Thought to have been destroyed in the 19th century, folklorists and historians alike didn’t seem to be able to locate this little-known folklore relic, which is still alive and well in one of the fields by the village. The exact nature of the stone isn’t known for certain. Legend reputes it to have been one of the four boundary stones which gave the village its name; it was also said that they were Roman altars and the Fairy Stone was one of them, which was moved from the village boundary during the Rebellion of 1715 and placed nearer the centre.
Folklorist M.C. Balfour (1904) seemed to think that stone had gone when he wrote about it. Writing about it in the past tense, he told,
“The Fairy Stone however, certainly had an existence, for a person, 80 years of age, remembered its situation to the south of the village, near the old road, and that it was squared, and had a square “cistern hewn out of its top,” which was called the Fairy Trough, and traditionally said to have had a pillar fixed in it.”
But when former Ley Hunter editor Paul Screeton (1982) came looking for the stone in the late 1970s, he was fortunate in coming across an old local:
“Some time ago while looking for the Fairy Stone at Fourstones…I came across a farmer who pointed it out and remarked that a few years previously when the road was widened the local lengthsman made sure it was not destroyed, though it had to be moved a short distance.”
Folklore
Of the four boundary stones surrounding the village, they were “supposed to have been formed to hold holy water,” said Balfour (1904). But the title Fairy Stone given to one of them had this tale to account for it:
“A couple of miles or more down the South Tyne is Fourstones, so called because of four stones, said to have been Roman altars, having been used to mark its boundaries. A romantic use was made of one of these stones in the early days of “The Fifteen.” Every evening, as dusk fell, a little figure, clad in green, stole up to the ancient altar, which had been slightly hollowed out, and, taking out a packet, laid another in its place. The mysterious packets, placed there so secretly, were letters from the Jacobites of the neighbourhood to each other; and the little figure in green was a boy who acted as messenger for them. No wonder that the people of the district gave this altar the name of the ‘Fairy Stone’.”
References:
Balfour, M.C., Country Folk-lore volume 4: Examples of Printed Folk-lore Concerning Northumberland, David Nutt: London 1904.
Screeton, Paul, “The Long Man of Wilmington,” in The Ley Hunter, no.92, 1982.
Terry, Jean F., Northumberland Yesterday and Today, Andrew Reid: Newcastle 1913.
Watson, Godfrey, Northumberland Place Names, Sandhill: Morpeth 1995.
Acknowledgements: Big thanks to Paul Screeton for the grid-reference!
Up above the roadside leading down the gorgeous Craobh Haven road, we not only find remains of a previously unrecorded standing stone, but we see this little-known overgrown fort that has been described as a “galleried dun” by the Royal Commission (1988) lads. Known in folk tradition as the “castle of the black dogs” and an important place in the great legends of the Finns, in archaeological terms the Royal Commission described the site as:
“Oval in plan, the dun measures about 13m by 10m within a wall which varies from 3m to 4m in thickness. Considerable stretches of the outer face survive and on the N it rises to a height of 1.7m in ten rough courses; the inner face is less well preserved, but a long stretch is visible on the NW. There are traces of a gallery within the thickness of the wall on the NW; it was entered through a narrow passage, the S-side wall of which it stands to a height of 0.4m in three courses. A second break in the line of the inner face, 2.5m to the NE, is either another entrance to the gallery or the entrance to a second chamber. Depressions in the thickness of the wall on the S may indicate the presence of yet another intramural feature. The entrance to the dun lies on the WSW; it measures about 1m in width at the outer end, 1.8m at the inner end, and is checked for a door 1m from the exterior. On the NE there is a short stretch of facing at right-angles to the line of the wall, and this may be a straight-joint similar to that at Castle Dounie…or one side of a postern gate. In the interior there are the remains of at least two animal-pens and a modern rectilinear cairn. There is no trace of the midden-deposit noted by Campbell & Sandemann to the W of the dun, and the cairns and stretches of field-walling on the N flank of the ridge are of relatively recent date.”
