english heritage

St. John’s Well, Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire

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Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SP 9848 0822

Also Known as:

St. James’ Well

Archaeology & History

Shown on the early Ordnance Survey maps of the town, Berkhamsted’s holy well was a place of some renown in bygone centuries. Today it is barely remembered. It was initially dedicated to St. James, as it was associated with a chapel dedicated to that saint close by, but it had a change of name when the legendary Brotherhood of St. John the Baptist became the new caretakers, so to speak. As a result of this, its history can be a little confusing to some folk!

In the late 12th century, pagan worship at this site came to the attention of Hugh of Grenoble, the Bishop of Lincoln, who visited the place to stop local folk performing their animistic practices (although the exact nature of such rites were not described, sadly). It didn’t work, obviously; as once the bonkers bishop had gone, local folk would have continued in their old ways, no doubt wondering who the hell the odd incomer had been who was telling them to stop doing what they had always done here at the cost of no one. And so the waters continued to be used under the mythic cover of old St James—for the time being at least.

The well later became a centre of pilgrimage and and a hospital was been built close by dedicated to St James, where leprosy was treated and the curative waters from this well were used. St James’ Day was July 25 and an annual fair was held in Berkhamsted thanks to a Royal Charter of James I in 1619. Hertfordshire traditions relating to St James Day are described in Miss Jones-Baker’s (1974) fine survey on the customs of the county. But change was a-coming when a local monk had a dream that the waters of this “pagan spring” needed to be blessed and dedicated to the virtues of St. John the Evangelist and a shrine built where pilgrims could worship and be healed. And as Jones-Baker (1977) told us,

“The water of St John’s Well were thought to cure a variety of diseases; among these leprosy and scrofula (the King’s Evil) as well as sore eyes. There was also a persistent belief that clothing washed in its waters would impart good health to the wearers.”

In the period when the Protestant Reformation occurred, the well and its immediate surrounds apparently became derelict and overgrown. The Old Ways returned and local folk began to visit the waters again at night and the animistic rituals that would have been taken to other secret places returned to St. John’s Well. In this period a local physician, a Dr. Woodhouse, used the sacred waters as part of magickal rites to exorcise evil spirits!

In spite of the local authorities declaring in 1865 that the water was “unfit for drinking”, local folk later told otherwise. Its waters were still being used in the 20th century and its traditions no doubt retained. As the local writer Dora Fry (1954) told us:

“The families dwelling in the cottages at the Bulbourne end of the lane, just below St John’s Spring, were all remarkably healthy… Some time after the town got its first waterworks (and) the local authorities declared that the well’s water was to be used only for the gardens… but I remember as a child drinking the water from the main spring and its coolness and freshness were delectable on a hot summer afternoon.”

The well was still visible up until the 1930s, when its waters ran down a shallow channel along St John Well’s Lane, but then a shop was built above the site and the well has been lost forever.

References:

Bord, Janet & Colin, Sacred Waters, Granada: London 1985.
Chauncy, Henry, The Historical Antiquities of Hertfordshire – volume 2, J.M. Mullinger: Bishops Stortford 1826.
Cobb, John W., Two Lectures on the History and Antiquities of Berkhamsted, Nichols & Son: London 1883.
Fry, Dora, “St. John’s Well,” in Hertfordshire Countryside, volume 8, 1954.
Harte, Jeremy, English Holy Wells – volume 2, Heart of Albion press: Wymeswold 2008.
Jones-Baker, Doris, Old Hertfordshire Calendar, Phillimore: London 1974.
Jones-Baker, Doris, The Folklore of Hertfordshire, B.T. Batsford: London 1977.
Page, William (ed.), Victoria History of the County of Hertford – volume 2, Archibald Constable: London 1908.
Salmon, N., The History of Hertfordshire; Describing the County and its Monuments, London 1728.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

Cross Oak, Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire

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Sacred Tree: OS Grid Reference – SP 964 079

Archaeology & History

Location of the Cross Oak, shown on 1883 OS-map

About mile south of Northchurch, on the far side of the A41 dual carriageway, somewhere past the old crossroads (or perhaps even at the crossing) an ancient tree lived—and truly lived in the minds of local people, for perhaps a thousand years or so. Mentioned in the Lay Subsidy Rolls in 1307, the Cross Oak gave its name to the old building that once stood in the trees and the hill itself, at the place now known as Oak Corner. Whether or not a “cross” of any form was set up by this old oak, records are silent on the matter. Its heathen ways however, were pretty renowned! (a plaque should be mounted here)

