The most noted of these was the King’s Well. This was an early minor spa, which was associated at first with James I, who took its waters whilst at Theobald’s Palace. It is said that he had made a number of visits to take the waters from there and became to popularise it.
However, it was granted royal name from Charles II in 1660. Scots pines were planted at the site in the King’s honour. It is believed that many wealthy gout sufferers built themselves mansions along Cooper’s Lane such as the 1668 Northaw Place and this resulted in Cuffley’s development. The well continued to be popular but perhaps not fully developed for the next three hundred years. It is recorded that by 1850 however, the well had long fallen into disuse
Certainly by the time of Septimus Sutherland’s 1915 Old London’s Spas, Baths and Wells work:
“The spring was situated in the valley at Lower Cuffley, on the way to Cheshunt, but cannot now be easily traced.”
A few details are recorded of its structure. Stanley Foord in his 1910 Springs, Streams, and Spas of London notes of “The low wall” and there is record of marble fountain head was erected there. Foord continues to say of the low wall.
“which enclosed it has long since gone, and the spring itself, by subsoil draining around it, can now with difficulty be traced.”
I did think that this marble structure may still exist buried at the locale, but sadly, but back in the 1990s a field walk to this remote location revealed nothing. However, it is possible that the site I was surveying and that marked on the maps until 1951 was not the correct site. This is emphasised by a brief note by Brian Warren in the Potters Bar and district historical society newsletter of September 2001 who explored the facts behind its location. He stated that:
“The key map, included with the 1807 Northaw Enclosure Award indicated there were two wells, the first was ‘The King’s Well’ near the brick kilns on “Northaw Common. Secondly the Warren Allotment contained the medicinal spring called Northaw Wells. The ma sbpwed the Northaw wells to be north-east of the brickfield. However, the Drury and Andrews map of Hertfordshre 1766 and a map of Northaw common by Thomas Baskerfield c1700 showed the medical waters to be due east of the brickfields From this evidence one can see that the Ordnance survey had marked the Northaw Wells as the King’s well. Further evidence to support this conclusion is to be found in Mr Binyon’s Notebook (mid 19th century) where he noted the King’s Well ‘in a bottom’ (cf Carbone Bottom, Home wood), the ordnance survey’s position was halfway up a hill.”
This suggests that the site marked on the OS map is erroneous. It does mark a mineral spring the Northaw one. This I missed in my original gazetteer but in my defence so does Foord and Sutherland who call it Northaw Water and Northaw Spring. However it is mentioned in the Comprehensive gazetteer of England and Wales of 1894-5 as Northall which states:
“Mineral spring is at Cuffley, and another mineral spring was on Northaw Common, now enclosed, but has been choked up.”
Sadly although one could hope that a misplacement may result in some relics of the King’s Well surviving. Gerald Millington in his 1975 Cuffley with Northaw suggests that:
“a comparison with the modern ordnance survey map places the well in the ground of the present day pumping station.”
A very likely location of course, which is nearer to Well’s Farm and sadly one which would have obliterated any remains.
Of the wells curative properties, Dr. Monro in his 1770 Treatise on Mineral Waters speaks of analyses made by Dr. Rutty at Dublin of this and of the Barnet spring. He notes that there was not much difference between them but the latter was the stronger tasted of the two ; neither of them were very powerful. A list of cures has noted survived but it is suggested that gout could be eased by drinking it.
Its water was said to be a saline chalybeate which is surprising if it has been used as a mains water supply. Older residents (in the 1950s) remember that it was poor for making tea. For when the hot water was added the clear water became inky. This was due to the iron in the water reacting with the tannin. Foord (1910) states that:
“The Northaw water must have contained a considerable quantity of iron, as a favourite diversion of the inhabitants was to induce strangers to make tea with it. Though perfectly colourless, as soon as the boiling water was poured on the tea the iron combined with the tannin, and formed a kind of ink — as much to the astonishment of the tea-makers as to the delight of the practical jokers.”
Its unfortunate that no relic of this site or rather sites survive. One wonders what happened to that marble fountain head!
