“Sowey… risith… at Doulting village owte of a welle bering the name of S. Aldelm.”
John Leland in his Itinerary, c. 1540
Crocker (1796) describes it as
“a fine spring of excellent water, enclosed in a recess in an old wall, and which to this day is called St Adhelm’s well”.
William of Malmesbury tells us that St Aldhelm died at Doulting, where the church is dedicated to him, and William of Malmesbury describes his cult here in the Deeds of the Bishops of England, 1120s. However, he does not make reference to a well and as he shows interest in where the saint’s name is remembered it appears likely here were not any traditions at the time at the well. He is well known to write poetry but probably not as Caroline Sherwood in her 1994 piece for Source, the Divine Juggler of Doulting stand in the cold water and entertain his visitors juggling!
Farbrother (1859) describes how:
‘a spring… darts under cover of an arch; then it tumbles headlong over some descent… I have heard of a late learned divine, who was in the habit of walking thither from Shepton, regularly every morning, for the purpose of bathing his eyes, and whose sight was said to have been much benefited thereby’.
Glastonbury Abbey, owned the land and may have built the original structure. It is believed that in 1867, the Revd Fussell, had the wellhead and basin improved with the old dressed stone from the old church, some of the material not being used being left in the vicinity. This appeared to confuse, Dom Ethelbert Horne in his 1923 Somerset Holy Wells. He this suggested there was a wellhouse and a bath here:
‘The ground about it is strewn with dressed and well-cut stone… The water comes out under two solidly made arches… In front of these arches, a long channel or trough, originally lined with dressed stone, extends for some yards’.
Thompson & Thompson (2004) in Springs of Mainland Britain felt that the Victorian alterations:
“were probably confined to a few additional courses of stonework, on the top of which sat a cross and two finials. They can be seen in two photographs taken c.1929 but all this superstructure was later removed”.
A place of pilgrimage
Horne (1915) notes that:
“In 1896 the Stratton-on-the-Fosse village congregation made a pilgrimage to this well, and again in 1909, the year of the twelfth centenary of St Aldhelm’s death, a second and much larger pilgrimage, joined by Catholics from Wells and Shepton, made its way to Doulting.”
No such organised pilgrimages exist as far as I am aware, but Sherwood in 1994 noted that the well was under the management of the Shepton Mallet amenity Trust and stated that:
“It was customary until recently to use the well water for all christenings…Fred Davis, of the Amenity Trust, told me that less than ten years ago a Shepton woman of his acquaintance bathed her child’s severe eczema with the water from the well and the condition cleared… The well continues to be a place of pilgrimage and, from time to time, local people have decorated it with flowers and candles.”
Today it is still much visited by the curious and its setting in a small copse is a delight in the spring
Harrison is a typical Canadian settlement. Clinging to the wilds, remote, a mixture of desolate and delightful. Full of welcoming people and for following of this blog a curious water source which is the very reason for its existence!
Ancient sacred springs
The Harrison area is an area rich in ancient First Nation relics. The local tribe here are the Sts;Ailes (Chehalis) who established themselves along the Harrison River. The spring was called Waum Chauk and said to have supernatural properties and had healing properties if drunk. The nature of their veneration is unclear but as a tribe their association with the ‘mythical’ Sasquatch is an interesting side observation especially as I visited on their Sasquatch Day.
I spoke at length to the elder of the Sts’Ailes on Sasquatch Day who informed me that they no longer bless the source of the Harrison hot springs but another spring further around the lake edge. Water was still important to their community and the morning of the Sasquatch Day, the tribe’s holy man had blessed the lake water in a private ceremony.
Two hot springs
There are two springs nearby. One which produces potash whose temperature is 40 °C, and presumably that is the one which flows rather unannounced a few yards from the larger and more obvious sulphur spring. It’s temperature is 65 °C and this is very noticeable. The spring produces 1300 ppm of dissolved mineral solids which is the highest of any mineral spring.
From the hotel a path leads to the left around the side of the lake and beneath the dense mossy woods. It reaches the source of the spring and stops. This source of the sulphur spring is like one would have imagined Bath’s sacred spring looked. The spring arising to fill in a large pool, which produced a considerable amount of steam even on a hot June day. The actual source is enclosed in an odd concrete chamber flowing out to one side. Huge plumes of hot steam arise from it and the smell of sulphur is considerable. In the pool nearby are small fishes who appear to be making nests of pebbles, the temperature whilst not as hot as 65 °C perhaps, is still very warm and these species clearly are adapted to the warm waters.
Discovery by the European settlement happened when three miners from the Cariboo gold field capsized in the lake and should have frozen to the their death but surprisingly they lived – kept alive by the warm waters of the town’s titular springs. Whatever the truth behind the story is unclear but soon after the discovery commercial use was being investigated.
A Joseph Armstrong purchased the 40 acres of land around the spring in 1873 and set about building a spa complex. He named the well St Alice’s Well, a pun based on his daughter’s name and possibly on the original First nation Sts’Ailes. He separated the spring from the lake, which was thought to have been impossible by engineers and by 1886 St. Alice Hotel was built which could accommodate 50 guests. The building was burnt down in 1905 and the present Harrison Hot Springs hotel built nearby.
The Modern spa complex
The hot spring water is piped to two locations. One the public baths and the other the Harrison Hot Springs resort. The Harrison Hot Springs Hotel was opened in May 1926 by a Belgium emigre Mme Marguerite de Guesseme. She stayed until 1943 when the building was taken over for the war effort. Here six baths of differing temperatures are established. If you visit Harrison, a stay at the hotel is a must. The hot spring is directly piped to a central bath of which a sign reads not to sit in there for more than 10 minutes. Despite this a number of people were ignoring this and staying for too long. The middle temperature pool was the best and one could sit there for hours looking on the snowcap mountains ahead and listening to the cries of wild animals in the surrounding woods – or perhaps Sasquatch.