Folklore

The first reference I’ve found of this place is in William Black’s (1883) folklore survey where he told that “certain oak trees at Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, were long famous for the cure of ague”—ague being an intense fever or even malaria. But a few years later when the local historian Henry Nash (1890) wrote about this place, he told that there was only one tree that was renowned for such curative traditions, that being the Cross Oak. He gave us the longest account of the place, coming from the old tongues who knew of it when they were young—and it had it’s very own ritual which, if abided by, would cure a person of their malady. “The legend ran thus”, wrote Mr Nash:

“Any one suffering from this disease was to proceed, with the assistance of a friend, to the old oak tree, known as Cross Oak, then to bore a small hole in the said tree, gather up a lock of the patient’s hair and make it fast in the hole with a peg, the patient then to tear himself from the tree, leaving the lock behind, and the disease was to disappear.

“This process was found to be rather a trying one for a weak patient, and by some authority unknown the practice was considerably modified. It was found to be equally efficacious to remove a lock of hair by gentle means, and convey it to the tree and peg it in securely, and with the necessary amount of faith the result was generally satisfactory. This is no mere fiction, as the old tree with its innumerable peg-holes was able to testify. This celebrated tree, like many other celebrities, has vanished, and another occupies its place, but whether it possesses the same healing virtues as its predecessor is doubtful. It is however a curious coincidence, that the bane and the antidote have passed away together.”

The lore of this magickal tree even found its way into one of J.G. Frazer’s (1933) volumes of The Golden Bough, where he told how the “transference of the malady to the tree was simple but painful.”

Traditions such as this are found in many aboriginal cultures from different parts of the world, where the spirit of the tree (or stone, or well…) will take on the illness of the person for an offering from the afflicted person: basic sympathetic magick, as it’s known. Our Earth is alive!

References:

Black, William G., Folk Medicine, Folk-lore Society: London 1883.
Frazer, James G., The Scapegoat, MacMillan: London 1933.
Jones-Baker, Doris, The Folklore of Hertfordshire, B.T. Batsford: London 1977.
Nash, Henry, Reminiscences of Berkhamsted, W. Cooper & Nephews: Berkhamsted 1890.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

One Barrow, St. Austell, Cornwall

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Tumulus (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SX 0309 5227

Archaeology & History

More than two hundred years ago, an impressive prehistoric burial mound lived in an area that used to be known as Gwallon Down, not far from the impressive Long Stone monolith, about half-a-mile west of Charlestown on the southern edges of St. Austell, but it was completely destroyed in 1801. Thankfully there was a lengthy account made of the site in John Whitaker’s (1804) huge work, but there seems to be little else known of it. He told us:

“In the middle of that extended waste, the downs of St. Austle, was, what was called One Barrow. This waste, in 1801, was resolved to be enclosed, and the barrow was obliged to be levelled. In this operation, the single workman came near the centre, and there found a variety of stones, all slates, ranged erect in an enclosure nearly square. The stones were about one foot-and-a-half in height, apparently fixed in the ground before the formation of the barrow. The stones were all undressed, but had little stones carefully placed in the crevices at the joints of the large, in order to preclude all communication between the rubbish without and the contents within. On the even heads of these stones was laid a square freestone, which had evidently been hewn into this form, which seemed to rest with its extremities on the edges of the others, and was about eighteen or twenty inches in diameter. The summit of the barrow rose about eight or ten feet above all. In the enclosure, the leveller found a dust, remarkably fine, and seemingly inclining to clay. On the surface it was brown, about the middle downwards it took a dark chestnut colour, and at the bottom it approached towards a black. On stirring it up, a multitude of bones appeared, different in the sizes, but none exceeding six or seven inches in length. Among them were some pieces about the largeness of a half-crown, which, from their concave form, convinced him they were parts of a skull. The whole mass of bones and ashes might (he thought) be about one gallon in quantity. On touching the bones, they instantly crumbled into dust, and took the same colour with the same fineness as the dust in which they were found. They were exceedingly white when they were first discovered, but remarkably brittle; the effect assuredly of their calcination in a fire, antecedent to their burial. Much in fineness and in colour with these ashes, appeared several veins of irregular earth on the outside of the enclosure; which, from their position without, yet adjoining, and from the space occupied by them there, he conjectured to have been bodies laid promiscuously upon the funeral pile, but which I conjecture to have been only the ashes adhering to the ground, and not possible to be separated from it, for a burial with the rest within the enclosure. They had nothing of sand in them, but seemed inclining to clay, and even more so (from the adhering soil probably) than the dust of the enclosure. And, as the workman was fully convinced of what every one else must acknowledge, that the ashes and the bones of the enclosure had once belonged to a human body, he very properly took up the whole with care, placed the stones nearly in their original posture within an hedge contiguous, then in building, placed also the bones with the ashes within their original enclosure there, and even placed the covering-stone over both.”