A search for fresh water
When landowner Mr S. H. Godson was looking for a better supply of water in , he exposed a brine mineral water which although not good for drinking could have potential. Then Dr. A. B. Granville took an interest. In 1837 he had written a book on The Spas in Germany which aroused much interest and in 1839/1840 he undertook a tour of England and in the Midlands section he toured Buxton, Matlock, Woodhall, Spa, Ashby-de-la-Zouch, Tenbury, Malvern, Leamington, Cheltenham etc. He wrote of the waters describing the effect on them on his digestive system:
“Immediately upon swallowing half a tumbler of Tenbury water, a disturbance, or rather a commotion, is set up in the abdomen, which, upon a repetition of the same quantity of the fluid, after a proper interval, will be found in most cases to end in a way desirable in the circumstances.”
Visiting the site 1839 Grenville advised on modifications to the well structure in which would prevent contamination from other springs and prevent dilution of the mineral properties. His analysis suggested it contained Iodine and as such would have healing properties. To be successful, Grenville suggested that to be successful the town needed:
“baths pump rooms and a promenades, lodging houses, walks roads and other accommodation in order to constitute a Spa of the first class.”
There was a problem with such an enterprise, Godson’s land at The Court could not be expanded as there was local opposition. Grenville however was so keen it seeing the site developed that his son, an architect, was sent but this was to no available Mr. Price of the adjacent Crown Inn decided that one well was not enough to supply the amount of bottled water needed. He commenced sinking a well on his premises and on August 24th 1840 at a depth of 42ft he reached the mineral water layer. This opposition was soon bought out by Septimus Godson. They and the small red brick bath house was constructed in 1840, and by March 1841 they published the rules and regulations for using the well, the Court ground were used for promenading after drinking or bathing often listening to a band. Then by 1850 a London surgeon was in residence running the Spa and two wells were now available. However, financial difficulties made the site close albeit temporarily in 1855, but the coming of the railway revitalised it. Local businessmen developed the ‘Tenbury Wells Improvement Company’ in December of 1860 and built the present pump room on the meadow by the Swan Hotel. In A Mr. James Cranston of Birmingham in 1862 was behind the design of new Spa, consisting of 2 halls with a Pump Room including a recess with a fountain. The Spa. An octagonal tower was built containing the well and pumps. the whole were surrounded by pleasure grounds. The building costing approximately £1000.
Taking a 99 year lease on the site, the Tenbury Wells Improvement Company asked Mr Thomas Morris, well sinker, to remove the whole of the bricks, curls and ironwork from the old mineral well by the Swan Inn and used at the new site. However, the Crow’s well was cleaned and established as a reservoir. The Well was 58ft from the surface and produced mineral water at the rate of 20 gallons hour. The smell was said to be something like when a gun was discharged.
The Tenbury History website state:
“He got the idea for the design of the Spa from some greenhouses he was designing at Holmer, near Hereford. In 1862 he published a book about a newly patented design for Horticulural Buildings and he used this principle for The Tenbury Spa replacing glass panels with those of sheet steel, It was erected on a pre-fabricated principle being one of the first in the country. The wrought iron plates and cast iron clips with foliated ends were made in Birmingham and erected on site. The building was described as being ‘Chinese Gothic’. The roof was painted in French Grey with rolls between being deeper and bluer in shade. The Spa was supposed to attract the ‘Middle to Working Class’.”
On May 1st 1883 the baths opened for the summer season, they consisted of six hot baths cost 9/- ( 45p) and six cold baths 5/- (25p). It was suggested by the 1916 Medical Times that after the first world war, convalescent soldiers should go to Tenbury Wells and by 1913 the name of Tenbury Wells had stuck becoming official later. Ironically the Pump rooms were about to decline. During the war it was used for bathing evacuees but this was the last time it was used for any bathing albeit not medicinal. Despite plans as late as 1931 the wells were filled in in 1939.
Slowly the building fell into decline, becoming a brewery, a tea room and Women’s institute but by 1978 it was in serious decline and decay. Kathleen Denbign in her A hundred British Spas wrote in 1981
“In such a bad state of decay that it was bolted and barred and threatened with demolition – though not without protest from local residents.”