It is nice to easily find a holy well for once, for Rhuddlan’s St Mary’s Well lying as it does in the grounds of Bodrhyddan Hall, is easily seen by the side of the drive to the hall (the gardens of which are open Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and well worth exploring)
Pure folly or holy?
What greets us today is a typical folly building but does the well have any provenance before the current construction. The earliest reference is as Ffynnon Fair and is made by Lhuyd in 1699 however it does not appear on an estate map until 1730, although an engraving on the fabric of the well states emphatically 1612! Significantly neither of these dates are associated with any traditions and there appears to be no pre-Reformation reference.
The only hints of its importance are traditions of clandestine marriages at the well, although it is possible that this is a mixed up tradition with a more famous Ffynnon Fair at St Asaph. The other hint is found in the hall, where a possibly unique stone fish inserted in the flooring of the hall shows the boundary of the parishes and as you may have gathered regularly reading this blog many holy wells mark parish boundaries. Neither pieces are particularly emphatic!
The well itself is a delightful edifice consisting of an octagonal stone four metre well house and adjacent stone lined ‘bathing pool’. The well has arched entrance with cherub kerbstone. Inside the rather cramp well are seats around the inside and although access to the water is prevented by a metal grill. On the top of the well house is a carved pelican and a stylised fish (more similar to classical images of dolphin) pours its water into the cold bath which is surrounded by a stone ballastrade.
Keeping up with the Joneses?
One of the biggest issues with site is who built it. On the well house it is proclaimed that Inigo Jones was responsible. Jones was a noted architect and garden designer, so the building has the appearance of something he could have built, the date was when he was at the height of his fame so it is surprising nothing more official is recorded. Was this a local of the same name or the family adding the date and person at a later date to impress visitors? Certainly the building looks late 18th or early 19th century, probably being built when the house was restored then. Whatever, the well is part of a larger landscape including other wells, tree lined walkaways and now a summerhouse above a landscaped pool.
Its absence in 1730 but present on the 1756 one suggests not. Furthermore, Norman Tucker 1961’s Bodrhyddan and the families of Conwy, Shipley-Conwy and Rowley-Conwy states that the lettering is on the wrong period! Another possibility is that the architect may have been involved with designing the gardens and when the well was constructed later as the central piece the date of the garden design was recorded…but of course this does not explain who the well’s designer was!
Wishing well or healing well?
Today a sign, rather tacky to my mind (and I removed it to take photos) claims it is a wishing well. Visitors have certainly have paid attention to the sign as the well is full of coins. It is worth noting that although there is no curative history to the waters, anecdotally its powers could be significant. All the owners who have drunk from the well have lived to a considerable age, indeed the present owner is in his 100s I believe. Perhaps it might be worth bottling it!
Whatever its origin the well is a delightful one and certainly a change from muddy footpaths, negotiating brambles and nettles and getting completely pixy led…and there a nice garden and fascinating hall to see too.
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It is a great pleasure to start 2016 with a return of the guest blog post and this year I am honoured by a piece by holy well author, Ian Thompson, who having published four works on the subject, is a great authority. Based in Lincolnshire, where he runs Bluestone Books (http://www.bluestonebooks.co.uk/index.php), he has published a number of local history works, hagiography and guides to Eastern Orthodoxy. However it is his works , the first co-written with his wife- Water of Life: Springs and Wells of Mainland Britain and Lesser Known Holy Wells and curious water sources and Springs and Wells of Lincolnshire, the important Hermits and Well Churches and Saints, Chapels and wells which makes him more than qualified,…and so in this article he discusses the history and mystery of North Lincolnshire’s Templar Bath.
There is no doubt in my own mind that the Templar’s Bath is a folly and an imposture, though the imposture was almost certainly the result of miscalculation. Edward Peacock, on whose property the Bath was situated, was a man well known and respected in academic circles and a noted collector of archaeological material. He probably misrepresented the Bath to a colleague or visitor for reasons of vanity or local patriotism, never dreaming that the matter would get into the public domain. He must have been horrified when it did so, for it threatened his very standing within the scholarly community. All that he could do was to retreat into silence and try to cover his tracks, and this he did with remarkable success. For more than a hundred years people scratched their heads and speculated about the Bath but no-one seems to have guessed the truth – no-one, that is, except for a very few persons ‘in the know’. However I must stop talking in riddles.
Edward Peacock FSA of Bottesford Manor (near Scunthorpe) was a distinguished Victorian antiquary. He rebuilt the Manor House, giving it a romantic ‘Tudor’ skyline, added a coach house and library complete with baronial turret, and improved the village in certain small ways. It is almost certainly to Peacock that we owe the Cornish-style well house which now covers St John’s Well, the ancient church spring. Also, and since Peacock is the culprit of my story, it is necessary to say some things in his defence. Though largely self-taught he was a leading member of various learned societies and a pioneer in the study of Lincolnshire dialect. A young man once presented himself at the British Museum Library without a reader’s ticket, and was given the freedom of the manuscript room without one when it was discovered that his parents were known to Peacock.1 Among other qualities Peacock had a rare talent for bringing a subject to life. His Glossary of local dialect words abounds in delightful illustrative anecdotes and the second (2-volume) edition of this work (1888-89) contains two chapters of the Old Testament rendered in the North Lincolnshire dialect of Peacock’s day. It is to Peacock that we owe the Diary of Abraham de la Pryme (Surtees Society 1869) which he rescued from obscurity and helped to edit. In short, he had a well-deserved and solid reputation.
