Park by the church, which has a Sheela Na Gig and some roman stones. Walk back to the A153 (Ancaster Cross roads), turn left and cross the road. Take the footpath which is on the south side of the A153 and bear right into the nature reserve. The well – a large pool – is on private land, but it can be seen to the right of the entrance to the reserve.
Archaeology & History
This spring was possibly known in Roman and pre-Roman times, as there is a Roman station settlement hereby. Roman credentials have been strengthened since Time Team’s research which found that the site was the focus of a cult. There was an inscribed stone, found in the church and originally part of an archway, which says:
DEO VIRIDIO TRENICO ARCVM FECIT DE SVO DON
Translated to:
‘For the god Viridius, Trenico made this arch, donated from his own funds.”
The Time team archaeologists found a late Roman or early Dark Age burial with a similar inscription ‘DEO VRIDI SANCTO – ‘To the holy god Viridius.” The show thought that the God was associated with agriculture, but with the proximity of the spring nearby, perhaps they missed an obvious connection. It seems very likely that the Romans would have known of the spring as the valley beside it is thought to be a Roman raceway and the town was only a few yards away.
The spring is not mentioned historically; for example Leland (1535-43) notes a chapel and hermitage, but no well:
“The area wher the castelle stoode is large, and the dikes. In the highest ground of the area is now an old chapel dedicate to S. Marie, and there a her(em)ite.”
Lady Well on 1858 map
In Victorian times the water was tapped as a source of water for the village and a large cistern and pipe system established. According to Thompson (1999) in his work on Lincolnshire springs and wells, this was later removed and the well had become a boggy area, before finally being restored and clay-lined to be stocked with fish and prevent water loss. Its water now appears to be a light greeny-blue as a result. One cannot directly reach the edge of the water as it is enclosed in fencing but it can clearly be seen from the footpath.
Folklore
No tradition appears recorded regarding it properties. However, it appears likely that this is the spring Rudkin (1936) notes as St. Helen’s Well or Mucky Pool in the legend of Byard’s Leap, the famed story associated with a local witch as the story has association with Ancaster – although this could record another site.
References:
Parish, R. B., (2012) Holy wells and healing springs of Lincolnshire
As you go along the road between Lochearnhead and Crianlarich, about 200 yards before reaching the turning to Killin, stop at the Mid Lix dirt-track. Cross the road and walk back uphill for about 75 yards, then walk into the denuded remains of the forest. There are several notable rocks peeking up from the wood, one of which has many well-formed cup-markings on, about 25 yards from the roadside. If you look around here, you’ll find it.
Archaeology & History
Mr Cash’s 1912 drawing
This seemingly isolated petroglyph, still in a very good state of preservation, was first reported in the 19th century by a Mr Haggart (1883), who described it in a letter to the late great J. Romilly Allen. He wrote:
“I have also, since you last wrote to me, discovered another cup-marked stone at the farm of Mid Lix, near Killin. It is a very good specimen, with between sixteen and twenty marks, well cut and distinct. I was passing the farm three weeks ago, and I thought, from the name Lix — which is a Gaelic word corrupted from Lie, the plural of Leac, a tomb-stone or flagstone — that it was very likely to have stones with marks, and I asked John Little, farmer, to keep a look out for such. He did so, and found the one mentioned within twenty yards or so of the road leading to Killin Railway Station, and between the farm and the roadway, due west of the farm-house.”
Subsequently, thirty years later Mr Cash (1912) visited and described the petroglyph in more detail in his survey of sites around Killin. He told that,
“In 1882 or 1883 this was reported to Mr Allen by Mr Haggart; it was shown to me by Mr Haggart. It lies about 100 yards south of the railway, and 20 yards east of the Glen Ogle road. It is a low triangular pyramid; the cups are on the west face, which lies at an angle of about 35°, and measures 5 feet across its base, and just over 3 feet along its median line. It carries twenty-one cups, as shown in the figure. One cup has round it a ring 6½ inches in diameter. The cups vary in diameter from 2¼ to 3 inches, and in depth from ¼ to ¾ inch. In his paper on “Cup-marked Stones near Aberfeldy,” read in 1884, Dr Macmillan said that he did not know a single example of a concentric ring round a cup on the stones found on the shores of Loch Tay or in Glendochart or Glen Lochay.”
Cluster of cups, close up
When we visited the site earlier, the grey clouds prevented us getting good images of the carving and made visibility of the design more troublesome (typical rock art dilemma!); but we counted a minimum of 23 cup-marks on the stone. There is a small cluster of small rounded stones around the west and north-western base of the stone, but whether these are collected rubble or the denuded remains of a cairn could not be discerned upon our visit.
