In Hemswell Village at the junction of Church Street and Maypole Street.
History & Archeaology
According to a 2010 report in the Scunthorpe Telegraph, the Hemswell villagers,
“claim to be the hosts to one of the oldest maypole celebrations in the world, dating back to at least 1660”.
The then clerk to the parish council, Dianne Millward is quoted as saying:
“Hemswell is widely regarded in historical circles as having one of the oldest if not the oldest celebrations for May Day. We have pictures of the pole being prepared for the big day in the very early 1900s.”
Hemswell maypole on 1906 map
This writer has not yet been able to independently verify these claims.
May Day is still celebrated in the village with dancing around the maypole and an accompanying fete. Recent online photographs show that it is now only children, in ‘historic’ fancy dress who ribbon-dance around the Pole.
Maypole Square, outlined in red on the 1901 OS map
Maypole Square forms the junction of High Street, Church Way and Chapel Street in the centre of the village.
Archaeology & History
The Alconbury Maypole had passed out of living memory by 1942, but was historically attested by the ‘Maypole Square’ in the centre of the village.
Folklore
C.F. Tebbutt wrote in 1950:
“At Alconbury, it is remembered that about 1890 an old soldier, who lived in the corner house (east end) of the row of cottages facing Maypole Square, used to dig holes in the road opposite the row and set up May bushes there on May day”.
References:
C.F.Tebbutt, “Huntingdonshire Folk and their Folklore”, in Transactions of the Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire Archaeological Society, Volume VI, part V, 1942.
C.F.Tebbutt, “Huntingdonshire Folk and their Folklore II”, in Transactions of the Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire Archaeological Society, Volume VII, part III, 1950.
Imposing trunk of The Maypole Tree, right background
The road layout of the village has changed since the destruction of the Tree, but its approximate position was on the north side of the present High Street, at the junction with the east side of St James’ Road.
Archaeology & History
The Little Paxton Maypole Tree was a very late survival of a tradition where Mayday revellers danced around an actual tree rather than a symbolic tree in the form of a maypole. It was described as “a tall straight elm tree” that stood in front of what was then the village Post Office, and from what may be the only surviving photograph, it appears that only the very substantial trunk survived of what was clearly a very old tree.
The 1887 6″ OS Map, showing the Maypole Tree outlined in red
A Miss Ethel Ladds, who had been born in Little Paxton, recalled in the early 1940s:
“I remember the old tree very well, it was always called ‘the Maypole’, but I don’t know any more about it, except that they used to dance round it“.
The St Neots Advertiser recorded that the Maypole Tree was blown down in a great gale on 24th March 1895.
Folklore
While this writer has been unable to find direct folklore relating to the Little Paxton Maypole Tree, it may be worth remarking that botanically the Elm tree is a cousin of the Stinging Nettle, the Hop and Cannabis. Another Elm Tree used for May revels was the Tubney Elm, near Fyfield in Berkshire and recorded by Matthew Arnold, in his ‘Scholar Gipsy’.
References:
C.F. Tebbutt, “Huntingdonshire Folk And Their Folklore”, in Transactions of the Cambridgeshire & Huntingdonshire Archaeological Society, Volume VI, Part V, 1942
C.F. Tebbutt, “Huntingdonshire Folk And Their Folklore”, in Transactions of the Cambridgeshire & Huntingdonshire Archaeological Society, Volume VII, Part III, 1950
Gerald Wilkinson, Epitaph For The Elm, Arrow Books, London, 1979
Not hard to find. Between the small towns of Comrie and St. Fillans along the A85 road, keep your eyes peeled for the small but rocky crags that rise in front of the background of dramatic mountains not far from the roadside to the south. It looks truly majestic even on a dull day. Just as you reach the eastern edge of St. Fillans village, take the small road over the river-bridge and go to the golf club. Walk past the golf club itself, keeping along the track that leads you to Dundurn hill. It’s easy enough. Then climb to the very top of the hill where you’ll find this curious, large, flat bed-like rock right in front of you!