Folklore
Close to a little-known cailleach site, this ruined fortress was one of the many places which the illustrious historian and folklorist Archibald Campbell told about in his awesome series of Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition (1889). The tale of the fort was known to local people as “The Fight between Bran and Foir and is as follows:
“The black dog, Foir, was the brother of Bran, the far-famed hound of Fionn. Foir was taken early from his dam, and was afterwards nurtured by a band of fair women, who acted as his nurses. He grew up into a handsome hound, which had no equal, in the chase or in fight, in the distant North. His owner, Eubhan Oisein, the black-haired, red-cheeked, fair-skinned young Prince of Innis Torc (Orkney ?) was proud, as well he might be, of his unrivalled hound. Having no further victories to win in the North, his master determined to try him against the strongest dogs in the packs of the Feinne.
“He left home, descended by Lochawe, and entered Craignish through Glen Doan. Before his arrival, the Fienne, after spending the day in the chase, encamped for the night in the upper end of Craignish. Next day Fionn arose before sunrise, and saw a young man, wrapped in a red mantle and leading a black dog, approaching towards him at a rapid pace. The stranger soon drew near, and at once declared his object in coming. He wanted a dog-fight, and so impatient was he to have it, and so restless by reason of his impatience, that he suffered not his shadow to dwell a moment on one spot.
“Fifty of the best hounds of the Feinne were slipped at last, but the black dog killed them all one by one. A second and then a third fifty were uncoupled, but the strange dog disposed of them as easily as he did of the first.
“Fionn now saw that all the dogs of the Feinne were in serious danger of being annihilated, and therefore he turned round and cast an angry look on his own great dog Bran. In a moment Bran’s hair stood on end, his eyes darted fire, and he leaped the full length of his golden chain in his eagerness for the fight. But something else besides the casting of an angry look was still to be done to rouse the fierce hound’s temper to its highest pitch.
“He was placed nose to nose with his rival, and then his golden chain was unclasped. The two hounds, brothers by blood, but now champions on opposite sides, at once closed in deadly fight; but for an adequate description of the struggle between them the reader must consult the bards. See the “Lay of the Black Dog”, in Islay’s Leabhar na Feinne, the McCallum’s Ancient Poetry, etc.
“The contest lasted from morning to evening, and victory remained, almost to the close, uncertain; but in the end Bran vanquished Foir, and, by killing the latter, amply revenged the death of the three fifties. The Feinne buried their own dogs, and the stranger, with a sore heart, laid his black hound in the narrow clay bed.
“This great dog-fight, so celebrated in Gaelic lore, is said to have been fought at Lergychony, in Craignish. It is further said that the place was called Learg-a-choinnimh, or the “Plateau of Meeting”, because it was there the two hounds met in fight. There are, of course, many other places in the Highlands which claim the honour of being the scene of this legendary contest.”
References:
Campbell, Archibald, Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition – volume 1, David Nutt: London 1889.
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments of Scotland, Argyll – Volume 6: Mid-Argyll and Cowal, HMSO: Edinburgh 1988.
Up the A9 past Blair Atholl, a few miles later there’s the turning for Struan. Scarcely a mile east of old Struan Church, head past the old farmhouse of Old Kindrochat and keep going eastwards along the edge of the trees for about 200 yards until you reach the sheepfold. There you’ll see a singular rock sitting alone by the fence. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
This little known healing stone was, at one time last century, of great repute in the Highlands. Today, very few people even know it exists. One of many rocks that were said to possess healing abilities, this one (obviously) was of great repute in the curing of whooping cough. But it wasn’t the rock alone that did the work here, for upon its edge was a small basin into which rainwater collected and this, when used correctly and in due accord with ancient ritual tradition, could enact the cure. Mr Duncan Fraser said of this fascinating healing stone:
“The grey water-worn stone is about 4ft 6in long, 2ft 6in broad and 2ft high, with a deep gash on top, where the water lingers even in long dry spells. When full it holds about half-a-gallon. People were still coming here with their sick children as late as 1860 — and bringing a spoon made from the horn of a living cow. There was no cure without that.”