Morris, Ronald W.B., The Prehistoric Rock Art of Southern Scotland, BAR 86: Oxford 1981.
Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland, The Archaeological Sites and Monuments of Stirling District, Central Region, HMSO: Edinburgh 1979.
Along the A84 road between Doune and Callander, take the tiny country lane up to your right to Drumloist (if you’re coming from Doune) or up the tiny unmarked road past Keltie Bridge on your left (if you’re coming from Callander). Uphill for several miles, you eventually emerge from the trees and are on the top of the tiny road. Once here, keep your eyes peeled for Drumloist farm. Best thing to do is walk up the track and ask at the farm. The fella there is a superb old Highlander who’ll point you to the place on the hill above.
Archaeology & History
A site that was never explored by that giant of chambered tomb research, Audrey Henshall. A pity, as it has a lot of potential and seems to have a lot more to say about itself than the meagre findings reported by the Scottish Royal Commission doods.
Curious fairy mound to rearOne of two main chambers
Although there’s a very notable “fairy hill” eminence close by which strongly draws your attention, the actual hillock upon which this chambered tomb was constructed is in front of this, closer to the farm. A couple of rows of ancient walling—Iron Age by the look o’things—run up the hillside, with one of them running into the eastern sides of the huge mound which this tomb plays a part in. The mound itself is about a hundred feet across, although seems to have been damaged over the centuries. Although it is probably neolithic in origin, sections of the monument seem to have been altered and re-used for other purposes, giving it that distinctly multi-period look.
The farmer informed us how some of the stones from the mound had been robbed and used in some of the walling in the past. He also told us how there are so many other archaeological features upon the moors above here that remain to be “officially” recorded, despite the efforts of some who swept the region for remains a few decades ago.
Looking into the main cistNature’s faded cup&ring
The main prehistoric section of the tomb that can be seen are the two opened cists, or stone-lined graves, to the top north-western edges of the mound. They align together, NE to SW, with a gap of about three yards between the two open tombs. The more northerly of the two is much more overgrown; whilst the southwestern grave comprises of three large flat upright stones, forming a traditional ‘box’ with smaller flat stones lining the floor. But these two separate tombs (if indeed they were originally separated) point directly to the large, very prominent “fairy mound” about 100 yards north-east, on the north side of the Drumloist Burn. The alignment seems very deliberate.
Walking over the boggy ground to the (unnamed) fairy mound, a natural ‘platform’ of rocks sticks out on its south-easterly side, and upon this are what I initially thought were two cup-markings, with the more easterly one of the two seeming to have a carved arc along its edge; but subsequent visits here at different times of day has shown that they are Nature’s handiwork. Anyhow, looking from this mound, back across to the Ballachraggan tomb, the open flat landscape heading south-west is held where the sunset falls. Sadly on the day we visited, Nature greeted us with grey cloud and the drizzle of light rain all afternoon, so we couldn’t make out if there was something, far away, which the tomb was truly aligned with… A damn good site though!
Whilst I’m in Glasgow (big thanks to Aisha!) I thought I’d check out any remaining heathen sites that might still be visible. Many have perished of course, beneath the weight of religious industrialism—this one included. Even when the Ordnance Survey lads came here in 1858, it had already been destroyed. All that we now know of it comes from the writings of the earlier historians like Walker (1883), Renwick (1921) and co.
Known in early records as St. Theneu (mother of the legendary St. Mungo, who also had sacred wells dedicated to him in Glasgow, Gleneagles and much further afield), trackways and burns hereby were also named after this curious character, and a chapel was also commemorated to her, which fell into ruin several centuries ago. Its position was highlighted on a late-16th century sketch of Glasgow village—as it was then—immediately south of the chapel, just north of the River Clyde. The best description we have of it comes from a detailed paper on the holy wells of Glasgow by a Mr Brotchie (1920), who told:
“Where the subway station of St. Enoch’s Square stands…there was at one time the well of St. Tenew, the mother of St. Kentigern or Mungo. It is thus described by a writer in 1750, “The ruins of a small chapel stood beside the well whose waters were sheltered by a bush, on which were to be seen, especially in early summer, bits of rags of all kinds and colours, while in the well itself enterprising boys were wont to get small coins. The rags and the coins were the offerings of people, principally women, who came to drink of the waters of St. Tenew’s Well, and left these trifles as thank offerings.”
