When water first emerges from the Earth they’re known as ’springs’ of water; those with stone troughs or basins into which the water falls are ‘wells.’ I don’t see much difference misself! And if water was of any importance to our ancestors (anyone who thinks it wasn’t is probably a bit slow…), such a clinical definition is of little importance. Many water-sites possessed great healing or therapeutic properties, as evidenced by chemical analyses (mainly in Victorian times, when a bittova craze on these wells was in vogue), aswell as folk-tradition, plus vast numbers of subjective encounters. To ancient societies – indeed, to myself – water is our blood, or the blood of the Earth. Treating this liquid as little more than a ‘commodity’, aswell as polluting it, should be a criminal offence – simple as!
Follow the same directions to get to the nearby Ponden Kirk and, once on top of the rocks, overlooking the valley, walk on the footpath to your right. It bends round and follows the stream up onto the moors. About 100 yards along, walk up the heathery slope to the right and you’ll find several boggy watering holes on the top of the ridge. In looking at the first OS-map of the area in 1853, it seems that the northernmost of six boggy springs is the Robin Hood’s Well – although we don’t know this for certain. It’s one of them though!
Archaeology & History
Robin Hood’s Spring, above Ponden Kirk
There’s little to see here really: it’s little more than a small boggy spring of water emerging from the edge of the ridge, as the photo shows. Curiously, descriptions of the site (and its neighbouring compatriots, Will Scarlett’s Well and Little John’s Well) are sparse aswell. It was noted by the Ordnance Survey lads in 1848 and subsequently posted on the first OS-map of the area in 1851. Both Horsfall Turner (1879) and Johnnie Gray (1891) mention the site passing, saying nothing of the place. However, several years after Gray’s work, Halliwell Sutcliffe (1899) ventured here and gave us the first real description of the place, telling:
“Half-hidden underground, and fringed with fern and bog-weed, lie the three wells which go by the names of Robin Hood, Little John and Will Scarlett. One may stop to ask how they came by their birth-names, to wonder why a man should have troubled to fashion them in this out-of-the-way spot; but neither speculation nor questioning of the moor folk brings one nearer to an answer.”
Folklore
Halliwell Sutcliffe’s scruffy quick sketch, circa 1898
Apart from this site being a spot where the legendary outlaw stopped and drank in ages past, the healing attributes of these waters have long since been forgotten. Considering the proximity of the Ponden Kirk and its legendary association with fertility and marriage rites, I’d guess that such lore wold have centred around Beltane, or Mayday; and Robin Hood is very well known in folklore to have close associations with the same period. So — and I’m guessing here — it’s likely that whatever might have occurred at this well, would have taken place around Beltane aswell.
References:
Gray, Johnnie, Through Airedale from Goole to Malham, Walker & Laycock: Leeds 1891.
Sutcliffe, Halliwell, By Moor and Fell in West Yorkshire, T. Fisher Unwin: London 1899.
Turner, J. Horsfall, Haworth, Past and Present, Hendon Mill: Nelson 1879.
Destroyed when the M6 motorway was built – but if you’re a really fanatic and wanna see the setting, simply get to the bridge that crosses the M61 north of the town, leading to Birchin Lane and Denham Lane. (To be honest though, if I lived nearby, I’d have to make 100% certain, and have a look in the trees between the west-side of the M6 and the trees at the end of the Wells Close Fold cul-de-sac, just in case its waters are there. If you find anything, let us know!)
Archaeology & History
St Helen’s Well (Taylor 1906)
Highlighted on the very first OS-map of the region in 1848, this was one of many examples of a site dedicated to an important pre-christian deity which was eventually morphed into the character of Saint Helen. Several sites nearby were all named after the saint, including the quarries, a cottage, house and the wells themselves.