It was purchased by the Leominster District Council in 1986 but that did not halt the decline. Repairs were finally done in 1998/9 with funds from English Heritage, Advantage West Midlands, the European Regional Development Fund, Malvern Hills and Leominster District Councils and Teme Rural Challenge. The Tenbury wells history website note the problems with the repair:
“The major problem that the architects responsible for the repair had to deal with was a major sag of one of the portal frames over the conservatory glass. It appears to have been due to bad design. Each roof structure now has a steel member going down to a concrete block cast at foundation level.
There was also a big problem with regalvanising the wrought iron sheets. After being regalvanised they buckled and would not fit the structure. This was solved by sending the sheets to specialist car body firm in the Medway who were used to dealing with very thin steel. Another big problem was to ensure that the roof was watertight. The roof was an extremely complicated shape, there were valleys and areas of flat roof and all sorts of unusual angles between one part of the building and another. It never was watertight originally, but hopefully, all the problems have now been solved.
All the wrought iron sheets now have spaces between them to try and stop any rust problems recurring and it has been fully insulated. A lot of the brick work was only 1/2 brick thick and so would always have been rather wobbly. This has all been straightened, but still keeping the exterior as it was built in 1862.
With insulation, damp barriers and other weatherproofing measures means that it is now up to modern building standards and hopefully now as an office and tiny museum one can now peer into the well, see its ornate foundation, baths and read all about it. It was probably originally designed for a life of only 25 years, but has lasted 137 years.
Situated beneath 5 Strand Lane is one of the city’s most enigmatic and perhaps little known relic, the so-called Roman Baths. Laying four feet six inches (1.4m) below the modern street level, the bath measures about 15 foot (4.72m) by 6 feet (1.91m), with a depth of just over four feet (1.37 m) deep. Its lining is built from bricks measuring 9 inches (22.9 cm) by 3 inches (7.6 cm) and is 1.75 inches (4.4 cm) thick.
John Pinkerton (1784) is the first author to describe the site, called it a:
“fine antique bath’ in the cellar of a house in Norfolk Street in the Strand formerly belonging to the Earl of Arundel whose house and vast gardens were adjacent”
The next notice was when MP William Weddell, a well-known antiquarian died of a sudden chill when bathing there in April 1792. Even Dickens (1849) used the bath as a location in David Copperfield having the titular character having cold plunge within and describes it as ‘at the bottom of one of the streets out of the Strand.’ A sign on the baths in the eighteenth century, put up by its then owner read:
“the celebrated Cold Plunging Bath (built by the Earl of Essex in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 1588) is open all the year round. It is known to be the most pure and healthy bath in London ensuring every comfort and convenience to those availing themselves of this luxury. This bath, which is strongly recommended by the Medical Profession, is essentially supplied from the Spring, and discharges at the rate of ten tons per diem. Consequently, every bather has the advantage of a continual change of water. The old Roman spring water bath, nearly two thousand years old, can be viewed.”
Roman or more recent?
Despite this claim the actual origins of the origins of the bath are unclear. Although Roman London lay 1 mile (1.6 km) to the east and all the remains appear to suggest a Tudor origin at the earliest. They may have indeed been built for Arundel House, which was built by the Earl of Essex as a water cistern. When this house was lost in the 16th century, the area was built over by a row of houses and it was only rediscovered after a fire in 1774. A man called James Smith appeared to be responsible in converting the derelict cistern into a cold bath when he moved into No 33 Surrey Street in the mid 1770s. He soon started to advertise it as:
“the cold bath at No. 33, Surry-street, in the Strand … for the Reception of Ladies and Gentlemen, supplied with Water from a Spring, which continually runs through it.”
Two years later he constructed a second bath which was lined with marble. This the Essex Bath survives robbed of its cladding in the basement on the Norfolk Hotel but currently due to the building being empty is inaccessible.
A survey of the brickwork by Dr. Kevin Hayward of Pre-Construct Archaeology in May 2011 revealed that brickwork and tiles to date from 1450 to 1700. Further chemical analysis by Dr Stuart Black of University of Reading suggested a date between 1550 and 1650. Although, the date would support the cistern origin for Arundel House, Trapp (2010) believes that it may have been associated with the grotto fountain, said to represent Mount Parnassus or Helicon, in the privy garden of adjoining Somerset House. The area where it stood was being redeveloped in the 18th century. Trapp (2010) notes that Treasury Warrant book for April 1710 records a petition from Thomas Vernon, the then owner of this land nearby which records:
“for the grant of a little old shed in Strand Lane…being 14 feet square, formerly a water house to a grotto in Somerset House but now in ruinous condition and like to fall into the petitioner’s land.”
