (the Aswell in modern Louth place-names) were reportedly the much better water supplies in bygone times. The site was highlighted on a map of the town in Robert Bayley’s (1834) history of the area, showing it as a small pool just below the Cistern Gate road; but when the Ordnance Survey lads came here later in the 19th century it had already gone.
It’s category here as a “sacred” well is due to it being annually decorated with garlands of flowers, commonly known today as well-dressing. Such wells tend to be places of pre-christian rites, attended by local people at dawn usually at Beltane or at Midsummer (St John’s Eve); but I’ve been unable to find out which was the sacred day when the waters here were honoured. All that we have left to tell us of the rites is from old township notes that said how,
““The small wells,” a cluster of little springs on the north of the town, shared in the honours of green boughs and popular huzzahs” the traditions held at the wells of St. Helen and Aswell a half-mile to the south.
A brief 16th century account told of a local man being paid for the adornment of the Small Wells: one “Henery Forman received for dressing small wells for a yeare – xiid” – or 12 pennies in old money. Not bad at all in them days!
This curiously-named old water source may have an equally curious history behind it – albeit forgotten. Shown on the 1854 OS-map of the area and giving its s name to Dudwell Lane, we can see how an old path led from the road to the well and nowhere else.
It’s the word “dud” that holds our attention here; for if we hasten to the immensely erudite Joseph Wright (1900) in his gigantic survey of northern dialect, we find that the word relates to “a rag, piece of cloth; pl. clothes, esp. shabby, ragged, or dirty clothing.” This is echoed in another Yorkshire dialect work by Morris (1892) who told that the word meant “clothes (or) rags.” Several other Victorian writers tell us variations on this meaning (one adds old shoes to the list!), but in all instances it relates to dud being a rag, whereas the plural duds are rags or scruffy clothes. Naathen (to use another old dialect word), those of us who know a thing or two abaat olde wells are very very familiar with their association to old rags that were hanged on the surrounding trees as offerings to the spirits of the water—the genius loci—to aid in the hope or desire of something, or merely as respect to the waters for their beneficient properties. (this sometimes occurred ritually at set times in the calendar)
Dud Well on 1854 OS-map
The Dud Well was obviously of considerable local repute, for just a couple of years after it was shown on the earliest OS-map, a local bailiff called Samuel Rhodes built The Dudwell house close to the waters, which he named “in honour of the magnificent and never-failing spring of pure, bright, sparkling water in the wells close by.”
There is a possible alternative meaning to the word dud, which is that some dood called ‘Duda’ left his name here! This seems much more speculative and unlikely than the use of a local dialect term. Hopefully a local historian amongst you might perhaps be able to find out more.
References:
Morris, M.C.F., Yorkshire Folk-Talk, Henry Frowde: London 1892.
Wright, Joseph, English Dialect Dictionary – volume 2, Henry Frowde: London 1900.
Sacred Well (lost): OS Grid reference – SW 4614 3259
Archaeology & History
It’s difficult to know what to make of this site: whether it was merely a healing well or whether it possessed greater esoteric functions. In all likelihood it was the latter as many so-called “wishing wells” in earlier centuries possessed oracular attributes. It’s also difficult to work out precisely where this well happened to be, as we know little about it apart from the singular reference of Quiller-Couch (1894), who told simply that,
“There was also a wishing-well in the Bone Valley; it is now only a small stream, and is not used for purposes of divination.”
Hidden spring on 1878 mapLine of wells on 1908 map
There were a number of wells along the Bone Valley road highlighted on the early OS-map, all of which may have been known to Quiller-Couch at the time, three of which appeared to have streams emerging from them back then: one just above Bosoljack (SW 4556 3319) and one below it (SW 4571 3292), each just off the roadside; but then a slightly more enticing one is hidden a little further down the lane and up the tinier lane to Higher Boskinning, in the trees on the right (east). Shown on the first OS-map as a simple “spring”, a small stream runs from it and then into the larger Bone Valley Brook which runs towards Penzance. The solace and quietude of this spot would seem much more favourable than the other two…. but my impressions may be wrong. It would be good if someone could find this old place…
References:
Quiller-Couch, M. & L., The Holy Wells of Cornwall, C.J. Clark: London 1894.
Russell, Vivien, West Penwith Survey, Cornwall Archaeological Society 1971.
Acknowledgements: Big thanks for use of the early edition OS-map in this site profile, Reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.
