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.
Whitaker, T.D., The History and Antiquities of the Deanery of Craven, Joseph Dodgson: Leeds 1878.
Legendary Stone & Healing Well (lost): OS Grid Reference – NN 579 323
Also Known as:
Fuaranna Druidh Chasad
Whooping Cough Well
Archaeology & History
“Well of the Whooping Cough” stone, near Killin
The grid-reference given for this site is only an approximation based on the description given by Hugh MacMillan (1884), below. The exact whereabouts of the place remains forgotten, but based on the story we have of the place it would be great if we could locate it and — as far as I’m concerned — be highlighted and preserved as an important spot in the history of religious and social history for the people of Killin and the wider mountain community. The region here was well populated all along the northern and southern sides of the adjacent Loch Tay before the coming of the Highland Clearances (Prebble 1963), and so the lore which MacMillan describes below was very likely of truly ancient pedigree.
Not to be confused with a site of the same name (and attributes) as the healing well at Balquhidder, this site comprises of a large stone, typical of the region, covered in that delicious carpet of old mosses and lichen bestowed by the aged love from Nature that bedecks much of the hidden sites in the area. Upon one side of the rock was a large hollow, in which water was always collected: of both dew and rain and the breath of low clouds, within which were great medicinal virtues long known of by local people. Foreign or shallow archaeologists would denounce this rock and its virtues as little more than the superstitious beliefs of an uneducated people living in uneducated times, but such derision is simply foolish words from pretentious souls who know little of the real world. For the attributes and mythic elements at this old stone is another example of living animism: vitally important ingredients in the spiritual background and nourishment of a people not yet overcome by the degrading influence of homo-profanus. Here we still find the living principles of the natural world, sleeping away in the consensus trance of modern folk…
Folklore
The stone and its ‘healing well’ are not mentioned in the standard Scottish texts on holy wells (MacKinlay 1893; Morris 1982) and we have to rely solely on Hugh MacMillan’s first-person account of the place from the latter-half of the 19th century. He told that the stone was to be found “in the woods of Auchmore at Killin,” some twelve miles from a similar curative rock at Fearnan called the Clach-na Cruich:
“This stone is called Fuaranna Druidh Chasad, or the Well of the Whooping-Cough. I heard of it incidentally last year in Paisley from a native of Killin, who remembered vividly when a boy having been taken to drink the water in the cavity of the stone, in order to cure the whooping-cough, from which he was suffering at the time. Happening to be in Killin lately, enjoying a few days’ holiday, I made inquiries in the village; but though some of the older inhabitants remembered having heard of the stone, and the remarkable practice connected with it, I could not get any one to describe the exact locality of it to me, so completely has the superstition passed away from the mind of the present generation. I went twice in search of the stone; and though, as I afterwards found, I had been within a very short distance of it unawares on both occasions, I was unsuccessful in finding it. At last I met an old man, and after some search we found the stone, and he identified it.
“I understood then what had puzzled me before, viz., why it should have been called Fuaran or Well, for I had supposed it had a cavity in a stone like that at Fernan. It was indeed a cavity; but it was in the projecting side of the stone, not on its top surface. It consisted of a deep basin penetrating through a dark cave-like arched recess into the heart of the stone. It was difficult to tell whether it was natural or artificial, for it might well have been either, and was possibly’ both; the original cavity having been a mere freak of nature — a weather-worn hole — afterwards perhaps enlarged by some superstitious hand, and adapted to the purpose for which it was used. Its sides were covered with green cushions of moss; and the quantity of water in the cavity was very considerable, amounting probably to three gallons or more. Indeed, so natural did it look, so like a fountain, that my guide asserted that it was a well formed by the water of on underground spring bubbling up through the rock. I said to him, “Then why does it not flow over?” That circumstance he seemed to regard as a part of its miraculous character to be taken on trust. I put my hand into it, and felt all round the cavity where the water lay, and found, as was self-evident, that its source of supply was from above and not from below; that the basin was simply filled with rain water, which was prevented from being evaporated by the depth of the cavity, and the fact that a large part of it was within the arched recess in the stone, where the sun could not get access to it. I was told that it was never known to be dry — a circumstance which I could well believe from its peculiar construction.