This is clearly the Roman Bath for its dimensions are identical and Vernon’s property Surrey Street property would have abutted the site. Interestingly a record of 1724 which records ‘Old Waterhouse’ (a decayed building of no use)’ suggests it was still standing and when it was demolished and became the bath today is unclear.
The source of water
It may seem so surprising in an area where so many wells have been capped, filled in and culverted into sewers, the water supply has been relatively constant bar when in the 1940s it was blocked with rubbish or during 1970s building work. However it has been unclear how where it comes from.in the mid 1800 it was bubbling from a hole in the floor but this was apparently patched over, then meaning by the early 1920s it entered by the north-east corner but since then it has been supplied via a settling tank at its east end.
It is probable that one of a number of lost holy wells fill it either St Clement’s Well or the Holy Well which gave Holywell street its name. Certainly the properties of the water being high in phosphate could suggest it was a medicinal spring
A remarkable survival
Despite not being as the 1838 advertising would say an ‘Old Roman Bath’ the bath’s survival is no more remarkable. In 1893, one of its users a New Oxford Street draper called Henry Glave bought the complex – he sold off the Essex bath and its building and focused on the older one refurbishing it by using the Essex Bath’s stone flooring, marble lining and wall tiles and creating changing-stalls and decorative sculpture. The family, the site being inherited by his daughters, ran the site until 1922 when it was offered for sale for £500. It was subsequently purchased by the Rector of St Clement Danes, the Reverend William Pennington Bickford. His ambition was for the bath to be restored to its Roman glory and be a major historical monument. He was supported by historian Edward Foord who wrote about its provenance. The plans never materialized and then when he died in 1941 it was bequeathed to St Clement Danes patron, Lord Exeter. Then through various complications it ended with it being taken over by the National Trust but controlled by Westminster Council who would organise the day to day maintenance. After some decorations it was opened once more to the public in June 1951.
On a recent Open London Day I was able to have a closer look again. The site is remarkable as being still full of water in a city with demands on water and a plus are the remarkable Dutch tiles. Of course no one is able to take a bath in it but it remains a curious relic of London’s cold bath system – the only one remaining of many in the city
Hidden deep in the woods on St. Anne’s Hill is the mysterious St Ann’s or Nun’s well…mysterious for many reasons, least of all its difficulty in finding (although read at the end of a sure-fire way to find it)
St Ann’s well or Catholic folly?
Although the first account of the well is by John Aubrey in his 1718 Surrey he describes it as:
“Westwards of this Town, on a steep Hill, stood St Anne’s Chapel, where, in the Time of the Abbots, was Mass said every Morning… Near the Top of the Hill is a fine clear Spring, dress’d with squar’d Stone.”
Manning and Bray in their 1809 History and Antiquities of Surrey similarly do not name it only stating it was:
“a spring, lined on the sides with hewn stone”
It is only in S.C. Hall’s 1853 Chertsey and neighbourhood that the name appears. It is also curious that the the current structure does not resemble that shown in Hall’s work either more in keeping with Aubrey’s description. It is probable that as the site was gaining a more religious name that it was getting a new structure. This is probably to do with the then owners of the hill, Lord and Lady Holland, who had converted to Roman Catholicism which would explain the improvements in 1850s and its associated with the saint and closer affinity to the chapel. This lending it to the idea of being a sort of romanticised folly.
The chapel itself is first mentioned in 1402 as the capella Sancte Anne is recorded although a chapel was licensed in 1334, but in 1440 St Anne’s hill was still the “hill of St Anne… otherwise called Eldebury Hill.” when a fair was granted which continues today although not unbroken as the Blackcherrry Fair in the town. The chapel is associated with an Abbey which was founded by St Erkenwald in 666 and such the cradle of Christianity in Surrey but it is a big jump to assume the well dates from then. This chapel remains on the hill, the guide in the car park refers to a mound near the house but the nearby mysterious Reservoir cottage incorporated most. However, it is improbable that a considerable amount of water would have been left untapped. The area was a hill fort whose exact history is unclear due to the predations over the centuries, but a Bronze Age date has been suggested.