“This ancient well of St. Tenew stood near a chapel erected over the tomb of St. Tenew, and the ground in its vicinity remained sacred in the eyes of the faithful as the last resting place of the holy woman who had watched the infant steps of the great apostle of the Cambrian Britons, St. Mungo, the patron saint of Glasgow. The Trongate and Argyle Street, which now stretch westwards from the cross, were in old times a country road leading to St. Tenew’s chapel, kirkyard and holy well. In a deed of 1498 mention is made of “the blessed chapel where the bones of the beloved Tenew, mother of the blessed confessor, Kentigern, rest.” When M’Ure wrote his History of Glasgow in 1736, the remains of this old chapel and kirkyard were described as standing “in a solitary spot in the country surrounded by cornfields.” Looking westwards from St. Tenew’s Well in 1750, a writer describes the scene as “open country, pastures and cornfields, rude-looking country homesteads, barns and other farm buildings, and enclosed kailyards,” where now stand the busy arteries of Jamaica Street, the Caledonian Railway Station, and the miles of tenements that stretch westward to Anderston, Finnieston and Partick.
“We have a comparatively recent record of the holy well of St. Tenew in the statement of the late Mr Robert Hart, who told M’George that he had been informed by an old man, a Mr Thomson, who had resided in the neighbourhood of St. Enoch’s Square, that in the beginning of the last century, say 1800, he recollected the well being cleaned out, and of seeing picked from the debris at the bottom many old coins and votive offerings. St. Tenew’s Well was a holy well. For centuries it was a place of pilgrimage and was much resorted to for cures, especially in pre-Reformation days. In 1586, James VI, addressed a letter to Mr Andrew Hay, commissioner for the west of Scotland, condemning the practice of people making pilgrimages to wells and chapels, but the royal edict was powerless to stop the practice and St. Tenew’s Well was resorted to by people in trouble as long as it was in existence. The road that led to it was known up to the 15th century as St. Tenew’s Gait or path. Indeed, it was so named till 1540, when the name of Trongate begins to make its appearance in old city deeds. This name, of course, owes its origin to the granting in 1490 by James IV, to the Bishop of Glasgow of the privileges of a free tron in the city—hence our Trongate of today.”
A profile of two seemingly trivial cup-marked stones is called for, out of memory for the carvings and also because they are now hidden in some vault somewhere, out of view in one of the Scottish museums I presume. In visiting the impressive Cairnpapple Hill the other day, I thought that the carvings should really be in situ, where they belong, and not in a box somewhere for the eyes of just a privileged few.
Cairnpapple Cist A
Two small, single, almost portable-sized stones—not unlike other cup-marked rocks found at sites like the Little Skirtful of Stones and elsewhere—were unearthed during the primary excavation of Cairnpapple by Stuart Piggott in the late-1940s. Although there are many stone-lined cremation pits and graves at Cairnpapple, only one of the tombs seemed to possess any carvings—and these were found only in the western walling in one of the larger of the two tombs that are now housed inside the modern covering tumulus, in what Piggott (1950) called ‘Cist A’. (Curiously in all sketches of the tomb, he didn’t show where the carvings were found, typical of some archaeologists of that period who saw little importance in these relics.)
Cist A capstone, with large cup
The giant stone roof or covering stone to Cist A also has a large worked cup-marking on its western side. There are also what seems to be other faint rectangular etchings on the same rock-face, but the age and nature of these elements need to be assessed with some caution.
References:
Cox, Adrian, Cairnpapple Hill, Historic Scotland: Edinburgh 2010.
Various ways to get here: from Bathgate either take the Drumcross Road eastwards and up, or north up the Puir Wife’s Brae till you reach the crossroads where, upon the hillock north, you’ll see the old stone standing on the ridge. If you come down from Cairnpapple Hill (as most visitors are likely to do), go south for more than a mile and keep your eyes peeled in the fields to your right, shortly before the staggered crossroad. You can’t really miss it.
Archaeology & History
Gala Braes standing stone
About a mile south of the superb Cairnpapple Hill, in a well-manured field at the edge of a small ridge with a vast view to the south and west, this now-solitary standing stone lives quietly and alone, gazing over its old landscape. Standing about 5½ feet tall, it seems as if the monolith has been split along its southern side at some time in the not-too-distant past, leaving a damaged wedge-shaped monolith, with one very thin eastern edge and a wider western side. The stone itself was erected to align roughly north-south-east-west.
The monolith was first shown on the 1854 Ordnance Survey map of the region, along with its fallen companion (Gala Braes 2) nearly 75 yards to the west, but descriptions of the place by antiquarians are scarce. Not until Fred Coles (1903) visited here did we gain a decent account. He wrote:
“I examined this site in August 1902. It is about a mile to the east of Bathgate, and occupies the summit of a ridge extending some 300 feet westwards of the byroad that branches off due N, near the farm of Clinkingstane. The ridge is about 850 feet above sea-level. On reaching it, I found but one Standing Stone,—a rough whinstone boulder, split very unevenly, and jagged on the south side, very smooth on the two shorter sides, and girthing at the base 10 feet 5 inches. The longest edge trends WNW and ESE. It stands 5 feet 3 inches high and occupies the highest spot on the ridge.”