To return to the Templar’s Bath. What we now see is a stone-arched spring in a grassy hollow on a new housing estate, the hollow itself being the result of recent landscaping. In winter the water forms a circular pool several feet wide, sometimes entirely submerging the arch, but in a hot summer the site can be virtually dry.
However most of the Templar’s Bath now lies beneath the soil. A much-faded photograph in the possession of the North Lincolnshire Museum, dating from about 1925, shows the Bath to be a roughly circular stone structure about five feet deep, consisting of several stone steps curving downwards to a narrow arched doorway. Beyond this doorway lay a domed chamber perhaps three feet in diameter. (Better to visualise the Bath, imagine a stone structure nearly twice as big as an old-fashioned bathroom cistern, with the front cut away to allow access to the interior. Or think of a medieval lock-up). No water is visible in the photograph but we may assume that the lower steps and the chamber itself frequently enclosed a pool several feet deep. Only the top of the arch protruded above ground level.
The subterranean nature of the Bath and its lack of any protective enclosure must always have rendered it liable to silting. Moreover the field in which it was situated was, until fairly recently, permanent pasture. Cattle grazed it and drank from the water, and the Bath rapidly filled with mud. In 1925 (presumably just before the photograph was taken) the then owner of the field, Mr John A. Jackson, dug out the infill and executed some repairs to the structure. Thereafter it was again neglected and quickly reverted to its former state. Then, in the 1980s, the field was sold for housing, and although the Bath and its surrounds were exempted from development and eventually grassed over, no attempt was made to clean it out again. In retrospect this was probably wise since it saved the Bath from the likelihood of damage by vandals. The road by which it is now approached is called Crispin Way.
The Templar’s Bath puzzled historians and archaeologists for much of the last century. Harold Dudley, in his History and Antiquities of the Scunthorpe and Frodingham District (1931) had this to say about it:
“In the Manor Field at Bottesford is an ancient spring, arched over with stone, known variously as the ‘Roman Bath’ and the ‘Templar’s Bath’, the latter name being given on the Ordnance Survey map. I remember seeing, twenty or more years ago, two or three stone steps leading into the water, but it is now filled up with mud. This curious little structure is described in Lyell’s List of Roman-British Architectural Remains as a hypocaust, or furnace for heating a villa, something after the style of modern central heating, and it is further referred to as such in the Archaeological Review. There is, however, no suggestion of a hypocaust in the little arch, and it has more probably been a dipping well [ie. an immersion well] connected with the Preceptory of the Knights Templars which formerly existed at Bottesford. Certain Roman remains have, nevertheless, been found around the village.”
In fact the photograph above shows at least five and possibly six or seven steps leading down to the interior of the Bath, so that what Dudley remembered seeing was merely the upper part of the structure. More significantly we now know that the Templars never had a preceptory at Bottesford. The land which they owned in the village was merely rented out to provide revenue for their preceptory at Willoughton, ten miles to the south.
The first public doubts about the antiquity of the Bath were voiced in 1983 when a local newspaper carried an article about it,2 incorporating the reminiscences of Mr Reg Coggan of Scotter (now deceased). He was the grandson by marriage of a local bricklayer, Alfred Lawson, and according to Coggan, Lawson claimed to have built the Bath from scratch, in or about the year 1880, to Peacock’s specifications. We know, from an entry in Peacock’s account book, that Lawson was employed to undertake work on the Bath, but the wording of the entry implies that Lawson merely renovated and capped the structure. So which version are we to believe?
Now all the evidence suggests that Lawson was telling the truth and that the Bath is a Victorian folly; that it was built by Peacock for his own use (see below) but that the matter leaked into the public domain and got seriously out of hand. There are many reasons to question the antiquity of the Templar’s Bath but consider just the following:
- The Bath was a mud-trap – ie. a totally impractical structure, and must have required constant maintenance to prevent it from silting up. No ancient well would have been constructed on this principle. (Semi-subterranean springs are invariably protected against infilling, usually by the provision of strong retaining walls.)
- For sheer impracticality the Templar’s Bath is probably unique. But the design itself, though certainly untypical, is not without precedent. At Little Cawthorpe near Louth there is a strikingly similar structure (though without steps), enclosing a spring within the garden of the former Vicarage. Here, however, the well house is built into the side of a bank and its chamber acts as a protective back wall. In front of the well house the ground falls away and so there is no danger of silting. This particular well house was built by the Vicar of the parish, the Revd Edmund Huff, c.1858, and it transpires that Huff and Peacock were not entirely unacquainted. We cannot say whether they were ever close friends, but they were leading members of a society dedicated to the reunion of the Church of England with the Church of Rome, and they both played a prominent part in a meeting held for that purpose in London in 1872.3 There are also entries in Peacock’s Journal recording visits to Louth at about this time. The coincidences are, to say the least, suggestive.
- There is also one piece of negative evidence and it seems to me very telling. Nowhere in Peacock’s private papers (apart from the isolated entry in his account book) and nowhere in his published writings did he ever refer to the Templar’s Bath. This is all the more surprising when we consider his consuming interest in local topographical features. Several local springs are mentioned in the first edition of his Glossary – in fact they are the subject of special entries4 – and he also published a paper on the dedication of wells to St Helena; yet with regard to this most curious structure, almost literally on his doorstep and the very stuff, one would suppose, of antiquarian interest, Peacock is strangely and persistently silent. Why?