A Topographical History of Surrey by Edward Brayley and Edward Mantell (1850) state
“and up to within recent years the country folk round about have been used to fetch away water from it, in the belief that it has virtues as an eye lotion. It has a strong taste of iron; would that be good for the eyes?”
Manning and Bray in their 1809 History and Antiquities of Surrey were stating that the waters were:
“not now used for any medicinal purpose. It rarely freezes when other springs do”.
Yet Hall (1853) under the name Nun’s Well states that:
“even now, the peasants believe that its waters are a cure for diseases of the eyes.”
Looking at its dirty murky waters today one would suggest it might cause as many eye problems as it cures!
Ghostly goings on!
Long in his 2002 Haunted Pubs of Surrey records the legends associated with the hill. It is possible that the nun’s well name may derive from a legend of a murder of a nun at St Ann’s convent who was buried in a sandpit. The veracity of this story and even the location of a convent is unclear. The well, it is said being the resort of the nun:
“whose deep begging signs can be heard on certain nights…on such a day, this place reeks of remorse, suffering or sorrow.”
On a spring evening with no one around one could quite imagine such ghostly cries.
A prehistoric landscape
In A Topographical History of Surrey by Brayley and Mantell (1850) it notes:
“Another curiosity is the so-called Devil’s Stone, or Treasure Stone. Aubrey calls this “a conglobation of gravel and sand,” and says that the inhabitants know it as “the Devil’s Stone, and believe it cannot be mov’d, and that treasure is hid underneath.” There have been many searchers after the treasure. One of them once dug down ten feet or more, hoping to come to the base of the huge mass, but his task grew unkinder as he got deeper, and he gave it up. He might well do so, for what is pretty certain is that he was trying to dig up St. Anne’s Hill. All over the face of the hill there are masses of this hard pebbly sandstone cropping up, though they are not so noticeable as the so-called Devil’s Stone because they are flat and occasionally crumbling, and have not had their sides laid bare by energetic treasure-seekers.”
Such stones are often found in conjunction with stones and the treasure may suggest the giving of votive offerings. The combination of a healing spring, an ancient stone and as the name of the hill might suggest a sacred tree is something of considerable interest to those interesting in sacred landscapes and suggests a possible old cult hereabouts. The existence of a ghostly nun may also be significant, there are near identical legends at Canwell and Newington Kent and, the later associated with another Devil’s stone. Do they remember old pagan deities, water spirits who lived by the spring? But this is the only evidence, the old writers are silent on anything more! My musing are just that musings!
The well today is indeed a substantial is ruined structure. It resembles an ice well in structure, its plan being a key shape with a rectangular basin and a dome over the source, although this is difficult to locate. Much of the dome has been weathered and ruined by the ages and being built into the earthen back this has preserved it. The brick work is a curious mix of redbrick, iron slag, cobbles and some older possible reused squared medieval stone work.
Another healing spring?
In their A Topographical History of Surrey by Brayley and Mantell (1850) again:
“Another Spring, once highly reputed for its medicinal virtues, rises on the north-east side of the hill, in the wood or coppice called Monk’s Grove, which gives name to the seat inhabited by the Right Hon. Lady Montfort. This spring, according to Aubrey, had been long covered up and lost; but was again found and re-opened two or three years before he wrote. The water is now received into a bason about twelve feet square, lined with tiles. “
James Rattue in his indispensable 2008 Holy wells of Surrey found this site stating that it resembled in part the Nun’s well and was clearly part of the landscapers attempt to improve the area. It was a dry circle of brickwork and filled with leaves. He describes it as being on the flat part of the hill. However with his instructions, OS reference and old maps showing a spring I failed to find it – although I did find another spring overgrown in the rhododendrons.