Whilst Mr Coles was pottering about, the courteous local farmer approached him and they began chatting about the old place—as tends to happen more than often in olde Scotland. When he,
“…asked if any digging had ever been made at either of these stones, Mr Carlaw replied that many years ago an old Bathgate worthy known as “The Apostle” persuaded his (Carlaw’s) father to dig at the base of the upper Standing Stone (the one at present erect), and they found human bones. The farm of Gala Braes has been in the tenancy of a Carlaw for upwards of a century.”
Whatever became of the old bones isn’t known. A few years later, the Royal Commission (1929) lads bimbled over to check the place out and found that it was still very much as Coles had described more than twenty years earlier, but added, “it bears no trace of sculpture.” This has since changed. Faint outlines of lettering, seemingly only a hundred years old perhaps, have been etched onto its northern face. As for the etymology of this place, Coles (1903) suggested:
“Assuming, however, that the bones found at the upper Stone were human, and taking cognisance of the fact that throughout Scotland there are many knowes, hills, hillocks and laws which are distinguished by the epithet Gallow or Gala, and that in or at many of these human remains and interments (some of them prehistoric) have been discovered, we may place this site on the Gala Braes of Bathgate in the same general group.”
Gala Braes, with Cairnpapple Hill to rearFred Coles’ 1903 drawing
Curiously he makes no mention of the nearby ‘Clinkingstane’ a few hundred yards east: an etymological curiosity that Angus MacDonald (1941) thought may have derived from a “knocking stone”; but is a word with hosts of dialect meanings, making it difficult to define with any real certainty (at the moment anyway). Just past the Clinkingstane we had the “cross on the ridge” of Drumcross—on the same ridge as our standing stones—which may well have been an attempt to keep people away from our older, more authentic heathen heritage.
The late great Alexander Thom (1990:2:341) also visited the site, but despite its impressive landscape setting and relative proximity to Gala Braes 2, he could find no astronomical orientations here. For Thom, that’s a feat in itself!
The Runwell (copyright with permission http://www.spiritrealms.co.uk/gallery.htm )
It can be found by taking a road off the A132 (Wickford Road) which leads to Stock (directly opposite the Parish Church), continuing until you reach another minor road to Rettendon. A short way up this road it forks. Take the road to the right & continue until one reaches a minor drive to Poplars Farm (distinctive with its trees each side of the drive). Continue up here until one passes the house to a small piece of tarmac. Here a footpath continues directly in front, continue until one reaches on the left a gate. Enter through here, and head across the field towards a notable tree, and a gap in the hedge. To the left, follow the edge of the field, until one sees another opening into the well. The approach from the south is the only route worth considering as northerly access is blocked by a fence. It can be extremely muddy, so good footwear is advisable.
Archaeology & History
Philip Morant (1763-8) is the first to mention it, suggesting that the settlement is named:
“..from a considerable Running well in the Parish.”
Again, Chandler (1896)—noted in Collins (1986)—emphasises:
“a remarkable spring of water on Poplars Farm, which is always running and has never been known to fail.”
Despite this obvious assumption, Ekwall (1936) suggested that the prefix originates from O.E rune for ‘mystery’ or implying a well possessing a secret of some religious observance. This is suggestive of the strange legends and traditions involved with the site. Alternatively it could derive from hruna referring to the tree trunk—and it does arise in a copse. A roman road runs by here.
The only reference to a religious site appears to be in 1602 when the parish register records ‘Shrine of the Bl. Virgin of RunnyngeWelle’. However, stone remains found over the years around the well may support the idea of a well chapel; these remains were two pieces of limestone window mullion and a piece which appears to be part of a step as well as pieces of Kentish ragstone.
Folklore
According to Bazille-Corbin (1940), Runwell is steeped in lore and legend. One must take these stories as possible antiquarian fancy as there does not appear to be any concrete evidence for them. Doubtless some of it is true, other bits not. He states that in the Sixth Century AD, Christian missionaries Lucus and Lucilus visited Essex and found a scene of paganism here, built a chapel, and rededicated the well to “Our Lady St Mary.” The floor of this chapel had a unique designed cross, with black flint and red strawberry stone, to show the teachings of the tenets of the Christian Faith.
To protect this and collect subsequent devotional gifts, a nunnery, of six members, was developed around the site. They tended to the shrine, well head and the statue of Our Lady, to which many miracles were attributed. Little evidence exists concerning this foundation, but it is believed to have been dissolved in the 16th Century. Locally it is said parts of the nunnery were incorporated into the nearby farm-house ‘The Poplars’. In the 1980s, Andrew Collins, searched for records of this local priory, but found none.