When Henry Taylor (1906) came here, he wrote the following about this once important site:
“This celebrated well is situated in a wild, rugged and hilly part of the hundred, in the south of the parish of Brindle… The water, brilliantly clear and sparkling, bubbles up through white sand at the bottom of a stone-lined pit, about seven feet square and four feet deep. On the southerly side of this pit, a few feet from it, is another similar stone-lined pit of about the same size. An old inhabitant tells me that formerly both pits — now nearly empty — were filled to the brim; and this was clearly the case, as an open stone channel is in situ, provided to carry the overflow water from the southernmost pit, the water dropping from it down into the valley. These structures are clearly of considerable antiquity, but the stones are somewhat displaced through neglect. The water now comes underground, through a pipe, into a farmyard about one hundred yards south of the well in a splendid crystal stream. Drinking water appears to be scarce in this district, for we met carts full of barrels which were apparently being taken to the neighbouring villages for sale from this spring.”
Folklore
Local folk visited here and dropped crooked pins into the well in the hope of wishes and future blessings — one report saying such practices were done by local catholics!
References:
Taylor, Henry, The Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells of Lancashire, Sherratt & Hughes: Manchester 1906.
A mile east of Waverbridge, turn down the track called Watergates Lonning. Before you reach the bottom, on the left side of the straight track is a spring of water. This is the old holy well.
Archaeology & History
Although much used in bygone times, very little of it can be seen nowadays. When John Musther (2015) wrote about it recently, he told that although it was
“Once known for its copious amount of remarkably pure and sweet water, it is now only a trickle by a tree.”
Nearly three hundred yards away across the fields northeast of this small spring of water, was once seen “a pretty large rock of granite, called St. Cuthbert’s Stone“, whose mythic history will have been intimately tied to the holy well.
Folklore
In the second volume of William Hutchinson’s History of the County of Cumberland (1794), he tells that the St. Cuthbert’s Well,
“is a fine copious spring of remarkably pure and sweet water which…is called Helly-well, i.e. Haly or Holy Well. It formerly was the custom for the youth of all the neighbouring villages to assemble at this well early in the afternoon of the second Sunday in May, and there to join in a variety of rural sports. It was the village wake, and took place here, it is possible, when the keeping of wakes and fairs in the churchyard was discontinued. And it differed from the wakes of later times chiefly in this, that though it was a meeting entirely devoted to festivity and mirth, no strong drink of any kind was ever seen there, nor anything ever drunk but the beverage furnished by the Naiad of the place. A curate of the parish, about twenty years ago (c.1774), on the idea that it was a profanation of the Sabbath, saw fit to set his face against it; and having deservedly great influence in the parish, the meetings at Helly-well have ever since been discontinued.”
References:
Hutchinson, William, The History and Antiquities of the County of Cumberland, volume 2, F. Jollie: Carlisle 1794.
Musther, John, Springs of Living Waters: The Holy Wells of North Cumbria, J.Musther: Keswick 2015.
Now I aint been here for a few years, but it’s hopefully still where I last left it! You need to get into the trees behind the Christ’s Church just out of the town centre, along the south-side of the Burnley valley road. (A646) When you get to the footpath which runs just above the tree-line in the woods (it’s known locally as the ‘Lover’s Walk’ path), wander along for just a couple of hundred yards. You’ll eventually get to the small spring of water and the tiny stream which runs down the slope, just to the left of the path. According to the old map I’ve got – that’s it!
Archaeology & History
This long-lost sacred well originally emerged a little bit further up the hill from where it is today. Almost nothing is known about it. Seemingly first highlighted in 1852, my first “discovery” of the place came as a result of going through some local old maps I’d had the fortune of obtaining. In Victorian days when the site was much more prominent, the old road that took you into the woods was called Holy Well Lane. Now, its memory has been subdued, and the old road is known simply as ‘Well Lane.’
A local writer, J.W. Crowther, mentioned the site in his local place-name survey, where he told that the Holy Well was a “name given to a well of excellent spring water” — but nothing more. It was later mentioned in an article by J.A. Heginbottom [1988] who wrongly reported it as being “destroyed.”
Folklore
Local tradition told that ‘memaws’ (offerings such as rags, coins, flowers, etc) used to be left here by local people in olden times, as offerings to pacify or give respect to the waters; although what time of the year these were left, and the nature of the resident deity, has all been forgotten. In very recent years however, it seems that some modern NewAge-types are now visiting the place once again.