However, despite this author and others claims I did find the Nun’s well easy and here the fail-safe way to find it. Don’t go through the car park and continue along the road, passing the second car parking area in the dingle and then as the lane drops just past a house on the right there is a signposted public footpath. Take this and continue until passing a crossroads of another public footpath just past a hedge in the field on the left. As you past this and before the path you are on drops into a series of wooden steps there is a path to the right where the Nun’s well can be seen – simple! Good luck!
The other noticeable spring, (see here for the other) in the picturesque suburb of Carshalton is St. Margaret’s Well. It appears to be an obvious holy well with that name, however it may not that clear cut. The area was redeveloped by the noted John Ruskin, social reformer, philanthropist, art critic and environmentalist, as a memorial to his mother. A rectangular stone reading:
“In obedience to the giver of Life,
of the brooks and fruits that fed it,
and the peace that ends/may this well be kept sacred,
for the service of men’s flocks and flowers,
and be by kindness called/Margaret’s well.”
This pool was beautifie and endowed by John Ruskin Esq M.A.,L.L.D.,/1876.”
Ruskin kept detailed notes on the work to repair the site. He wrote of his first intentions he mused:
“Half-a-dozen men, with one day’s work could cleanse these pools and trim the flowers about the banks…”
By 1872 Ruskin he was repairing the site using George Brightling, a local historian to help him and it is his letters of correspondence which tell us something of the work done on it. As the area was a manorial waste, Ruskin had to get approval from the manor court and in 1872 they agreed that Ruskin:
“be at liberty to make improvements to the rear of the Police Station by forming a Dipping Well with a pathway thereto and outlet from the pond, and in so doing to give the same facilities for the use of the water as now exist and to clear out the pond at his own expense and to continue to do so and to plant shrubs and flowers by the paths.”
This is clearly suggests that there was not a well already on the site, but whether there was a spring which already bore the name is not clear. By April 12th that year Ruskin had asked Mr Scott to draw up plans and to protect the opening from all possibility of pollution and to face the wall above the pond with stone. A further letter from from a Gilbert Scott to Brightling dated 15 April 1872 describe:
“It consists mainly of a facing of the central part of the wall – say equal to those central arches – with marble – I would say a foot thick, with projecting counter- points from the piers of – say – 2 to 2½ ft projection, & 3 ft wide. I think that the side arches of his work will not be so wide as the present side arches, though the central arch will coincide with the present one in width. The main thing probably is the foundation for all this, which must be based on whatever substratum there is capable of supporting the work..”
However, the marble fountain was never constructed. By 1877 it was basically constructed and every photos show a rustic wooden bridge over the outflow and similarly rustic fencing. Today, the pool is very rarely full of water, but the decorative remain and most can be seen peering through the railings. Beside the railings on the footpath remains the dipping well supplied by a pump…sadly dry.
Holy Well or not?
Whitaker in his Water supplies of Surrey calls it Lady or St. Margaret’s Pond. The spring is certainly the main one of the settlement that referred to in the place name of Auueltone in 675. Sadly, the church which can aid in identifying holy wells is called All Saints. On reflection I think it is likely considering Ruskin’s concern for nature that he found a well named the same his mother rather than invent it. One hopes that a modern day Ruskin could tidy it up once again!
Interested in Surrey holy wells? Check out James Rattue’s Holy wells of Surrey.- an indispensable guide
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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At this site alone one can see how vital the holy well was for the community and how much wealth it could generate. Indeed, the name a quite difficult to pronounce Llanrhaeadr-yng-Nghinmeirch is related to the well or rather the waterfall it produces beside the church (Llan).
Before visiting the well, I recommend a visit to the church. A grand and imposing edifice with a splendid roof and its chief treasure – its Jesse Window – why? This is because it was said to have been paid for from offerings from the well. Fortunately, it was removed and was buried at the time of the Commonwealth and thus was preserved.
From behind the church an archway leads over a stream and through a woodland towards this mighty of all Welsh holy wells. The route has been considerably improved with fine brick arches, giving an idea of the grandeur of this site. Once there it does not disappoint being a large bath structure. A considerably flow of water arises here clear and clean from two springs one possibly called Fynnon Fair. Indeed, the 16th century Leland antiquarian noted it was:
“a mighty spring that maketh a brook running scant a mile”
The water fills a large bath stone lined bath, said to have a marble bottom and under an archway tumbling to form the stream. The water appears to be petrifying forming interesting smooth incrustations to the north-west of the bath and entering the pool.