Another legend connected with the well accords that a young nun, Sister Lucy, after renouncing her vows, found the outside world not to her liking and returned in repentance, one snowy night, to the chapel for forgiveness. Yet, upon reaching the chapel steps, she slipped and fell into the icy waters of the well. (cf. The Single or St. Thomas’ Well at Ifield, Kent)
Her ghost is said to haunt the area, preserving perhaps the memories of these past water deities. This is enforced by the belief by some authorities that the well’s dedication indicates a Christianisation of the Iceni goddess Epona. This is supported by these horseshoe-shaped motifs, and that the approach to the well being haunted by a horse.
Andy Collins (1986) was informed that a concrete water tank was installed over the spring. This proved to be inaccurate, but the well was defined by a concrete chamber. Collins thought that this may be the remains of some adaptation for a spa bath, but no hard evidence was forthcoming regarding this.
It certainly had passed through considerable years of neglect, as noted by the Runwell Rector John Edward Bazille-Corbin (1942), who said it was “in much need of dredging and cleaning out.”
The photo shown in Collins’s (1986) work shows a concrete lined rectangular pond, defined by corrugated iron. He was thus responsible for its repair and clearing away the years of neglect, also revealing the concrete rectangular pond, which was reached by a series of steps from its north side. A flight of steps appear to enter the well itself from the front. The body of water is of considerable size and depth and one could easily immerse oneself in it. When I last visited here, the water appeared murky but a sample revealed (apart from the pond fauna) a remarkable clarity.
Within recent years the well appears to have attracted a ‘cult following’, clearly manifesting itself in two ways. One is a seasonal Boxing Day walk to the well started in 1975, which is still undertaken (see link, below). The other more traditionally is the attachment of rags or cloutties to the surrounding shrubbery. Such activity, although probably done by those ‘in the know’ rather than any continuation of any local tradition, is the only such example I have come across in East Anglia—although recent photographs fail to show this and it appears that the tree has been cut down where these have been placed and the area opened up.
References:
Bazille-Corbin, J. E., Runwell St. Mary: A farrago of History, Archaeology, Legend and Folk-lore, 1940.
Collins, Andrew, “Devilish Mysteries at Runwell,” in Essex Countryside Vol. 33 no.431, p38-39, 1985.
Collins, Andrew, The Running Well Mystery, 1986.
Ekwall, Eilert, Studies in English Place and Personal Names, Lund 1931.
Ekwall, Eilert, The Concise Oxford Dictionary of English Place-Names, Oxford 1936.
Morant, Philip, The History and Antiquities of the County of Essex – 3 volumes, London 1763-8 (reprinted by EP: Wakefield 1978).
Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – TQ 6538 7081
Also Known as:
St. Thomas’ Well
Shingle Well
Archaeology & History
Sadly the site is gone no longer in existence it was in the roadway along the Roman Watling Street, at its junction with Church Lane, where it joins the relatively recently named Hever Road with Mailings Cross.
Local opinion, erroneously believes that its name derives from there only being one well in the district, but it originates from its substrate, being once called ‘Shinglewell’ describing the substrate. It ended its days as a traditional winch well, with a depth of 150 yards. Watt (1917) described the draw well as having a sign, reading ‘This water is not fit for drinking’— the result of contamination by a nearby stagnant pond. This wooden framework was removed during the First World War, when the well was filled in and domed over. Later, in 1935, a granite slab inscribed with: ‘Site of the Ancient Well, Singlewell Parish or Ifield’ was placed there. Unfortunately, this was removed by the County Council in 1952, and along with the combination of road improvements, the site was largely forgotten.
Folklore
Recorded in a Latin MS and translated by the Rector of Ifield between 1912-1935, the Rev K. M. Ffinch tells of a tradition in great detail, and the following is a brief resume. The legend involves a village girl called Salerna, who is said to have ‘thrown’ herself down the well after being accused of stealing some cheese. Yet, as she fell, she cried out for St. Thomas to save her from her impending doom, and upon finishing her plea, landed on some planks lying at the bottom of the well. They broke her fall, and thus saved her from her dreadful fate. She was then subsequently rescued and because of the ‘miracle’ the well was dedicated to the saint.
The incident is said to have occurred soon after St. Thomas’s martyrdom, and is said to have been one of his first miracles. The name ‘Salerna’ suggests a Roman origin, supported by its location along Watling Street, a Roman Road. Bayley (1978), using a low-land British dialect, which he believed survived until this century, states that ‘Salire Naias’ is ‘the water nymph, who springs forth and runs down’. Consequently, the story of St. Thomas miracle may have been introduced to remove the pagan tradition and refocus the beliefs of the people using a local saint.