Archaeology & History
The rocky bed or ‘chair’ of St Fillan
The archaeological data for St. Fillan’s Chair relates more to the folklore practices of the people upon Dundurn hill than anything else and ostensibly little can be said by such students. The place is more satisfying for geologists than archaeologists, who would adore the rocky fluctuations and geophysical propensities with greater verve than any archaeologist could muster! For this rocky bed-shaped feature is a fascinating structure whose only potential interest to archaeologists are what may be a couple of reduced cup-marks on the top of the stone (and even then, such potential rock art is more the province of religious historians and anthropologists than archaeologists).
Small quartz offerings left on St Fillan’s Chair at BeltaneThe view of the Chair from below
But this ‘bed’ or ‘chair’, as it was locally known, was – and it seems, still is – important in the social history of the area, as its folklore clearly tells. The ‘chair’ plays an important part in the holistic role of Dundurn as a hill, a fort, a healing centre, an inauguration site, and very probably an omphalos: a sacred centre whereupon the ordination of shamans, kings and the cosmos as a whole was brought to bear here… (these features will be explored in greater depth when I write a singular profile of Dundurn as a ‘fort’).
Folklore
Looking west over St Fillan’s Chair
The character of St. Fillan was described by James Cockburn (1954) as “an Irish Pict” and the “son of a King – his father being Angus mac Nadfraich who died in battle in 490 AD.” Quite an important dood in his day! The relationship this early christian figure had with this Chair was in its supposedly curative properties. Yeah…you read it right: curative properties! As with countless rocks all over the world, some of Nature’s outcrop boulders were imbued with a spirit of their own and, when conditions and/or the cycle of the spirit ‘awoke’, healing attributes could be gained from the place. And such was the case at St. Fillan’s Chair, especially on Beltane morning (May 1). And some element of this traditional pilgrimage is still done; for when the author Marion Woolley and I visited the site on Mayday 2013, it was obvious that some people had been up earlier that Beltane morning and left some offerings of quartz stones on the top end of the bed.
The earliest written reference of this medicinal virtue was told in the Old Statistical Account of Perthshire (1791):
The rock on the summit of the hill, formed, of itself, a chair for the saint, which still remains. Those who complain of rheumatism in the back, must ascend the hill, sit in this chair, then lie down on their back, and be pulled by the legs to the bottom of the hill. This operation is still performed, and reckoned very efficacious.
More than a hundred years later, the sites was still being used and was described in similar vein in MacKinlay’s (1893) excellent study:
“On the top of green Dunfillan, in the parish of Comrie, is a rocky seat known in the district as Fillan’s Chair. Here, according to tradition, the saint sat and gave his blessing to the country around. Towards the end of last century, and doubtless even later, this chair was associated with a superstitious remedy for rheumatism in the back. The person to be cured sat in the chair, and then, lying on his back, was dragged down the hill by the legs. The influence of the saint lingering about the spot was believed to ensure recovery.”
The origins of this dramatic rite were probably pre-christian in nature and we should have little doubt that St. Fillan replaced the figure of a shaman or local medicine woman of some sort. The ritual “dragging down the hill” may be some faint remnant of initiation rites…
…to be continued…
References:
Cockburn, James H., The Celtic Church in Dunblane, Friends of Dunblane Cathedral 1954.
Eliade, Mircea, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, Spring: Woodstock 1995.
This little-known holy well on the northeastern edges of the Touch Hills is another part of our ancient heritage that may well have been lost. All that now remains are the literary remnants telling of this once important site, around which local socio-religious elements occurred from time to time. When the local historian J.S. Fleming (1898) wrote about the site, it had already disappeared, and was himself fortunate to recover information relating to its former existence. He told:
“My attention has been drawn to an article which appeared in the Stirling Journal of 31st October, 1834, describing what is claimed to be a Holy Well dedicated to Saint Corbet, or probably Saint Cuthbert. The well was situated in Touch Glen, not far from Gilmour’s Lynn, and was, even at that time, reduced to a spring one foot deep and three or four feet in circumference, surrounded by boggy ground. The writer states that there were people then alive who had resorted to this Well in their younger days. Its virtues were restricted to one hour in the year, and that the hour of sunrise on the first Sabbath of May; the supposition being that by drinking of its waters at the Well by the adventurous pilgrims to such a wild and lonely spot at early sunrise, the devotee was assured of the preservation of his life during that year. We have never come across this Saint’s name, but Saint Cuthbert had an altar in the Rude Kirk (High Church of Stirling) and, as for the Well, from its diminishing condition in 1834, its site no doubt has long been obliterated.”