One wonders whereabouts the hedgerow happened to be where the stones were placed, “nearly in their original posture” and if this reconstruction was ever recovered.

The site was subsequently mentioned in Polwhele’s (1816) massive survey, reiterating Whitaker’s description, simply telling how:

“With respect to the monumental remains in the neighbourhood of St Austel, a very ingenious correspondent says in one of the mounds of earth on our downs which was lately levelled a kind of urn was discovered which evidently contained human ashes many of the bones were entire but appear to have been calcined I am well acquainted with the man who dug this up.”

https://www.heritagegateway.org.uk/Gateway/Results_Single.aspx?uid=MCO2434&resourceID=1020

References:

Borlase, William Copeland, Nænia Cornubiæ, Longmans Green Reader: Truro 1872.
Hammond, Joseph, A Cornish Parish: Being an Account of St. Austell, Skeffington & Sons: London 1897.
Polwhele, Richard, The History of Cornwall – volume 2, Law & Whittaker: Truro 1816.
Whitaker, John, The Ancient Cathedral of Cornwall – volume 2, John Stockdale: London 1804.

Crowan Cross, Kerrier, Cornwall

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Cross (remains): OS Grid Reference – SW 6456 3449

Getting Here

Nice ‘n easy: get into the village and walk through the church gates and there, on your left on the grass verge, a plinth and the cross-head sits before thee!

Archaeology & History

When the great Arthur Langdon (1896) wrote about Crowan’s cross-head, he was puzzled. At the time it was in the garden of a local surveyor in the nearby village of Praze-an-Beeble, but its origins seemed mysterious. The surveyor in question, a Mr William Carah, wrote to Langdon and said,

“It seems a mystery where the cross we have originally came from. A friend of mine, living abroad at present, saw it, I think, at a farm-place, being used as a bottom for a beehive. He asked the people for it, intending to fix it somewhere. At any rate, when he left England he had not done so, and at my request they gave the cross to me.”

The condition of the cross-head wasn’t too good and Langdon suggested it had “received some very rough treatment” – no doubt when it was hacked from its shaft. With his usual precision he gave the dimensions of the cross-head as follows:

“Height, 1 ft. 6 in.; width, 1 ft. 8 in.; thickness: at the bottom 6½ in., at the top 5½ in.

Front. — Part of a small conventional figure of Christ, extending to the knees, at which point the fracture occurred which separated the head from the shaft.

Back. — The remains of a mutilated Latin cross in relief.”

The stone shaft or menhir that once supported this carved head has, it would seem, long since been destroyed.

References:

Blight, J.T., Ancient Crosses and other Antiquities in the West of Cornwall, Simpkin Marshall: London 1858.
Courtney, R.A., The Evolution of the Wheel Cross, Beare & Sons: Penzance 1914.
Doble, Gilbert H., A History of the Parish of Crowan, King Stone Press: Shipston-on-Stour 1939.
Langdon, Andrew, Stone Crosses in West Cornwall, Federation of Old Cornwall Societies 1999.
Langdon, Arthur G., Old Cornish Crosses, Joseph Pollard: Truro 1896.

St. Stephen’s Well, Banbury, Oxfordshire

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Holy Well (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SP 4506 4055

Archaeology & History

The holy well of Banbury seems to have been destroyed sometime in the second-half of the 19th century, when the industrialists built over the area. When the historian Alfred Beesley (1841) wrote about it, the waters were still running. He told it to be, “a chalybeate spring, well-known and still often visited, situated on the west side of the town, a little north of the footway leading to North Newington.”