References:
Crowther, J.W., Place Names of Todmorden, privately printed: Todmorden (n.d.)
Heginbottom, J.A., ‘Early Christian Sites in Calderdale’, in PHAS 1988.
This seems a bittova cheat really – and on two counts: i) I aint been here yet; and ii) we’re not sure that there’s any remains left to be seen. But these notes might produce a result, so direction pointers are worthwhile I reckon! Various ways to come, but you need to end up on the weird-sounding Bonemill Lane – whether you get there via Worm Hill Terrace or Biddick Lane aint important. Once on the right road, you wanna stand by the supposedly haunted Biddick Inn, and walk down the road a short distance until you reach a path on your right which heads up towards the ruined Worm Hill. Halfway along here – or thereaboots – the old Worm Well could once be seen.
Archaeology & History
This was initially very difficult to pin down with any certainty, though after a few hours investigation, Keighley archives researcher Michala Potts found it highlighted on a field-map of the region from 1750, as the illustration here clearly shows.
Map highlighting Worm Well, 1750
During its “missing years”, several accounts describe the well as being between Worm Hill and the River Wear, which is what’s clearly shown here. So the possible confusion there may have been (which I initially had aswell) between the riverside spring opposite the pub and the now missing Quarry Well on the far western side of Worm Hill, can at least been dispelled. The position of the site was described by the holy wells writer, Alan Cleaver [1985], who told that “the well still exists, having been restored in 1974, at the foot of Worm Hill at Penshaw on the north bank of the river.” Local history records tell that a plaque commemorating the site was put here the same year; and this note is again confirmed in Paul Screeton’s [1978] excellent survey of the dragon legends hereabouts. Records from the mid-18th century tell that the Worm Well possessed “a cover and an iron dish or ladle” (Binnall & Dodds 1943) to protect the waters.
Folklore
We find from old records that in the middle of the 18th century, “it was a wishing well and a place of festivity on Midsummer Eve.” The common veneration of crooked pins were offered at this legendary site.
…And then, of course, we have the great Legend of the Lambton Worm, whose spirit form gives this site so much importance. This well-known folk-tale tells that the great serpent emerged from this very water source. In this renowned creation myth of the landscape, and the sites upon it, we have the dragon, the cailleach, the waters, and more…
“Simon, the heir to Lambton Castle, was a wild boy who never paid attention to his lessons or his elders. He liked only to play with the local boys from the village and their games were rough and annoyed other people. They went joy-riding with carts and donkeys, they stole apples from the trees, they frightened younger children. They liked to go hunting for rabbits and fishing for eels in the local river. The lord of the manor, Simon’s father, thought his son should behave better since one day he would be in charge. Simon could not be bothered.
“One Sunday, when he should have been in church, Simon played truant with Stephen, his friend, and two other boys from the village, and went fishing in the river Wear. After hours of dull waiting, chatting and eating their picnic, Simon caught a strange-looking animal. It did not look like the regular eels and small fish they usually caught. It was no longer than his finger, dark green and with two little fins on its back. Its skin was rough and scaly, and it had four short legs, with sharp clawed feet. Its face was repellent, with a long pointed snout, twelve little teeth sharp as pins, and red glowing eyes.
“Stephen peered over Simon’s shoulder at the animal. “Yuk, throw it back,” headvised. But Simon had caught nothing else, and he was intrigued by the little beast. He put it in his pouch. As the boys walked home, kicking stones and chatting, they noticed a foul smell. It came from Simon’s pouch. They were just passing the well by the castle, so Simon tossed the squirming worm in, and promptly forgot all about it….”
Binnall, P.B.G. & Dodds, M.H., ‘Holy Wells in Northumberland and Durham,’ in Proc. Soc. Antiq. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 4th series, volume 10:2, January 1943.
Cleaver, Alan, ‘Holy Wells – Wormholes in Reality,’ in Source magazine, no.3, November 1985.