Now of course there is no reason why a distinguished antiquary should not build a private folly if that is how the fancy takes him. What he must not do is mislead the public or connive at an imposture. And I say this because in 1887 – ie. soon after the Bath was either restored or created – it, and also St John’s Well, were shown for the first time on an Ordnance Survey map, both springs being accorded gothic lettering to denote sites of historical importance. There is something curious even here because neither the OS archives nor the archives of the National Register of Ancient Monuments contain any supporting documentation to say why these sites were so designated; and that, I am told, is highly unusual.
Who saw the Templar’s Bath and communicated with the OS? And if we accept that it is indeed a sham, why did not Peacock intervene to put the record straight? He must surely have been consulted. Was he too embarrassed to admit that he had perpetrated a folly and passed it off as a genuine antiquity, and did he subsequently visit the OS archives and remove the documentation? This or a similar scenario seems to me the most likely one, for again if we accept that the Bath is spurious it is hard to believe that Peacock would have risked his very considerable reputation by communicating with the OS on his own account. Indeed, his consistent silence on the matter of the Bath tells strongly in favour of some outside intervention.
Thus far the case against the antiquity of the Bath. No doubt it falls short of absolute proof but it is, I believe, a convincing case, and one that is now widely accepted. However what follows is pure speculation and I offer it simply as an intriguing possibility, though it would help to explain one or two odd little puzzles.
An argument which was often advanced in the years following the newspaper article went something like this: that the Templar’s Bath may indeed be a fake, but at least it encloses a spring, and the spring itself is an authentic part of the history of the village. And perhaps this is so. Yet there was one other curious feature about the Templar’s Bath, or at least about the Templar’s field (ie. Manor Field) before it was consigned to housing development. Over a period of more than twenty years I paid regular visits to the Bath and I was never able to find it without a good deal of searching. Sometimes I was almost ready to swear that it must have been moved! And this was odd because springs are usually quite easy to locate. All one has to do is to find the valley created by the spring-fed stream and trace it backwards to its source. Even semi-subterranean springs, like St Withburga’s Well at East Dereham in Norfolk, leave traces of their underground course in the form of a shallow depression on the surface of the land. In the case of the Templar’s Bath however, not only was there no surface stream, there was no valley either. The land around the Bath was featureless and flat. I have often found myself wondering: is the Templar’s Bath really a spring, or could it be a culvert?
In former times Bottesford was rich in springs and the valleys created by several of them can still be traced. In three cases we can even identify the former back wall of a spring. However at different times during the nineteenth / early twentieth century these springs were all culverted into Bottesford Beck; mostly by routes which would not take them anywhere near the Templar’s Bath. The exceptions were the springs in the vicinity of the Manor House itself, of which again there seem to have been several. These gave rise to a stream which flowed through the Manor House grounds and then turned away eastwards. If this stream was culverted along the line of its bed (as one would expect) the culvert would pass some way north of the Templar’s Bath. But there could have been (then or later) a distributary culvert to divert some of its water into the Templar’s field. The Templar’s spring is not a very active affair and might perhaps be the result of a distributary culvert. Or there could have been a separate culvert from just one of the Manor House springs.
I say this because somewhere in Bottesford there used to be a spring called the Craikle Well – a rag-well,5 once highly esteemed for its curative properties. It was reputed to have restored the sight of a woman who had gone stone blind and to have brought health to a chronically sick child. In the eighteenth century ‘folks used to come in their carriages to it.’6 Yet at some time between about 1860 and 1890 the Craikle Spring disappeared. Shortly after the latter date a palsied man visited Bottesford to obtain a supply of the water, ‘only to find, to his intense disappointment, that it was drained away through an underground channel which rendered it unattainable’.6 These are the words of Peacock’s daughter Mabel, the well-known Lincolnshire folklorist, and a further reference to the Craikle Spring is to be found in a dialect word-list compiled by Peacock’s son Max, viz: ‘Craikle. Spring and Well: now filled in and drained into Bottesford Beck’.7 In the light of this last statement it might be thought fanciful to suggest that the Craikle Spring could have something to do with the Templar’s Bath – except that if the Bath was a folly, then by the time these words came to be written everything connected with it would have become part of a closely-guarded family secret. And here is another odd thing. For as with the Templar’s Bath, Peacock never referred to the Craikle Spring in his writings although the name itself must have intrigued him and would have furnished obvious material for his dialect Glossary. Was he personally responsible for its culverting? He was, at that time, the largest landowner in the village, and although not much interested in farming and also, we may suppose, unlikely to have culverted a rag-well for anything other than compelling reasons, he did undertake some culverting in the vicinity of the Manor House in order to build his ambitious new library wing (completed c.1866 and involving the realignment of a part of Manor Road). Yet further. According to Lawson, Peacock did not simply create the Templar’s Bath; he was in the habit of immersing himself in it on a daily basis. This statement could be significant in the light of some evidence that Peacock was – or believed himself to be – prone to a recurring infirmity, for we know from his Journal that he often considered himself to be unwell and kept to his bed. If the Craikle Spring was one of the Manor House culvertings, did it occur to him that its water might prove beneficial in his own case – thus supplying the germ of the idea for the Templar’s Bath? There are several ‘ifs’ here and one is obliged to speculate with a good deal of caution. We do not even know that the Templar’s Bath is in fact fed by a culvert. But if it could be shown that it is, then the case for supposing the Bath to be the outfall of the Craikle Spring would at least merit serious attention. Sadly the Bottesford Enclosure maps are of no help to us in determining the whereabouts of the Craikle spring or in showing whether the Templar’s Bath (or Spring) was then in existence since the land within the village itself had been enclosed long before by private agreement.