The ritual “spoon made from the horn of a living cow” was an important ingredient at another site with the reputation for curing whooping cough about 50 miles south of here, near Balquhidder. (see Whooping Cough Well, Killin) What truly fascinates me is the origin of this stone and its medicinal virtues. When did the healing rites first start here – how long ago…?
References:
Fraser, Duncan, Highland Perthshire, Standard Press: Montrose 1969.
Take the A907 road between Clackmannan and Comrie and, close to Bogside Farm at the roadside, but on the other side of the road where the bridge crosses a burn, take the dirt-track uphill and into the woodland. About 300 yards up (before you hit the signs pointing you to the farm) , walk uphill into the trees on your left until the ground levels out. Look around! (and best visited between December and May, before the bracken covers the place)
Archaeology & History
Visiting this site is pleasure in itself. Situated in an open forest, with traditional pine trees in abundance, there are scattered amidst the edges of this large oval-shaped Iron Age structure, the aged boughs of ash and beech, centuries old, along its edges and throughout the woods. It is a truly superb setting! When visited by the Royal Commission lads in April, 1925, they found the remains here in good condition. A few years later in their impressive Inventory, they told:
“In Castlehill Wood, about 250 yards to the southwest of Bogside Railway Station, and at an elevation of 200 feet above sea-level, is a small plateau of very regular oval form with its major axis northwest and southeast. It is surrounded by a single ditch, the well-marked enclosure thus produced having a maximum measurement of 185 by 135 feet. At the southeast the ditch has been left uncut in order to provide a passage for entrance. This passage has been about 20 feet wide, and at its inner end there are on either side faint traces of a low mound, which in all probability once ran right round the edge of the enclosure and which may have been palisaded.”
RCHAMS 1933 plan of site
Sadly when I came here a few days ago, much of the was very overgrown with bracken and other vegetation, making it impossible to see the site properly and preventing any decent photos. We’ll go back here in a few months time to get better images!
Folklore
This site was mentioned, albeit briefly, in David Beveridge’s (1885) magnum opus on the history of Culross. With equal brevity he noted several standing stones in the region, saying how tradition afforded them a Danish origin. This site was the same for
“a tradition prevails that after the battle of Inverkeithing the Danish army or a portion of it retreated to a station in the north of Culross parish, where they erected the earthwork or camp of Castlehill, still existing near the Burrowine Farm.”
References:
Beveridge, David, Culross and Tulliallan: Its History and Antiquities – volume 1, William Blackwood: Edinburgh 1885.
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments, Scotland, Inventory of Monuments and Constructions in the Counties of Fife, Kinross and Clackmannan, HMSO: Edinburgh 1933.
Truly remote, but easy to find once you’re nearing the western end of Glen Lyon. Going upstream, past Cashlie Dam, watch out for the well-preserved stone kiln on the left-hand side of the road, just before Cashlie house. 50 yards or further along, cross the road and in the field by the riverside, the circular mass of stones sorta gives the game away.
Archaeology & History
Shown on modern OS-maps as a ‘homestead’ and described variously by archaeologists and historians as a fort or a round-house, this is just one example of around twenty large prehistoric constructions that scatter the stunning mountainous Glen Lyon region which legend tells were the forts of the great hero-figure, Finn. Three other constructions of the same nature are found just a few hundred yards further up the Glen from here. Each is of roughly the same age and nature by the look of things. Their walls are extremely wide and made up of very large rocks, which would have taken huge efforts to construct.
Caisteal Mhic Neill ruins, looking eastCaisteal Mhic Neill, with An Grianan behind
Highlighted on the 1867 OS-map as a “Tower”, the exact nature of this and its adjacent sites has yet to be academically ascertained, with the Canmore website ascribing the monument as a “settlement” – although, tradition tells them to be Scottish forts or duns, so we’ll stick with that until excavations tell otherwise!
The great Gaelic place-name master W.J. Watson (1912) told that:
“The fourth of the Cashlie towers is a few yards south of the road, right in front of Cashlie farmhouse, now a shooting lodge. Though a quantity of large stones marks the site, the structure has been so badly knocked about that we found it impossible to take measurements sufficient for a plan. It was, however, apparently not circular, but rather oval. Its walls appeared to vary from about 9 feet to 12 feet 6 inches in thickness.”