In this region so full of old tombs and prehistoric remains, we find this little-known sacred well, long since known as a place of curious sprites and strange lore. Elizabeth Wright (1913) said of the place,
“It is said that the fairies were wont of old to wash their clothes in Claymore Well, and mangle them with the bittle and pin. The bittle is a heavy wooden battledore; the pin is the roller; the linen is wound round the latter, and then reolled backwards and forwards on the table by pressure on the battledore. The strokes of the bittles on fairy washing-nights could be heard a mile away.”
A most curious tale…
References:
Wright, Elizabeth Mary, Rustic Speech and Folk-lore, Oxford University Press 1913.
Healing Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SE 0479 4179
Archaeology & History
The Whin Knoll Well, once found bursting into life at the top of Black Hill, Keighley, got its name from the old word ‘whin,’ or gorse bushes (Ulex Europaeus)—also known in Yorkshire as the ‘Spindly Killer Bush’: a most apt title! These great spindly killer shrubs once profused where the waters of this old well used to bubble into view – indeed, there are still quite a few great old spindlies still scattered here and there!
The site was shown on old maps as being just two fields east of the more renowned Jennet’s Well, but this old public water supply that once fed the local people, was covered by a reservoir many moons ago. However, a wander up here recently found the reservoir empty, but a water supply was still bubbling out of the ground into the great concrete hollow. The last remnants of the Whin Knoll Well perhaps…?
Pretty easy really. From the town centre, head up the B6143 Oakworth Road for barely 100 yards then turn right up the long steep West Lane. Just keep going. Near the very top turn sharp right onto Shann Lane. And there, on the left-hand side of the road, right next to the solitary old-looking house just 100 yards along, is our little well! (if you end up with fields either side of you, breaking into hills, you’ve gone too far)
Archaeology & History
Jennet’s Well, Black Hill, Keighley (middle of the picture, next to house)
The history of this site is very scant. It was written about by local historian William Keighley (1858) as a holy well dedicated to an obscure saint, St. Jennet, although early place-name evidences don’t tell as much. Some have even suggested that the same ‘Jennet’ was the tutelary saint of Keighley and district itself. Local historian Ian Dewhirst (1974), writing about the town’s local water supply, thought that “water from a spring ‘a mile to the west’ above the town…was conveyed by stone troughs through the chief street for the convenience of house-holders,” was probably Jennet’s Well.
Folklore
Described by Will Keighley (1858) as having “great healing abilities,” its specifics were undefined. And when the great Yorkshire writer Harry Speight (1898) came here forty years later, he told of the site “having a great repute, though no one seems to know why.” Mr Keighley was of the opinion that Jennet’s Well may have been the christianized site which overcame the local people’s earlier preference of dedication at the True Well, more than a mile west of here, between the gorgeous hamlets of Newsholme and Goose Eye; but this would seem unlikely, if only by distance alone.
The name ‘Jennet’ itself initially seemed somewhat obscure. It is not recognised by the Catholic Church as a patron saint. The word could be a corruption of the personal name Jenny, perhaps being the name of a lady who once lived hereby. There’s also the possibility that the title may infer the well’s dedication to the bird – a not uncommon practice. And we also have the modern folklorists who could ascribe it to the fairy-folk, as Jennet and Jenny are common fairy names, and old wells have much lore linking the two. But as Michala Potts pointed out, bringing us back to Earth once again, a ‘jennet’ is an old dialect word for a mule. I rushed for my Yorkshire dialect works and, just as Mikki said, the old writer John Wilkinson (1924) told simply, ‘Jennet – a mule.’
References:
Dewhirst, Ian, A History of Keighley, Keighley Corporation 1974.
Keighley, William, Keighley, Past and Present, Arthur Hall: Keighley 1858.
Speight, Harry, Chronicles and Stories of Bingleyand District, Elliott Stock: London 1898.
Wilkinson, John H., Leeds Dialect Glossary and Lore, James Miles: Leeds 1924.