“The stone, which was a rough irregular boulder, somewhat square-shaped, of mica schist, with veins of quartz running through it, about 8 feet long and 5 feet high, was covered almost completely with luxuriant moss and lichen; and my time being limited, I did not examine it particularly for traces of cup-marks. There were several other stones of nearly the same size in the vicinity, but there was no evidence, so far as I could see, of any sepulchral or religious structure in the place. There is indeed a small, though well-formed and compact so-called Druidical circle, consisting of some seven or eight tall massive stones, with a few faint cup-marks on one of them, all standing upright within a short distance on the meadow near Kinnell House, the ancestral seat of the Macnabs, and it is a reasonable supposition that the Fountain of the Whooping-Cough may have had some connection in ancient times with this prehistoric structure in its immediate neighbourhood; for, unlike the cavity in the stone at Fernan, the peculiar shape of the cavity in this stone precluded its ever having been used as a mortar, and apparently it has never been used for any other purpose than that which it has so long served. There can be no doubt that the fountain dates from a remote antiquity; and the superstition connected with it has survived in the locality for many ages. It has now passed away completely, and the old stone is utterly neglected. The path leading to it, which. used to be constantly frequented, is now almost obliterated. This has come about within the last thirty years, and one of the principal causes of its being forgotten is that its site is now part of the private policies of Auchmore. The landlady of the house at Killin, where I resided, remembered distinctly having been brought to the stone to be cured of the whooping-cough; and, at the foot of it, there are still two flat stones that were used as steps to enable children to reach up to the level of the fountain, so as to drink its healing waters; but they are now almost hidden by the rank growth of grass and moss. There is more verisimilitude about the supposititious cures effected at this fountain than about those connected with the stone at Fernan; for one of the best remedies for the whooping-cough, it is well known, is change of air, and this the little patient would undoubtedly get, who was brought, it may be, a considerable distance to this spot. I am led to understand that, in connection with the cure, the ceremonial turn called “Deseul” was performed. The patient was required, before drinking the water, to go round the stone three times in a right-hand direction, which may be regarded as an act of solar adoration. This practice lingered long in this as in other parts of the Highlands, and the “deseul” was religiously performed round homesteads, newly-married couples, infants before baptism, patients to be cured, and persons to whom good success in some enterprise was wished; while the “Tuathseul,” or the unhallowed turn to the left, was also performed in cases of the imprecation of evil.”
Should anyone know the whereabouts of this fascinating healing stone and its waters, please let us know!
References:
MacKinlay, James M., Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs, William Hodge: Glasgow 1893.
Legendary Stone (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – NT 058 865
Archaeology & History
Travelling along the old road between Crossford and towards Cairneyhill, on the right-hand (north) side, there was until recently a huge boulder, described by the folklorist J.E. Simpkins (1914),
“Its horizontal dimensions above ground are diagonally 18 feet by 21 feet; its vertical height above ground 5 feet… I estimate its weight at nearly 200 tons.”
The stone was proclaimed by 19th century geologists to be a glacial deposit from the upper region of the Forth (the nearest mountain region possessed of this type of stone); although our old petroglyph writer, Sir James Simpson, postulated the Witch’s Stone to be “of meteoric origin.”
But like oh so many old sites with heathen tales attached, the stone was destroyed by a local farmer on 7 February, 1972. The following interesting notes were made in a Crossford & Cairneyhill School log-book, describing its destruction:
“The local farmer blasted the “Witch’s Stone”, situated about 300m East of school at 2.30 this afternoon. Children vacated both buildings and sheltered at West End of main building. All windows were opened. Police informed that further operations of this nature will be carried out at weekend.”
A week later on February 14, all “remains of “Witch’s Stone” removed by blasting at 3pm today.”
On the other side of the road from our Witch’s Stone was another boulder, this time known as the Cadger’s Stone, said by Beveridge (1888) to have got its name,
“from the circumstance of its having formed a landmark for the ‘cadgers’, or itinerant merchants, who were wont to rest themselves and their ponies whilst they deposited for a short while their burdens on the stone.”
The earliest OS-map of the region in 1856 shows neither of these stones, but does highlight a Capel Stane, or Stone of the Horse, very close by.