References:
Bayley, M.,(1978) Ancient, and Holy and Healing Wells of the Thames Valley, and their Associations.
Ffinch, K.M., (1957) The History of Ifield and Singlewell
Parish, R.B., (1997) “The Curious Water-lore of Kent II: Ghosts, Fertility and Living Traditions”, in Bygone Kent, Volume 18, pp.427–32.
Watt, F., (1917) Canterbury Pilgrims and their Ways
(Extracted from the forthcoming book Holy Wells and Healing Springs of Kent)
On the outskirts of Loughborough is an area called Holywell, but pronounced ‘holly’. The holy well can be found at the furthest north west part of the park, behind the large Garendon block of the Holywell complex. Here behind some hydrogen cylinders (!) follow the brook on the left until you reach a stile. Climb over this and the well in front of you. It is unclear what the access rights are, but there are no private signs.
Archaeology & History
The stile with the well in the background
Virtually swallowed up by Loughborough University is the estate of Holywell Haw, the present farmhouse taking its name from a spring nearby. Of the house itself: it probably began life as a hostel for those lost in the most substantial Charnwood Forest, which has since retracted around it. However by 1180, it had become a hermitage owned by Garendon Abbey and is then first noted by the name of ‘Holywell Haw’, the latter word deriving from haw meaning enclosure, the same origin as hawthorn. Potter, in his History and Antiquities of Charnwood Forest (1842), notes it was mentioned in a grant by Robert de Jort to the abbey, with the site being described as heremitorium de Halliwellhaga.
Later, the 13th century Testa de Nevill, records ‘a dairy, with a small wood, called Haliwelle Hawe’, which by the 14th century the Leicester Abbey purchased from a Henry Lord Beaumont “a certain parcel of wood called Holy-well Haw for £28.” It was they who appeared to have developed the area to what can be seen today: fishponds and moats, and probably used the site as a grange and possible a diary. What remains today is mainly 15th century, with fragments of a medieval structure such as gothic doorways and timbers. Whether it was Holywell Haw or Hall is unclear. This discrepancy has been blamed on the Ordnance Survey—and indeed, some blunders have been done by them in the past. However, it is possible that a 19th century owner, March Philips, had some sort of pretensions for the building and thought the name was better. By the 18th century, the name Holywell Dyke was an eighteenth-century boundary mark for Charnwood Forest.
The spring is icy cold and never run dry, and produces—according to Bob Trubshaw (1990)—20,000 galloons a day and is one of the only non-incorporated spring in the Severn Trent catchment classed as A1 Drinkable.
The Site Today…
The not-very-interesting looking site today
Despite a leaflet mentioning the well from the University (available as a pdf-file), it is a little reticent as regards to whether it can be visited. However, exploring around the back of the enormous Holywell complex, a small path passes some gas cylinders and then to a stile. No keep out signs are present so I assumed it was okay to jump over. There almost in front of me is a large brick chamber covered by two large fibre glass up turned boats. These appear to cover the well.
Within, with natural rock & medieval stonework?
Peering between a gap however, this rather unpromising edifice reveals something more interesting. The brick chamber encloses an elliptical natural stone or possibly medieval basin, into which a copious flow enters and fills and then flows through a pipe into the brook below. Despite the rather ugly surrounds there is still something ancient and mysterious about this most well-known of Leicestershire sacred springs. The local farm, the Holywell Haw, still apparently uses the water and it is regularly checked by the University authorities. One hopes it can get a better cover. Surely the university could afford a metal grid more worthy of this venerable site.
Folklore
Local tradition states that it has medicinal qualities. Nichols (1795–1815) notes:
“The excellent spring is yet preserved.”
Potter (1852) notes that it:
“derives part of its name from a well, to the waters of which, even in recent times, considerable virtues have been attributed.”
However, its most famous legend is said to date from the 15th century. Potter (1852) notes that:
“The popular idea seems to be, that the Comyns (of Whitwick Castle) were great giants. One of them, said my informant, attempted to carry off one of the Ladies of Groby Castle, who left that place for security, intending to take sanctuary at Grace Dieu. Going, however, by a circuitous route, to avoid Charley and Whitwick, she was benighted, and would have perished in the Outwoods, but for one of the Monks of the Holy Well.”
The overflow runs into a delightful brook
The legend tells how after a considerable pursuit, she upon reaching the hermitage, collapsed and died. A monk then used the water to bring her back to life. Potter (1942) tells the story in verse:
“The oaks of the forest were Autumn-tinged,
And the winds were at sport with their leaves
When a maiden traversed the rugged rocks
That frown over WOODHOUSE EAVES.