Close-up of Caisteal walling
This is one of several other duns (or homesteads as the OS-map calls them) close to each other.
Folklore
Ascribed as one of Glen Lyon’s Caisteilean nam Fiann, or “castles of the Fiann”, Mr Watson (1912) again told how “there is a widely known saying, the earliest notice of which occurs in Pennant, who got it doubtless from the Rev. J. Stewart:
‘…Twelve castles had Fionn,
In the dark Bent-glen of the stones.'”
References:
Gillies, William A., In Famed Breadalbane, Munro Press: Perth 1938.
Watson, W.J., “The Circular Forts of North Perthshire,” in Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries, Scotland, volume 47, 1912.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Many thanks to Andy Sweet of Stravaiging Around Scotland, for pointing me to the W.J. Watson article. And of course, a huge thanks to Marion—”I don’t have a clue where I am!”—Woolley, for getting us here….
In the lovely village that is the Crook of Devon, go down Church Lane, past the houses, until you meet with the dirt-track on your left that runs straight up beneath a grove of trees heading into the green fields. Go up here 100 yards until you meet another track that goes sharp left. Just here, 10 yards along, a solitary tree sits by the wall; and just past it is a large boulder up against the walling. This is the Bull Stone!
Archaeology & History
Bull Stone, Crook of Devon
If you didn’t know owt about this place, you wouldn’t even give it a second-thought. A decent-sized rock, obviously broken-up and then plastered back together again, is innocuously resting up against the wall. But it appears to have had some significance in bygone centuries, although its full story has yet to be recovered. It was described in the Royal Commission (1933) report for antiquities, where they told:
“Built against the dike on the north side of an old roadway, half a mile to the south of Crook of Devon, is a huge sandstone boulder known as ‘The Bull Stone.’ It is probably an old boundary mark or, like the Leslie Stone…it may have some association with the old-time pastime of bull-baiting. The stone was broken up a number of years ago, and the fragments were carted away to be built up in another dike hard by, but, in response to public agitation, they were returned to the original site and cemented together. The boulder rises 3½ feet above ground and has a girth of about 13 feet at the base. It is not set up vertically, but lies on its side.”
It may originally have been a standing stone as local lore tells that it once stood as high as a grown man, but is now only half that size. It may have been one of the meeting places of the legendary witches at the Crook of Devon, but this is guesswork on my behalf (so best ignored!).
References:
Royal Commission on the Ancient & Historical Monuments of Scotland, Fife, Kinross and Clackmannan, HMSO: Edinburgh 1933.
Once found on the other side of the road from the prehistoric circle of Acrehowe Hill, this old cross was destroyed sometime in the first half of the 19th century by one of the stewards to the Lady of the Manor of Baildon, a Mr Walker. It’s unlikely that Mr Walker would have performed this act without direct orders from the Lady of the Manor, so the destruction should really be laid at the feet of the land-owner, who’ve got a habit of destroying archaeological sites up and down the land, even today.
Found near the crown of a small hill on the horizon whether you’re coming from Eldwick- or Baildon-side, the cross was erected (probably between the 12th and 14th centuries) amidst a cluster of heathen burials and cup-and-rings, many of which would have been known by local peasants as having old lore or superstitions about them. So the church commandeered this spot, desacralized it and no doubt enacted profane rites around it under the auspice of some spurious christian law. They did that sorta thing with every non-christian site they ever came across—or simply vandalised it, much as many of them still do today. Sadly we know not the exact history of the old cross: whether it was an old standing stone on the crown of this hill which they defaced and made into a cross, or whether they erected their own monument, we’ll never know. But the idea of a once-proud monolith standing here is a strong possibility, considering its position in the landscape and the stone rings of Pennythorn and Acrehowe close by (cup-and-ring stones such as carving no.184 are also close by).
The cross itself once gained an additional incorrect title by the cartographers of the period, who named it Rerehowe Cross—but this was simply a spelling mistake and its newly-found title didn’t last long. The local industrial historian William Cudworth (1876) described the lost cross in his large work, where he told that,
“many of the inhabitants can remember and point out the exact spot where it stood, and no doubt could find some of the stones of which it was composed. It was destroyed by one of the overseers and a large portion of it used for fence stones.”