- See P.B.G. Binnall, Edward Peacock of Bottesford Manor (typescript, available in some local libraries). The young man in question was George Walshaw.
- The Scunthorpe Star, 29 July 1983
- See Bishops at Large by Peter Anson, Faber 1964 pp.64-65 and Peter Binnall’s typescript lecture (mentioned above) which contains a reference to the London meeting and Peacock’s part in it. A notebook kept by Huff, containing information about his own well house, lay for many years in the parish chest but has recently gone missing. A photocopy survives in private hands.
- On the face of it, the decision to exclude these entries from the second edition of the Glossary is puzzling since they were of obvious local and topographical interest. Was Peacock by that time anxious to divert attention from topographical matters because of the Templar’s Bath? The first edition of the Glossary appeared in 1877 – ie. about three years before Lawson was employed on the Bath. The second edition appeared in 1888-89, just after the publication of the OS map. Again the dates are suggestive.
- A rag-well is a curative spring at which small pieces of cloth used to be left, usually on a nearby bush. They were originally torn from the clothing of those seeking benefit from the spring.
- E. Gutch and M. Peacock, Examples of Printed Folklore Concerning Lincolnshire, FLS 1908, pp.8-9. Mabel called it the Craikell Well.
- Eileen Elder (ed), The Peacock Lincolnshire Word Books, Scunthorpe Museum Societ
Lesser-known Holy Wells and Curious Water Sources
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Rushton Hall is famous as the home of Thomas Tresham, a family famed for its associated with recusancy and the Gunpowder Plot. North of the Hall is the well-known Triangular Lodge, with its Catholic imagery. However, to the south of the hall is another folly.
This is a delightful yellow stone rectangular bath house. The site being interesting for it incorporates a holy well called St Peter’s Spring, indeed it is this rather than the bath house which is marked . Of which John Taylor (1895) ‘Rushton and its owners: II’ in Northamptonshre Notes & Queries notes:
“St Peter’s petrifying spring. The head of the water at this spring furnishes the drinking fountain and the adjacent bath. The bath is within a small building now falling to decay. The only door opens directly into the bathroom, the only apartment. The bath occupies the centre; there is a marginal path of about two feet all round. Along the two sides are several niches in the walls serving as seats. The roof is absolutely gone; formerly it was glazed. Steps at the head lead to the bottom of the bath, the water in which is within a few inches of the margin. The floor is of brick. Two posts with iron staples stand in the water. Until recently chains were attached, placed there for the convenience of the bathers.”
Verses engraved around the bath included Campani’s Huius nympha loci reading:
“Huius nympha loci,
sacri custodia fontis,
Dormio dum blandae sentior murmur acquae,
Parce meum quisquis tangis cava Marmora somnum,
Rumpere: sive bibas,
sive lavere taces.”
Which translated as:
“Nymph of this place, sacred guardian of the fountain,
I sleep while the water babbles sweetly,
Beware of breaking my slumber as you approach the marble basin,
Either you drink or you bathe in silence.”
Another plaque taken from Virgil reading:
“Fortunatus et ille, deos qui novit agrestes
“Happy the man who knows the rural gods.”
Holy well or well by a chapel?
The age of the spring is difficult to ascertain. Certainly topographer Morton (1712) knew it:
“as being a Collection of Nine little Springs which gush forth, it’s said, at as many distinct Apertures, within a small Compass of Ground, and are now drawn into a Stone Basin over which a handsome Summer House was built, by the late Lord Cullen.”
Thompson (1917–19b) in his Peculiarities of water and wells in Northamptonshire suggests that the name appears after the church which was located by Rushton Hall was demolished in 1785, when the church was demolished which sat near Rushton Hall. It appears that before this it was called Nine-Spring-Head before this.
Properties of the waters
Many plunge pools and bath house utilise simple springs, some actually streams, most claim no direct healing properties. Rushton’s bath house is unusual perhaps because it utilises a holy well, so perhaps being recusant Catholics this was intentional and it is not beyond reason that it was ceremonially used – even for baptism! The name Nine Springs is also significant, there are many nine springs most numerically difficult to justify. Could it be that the word nine derived from the Roman noon meaning ‘mysterious’. Interestingly, also is Taylor’s statement of the waters being petrifying is also interesting suggesting that the hard water was part of the function of the bath. Unfortunately as with many holy wells little was written down.
The site today
Rushton Hall is now a hotel, but the route to the bath house over an ornate bridge appears to be locked and closed off. No one could help in the Hall, but I was directed to down the lane where there was a local fishing club. One of the members directed me, although stressed it was private property! The bath house is found in a small opening in a copse in the woods, being reached by crossing over an ornamental weir. The bath house although missing a room, a glass one I imagine would have been too expensive and easily damaged, was restored in 2000. Through the main entrance, padlocked, can be seen the large rectangular pool which is still full of water. Indeed the structure was not too different from Taylor’s description above. Above the bath in a niche is a reclining figure of a nymph, two other niches have missing figures. In a niche on the outside wall is a pump which supplied the water for drinking.
Perhaps the most curious structure lies to the south of the bath house, an indent in the ground which is stone lined. This would apparently be the original well. The water however is dry and I would presume may have been such since the bath house utilised its water.