It is possible that some remnant of the waters here can still be found, or are known about, by dedicated local practitioners—but without their aid, this sacred site may be forever lost…
Folklore
In Thomas Frost’s (1899) essay on the holy wells of Scotland, he echoed what Mr Fleming had told, saying:
“Of St. Corbet’s Well, on the top of the Touch Hills…it was formerly believed that whoever drank its water before sunrise on the first Sunday in May was sure of another year of life, and crowds of persons resorted to the spot at that time, in the hope of thereby prolonging their lives.”
This restorative folklore element, implicit in the nature of water itself, was obviously related to the cycles of renewal in the social activity of our peasant ancestors, as found in every culture all over the world. (Eliade 1959; 1989)
One account relating to the disappearance of St. Corbet’s Well told that it fell back to Earth as the spirit of the site was insulted by profane practices. Janet & Colin Bord (1985) told that:
“This theme, of real or imagined insult to the well causing it to lose its power, move its location, or cease flowing altogether, is widespread. St. Corbet’s Well on the Touch Hills (Stirling) was said to preserve for a year anyone who drank from it on the first Sunday in May, before sunrise, and it was visited by great crowds at the height of its popularity. But the drinking of spirits became more popular than the drinking of well water, so St. Corbet withdrew the valuable qualities of the water, then eventually the water itself stopped flowing.”
References:
Andrews, William (ed.), Bygone Church Life in Scotland, W. Andrews: London 1899.
Bord, Janet & Colin, Sacred Waters, Granada: London 1985.
Eliade, Mircea, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion, Harcourt, Brace & World: New York 1959.
Eliade, Mircea, The Myth of the Eternal Return, Arkana: London 1989.
Fleming, J.S., Old Nooks of Stirling, Delineated and Described, Munro & Jamieson: Stirling 1898.
Frost, Thomas, “Saints and Holy Wells,” in Bygone Church Life in Scotland (W. Andrews: Hull 1899).
Take the same directions as if you’re visiting the Eastwoods Cross base and cup-marked stone, but at Eastwoods Farm itself, walk downhill following the field-wall, past the large house, then through the first gate you come to. (it’s got a ‘private’ sign on it and has some handy bulls in the field – but ask at the house and the folks there are friendly) Following the footpath along the top of the field, cross the small stream, then head across the next field to the gap in the wall. You’re here!
Archaeology & History
Boughey & Vickerman’s 2003 sketch
One of a cluster of cup-and-ring stones around the Bryan’s Wood and Eastwoods area, this carving is well worth a visit, but can be covered in shit and muck as the bulls pass through the gap here on their daily amble. If the daylight isn’t good here, it can be difficult to see the carving – and when we visited the place the other day, the cloud was low and the heavens were ready to open, so our luck was out for a change! There are a number of cup-and-rings plus a double-ring, fading their ways around the more defined cup-markings. The stone appears to have been found in the 1990s, but records of it are scant. Boughey & Vickerman (2003) fail to tell the origin of the name, nor when or who rediscovered the site. Their description of the carving tells simply:
“Large flat smooth rock sloping slightly to E. Thirteen possible cups, one with partial double ring and four with partial single-rings; three ringed cups have grooves leading from them.”
Several other excellent cup-and-ring carvings can be found around here. The hugely impressive Morphing Stone and a prehistoric lightning-carving can be found three fields away to the south, past the trees on the other side of the stream.
Folklore
Close-up of the stone
The title of ‘fertility stone’ seems a modern one, although word has it that it relates to Beltane fertility rites. However, I can find no documentary information relating to this, and the people at Eastwoods Farm and adjacent house know nothing to account for it.