The rain fell fast – she heeded it not
Though no hut or home appears;
She scarcely knew if the falling drops
Were rain drops or her tears.
Onward she hied through the OUTWOODS dark
(And the Outwoods were darker then)
She feared not the Forest’s deepening gloom She feared unholy men.
Lord Comyn’s scouts were in close pursuit,
For Lord Comyn the Maid had seen,
And had marked her mother’s only child
For his paramour, I ween.
A whistle, a whoop from the BUYK HYLLS side,
Told Agnes her foes were nigh:
And screened by the cleft of an aged oak,
She heard quick steps pass by.
Dark and dread fell that autumn night:
The wind-gusts fitful blew:
The thunder rattled: – the lightning’s glare
Showed BEACON’s crags to view.
The thunder neared – the lightning played
Around the sheltering oak;
But Agnes, of men, not God afraid,
Shrank not at the lightning’s stroke!
The thunder passed – the silvery moon
Burst forth from her cave of cloud,
And showed in the glen “Red Comyn’s” men,
And she breathed a prayer aloud:-
“Maiden mother of God! Look down
List to a maidens prayer:
Keep undefiled my mother’s sole child
The spotless are thy care”
The sun had not glinted on BEACON HILL
Ere the Hermit of the HOLY WELL
Went forth to pray, as his wont each day,
At the cross in Fayre-Oke dell.
Ten steps had he gone from the green grassy mound
Still hemming the HOLY WELL HAW,
When, stretched on the grass – by the path he must pass
A statue-like form he saw!
He crossed himself once, he crossed himself twice,
And he knelt by the corse in prayer:
“Jesu Maria! cold as ice –
Cold – cold – but still how fair!”
The Hermit upraised the stiffened form,
And he bore to the HOLY WELL:
Three Paters or more he muttered o’er,
And he filled his scallop shell.
He sprinkled the lymph on the Maiden’s face,
And he knelt and he prayed by her side
Not a minute’s space had he gazed on her face
Ere signs of life he spied…..
Spring had invested the CHARNWOOD oaks
With their robe of glistening green,
When on palfreys borne, one smiling morn,
At the HOLY WELL’s HAW were seen.
A youth and a Lady, passing fair,
Who asked for the scallop shell:
A sparkling draught each freely quaffed,
And they blessed the HOLY WELL.
They blessed that Well, and they fervently blessed
The Holy Hermit too;
To that and to him they filled to the brim
The scallop, and drank anew.
“Thanks, Father! Thanks! – To this well and thee,”
Said the youth, “But to Heaven most,
I owe the life of the fairest wife
That CHARNWOOD’s bounds can boast.
“The blushing bride thou seest at my side.
(Three hours ago made mine)
Is she who from death was restored to breath
By Heaven’s own hand and thine”.
“The Prior of ULVERSCROFT made us one,
And we hastened here to tell
How much we owe to kind Heaven and thee,
For the gift of the HOLY WELL”.
“In proof of which – to the HOLYWELL HAW
I give as a votive gift,
From year to year three fallow deer,
And the right of the Challenge drift”.
“I give, besides, of land two hides,
To be marked from the Breedon Brand:
To be held while men draw from the Well in this Haw
A draught with the hollow hand”.
The Hermit knelt, and the Hermit rose,
And breathed “Benedicite!
And tell me”, he said, with a hand on each head,
“What heaven sent pair I see!”
“This is the lost de Ferrers’ child,
Who dwelt at the Steward’s Hay;
And, father, my name – yet unknown to fame
Is simply EDWARD GREY”.
It is thought that after being revived she gave her name to God and became a prioress and some historians link it to a real life account of Eleanor Ferrars whose was carried off. It also has similarity to legends associated with Essex’s Running Well and Kent’s St. Thomas’s well at Singlewell.
References:
Hope, R. C, 1893, Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England, London: Elliot Stock.
Nichols, J.,1795-1810, History and Antiquities of the County of Leicester, London: Nichols
Potter, C.1985, ‘The holy wells of Leicestershire and Rutland’, in Source, 1st series, 1:15–17.
Potter, T. R 1852, History and antiquities of Charnwood Forest
Rattue, J., 1993, ‘An inventory of ancient, holy and healing wells in Leicestershire’, Tr. of the Leicestershire Arch. & Hist. Soc. 67: 59–69. Richardson, L. R., 1931, Wells and Springs of Leicestershire, Memoirs of the Geological Survey.
Trubshaw, B., 1990, Holy Wells and Springs of Leicestershire and Rutland, Heart of Albion, Wymeswold.