Holy Well (lost): OS Grid reference – SW 4025 3062
Archaeology & History
Just over a mile northwest of the superb Sancreed Well, we find documentary evidence from 1778 recording the field-name of Chapel Well Close here, although there seems to be no remaining spring or well and nothing is shown on the early OS-maps. Official records define it as a “medieval well” and speculate that it may have been associated with the nearby Boscence Chapel and possibly dedicated to St. Winwaloe.
References:
Anon., The Church and Parish of Sancreed in the County of Cornwall, Brewer: Sancreed c.1960.
The history of the site is scanty to say the least. It first seems to have been recorded when the Ordnance Survey lads came here in the 1840s, although they left no record as to why the site was given such a dedication. It’s a decidedly pre-christian title as the name “old Wife” is usually indicative in northern counties as being related to the primal Earth deity of northern England and lowland Scotland (when we reach the Highlands and Ireland, She becomes known—amongst other names—as the cailleach). However, apart from its name we have no additional information. Neither the holy wells writer Edna Whelan (1989; 2001), nor hydrolatry researcher Graeme Chappell were been able to find anything about the place in their own researches. And so we must go on name alone…
The waters bubble up into a small stone-lined chamber with the words Nattie Fontein carved into the lintel. This is something of a mystery in itself, for, as Edna Whelan (1989) told,
“it would be most unusual for the word fonten to be used for a spring in North Yorkshire: ‘keld’ is the local word. The rather roughly inscribed word may be a corruption of Fons Natalis, the name of a Celtic water nymph.”
Graeme Chappell (2000) meanwhile, noticed in a visit to the site in June 1999,
“that the N and A in “NATTIE” are carved in such a way that the word could be read as “MATTIE FONTEIN” perhaps meaning “Mother Fountain”. This might then be another reference to the Old Wife?”
He then goes on to note how,
“the latin word ‘natalis‘ meaning ‘birth’ and its link with the roman Festival ‘Dies Natalis Sol Invictus‘ (day of the birth of the unconquered sun) which took place on the 25th December. Natalis also gave rise to the welsh word ‘Nadolig‘ – meaning Christmas.”
This Yuletide element has an intriguing relationship with the name of the well; for to the west of Yorkshire’s borders into Cumbria there was annual gathering known as Old Wives’ Saturday that took place on the first Saturday after Christmas, or first Saturday of the New Year in a person’s house or inn, where a feast was had to bring in the New Year; but there is no known written lore of such a tradition here.
Nowadays the old tradition of hanging rags on the trees surrounding the well as offerings to the spirit of the place (known as memaws in parts of Yorkshire, and clooties in Scotland) has become a regular practice of those who hold such sites as sacred in their own way. Whelan mentioned seeing memaws here in the 1908s, but the Northern Antiquarian contributor Jon Barker told that, “The rags are a comparatively recent addition to the well, it is not a tradition there. When I used to go in the ’60s therewere no rags.”
On an even more curious note: very recently (from when this profile was written), the Northern Antiquarian contributor and photographer James Elkington visited Old Wives’ Well for the first time. It was a grey overcast day and when he arrived here, there was a woman ahead of him at the head of the well. I’ll let him tell the rest of it in his own words:
The Old Wives Well, Stape (James Elkington)Old Wives Well at Stape (James Elkington)
“In front of the well was a lady dressed in what looked like a white nighty, she had her back to me. There was a candle lit nearby, and her hands were in the water moving slowly about like she was washing something. She had long dark shoulder length hair. As I was about 25 feet away I was sure she wasn’t aware of me, and I thought it would make a good photograph. I quietly put my bag on the ground and got my camera out, and looked up and…she was gone! I couldn’t have taken my eye off her for more than 5 or 6 seconds. I looked all around and there was no sign of her. Even if she had legged it through the woods I would have seen her. I think it was then that I realized that I may have had ‘an encounter’. I quickly took three pics of the Well and got the hell out of there!”
He rang me once he had regained his senses in a somewhat emotional state and recounted over and over what had just happened. Whether this was a visual manifestation of the genius loci of the we can’t say. But such encounters are not unknown at numerous sacred water sites all over the world. We can only hazard a guess that this is what he was fortunate to encounter.
Just a few hundred yards north is the old Mauley or Malo Cross, which may or may not have had some mythic relationship with our Old Wives…
On the northwest side of the Loch of Boardhouse can still be found a spring of water which was, in bygone times, the abode of the supernatural creature known as the troll or trow. The site is described in local place-name records and is located near the foot of a slope near Westerhouse, from where a small channel of water runs down into the Loch of Boardhouse about forty yards away. When it was last described in the 1960s, all folk memory of its heathen inhabitants had seemingly been forgotten and no folk-tales seem to have been recorded. Thankfully, the Well itself is still shown to exist on modern OS-maps.