The well had a long history of use. It had become established along the Medieval pilgrim route to Holywell and was said to have cured a number of ills. Unlike other sites its fame and attendance continued well beyond the Reformation. Francis Jones (1955) in his Holy Wells of Wales that in the 16th century an unnamed bard defends the saint and his well stating he reveres Dyfnog’s effigy, accepts his miracles, praises his miracle-working well and gives grace to all nations and cures all ills – dumbmess, deafness, y frech wenwynig. later Edward Lhuyd 1698 Parochialia records its survival of use:
“a bath, much frequented, the water heals scabs, itches etc, some say that it would cure the pox.”
A hermit’s penance!
St. Dyfnog was a hermit who is said to have lived by the spring in the 6th century. It is also claimed that the spring gained its healing properties from a regular penance the saint would do in the water. He is said to have worn a hair shirt being belted by an iron chain. Very little is known beyond this.
Two wells for the price of one
The considerable flow which in times of heavy rainfall is often a threat to the fabric of the well, in particular the remains of the arches through which the water tumbles and falls. One of the reasons for this is that as Lhuyd in 1698 records there are actually two wells. Unsurprisingly, the one above the main spring is called Ffynnon Fair (St. Mary’s Well) which flows forming some curious calcified hummocks suggesting it has petrifying properties.
Holy well or folly?
The most impressive feature of the well is the very large rectangular bath (xxx ) A structure which is far more representative of a cold plunge bath than a holy well. Together with accounts of its marble lining and surrounding statues this was clearly developed foremost as a folly it would seem presumable for Llanrhaeadr Hall.
Alternatively these were improvements to help visitors as Browne Willis in the early 18th century records:
“the famous well of St Dyfnog, much resorted to, and on that account provided with all convenience of rooms etc, for bathing, built around it.”
All sadly gone, although the remains of the walls of these may be traced nearby. However, despite the forlorn appearance of this well it is one of the few sites where this is active restoration, although the blog has not been updated since 2013, a visit in 2015 suggestions the plan to restore is still very much on the books, with plans for a £300,000 religious tourist attraction, environmental and education facility – the well now has a separate visitors book in the church! So please donate if you can to this most impressive and evocative of Welsh wells.
Boughton is a curious place, a place of desolation and decline…it’s ancient parish church lies ruined, now a distance from its settlement, its famed fair forgotten, its great Hall gone and its estate overgrown and little visited. It is a settlement which is associated with a number of noted ancient wells –two of which can be visited and one as yet mysteriously untraceable.
The easier to find is that at the ruined church of St John’s. Called St John’s Well it lies in its shadow creating a picturesque scene of forlornness. Despite a supposed medieval origin, the church is first recorded in the 13th century, its first mention is by Baker (1822–30) in his History of Northamptonshire:
“St John the Baptist, whose name is appended both to the church and the spring in the church yard.”
In William Whellan’s 1849 History of Northamptonshire states:
“St John’s spring which rises from the east bank of the church yard formerly furnished the element for the holy rite of baptism, but now supplies the water for culinary purposes at the fair’”
This fair was what the settlement was famed for. Being a three-day chartered event being established in 1351. It was focused around the feast of St John the Baptist suggesting it was based on the patronal festival of the now ruined church. Nothing is left of the fair, its last vestige, the Shepherd’s Race turf maze cut on a triangular piece of church overlooked by the church, survived to the first world war when practice trenches were cut across it, obliterating in once and for all, although some accounts suggest it survived until 1946.
Beeby Thompson (1913–14) in his Peculiarities of Water and wells describes it as:
“enclosed on all sides but one by stone local sandstone apparently like the main portion of the church the opening to the east being approximately one yard square. The covering slab had on it a cross fleury.”
This covering slab I have never been able to find, perhaps the earth has built up too much since, yet it was pleasing to see that on a recent visit the site had even improved since my first in the 1980s, when the nettles and bramble were virtually enclosed upon it and the church. This was certainly the experience of Mark Valentine who in his 1985 Holy Wells of Northamptonshire noted:
“When I last visited this site, the Spring trickled into a ditch which was chocked up with abandoned refuse. With a little imagination, this spot could be the scene of a wayside park, with appropriate displays to recall its past glories. As it is, it remains tumbledown and forlorn.”