Take the A823 road up from Gleneagles to Glendevon and at the top of the long hill, where the road starts to level out and slightly drop, where the two glens meet up, take the right turn (west) and park up by the cattle-grid. Walk back onto the A823 and walk about 200 yards south towards Glendevon, to the small copse of trees past the cottage. As you get to the trees, look by the fencing and you’ll see one archetypal rounded standing stone, with another one next to it. You’re here!
Archaeology & History
Stones by the roadside at Fourstanes
At long last my huge nose is twitching back to its authentic sniffing-out lost sites in the landscape. During a visit to the St. Mungo’s Well a few days ago, on the way back to the car I kept saying to my fellow antiquarian Paul Hornby that “there’s something missing round here.”
“Wotcha mean?” he said.
“Summat missing Paul. It feels there should be a four-poster or summat like that here — where the two glens meet up. I can smell it. Summat should be here, or was here in the past.”
I said it several times as we walked back along the old track to the car. We took the photos and he set off to give me a grateful lift back home. But as we got back onto the road, we noticed a couple of upright stones just set back at the edge of a small copse of trees. One was very rounded and about four-feet tall, with a smaller companion next to it. But we didn’t stop to check them out as it was getting late.
A few days later Paul rang me to ask if I’d had a look at the old maps of the region where we’d visited and seen the old place-name where we’d been.
“No, why?”
“It’s known as the ‘Four Stanes’,” he said. “And right where those stones were standing by the trees!”
A few happy expletives came out, as usual for me. So I sought out the map he was talking about and, as we can see above, the “Fourstanes” (or Stones) are right where my ‘feelings’ and the stones were seen.
On the 1860 Ordnance Survey map of the area, a small building is shown and named as ‘Fourstanes’ right by the roadside, on the south side. It was also named as such in an earlier account of 1851 and was told to be inhabited by a Mrs Foote in 1866. Sometime after this the cottage appears to have been left to neglect and no trace of it now remains. According to evidences of the place-name societies in England and Scotland and the studies of Smith (1956), Scott (2004) and others, unless the term derives from the Gaelic fuar, meaning cold or chilly, it is usually evidence of ‘four stones’ in relation to megalithic remains like those found from Shetland to the more southerly counties in England. Dr Aubrey Burl (1988) shows clearly in his textbook of the same name, that “four poster stone circles” are common megalithic architectural features in the Perthshire landscape — where this happens to be! He also states that such place-names should be listed and checked as possible “sites of destroyed four posters.” So we did just that!
Although the stones look very good contenders in the photos and also when you first see them close up, there are some elements here that need highlighting that throw a more sceptical view of them as authentic megaliths. The larger of the two stones—very rounded and worn, typical of other four-poster remains—is three feet high. The lichen vegetation covering it on all sides is old—except on its back (northern) upright face, where there is almost no vegetation at all. Indeed, this face is almost entirely clear of any natural plant growth, showing it was moved into this position from a lower horizontal level and pushed upright, I would say within the last century. The smaller, lower stone next to this upright oddity, is laid down and covered on all sides by an excess of vegetation expected of a monolith that has been in this position for several centuries at least. The lichen growth on this stone is very old.
Both of these stones occur along the line of an old wall and may have originally been a part of such a structure, instead of any four poster megalithic feature. However, the road that runs past here replaced the earlier track (which you can still walk along on the other side of the river 100 yards away) running through Glen Devon and into Glen Eagles. This “new road” as it was then, was made sometime in the 19th century. It may be that, upon the construction of the new road, the ‘fourstanes’ themselves were “in the way of Progress” (as they like to say) and so were rolled down the side of the new road and into the position they now occupy. It’s difficult to say.
There is one additional element that needs exploring. The hill immediately above Fourstanes is called ‘The Law.’ Although this word can be a simple “hill”, there are additional historical factors to a place-name. In Laurence Gomme’s (1880: 260-77) excellent work on the subject, he illustrates time and again across Scotland that heathen gatherings, tribal meetings and early court sessions or ‘moots’ were held at places with this place-name element. It should come as no surprise then, that at other megalithic sites in Britain called the Four Stones, ancient pagan moot were also held there. (Gomme 1880; Grinsell 1936, 1976)
We’re going back onto The Law itself in the next week or two, just to see if these ‘fourstanes’ are hiding away in the heather on the tops, where oh so many megalithic rings tend to be found….
…to be continued…
References:
Burl, Aubrey, Four Posters: Bronze Age Stone Circles of Western Europe, BAR 195: Oxford 1988.
Dwelly, Edward, The Illustrated Gaelic-English Dictionary, Gairm: Glasgow 1973.