The Roman occupation of the island has left a few remains although not as many as the mainland Italy. The most remarkable of these is the spa of Caddas, called Aquae Ypsitanae, a name coined by Roman writer Tolomeo. It is an incredible survival nestling on the banks of the river Tirso. Established in the reign of Trajan the site consists of a forum, an amphitheatre (a few metres off site) and the spa. Being located at the most significant thermal region on the island, and even on a hot August day steam can be seen building up over its waters.
For those familiar with the site of Bath in England, the site is particularly interesting as it gives an idea of what that site would have looked like before its most recent improvement. The oldest section of the complex dates from the first century A.D. and it was occupied until third Century.
The central focus on the ruins is the 12 by 6 by nearly two metre deep natatio, or bath. This is filled by the thermal spring which arises to the south of the site. These waters were mixed in another bath with cold waters entering from higher above. In such a way waters could be controlled. Other baths exist to the north and a cloaca or channel through which the water drains into the river. Over the natatio was probably a barrel roof, the arches of which remain. These arches enter the most interesting relic a nympheum, which was probably a small chapel. Here Esculapio, God of healing and nymphs were invocated for their guidance and power.
These parts formed the original nucleus of the spa complex of which, a frigidarium, tepidarium and celidarium complex was used utilising cold springs.
The source of the waters
It was thought that an aquaduct provided water from Mount Grighini but it is noted that as water on site is still so abundant it would have arisen here. For above the Roman ruins are the large tanks holding the spring water. These have been carved into the rock and are despite their algae covered waters still flowing from here and through the complex. The hot spring arose separately in such a small distance from the cold springs a quite amazing fact for these early engineers to note. This hot spring is also a sulphur spring which has lead to healing properties.
Healing and cleaning waters
These waters of Aquae Ypsitanae were famed as the S’abba de su figau’ – the waters of the livers. However they are also said to be able to cure and relieve skin complaints such as dermatitis and psoriasis, bone ailments and respiratory problems. The hot waters also have had a more functional use. The large oval pools located outside the enclosed ruins were used, and may indeed still be, used for washing clothes. Touching the water it is exceptionally hot being 56OC
The Bagnio and beyond
Whist it is not beyond realisation that one could still utilise the spa site today. The town of Fordongianus is still a functioning Spa town beyond the site. A few metres from the Roman site until recently visitors could experience the hot waters in a Bagnio Termali. This nestles closer to the village and below the level of the road. Despite its fairly modern appearance the site dates from 18th century. The site derivs its waters from another spring which fortunately are slightly colder being 44OC Sadly it appears that the site is now closed it but spa bathing still survives with an enormous investment being made into a more considerable spa complex. As the small linear building is only big enough for a normal sized bath, the new establishments located more centrally in the town. These farm more modern hotel facilities still provide the same, if slightly more modernised, wellness treatments provided by the Romans – little changes. So not only can we marvel here the cleverness of the use of both cold and hot springs which the Roman engineers manipulated excellently to provide a tepid and more tolerable water, we can see its use remains today.
Delightfully situated high, at 750 metres above sea level, on a plateaux amongst the gnarled cork oaks is the Nuragic settlement of Romanzesu di Bitti. The site is believed to be one of the most important sites of worship of the Nuragic period. A site by its name suggests a long continuation of its usage into the Roman occupation of the island.
Like a number of similar sites, the site was revealed by accident during the search for water in 1919, when Antonio Taramelli a local archaeologist. Sadly, during the excavations, a number of parts were destroyed; the scale trapezoidal coming down the well was destroyed. The water was also diverted into a trough and even in the 1950 new reclamation work utilised the well for a modern sewer and thus a number ceramic pipes were placed at the site in blocks of local granite. As a result interpretation has been difficult.
The village dating from the Bronze Age extended over seven acres near the source of the Tirso river and consisted of a hundred huts, a rectangular temple, two megaron temples and a strange labyrinthine structure as well as the sacred well with its amphitheatre basin with its elliptical terraces. The megaron temples are similar to other sites with circular pits which may have collected water for ablutions or supported a roof, no one is clear. Similarly what significance there is the labyrinth is unclear. The remains show a hut structure with concentric walls to a central room with a circular stone base and some paving. The archaeologists found red quartz pebbles at the site. It was perhaps the house of a sorcerer who may have been the person in charge of the ritual centre. However as no site similar has been found this is pure speculation and indeed what role this building had to the sacred well and amphitheatre basin is unclear.
The Pozzo in its sacred landscape
The well itself is central to the sacred landscape and encloses an intermittent springhead, it was dry unsurprisingly perhaps in August. The spring head is enclosed by polyhedric granite blocks, of which nineteen rows survive providing a circular well, with a 3.40m-to 3.30m diameter basin and reaches the height of
The inner circumference is deliminated by a large bench consisting of four slabs on the left side and eight on the right which may have contained the water or allowed access. The structure is more obviously built upon the natural rock than other sites has a small rectangular opening around 30cm where the spring flows from. Originally it was a tholos structure which has a domed roof.
The site is believed to date from the Bronze Age to the IXth century BC. Around the well are two sacred objects, small surfaced betili (stones representing the deity linked to fertility rites) still upright but what role they had with the water is unclear they may have represented deities of the water. From the well is an unusual 42 metre gully lined with steps which carries water from the well to the unique amphitheatre.
A sacrificial bath?
This most remarkable relic is the most puzzling – a large sub-circular basin originally paved with six rows of terraced steps. What was it for? Often it is now dry but on occasions water has filled it to provide an idea. One theory is that it was done for communal ablutions or perhaps baptisms. Perhaps even for purification rites? The 3rd century AD Latin geographer Solino highlighted ordeals with water especially to judge crimes perhaps like those done for witches to see if the water would find them innocent.