Harry Speight (a.k.a. ‘Johnnie Gray’) and others also mentioned the passing of this old stone, but give no additional information.
Folklore
In William Cudworth’s description of this site he told how “the village tradition is that it was put up in commemoration of a great battle that was fought on the Moor” at Baildon; but W.P. Baildon (1913) thought this was unlikely. Instead, he cited an 1848 Name Book reference dug out by W.E. Preston, which told that on the summit of Acrehowe Hill,
“Here stood a cross which, according to traditional evidence was erected at the period that markets were held at Baildon, in consequence of a plague which prevented the country people from visiting the village with provisions, etc. The site of its base is very apparent, being circular, about 8 feet in diameter. A large flag stone with the stump of the cross remaining in its centre, was pulled up and destroyed by Mr Walker (Baildon Hall) a few years since.”
References:
Baildon, W. Paley, Baildon and the Baildons (parts 1-15), St. Catherines: Adelphi 1913-26.
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Milverton 2001.
Colls, J.M.N., ‘Letter upon some Early Remains Discovered in Yorkshire,’ in Archaeologia, volume 31, 1846.
Cudworth, William, Round about Bradford, Thomas Brear: Bradford 1876.
Gray, Johnnie, Through Airedale from Goole to Malham, Walker & Laycock: Leeds 1891.
Healing Well (lost): OS Grid Reference – TQ 315 817
Also Known as:
Fagge’s Well
Archaeology & History
First described in local church records from around 1190 AD (Webb 1921) as Fageswelle; then again a few years later in early crime records of the region (Hardy & Page, 1892) as Fackeswell, there were a number of other references to this lost water source, which could once be found near the Skinners Well and the more famous Clerks Well, Finsbury. Gover, Mawer & Stenton (1942) believed the site owed its title to some long-forgotten local name, though could give no specifics. (i.e., they didn’t know!) The old dialect word ‘fag’, relating to old grass is as good a meaning as any!
The site was described by John Stow in his Survey of London, 1603, saying it was “near unto Smithfield by Charterhouse, lately dammed up.” In Mr Foord’s (1910) excellent work on the subject, he told that,
“In 1197 certain lands are described as lying between the garden of the Hospitallers and Smithfield Bar, “super rivulum de Fackeswell,” and other lands as between that brook and ‘Chikennelane’… This fixes the position of Faggeswell Brook as approximately at the boundary of the City.”
Further information about this site would be much appreciated. The grid-reference for this site is an approximation.
References:
Foord, Alfred Stanley, Springs, Streams and Spas of London: History and Association, T. Fisher Unwin: London 1910.
Gover, J.E.B., Mawer, Allen & Stenton, F.M., The Place-Names of Middlesex, Cambridge University Press 1942.
Hardy, W.J. & Page, W. (eds), A Calendar of Feet of Fines for London and Middlesex, 1197-1569 – volume 1, Hardy & Page: London 1892.
Sunderland, Septimus, Old London Spas, Baths and Wells, John Bale: London 1915.
Webb, E.A. (ed.), The Records of St. Bartholomew’s Priory, and of the Church and Parish of St. Bartholomew the Great, West Smithfield – volume 1, Humphrey Milford: Oxford 1921.
Healing Well (lost): OS Grid Reference – TQ 313 822
Archaeology & History
Like oh so many of the healthy old springs and streams in that dreadful metropolis, the blood and natural health of Skinner’s Well was killed long ago by the self-righteous arrogance of Industrialists. Even its precise whereabouts seems to have been forgotten… So we thank the written words of antiquarians to keep its memory alive.