References:
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS 2003.
From Askwith village go up the Moor Lane and at the crossroads go straight across (Snowden Moor is across left). Go down and along Snowden Carr Road until the road levels out and, watch carefully, about 500 yards on from the crossroads on your left you’ll see a small crag of rocks in the fields above. Stop and go through the gate walking up the field and as you near the top you’ll see a gate across to your left that leads onto the moor. Go through this and on the path which veers up to the right up to the Tree of Life Stone. About 20 yards along, keep your eyes peeled just off-path, to the left, where a small rounded stone hides at the edge.
Archaeology & History
This was one of a number of cup-markings that Graeme Chappell and I came across in the early 1990s, though it didn’t receive any literary attention until included in Boughey & Vickerman’s (2003) survey. It’s only a small fella, consisting of just six or seven cups on its upper rounded surface — though what may be a carved line runs round the southern side of the stone. It seems to have been associated with a small cairn close by (a common feature on these moors) and adjacent prehistoric settlement walling. In Boughey & Vickerman’s text, they gave the following notes:
“Small rock with rounded surface at ground level, near scattered cairn. Seven or eight cups, possible grooves at edge.”
Drawing of the stone (Boughey & Vickerman)
[You’ll notice in the photo above that the local phantom painter had been here again, artistically highlighting the cup-marks. The photos we took were done earlier this year, when the paint (or whatever it is) was first noted. It had not been painted-in the previous autumn. But most notably is the fact that this carved stone has never previously appeared on the internet (until today) and the only other reference to it is in the standard Boughey & Vickerman text. This would indicate that whoever it is that’s painting the carvings up and down mid-Wharfedale possesses a copy of that text, aswell as being relatively new to the subject of rock art.]
References:
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS 2003.
On Thurstaston Common a 298 foot high hill has a large red sandstone outcrop, on the landward side, known as Thor’s Stone. One large rectangular block of stone that is 50 feet in length, 30 feet wide by 25 foot high has been eroded over thousands of years. Described by J.A. Picton in 1877 as “the Great Stone of Thor,” the village itself seemed to have gained its name from this prominent mass of rocks. It was described first of all in the Domesday book, as Turstanetone, and both village and rocks have been written as variants on the original ever since. The place-names writers Mills & Room (1998) ascribe the name to being a “farmstead or village of a man called Thorstein”; but it’s just as likely to derive from “a farmstead of/at Thor’s Stone.” (Harrison 1898) As early landscape features were traditionally equated with animistic and mythic lore, the Viking god Thor is more probable than some unlikely chap called Thorstein.
Local folklore tells that the rock is named after the Norse god Thor – he who causes thunder and lightning. Viking settlers from Thingwell apparently settled here in the 10th century AD and, according to legend, these settlers used the stone as a pagan altar with blood sacrifices taking place here. A creation myth of the site tells that Thor tossed the large stone here in anger; and yet another says that the stone was raised here to commemorate the battle of Brunanburh in 937 AD. In modern more times, Morris dancers meet here and enact their rites on Mayday mornings.
The outcrop has been eroded away over thousands of years by the weather, post glacial erosion and even quarrying, leaving strange shapes, features and projections in the soft sandstone. There is much recent graffiti to be seen all over the rock, especially on the summit and sides including one set of graffiti carved by Professor Taylor in 1879. There used to be a “fairy well” near the stone but this disappeared long ago. Children took flowers to the well to decorate it, while adults visited it to receive a cure for various ailments of the body. At nearby Thurstaston Hall, Christina Hole (1937) reported there lived the ghost of a troubled woman.
References:
Harrison, Henry, The Place-Names of Liverpool, Elliot Stock: London 1898.
Hole, Christina, Traditions and Customs of Cheshire, Williams & Norgate: 1937.
Mills, A.D. & Room, Adrian, A Dictionary of English Place-Names, Oxford University Press 1998.