Whatever strange and wonderful rituals were undertaken here…one can still get a feeling of them in this magical place among the cork trees
“Solinus to the goddess Sulis Minerva. I give to your divinity and majesty [my] bathing tunic and cloak. Do not allow sleep or health to him who has done me wrong, whether man or woman or whether slave or free unless he reveals himself and brings those goods to your temple.”
So translates a thin lead rectangular sheet one of 130 found in 1979-80 in the hot spring at Bath, deposited in the shrine of Sulis Minerva, the Goddess of the spring. Theses so called curse tablets were written with a stylus in a cursive script and then rolled up with the writing innermost. Sometimes these sheets are nailed interestingly the word defixio being translated into fasten and curse! Sometimes the words are written backwards or lines written in alternating directions called asboustrophedon in Greek.
Interestingly, all bar one of the 130 concerned curses to do with stolen goods, so called ‘prayers for justice’. Thefts from Roman baths appeared to be a common problem and goods from gemstones, jewellery to clothing were stolen. Often the ‘victim’ was the perpetrator of a crime and the curse would range from sleep deprivation to death. For example:
“To the goddess Sulis Minerva. I ask your most sacred majesty that you take vengeance on those who have done [me] wrong, that you permit them neither sleep…”
Sometimes the curse would be more detailed in its instruction:
“Docilianus [son] of Brucerus to the most holy goddess Sulis. I curse him who has stolen my hooded cloak, whether man or woman, whether slave or free, that .. the goddess Sulis inflict death upon .. and not allow him sleep or children now and in the future, until he has brought my hooded cloak to the temple of her divinity.”
“ To Minerva the goddess Sulis I have given the thief who has stolen my hooded cloak, whether slave or free, whether man or woman. He is not to buy back this gift unless with his own blood.”
This named the culprits:
“I have given to the goddess Sulis the six silver coins which I have lost. It is for the goddess to exact [them] from the names written below: Senicianus and Saturninus and Anniola,”
“Whether pagan or Christian, whether man or woman, whether boy or girl, whether slave or free whoever has stolen from me, Annianus [son of] Matutina (?), six silver coins from my purse, you, Lady Goddess, are to exact [them] from him. If through some deceit he has given me…and do not give thus to him but reckon as (?) the blood of him who has invoked his upon me.”
So curses appeared a little extreme considering:
“Docimedis has lost two gloves and asks that the thief responsible should lose their minds [sic] and eyes in the goddess’ temple.”
The inscriptions follow a general formula, suggesting perhaps that there was a commercial scribe more than probable as many people were illiterate around that time. The formula was as follows the stolen property was declared and transferred to the deity so it becomes their loss, the suspect and victim are named and then the later asks for punishment to induce the theft back. The language is interesting being in Latin lettering but in a Romano-British hybrid, some argue some may be Celtic. The tablets are on show in the excellent Roman Bath museum for all to wonder at this curious custom.
One of the most unusually sited on Nottinghamshire’s holy wells record in Holy Wells and healing springs of Nottinghamshire is St. John’s Well at Welham. I have touched upon this site in my first post on unusual holy well locations and thought it was worth examining in detail.
The well itself is undoubtedly an ancient one. The Domesday Book refers to Wellun, this changed to Wellum by 1166 and by the 16th century had become Wellom but in Chapman and Andres map of Notts in1775 was shown as Welham. None of these sources call it St John’s Well and it is not so named until 1710, either as a re-dedication, once the Reformation zealouts had died down, or perhaps coined by John Hutchinson to give the bath so back story to explain its healing waters. It is shown on Chapman’s map of Nottinghamshire (1774) as ‘Well House’. Piercy (1828) gives the greatest information and states that the hamlet of Welham was named after St. John’s Well whose waters contained magnesium and gypsum and was:
“good for rheumatics and scorbutic diseases. Its waters formed into a large bath, and remained entire during the early part of the 18th century, it was famous for many cures, but latterly it has lost much of its celebrity.John Hutchinson, Esq. erected a cottage adjoining, and enclosed the bath, to preserve it from injury. Here was, until lately, a feast, or fair, held annually on St. John‟s day, to which the neighbouring villagers resorted to enjoy such rural sports or games as fancy might dictate. Cold baths like this were formerly regarded with superstitious reverence, being supposed to possess a sovereign remedy for agues such as rheumatism.”
What is interesting about this account is the reference of games and a fair suggesting that if the well itself did not have such a dedication, the saint was celebrated in the locale. This may indicate that indeed the well was so dedicated or that Hutchinson chose this name because of the local fair. Without further information we shall never know.
By 1832 White’s Directory notes that it had lost much of its former celebrity. A Robert Walker was a bath keeper at the Well house and may well have been the last one as it appears the well soon fell into terminal decline and I can find nothing is noted of it until 1938. At this time it is noted that its water was still used to provide several cottages in the village. An article written in 1957 states the bathhouse disappeared stating the coming of the railway encouraged people to move away to find more effective spas around the 1830s. It goes on to note that the actual spring location was lost. This I thought was to be the situation, but local investigations not only showed the house to be still existence but the bath still remained! Records show that the estate, was bought by an Arthur Robert Garland of Welham Hall from the deceased estate of John Henry Hutchinson of Clarborough Hall acres117.3.16 along with Well House Cottage and garden for the sum of £3200 on in 1910. He then sold the cottage and garden to Fred Anderson on 1910 for £130. This was subsequently bought by the late Mr Eric Durham on 1955, later to be purchased by the current owner, Mr Whelan, in 1975.The site is still called Well House. Which although it had been added onto in the last century, its core fabric remains as John Hutchinson built it. The large house being the well keeper’s abode with the side building, now a modern kitchen was the bath house.