The footpath is obviously long gone—as is the well. It’s iron-bearing (chalybeate) properties would have given the waters good fortifying properties, perhaps of some renown to local people yet, according to Mr Beesley, it was a slow-flowing spring. In his brief history of the site, he also gave us the results of a chemical examination of its healing waters, telling us:

“This is called St. Stephen’s Well in a plan of Sir John Cope’s property at Banbury made in 1764. It also appears prominently as “A Well ” in an unfinished view of Banbury made in 1730 (illustrated above)….

The water of this spring is perfectly clear and colourless, having a brisk and slightly chalybeate taste. The stone channel is coated with a light red deposit, and a scum of the same colour appears on the water in parts where stagnant. The spring discharges from half a gallon to one gallon in a minute. In 32 oz. of the water at 60° are,

Carbonic Acid gas, 5 cubic inches
Hydrochlorate Magnesia, 0.21 grains.
Chloride Sodium or common Salt, 0.54
Sulphate Lime, 1.5
Carbonate Lime, 3.8
Protoxide Iron, 0.024
Silica a trace
Total weight of solid contents – 6.074″

Folklore

St. Stephen is an odd character. His annual celebration or feast day in Britain is December 26. (in eastern countries it’s a day later) Rites connected to this character are decidedly heathen in nature. From the 10th century, in England, St Stephen’s Day has been inexorably intertwined with horses, bleeding them on his feast days, apparently for their own health. Water blessed by priests on this day would be kept for the year and used as a medicine for horses during that time. Also on this day, young lads would “hunt the wren” and, once caught, impale it on top of a long pole and take it from house to house. Despite this curious motif being a puzzle to folklore students, Mircea Eliade (1964) explained how this symbolism is extremely archaic and “the bird perched on a stick is a frequent symbol in shamanic circles.”

References:

Beesley, Alfred, The History of Banbury, Nichols & Son: London 1841.
Eliade, Mircea, Shamanism – Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, Princeton University Press 1964.
Harte, Jeremy, English Holy Wells – volume 2, Heart of Albion press: Wymeswold 2008.
Johnson, William P., The History of Banbury, G. Walford: Banbury 1860.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

Cairnfauld Field, Lilburn, Wooler, Northumberland

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Cup-and-Ring Stone (lost): OS Grid Reference – NU 013 264

Also Known as:

Cairnfold Field

Archaeology & History

In James Hardy’s (1889) essay describing new archaeological finds from the Lilburn area, he told of seeing a triple-ringed petroglyph that seems to have been cast up from one of the cairns in the adjacent field. I can find no other reference to this. He wrote:

“On a wall top, near a gate not far from the Cairn-fauld’s field, lies a detached stone, supposed to have come from a cairn, with three circles and a hollow central cup incised on it, which no one seems to care for.”

Does anyone know what has become of it? Mr Hardy also described a series of other carvings a few fields away to the east, some with quite ornate cup-and-ring designs. These have never subsequently been seen and remain hidden.

References:

Hardy, James, “Further Discoveries of Pre-Historic Graves, Urns and other Antiquities, on Lilburn Hill Farm,” in Archaeoogia Aeliana, volume 13, 1889.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

Reva Hill (8), Hawksworth, West Yorkshire

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Cup-Marked Stone: OS Grid Reference – SE 152 434

Getting Here

Naathen… I’d give you the directions of how to find this stone, but I’m not sure of its precise location. Just get to the top of Reva Hill, on its more westerly side, and it’s somewhere on its upper slopes. I was up here again recently and hoped to find it, but the grasses might have grown back over it. If one of you petroglyph fans manages to locate it, please can you send me its exact grid-reference, so I can update the site profile.

Archaeology & History

This was one in a cluster of carvings that were rediscovered in 2011 and which I’ve not managed to re-locate (bad boy). It’s very plain and simple, as you can see. Indeed, I was lucky to even notice it, as the central photograph above shows how faint and eroded the cup-marks are in normal light. Thankfully with a bit of water, what I initially thought may have been two cup-marks, turned into three or four of them. So the next time you’re having a look at the Fraggle Rock carving and its companions, remember that this little fella is hiding somewhere close by…

Green Crag Slack (356a), Ilkley Moor, West Yorkshire

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Cup-Marked Stone: OS Grid Reference – SE 13665 46014

Getting Here

From Cow & Calf Rocks, walk up the steep footpath and turn left (southeast) when it levels out on the edge of the moor. Walk 250 yards along and, where the main path veers down to the road, just keep walking along in the same direction along the footpath that runs gradually uphill until, after 650 yards (595m) you’ll eventually meet up with the footpath that runs along the moorland proper. Where these two paths meet-up, then head upwards (south) into the heather for 55 yards (50m) until you see a good-size sloping block of stone with a crack roughly down the middle. If you hit the Little Haystack Rock (a big conspicuous stone) you’ve gon too far!