Mentioned as far back as 1197 AD in early fine records of the region (Hardy & Page, 1892) as Skinnereswell — and thereafter in various local history records from 1200, 1244, 1385 and constantly from thereon — the place-name authorities Gover, Mawer & Stenton (1942) told that the prefix ‘skinner’, “clearly derive from personal names,” from “the occupational name skinner, of Scandinavian origin.” But this isn’t to everyone’s etymological fancy! When A.S. Foord (1910) sought for information on this healing spring, he found the same 1197 account, in which
“Skinners’ Well is there described as lying in the valley between the Nun’s Priory and the Holeburn, in which was a large fish-pond… Strype, in his continuation of Stow’s Survey (1720) say, ‘Skinners’ Well is almost quite lost, and so it was in Stow’s time. But I am certainly informed by a knowing parishioner that it lies to the west of the church (of St. James, Clerkenwell), enclosed within certain houses there.’ The parish would fain recover the well again, but cannot tell where the pipes lie. But Dr Rogers, who formerly lived in an house there, showed Mr Edmund Howard…marks in a wall in the close where, as he affirmed, the pipes lay, that it might be known after his death.”
Mr Sunderland (1915) thought Skinners Well a probable holy well, “because Mystery Plays were were performed yearly around it by the Skinners of London.” Citing as evidence the earlier words of John Stow in his Survey of London, 1603, which he narrated:
“In the year 1390…I read, the parish clerks of London, on the 18th July, played interludes at Skinners Well, near unto Clerkes’ Well, which play continued for three days together; the king, queen and nobles being present. Also in the year 1409…they played a play at the Skinners Well, which lasted eight days, and was of matter from the creation of the world. There were to see the same the most part of the nobles and gentles in England, etc.”
Whether this “matter from the creation of the world” was a tale of a Biblical nature, or more related to indigenous creation myths of the waters and lands around Skinners Well, we have no way of knowing.
References:
Foord, Alfred Stanley, Springs, Streams and Spas of London: History and Association, T. Fisher Unwin: London 1910.
Gover, J.E.B., Mawer, Allen & Stenton, F.M., The Place-Names of Middlesex, Cambridge University Press 1942.
Hardy, W.J. & Page, W. (eds), A Calendar of Feet of Fines for London and Middlesex, 1197-1569 – volume 1, Hardy & Page: London 1892.
MacLagan, David, Creation Myths, Thames & Hudson: London 1977.
Sunderland, Septimus, Old London Spas, Baths and Wells, John Bale: London 1915.
On the A65 road from Skipton to Gargrave, just at the eastern end of Gargrave, take the small Eshton Road running north over the canal. Go through Eshton itself, making sure you bear right at the small road a few hundred yards past the old village. Keep your eyes peeled a few hundred yards down as you hit the river bridge and stop here. Just 50 yards before this is a parking spot where some Water Board building stands. Walk back up the road barely 20 yards and you’ll see, right by the roadside, a small clear pool on your left, encircled by trees. Go through the little stile here and you’re right by the water’s side!
Archaeology & History
This is actually a listed monument (unusual for wells up North!), just off the roadside between Nappa Bridge and Eshton Hall. Two or three old stone heads (deemed to be ‘Celtic’ in age and origin, though I had my doubts) have recently been stolen from this holy pool close to where the water emerges from the ground, just beneath the surface. You can see where the water bubbles up strongly from the Earth when you visit here, forming the small pool in front of it, around which at certain times of year people still attach ‘memaws’ (an old word for ritual ‘offerings’) on the small shrubs. If you drink from here, just where the water bubbles up (careful not to fall in!), it’s freezing — but tastes absolutely gorgeous! And better than any tap-water you’ll ever drink!
Mentioned briefly in Mr Hope’s (1893) fine early survey; the earliest description of this site in relation to the mythic ‘Helen’ dates from 1429, where T.D. Whitaker (1878) described the dedication to an adjacent chapel, long gone. Whitaker’s wrote:
“…One of the most copious springs in the kingdom, St. Helen’s Well fills at its source a circular basin twenty feet in circumference, from the whole bottom of which it boils up without any visible augmentation in the wettest seasons, or diminution in the driest. In hot weather the exhalations from its surface are very conspicuous. But the most remarkable circumstance about this spring is that, with no petrifying quality in its own basin, after a course of about two hundred yards over a common pebbly channel, during which it receives no visible accession from any other source, it petrifies strongly where it is precipitated down a steep descent into the brook. To this well anciently belonged a chapel, with the same dedication; for in the year 1429, a commission relating to the manor of Flasby sat “in capella beate Elene de Essheton; and on the opposite side of the road to the spring is a close called the Chapel Field. This was probably not unendowed, for I met with certain lands in Areton, anciently called Seynt Helen Lands.”