Folklore
The stone was obviously of some traditional importance to local people in pre-christian times. David Beveridge (1888) described the position and creation myth of the Witch’s Stone as follows:
“On our right a singular-looking stone of blue limestone appears in a field, and is known as the Witch’s Stone, the popular legend being that a notable witch in this neighbourhood found it on the seashore, and that after she carried it some distance in her apron, the string of the latter broke, and the stone has since continued to lie in the place where it fell. “
A few years after this, the folklorist J.E. Simpkins (1914) wrote:
“The legend connected with this boulder is, that a witch wishing to bestow a valuable gift on the Pitfirrane family, resolved to present to them a cheese-press. With that view, she lifted this boulder and carried it some distance in her apron, but owing to its excessive weight the apron-strings broke and the stone fell to the ground, where it has remained ever since.”
If anyone knows anything more about this old stone, or has any old photos of the fella, please let us know!
References:
Beveridge, David, Between the Ochils and Forth, William Blackwood: Edinburgh 1888.
Simpkins, John Ewart, Examples of Printed Folk-lore Concerning Fife, with some Notes on Clackmannan and Kinross-shires, Sidgwick & Jackson: London 1914.
From Aberfeldy, take the B846 road over the river bridge, past Weem, a couple of miles down the valley until you see the small road on the right which leads up to the ancient hamlet of Dull. Go up and round the corner until you reach the centre of the village; and here the road turns back downhill. At this point, right by the roadside, entrapped within old railings, you’ll see the Cross of Dull.
Archaeology & History
Dull Cross behind bars
Standing more than three feet tall, the remains of this old cross with one of its extended arms broke off in previous centuries, was one of three such monuments that used to stand in the valley. This and its associates were, according to christian legend, placed as markers at an ancient centre of christian learning at Dull around the time of Adamnam (who died in Glen Lyon in 704 AD). The area was said to be an early druid college, which was later incorporated into early christian teachings. Hilary Wheater (1981) also told that in previous centuries, if anyone fell foul of the law,
“Within the boundaries of these crosses debtors, offenders or miscreants were protected from retribution. One of the crosses stands in the centre of Dull village to this day, having been used as a market cross in more recent times, and the other two, having been stolen for use as gateposts during the (19th) century, were placed in the old kirk at Weem for safety.”
References:
Stuart, John, The Sculptured Stones of Scotland, Aberdeen 1856.
Wheater, Hilary, Aberfeldy to Glenlyon, Appin Publications: Aberfeldy 1981.
The stone marking the position of the well is situated on the north side of the road at the east end of Grange Loan, a few yards west of the junction with Findhorn Place, at Newington on the south side of Edinburgh. Unfortunately, all that now remains of the well is a red sandstone front with two pieces of metal on each side.
Archaeology & History
Set back a little into the wall alongside the road, we today see only the architectural memory of this once famous and much-reputed holy well, whose waters sadly no longer flow. Curiously omitted from the primary Scottish surveys on holy wells, it was long known as an important water source by the people of Edinburgh in ages past. The best article on the site was written by W.F. Gray (1962) some fifty years ago, in which he told:
“Built against a garden wall, the Penny Well looks rather forlorn. Now that a plentiful supply of water is in every dwelling, its public usefulness is definitely at an end, though it may slake the thirst of a passer-by. But however that may be, the Penny Well has a long if not distinguished history, though fact and fiction, it is to be feared, are inextricably linked.
“And first, as to its age. There is documentary evidence of the existence of the Penny Well as far back as 1716. In that year Sir William Johnston of Westerhall, Dumfriesshire, disposed to William Dick of Grange three acres of his lands of Sciennes, which are described as bounded on the west by the lands belonging to “said William Dick and the Penny Well.” The well really marked the south-east boundary of the lands of Grange.
“The actual age of the Penny Well is unknown. All that can be positively stated is that it has existed for at least two hundred years… How the Penny Well came by its name is another unsolved mystery. There is a story to the effect that in the earlier half of the nineteenth century an old woman who lived in the cottage opposite the well had charge of the spring and sold the water to wayfarers at a penny a glass. A very plausible story by which to account for the name! Unfortunately its credibility is shaken by the fact that…the spring was known as the Penny Well fully a century before…
“Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, when he took up residence at Grange House in 1832, was deeply interested in the well at the east end of his property. He had it restored and above it placed a tablet with the words, ‘Penny Well’ inscribed on it.