Maypole (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SE 0458 9121
Redmire’s ancient Oak
Archaeology & History
As with many of Britain’s old maypoles, the one at Redmire has long since disappeared and no local in the 20th century appears to have had any memory of it. However, it was mentioned in Victorian times and described in McGregor’s (1989) fine history work on the village:
“At one time, somewhere on the Green, stood a maypole which was destroyed by lightning. I never heard the memory of it recalled during my early life, but it is mentioned in their books by both Barker and Bogg. The remnants of it appear to have been there in 1850 or 1852, as Barker, writing at that time says, ‘A maypole, rare in Yorkshire, stands on the Green. It was shivered to pieces by the electric fluid, during a thunderstorm, in the summer of 1849. This poor maypoles catastrophe would have been regarded by the old Puritans as a direct and visible manifestation of the wrath of heaven at such a heathenish practice.’ Redmire, as we know, took pleasure in dancing in the 19th century, and continued to do so, especially after the building of the Town Hall…”
When Edmund Bogg came here at the end of th 19th century, he saw “the base of the ancient maypole…near to, a twisted and ancient oak” whose ancient branches were being held upright by large wooden posts. This sacred oak itself was said to “still cast its shade over a small spring of water.” Unfortunately I ‘ve found no more about this lost pagan relic…
References:
Barker, W.G.M.J., The Three Days of Wensleydale, Charles Dolman: London 1854.
Bogg, Edmund, Wensleydale and the Lower Vale of Yore, E. Bogg: Leeds n.d. (c.1900)
McGregor, Isabelle, Redmire – A Patchwork of its History, privately printed: Redmire 1989.
From the tourist-infested (but lovely) town of Callander, look west to the largest of the nearby mountains — that’s where you’re heading! You can keep along the A84 road out of the town for 4-5 miles (past the Falls and Pass of Leny) till you reach the parking spot on your left. Cross the river and go up into the signposted woodland. Keep walking up thru the trees until the rocky mass emerges above you. You can either keep to the path and follow the long walk round the mountain, or go straight up the crags above you. The top’s in sight!
Folklore
Getting up here is no easy task if you’re unfit — but it’s well worth the effort for the journey alone! And in bygone centuries it seems, local people made it a particular pilgrimage at specific times during the year. Even the name of this great hill has some supposed affinity with holy issues; though some modern english etymologists put a dampener on such things. In Charles Rogers’ (1853) excellent Victorian exposition, he told that,
“Benledi is an abbreviation of the Celtic Ben-le-dia, signifying the hill of God.”
But whether the old heathens who named most of these ancient mountains would echo his oft-repeated derivation is another thing altogether! However, there are other decidedly pre-christian events that used to be enacted here, for the summit of Ben Ledi was, tradition tells, where the sun god was worshipped. It would seem, however, that this tradition is a somewhat watered-down version of it as a site of cosmological and social renewal. (see Eliade 1974) For akin to the annual pilgrimage that happens upon Croagh Patrick in County Mayo, Ireland, here upon Ben Ledi,
“For three days and three nights…the inhabitants of the district in those primitive times convened, at the period of summer solstice, on the summit of the mountain, to join in the rites of heathen worship.”
More recent lore tells the date of such sacred gatherings was Beltane. Also a short distance to the north of the summit of Ben Ledi is a small loch known as Lochan-nan-corp. Mr Rogers again tells us that,
“Here two hundred persons, who were accompanying a funeral from Glenfinglas to the churchyard of St. Bride, suddenly perished; the ground had been covered with snow and the company were crossing the lake on the ice, when it at once gave way.”
It seems a most unusual event. But the tale itself implies that a corpse route passed by the way of this high summit, down to the heathen chapel of St. Bride at the bottom of its eastern face: a huge undertaking in itself with probably archaic origins. Does anyone know owt more about this?
References:
Eliade, Mircea, The Myth of the Eternal Return, Princeton University Press 1974.
Eliade, Mircea, Patterns in Comparative Religion, Sheed & Ward: London 1958.
Roger, Charles, A Week at Bridge of Allan, Adam & Charles Black: Edinburgh 1853.