When the old countryman Halliwell Sutcliffe (1939) talked of this healing spring, his tone was more in keeping with the ways of local folk. Sutcliffe loved the hills and dales and old places to such an extent that they were a part of his very bones. And this comes through when he mentions this site. Telling where to find the waters, he continued:
“Its sanctuary is guarded by a low mossy wall. Neglected for years out of mind, it retains still clear traces of what it was in older times. An unfailing spring comes softly up among stones carved with heart-whole joy in chiselling. Scattered now, these stones were once in orderly array about what is not a well, in the usual sense, but rather a wide rock-pool, deep here and shallow there, with little trees that murmur in the breeze above. Give yourself to this place, frankly and with the simplicity is asks. It does not preach or scold, or rustle with the threat of unguessed ambushes among the grassy margin. Out of its inmost heart it gives you all it knows of life.”
Old well in the field
In the field across the road where the chapel was said to have been, we find another stone-lined fresh-water well bubbling from the ground into a stone trough (at grid-ref SD 93118 56958). The waters here are also good and refreshing. But whether this fine water source had any tales told of it, or curative properties (it will have done), history has sadly betrayed its voice.
Folklore
The waters here have long been reputed as medicinal. R.C. Hope (1893) said “this well was a certain cure for sore and weak eyes.” Whitaker and others told there to be hangings of rags and other offerings (known in Yorkshire as ‘memaws’). Sutcliffe described,
“The pilgrims coming with their sores, of body and soul… The Well heard tales that were foul with infamies of the world beyond its sanctuary. Men came with blood-guilt on their hands, and in their souls a blackness and a terror. Women knelt here in bleak extremity of shame. The Well heard all, and from its own unsullied depths sent up the waters of great healing. And the little chant of victory began to stir about the pilgrims’ hearts…and afterwards the chant gained in volume. It seemed to them that they were marching side by side with countless, lusty warriors who aforetime had battled for the foothold up the hills. And, after that, a peace unbelievable, and the quiet music of Helen’s Well, as her waters ran to bless the farmward lands below. All this is there for you to understand today, if you will let the Well explain the richness of her heritage, the abiding mystery of her power to solace and to heal.”
And so it is with many old springs… The rite of memaws enacted at St. Helen’s Well is a truly archaic one: whereby a person bringing a cloth or stone or coin — using basic principles of sympathetic magick — asks the spirit of the waters to cleanse them of their illness and pass it to the rags that are tied to the adjacent tree; or perhaps some wish, or desire, or fortune, be given in exchange for a coin or something if personal value. The waters must then be drunk, or immerse yourself into the freezing pool; and if the person leaving such offerings is truly sincere in their requests, the spirit of the water may indeed act for the benefit of those concerned.
Such memaws at St. Helen’s Well are still left by local people and, unfortunately, some of those idiotic plastic pagans, who actually visit here and tie pieces of artificial material to the hawthorn and other trees, which actually pollutes the Earth and kills the spirit here. Whilst the intent may be good, please, if you’re gonna leave offerings here, make sure that the rags you leave are totally biodegradable. The magical effectiveness of your intent is almost worthless if the material left is toxic to the environment and will certainly have a wholly negative effect on the spirit of the placehere. Please consider this to ensure the sacred nature of this site.
…to be continued…
References:
Hope, Robert Charles, Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England, Elliott Stock: London 1893.
Smith, A.H., The Place-Names of the West Riding of Yorkshire– volume 6, Cambridge University Press 1961.
Sutcliffe, Halliwell, The Striding Dales, Frederick Warne: London 1939.
Whelan, Edna, The Magic and Mystery of Holy Wells, Capall Bann: Chieveley 2001.
Whelan, Edna & Taylor, Ian, Yorkshire Holy Wells and Sacred Springs, Northern Lights: Dunnington 1989.
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