“About 1870, when feuing operations were in progress and there was much digging in the vicinity of the well, the water suddenly ceased to flow. After an interval, however, it again became copious, so much so that it formed a tiny pond in front of an adjoining house. In the hope of drawing off the water, a pit was dug. This led to an interesting discovery. Five feet below the surface, workmen came upon what there seems no reason for doubting was the original trough of the Penny Well. This “interesting and unexpected find” (to quote from The Scotsman) was covered by a large block of hard sandstone. The trough, which was circular, measured 32 inches across and had a depth of fully 1o inches in the centre.
“The Society of Antiquaries made investigations and the opinion was hazarded that “the basin into which the water ran was without doubt a baptismal font,” possibly the one which once stood beside St. Roque’s Chapel, situated at the southwest end of Grange Loan, but long since removed.
“In the (1890s) the Penny Well underwent a second restoration, the Town Council providing £30 for the purpose. By this time however, the spring was found to be impure, but the trouble was got over by substituting the town water.”
Folklore
Penny Well in 1959
Although there are no documents proving with certainty, local tradition reputed this to be one of Edinburgh’s numerous holy wells. It probably was. And whilst W. Forbes Gray seemed at a loss to explain the name of this old water source, it probably comes from the old practice of local people dropping pennies and other offerings into the well in the hope that the spirit of the waters would confer good health or other benefits upon the hopeful pilgrim. Such rites, of course, are very ancient indeed and relate specifically to the animistic spirit-nature of the site. In Mr Gray ‘s (1962) essay on the Penny Well he also had this to say:
“According to one statement, it was a holy well attached to the Convent of St. Catherine of Sienna (which stood at the foot of St. Catherine’s Place), a well whose waters were possessed of miraculous powers of healing those afflicted with blindness, in which case it would be in the same category as the well of St. Triduana at Restalrig, and the Balm Well at Liberton.”
Reputed in times gone by to be one of the never-failing springs, this clear and sparkling water supply would keep bubbling away long after all others in the area had dried-up during summer droughts.
“It is also said that the ubiquitous Mary Queen of Scots, when she visited the religious sisterhood at Sciennes, partook of the waters of the Penny Well. “
The folklorist John Nicholson (1890) wrote about this “block of natural concrete standing at the head of Drewton Dale, near South Cave” — which modern OS-maps call Austin Dale. Legend told how it “derived its name from St. Augustine, who used to preach from this stone to the heathen, before Britain became christian.” This obviously supplanted an earlier heathen site, but it’s difficult to work out what that may have been. It could have been the lost ‘Rud Stone’ immediately west; or perhaps had some traditional relationship with the healing well which emerges a short distance away further down the valley. Just above here as well, we find an ancient dragon’s lair at Drakes Hole, which could also hold a clue to this place.
A couple of years after Nicholson mentioned the site, John Hall (1892) published his excellent history of the township, in which he described St. Austin’s Stone thus:
“It’s a mass of rock projecting from the side of a hill and in its longest part, extending from the hillside to the face of the stone, measures about 60 feet. By some it is supposed to have formed a centre for druidical worship, and that the adjoining township took its name of Drewton (or Druid’s Town) from this fact. When St. Augustine came to England…he is said to have visited this part of the East Riding; and that this stone took its name from his visit.”
St Austins Stone 1890 map
The site was also surmounted by a cross at some time in its recent history, but this has gone. The earth mystery writer Philip Heselton (1986) told that the nearby Well was indeed a place connected to St. Austin’s Stone, in an early article in Northern Earth Mysteries, saying:
“St. Austins Stone near South Cave is a rock outcrop where Saint Augustine is said to have made converts, baptizing them in a nearby well. The site is used for church services. Every seven years, part of the stone falls away, but it always grows again.”
The site should be examined for potential cup-and-ring markings; as well as reports on the status of the Well. Any photos of the present situation of the site would be most welcome.
References:
Gutch, Mrs E., County Folk-Lore volume VI: Examples of Printed Folk-loreConcerning the East Riding of Yorkshire, David Nutt: London 1912.
Hall, John George, A History of South Cave and other Parishes in the East Riding of Yorkshire, Edwin Ombler: Hull 1892.
Nicholson, John, Folk Lore of East Yorkshire, Simpkin Marshall: London 1890.
Thompson, Thomas, Researches into the History of Welton and its Neighbourhood, privately printed: Kingston-upon-Hull 1869.