Archaeology & History

This is one of the many basic cup-marked stones you’ll find scattered all over these moors possessing (as it does) only two distinct cup-marks on its more northern half, although a possible faint third one needs looking at in better light. When we were kids exploring this and other areas, single and double cup-marked stones like this seemed ten-a-penny and we’d flippantly pass them by after quick perusal, looking for more impressive designs.

The carving here seems to have been missed in the surveys of Hedges (1986) and Boughey & Vickerman (2003), despite the rock standing out quite distinctly. I can only assume that they checked it out when the skies were grey and dull, making the cup-marks difficult to see. A number of other prehistoric remains can be found close to this carving, including cairns and sections of enclosure walling.

Folklore

Tradition tells that the indigenous Britons had a battle with the Romans on the plain where this carving is found.

Eaves Crag, Baildon Moor, West Yorkshire

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Cup-and-Ring Stone: OS Grid Reference – SE 15073 40440

Also Known as:

Carving no.50 (Hedges)
Carving no.194 (Boughey & Vickerman)

Getting Here

Take the road up through Baildon village, across at the roundabout up Northgate and up onto the moor, then after a few hundred yards turn left on the Bingley Road. About five hundred yards along, keep your eyes peeled for where the ruined reservoirs are to the left-side of the road. Straight across the road from here (north) you’ll see the small cliffs of Eaves Crag. Walk along the footpath that runs above the cliffs and, about 80 yards past them, keep your eyes peeled on the ground right in the middle of the path. You can’t really miss it!

Archaeology & History

First mentioned in passing in the magnum opus of W. Paley Baildon (1913) and subsequently in one of Sidney Jackson’s (1955) series of profiles on the Baildon Moor carvings, this all but insignificant carving comprises of a simple cup-and-half-ring and another singular cup-mark a little further along the stone. John Hedges (1986) described this carving as being a “well marked cup surrounded by horseshoe groove – also well marked. Possible small cup and incomplete ring.” Whilst the minimalists Boughey & Vickerman (2003) told it to be simply, “two cups, one with incomplete ring.” A peculiarity with this design is that it might have been cut by a metal implement, perhaps in the Bronze Age, perhaps even in the Iron Age. We might never know…

References:

Baildon, W. Paley, Baildon and the Baildons – volume 1, St. Catherines: Adelphi 1913.
Boughey, Keith & Vickerman, E.A., Prehistoric Rock Art of the West Riding, WYAS: Wakefield 2003.
Hedges, John (ed.), The Carved Rocks of Rombald’s Moor, WYMCC: Wakefield 1986.
Jackson, Sidney, ‘Cup and Ring Boulders of Baildon Moor,’ in Bradford’s Cartwright Hall Archaeology Group Bulletin, 1:10, 1955.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.

Acrehowe Well, Baildon Moor, West Yorkshire

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Healing Well: OS Grid Reference – SE 14733 40596

Also Known as:

Acre Well

Archaeology & History

First illustrated on the 1852 Ordnance Survey map of the area and now only visible as a small marshy area, this once fast-flowing well gained its name from the old stone cross (very probably a standing stone before that) four hundred feet west of here, called Acrehowe Cross, now gone. It is possible that this ‘cross’ gave the well a local reputation as a holy well. A solitary path once led to the well, whose waters rise up through a coal seam giving the place its medicinal qualities, which have sadly been forgotten. Up and down this path towards Baildon village one would have regularly met a local character in the 19th century known as “Dinnis” (his real name was Joseph Halliday) who, along with his partner would take ‘kits’ (a large bucket with parallel sides) of water from the well into the village and sell it for a halfpenny each.

Later in the 19th century, a cottage was built here (known as Acre Cottage) and gained its water supply from the well. This was curtailed with the construction of the Baildon Moor reservoirs by the roadside, which took the water from both here and the nearby Spink Well (over the hill on the far side of the golf course), leaving us with little more than the trickling water we see today, just a little further down from its original location.

References:

la Page, John, The Story of Baildon, William Byles: Bradford 1951.

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks for use of the Ordnance Survey map in this site profile, reproduced with the kind permission of the National Library of Scotland.