Arriving at the house, I was at first shown the site by Mr. Whelan the spring which filled the bath which was diverted to the side of the house, the spring itself arising close to the footpath behind the house. A man-hole cover in the drive way revealed that the spring flows at a fast rate, several gallons per minute. He notes that it had a very high mineral content, soaking through the gypsum in Clarborough hills. He stressed it is drinkable, in small quantities, due to its high magnesium and sulphate (like Andrews Liver Salts). It is quite chalky to taste flat but is very pleasant to drink if aerated. However he did not recommend long term drinking was probably not good for one’s health.
In he kitchen, a small trap door can be removed and beneath the remains of the bath is revealed. This appears to as Mee (1938) describes; a stone basin twelve feet square with a flight of steps entering the water. I scrambled down into this bath and found it presently to have two stone steps which enter the bath, although bricks built upon these suggest that there may have been more.
Remarkably the bath still remains enclosing an area fifteen feet by twelve feet, and despite the water being diverted, was full to over a two foot of water. The present kitchen is supported by four brick pillars but this does not appear to have damaged the fabric of the bath which is in fine condition, being made of good quality neat squared stonework. A pipe is found four feet high or so in the wall and a line around it made by the presence of water indicates that the water was of a considerable depth supporting the fact that it was large enough to be a hazard, explaining how Thomas Heald, Vicar of Babworth drowned in it on the 18th June 1759. Mr. Whelan informs me that although the house is not a listed building previous owners had sensibly preserved the bath. Around 30 years ago he was often showing local school children, but it appears now to forgotten. So there it remains a curious relic preserved in its most unusual place.
It must be noted that due to its location, under a private kitchen, that the site is not readily viewable so please don’t turn up unannounced. More details in the book see http://www.amazon.co.uk/Holy-Wells-Healing-Springs-Nottinghamshire/dp/0956044220 or contact this blogger
Dorset is a rich county for holy well and healing spring explorers, many years ago I did some field work there. These are some of my notes.
St Candida’s or St. Wite’s Well, Morecombelake
Long overgrown and forgotten, this is a significant site associated as it is with one of the few surviving church shrines which has both foramina (holes for closer contact to the relics) and presence of the saint. Much has been discussed over the origins of saint, who is generally called St. Wite, but is more likely to be a local saint who probably utilised the spring. This is emphasised by a report by a traveller in the 17th century who recorded:
“St. White the Virgin Martyr, whose well the inhabitants will shewe you not farre off in the side of an Hill, where she lived in Prayer and Contemplation.”
Its waters were used for eye complaints and today the spring is clear and flowing. Christine Waters in her book Who was St. Wite? (1980) states:
“After venerating the shrine, our pilgrim made his way to the saint’s well, about a mile away at Morcombelake. The waters of St. Wite’s Well enjoyed a reputation as late as the 1930’s as being “a sovereign cure for sore eyes”. They were said to be most efficacious when the sun’s first rays lit upon them. Sore eyes, were of course, a constant source of discomfort to medieval man, living as he did in low cottages from which the smoke did not escape properly. Lead holy water bottles or “ampullae” were filled here and taken home for later applications.
The wild periwinkles that carpet nearby Stonebarrow Hill every spring, are still known locally as “St. Candida’s Eyes.”
It flows into what is possibly one of the smallest stone basins I have ever seen for a springhead and it is not surprising that it was lost for many years! The survival of the site is secured as this one of the few holy wells on National Trust land.
Holy Well, Hermitage
Little appears to be known of this well but its name is significant deriving as it does from probably from a hermit long forgotten who probably used the spring. It is known that Augustian Friars established a community here in the 14th century. One assumes the well is dedicated to Our Lady as the church is called St Mary’s. It is interesting that a local place was called Remedy on the old maps. The well fills a stone chamber by the edge of the wood above the church.
Leper’s Well, Lyme Regis
Lyme Regis has much commend itself and it also claims in a public path close to a footpath a quite substantial well. This is the Leper well which is so called in its association with a leper hospital dedicated to the Holy Spirit. The water arises beneath a mossy and algae covered arch and flows into a rectangular basin. This may be the same as St. Andrew’s Well associated with a chapel in the town of the same name. This well is mentioned in a number of medieval documents
St Edward’s the Martyr’s well, Corfe
One cannot fail to miss the grand ruins of this mighty fortess, now despite being broken and breached its very position as a sentinel to the picturesque Corfe it remains the iconic and impressive place. What is easier to miss and less well known is the well which lies within the ruins.
The story tells that here the body of the Saxon boy king who reigned from 975, after the death of his father Edgar. Although he was the eldest he was not officially recognised and this issue appears to have precipitated his demise, being thrown down this well in 978. Who planned the murder is unclear, history has always accused the mother of Ethelred the Unready, Aelfhryth Edward’s step mother, as she had more to gain. When the deed was revealed, by a pillar of fire from heaven, and the body retrieved it was found to be incorruptible and was enshrined with great grandeur first at Wareham and then at nearby Shaftesbury Abbey. The water thereafter was thought to be curative and was particularly good for eye complaints and the ague.
When I visited there was no sign of water and all there was to mark it was a depression. Whether this is the exact well or not is of course unclear the date of the indeed long predates the ruins. It is possible that the story hides some pagan motif and so is its similarity to that of St. Kenelem is interesting.
It is interesting to note that the church also dedicated to the saint had a well dressing ceremony in 2008.