The grid reference here is an approximation, but the old well was definitely somewhere very close by, as evidenced by the place-name of the farmhouse. But if you wanna get here and wander about in the hope that you can re-locate this once sacred water source, go up the B1269 road north of Guisborough for about a mile. Carling Howe farmhouse is on the left-hand side of the road. Obviously the old well is somewhere close by…
Archaeology & History
The information I have of this site comes from old place-name listings. I found the reference in the directory for North Yorkshire by A.H. Smith (1928), in his entry for the etymology of ‘Carling Howe’ at Guisborough. Smith ascribes the references of ‘Kerlinghou’ (which itself appears to have been lost) to mean the ‘Old woman’s mound’ and variants thereof, also saying, “There is an unidentified place in this township called Kerlingkelde,” (12th century ref. Guisborough Cartulary)—the ‘Old Woman’s Well’. Very commonly in this part of Yorkshire—as at many other locations in northern England—a hou or howe (and variants thereof) relates to a prehistoric tomb – which is probably what we had here: a prehistoric Old Woman’s Grave with an associated Old Woman’s Well in close attendance.
The ‘old woman’ element in this name very probably relates to that primal mythic deity, the cailleach, the great prima mater of indigenous heathen folk, beloved mainly in Scottish and Irish lore, where her copious name and tales resonate to this day. This “well of the Old Woman, or cailleach“, would have been a place of particular importance in the mythic cosmology of our ancestors, but its precise whereabouts seems forgotten. There is a plentiful supply of water around Carling Howe Farm, one or more of which may once have been the site of this well. However, a lot of quarrying operations occurred here in the not-too-distant past, and this may have irreparably damaged our ability to accurately find the site – though perhaps a perusal of old field-maps could be productive.
It would also be good if we could locate the original whereabouts of the old tomb here which gave the place its name – the ‘Carling Howe’. Other ‘howe’ sites in East and North Yorkshire turn out to be prehistoric burials and I have little doubt that the same occurred here.
References:
o’ Crualaoich, Gearoid, The Book of the Cailleach, Cork University Press 2003.
Smith, A.H., The Place-Names of the North Riding of Yorkshire, Cambridge University Press 1928.
Not too difficult to find really. Get to the northern part of the road which encircles Arthur’s Seat and when you get to St. Margaret’s Loch (near St. Margaret’s Well), look up the slopes on your right where you see the remains of St. Anthony’s Chapel. You need to head up the footpath here until you reach a large-ish ovoid boulder, with a small circular trough into which the waters run (the drawing of the place here, with the rock in the lower-left, just in front of the fella walking towards it, is just right!). You’re here!
Archaeology & History
St Anthony’s Well, Arthurs Seat
Tradition tells that the remains of St. Anthony’s Chapel was built on the northern ridge by Arthur’s Seat, “mainly for guardianship of the holy well named after the saint” — which sounds rather like the christianization story of a heathen site. Francis Grose (1797) told that “this situation was undoubtedly chosen with an intention of attracting the notice of seamen coming up that Frith; who, in cases of danger, might be induced to make vows to its tutelar saint.” If this was the case, it sounds even more like a site that had prior heathen associations. Grose also told us that just a short distance from the chapel, were the remains of an old hermitage:
“It was partly of masonry worked upon the natural rock. At the east end there are still two niches remaining; in one of which formerly stood a skull, a book, an hour-glass, and a lamp, which, with a mat for a bed, made the general furniture of the hermitage.”
I like the sound of the place! Just up my street! Little other archaeological info has emerged from this tiny spot — but the healing waters of the well would obviously have been of importance to our indigenous inhabitants (anyone who wants to think otherwise is simply a bit dim!) as there is a wealth of archaeological sites and relics all round Arthur’s Seat.
Folklore
A number of writers have described this old well, which has sun-lore, healing properties, and Beltane rites surrounding its past. Local people of all social classes frequented this ancient spring, particularly on that most favoured of heathen days, Beltane. The site was of considerable mythic importance with a certain order about it. As Hone (1839) said:
“…the poorer classes in Edinburgh poured forth at daybreak from street and lane to assemble on Arthur’s Seat to see the sun rise on May-morning. Bagpipes and other musical intruments enlivened the scene, nor were refreshments forgotten. About six o’ clock a crowd of citizens of the wealthier class made their appearance, while the majority of the first-comers returned to the town. At nine o’ clock the hill was practically deserted.”
Another early account describing St. Anthony’s Well is from an article in the great PSAS journal of 1883. Here, J.R. Walker wrote:
St Anthonys Well
To an incident which showed that the faith and belief in the healing virtues of the wells is still strong, the writer was but a few months ago an eye-witness. While walking in the Queen’s Park about sunset, I casually passed St. Anthony’s Well, and had my attention attracted by the number of people about it, all simply quenching their thirst, some possibly with a dim idea that they would reap some benefit from the draught. Standing a little apart, however, and evidently patiently waiting a favourable moment to present itself for their purpose, was a group of four. Feeling somewhat curious as to their intention, I quietly kept myself in the back ground, and by and by was rewarded. The crowd departed, and the group came forward, consisting of two old women, a younger woman of about thirty, and a pale, sickly-looking girl — a child of three or four years old. Producing cups from their pockets, the old women dipped them in the pool, filled them, and drank the contents. A full cup was then presented to the younger woman, and another to the child. Then one of the old women produced a long linen bandage, dipped it in the water, wrung it, dipped it in again, and then wound it round the child’s head, covering the eyes, the youngest woman, evidently the mother of the child, carefully observing the operation, and weeping gently all the time. The other old woman not engaged in this work was carefully filling a clear flat glass bottle with the water, evidently for future use. Then, after the principal operators had looked at each other with an earnest and half solemn sort of look, the party wended its way carefully down the hill
Earlier still we find more lore of the place in Wilson’s Edinburgh [1848] where he told:
St Anthony’s Chapel 1785
“The ancient Hermitage and Chapel of St. Anthony, underneath the hangings of Arthur’s Seat, are velieved to have formed a dependency of the preceptory at Leith, and to have been placed there, to catch the seaman’s eyes as he entered the Firth, or departed on some long and perilous voyage; when his voews and offerings would be most freely made to the patron saint, and the hermit who ministered at his altar. No record, however, now remains to add to the tradition of its dedication to St. Anthony; but the silver stream, celebrated in the plaintive old song, ‘O waly, waly, up yon bank,’ still wells clearly forth at the foot of the rock, filling the little basin of St. Anthony’s Well, and rippling pleasantly through the long grass into the lower valley.”
Votive offerings made here eventually turned the waters into a simply wishing well for incomers, even in Victorian times (oh how the locals must have hated such trangression…). The great Scottish holy wells writer J.M. MacKinlay (1893) told in his day the tale of,
“a little girl from Aberdeenshire, when on a visit to Edinburgh, made trial of the sacred spring. She was cautioned not to tell anyone what her wish was, else the charm would have no effect. On her return home however, her eagerness to know whether the wish had…been fulfilled, quite overcame her ability to keep the secret. Her first words were, ‘Has the pony come?’ St. Anthony must have been in good humour with the child, for he provided the pony, thus evidently condoning the breach of silence in deference to her youth.”
In the middle of the 20th century, the great folklorist F.M. MacNeill (1959) wrote:
“Even in Edinburgh, little bands of the faithful may be seen making their way through the King’s Park to Arthur’s Seat, and, as in the eighteenth century:
On May-Day, in a fairy ring,
We’ve seen them round St. Anton’s spring,
Frae grass the caller dew-drops wring,
To weet their een,
And water clear as crystal spring,
To synd them clean.”
And when Ruth and Frank Morris (1982) got round to their excellent survey, they found that this old well was still being used “by youths and maidens, who come to wash their faces with the dew on May Day mornings, a wish at St. Anthony’s being a part of the ritual.” But this final remark may have the simple prosaic coincidence of them observing people like I, when younger, who frolicked with girlfriends around May morning, in the grasses near the old well — though at the time I knew nothing about the old sacred waters on the slopes just above us!