Perhaps they heeded his word? Now the grass it kept short and the water flows quite freely the outflow protected by a curb of stones. While it is not exactly a country park, there are information boards and it is more cared for. Yet despite the tidy up there’s still a rather otherworldy feel when one peers inside the chamber and the place does have an unquiet feeling – perhaps because of the ghost of Captain Slash! (but that is another story)
Even more otherworldly is the Grotto Well or Petrifying Spring, a spring which arises within a simple Grade II listed Grotto in the estate of Boughton Hall. Although grotto is perhaps a rather too enticing name for what is basically a limestone rubble hemisphere beneath an earth mound and consisting of unadorned stone walls. The whole structure interestingly seems devoid of cement or mortar. It was constructed by William Wentworth, the second Earl of Stratford around 1770. The spring itself being the supply for his artificial lake which lay at the bottom of the valley.
However he could have improved upon an earlier structure for a local A local legend tells that when Charles I was imprisoned at nearby Holdenby House in 1647 he visited the spring. He is said to have bathed in it and used the grotto as a changing room. This suggests that there was a structure predating the 1770s one ascribed to it. Indeed this association may have started when the King was sent a skull said to have been petrified in the waters of the well. The Northamptonshire Mercury of 25th August 1810 records:
“At Boughton is a spring, conceived to turn wood into stone. The truth is that it doth encrust anything with stone. I’ve seen a skull bought thence to Sydney Sussex College in Cambridge, candied over with stone…The skull was sent for by King Charles the First to satisfy his curiosity and again returned to the college.”
Although it was indeed loaned to Charles I and according to a letter written by the college to the author Simon Scott to The Follies of Boughton Park it still survives. It is housed in a wooden box dated 1627. However before head cult theorists get too excited the origins of the skull are dubious. The skull of what appears to be a child’s, are Cretian not Northamptonshire! Was it a hoax to support a project to advertise the well or a simple mistake. Is it the correct skull? Is the association with Charles correct or is it a confusion with the bathing legend. All in all it is a confused story.
Charles Kimbell in 1946 in the Boughton Parish magazine wrote that:
“The spring cascaded into a gloomy pond whose waters were black through layers of decomposing leafage…about 50 years ago my father made a water pit under the archway and piped the stream out of the little wood and down the valley. And so the petrifying spring was incorporated into the village xx system without apparently any ill effects on consumers.”
Our third and final peculiar water source, to quote Beeby’s phrase, was the Marvel-Sick. The account by topographer John Morton (1712) Natural history of Northamptonshire recording:
“THIS spring is in Boughton Field, near Brampton Bridge, near the Kingsthorpe Road; it is of great note with the common people. It never runs but in mighty gluts of wet, and whenever it does so, it is thought ominous by the country people, who consider these breakings out of the spring to foretell dearth, the death of some great person, or very troublesome times.”
This is a common folk motif based on geology, a woe water, the name sick referring to an old English word for stream still current in Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire place names. Where was this stream? It is impossible to say with any certainty however Brampton Bridge to the west can still be found and the road which crosses it does go to Kingsthorpe. No spring is marked on the map but there area does have a number of streams. Is this one? Of course in a way this a spring we don’t want to find, warn as it does of war…another word of warning should you go looking for Boughton’s surviving springs don’t go in high summer…as your journey to find the grotto well will involve a considerable fight against the undergrowth.
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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If one walks up a small lane into the woods above Henley on Thames, just north of the village of Wargrave is one of the country’s largest, most attractive but little known wells. A holy well, although the evidence is lacking to confirm, but a source who’s Victorian community was so much dependent upon that the local vicar decided that it must be Christianised once and for all.
That the site has ancient origin is probably indicated by the name, Crazies hill, some authorities believe it which from the O.E cray meaning clean water and its waters were said to be health giving probably because of the local water was boggy.
Its old name is said to be Rebra, although it is known as Rebekah now, named after the Old Testament prophetess, indeed the Rebra name sounds more like a contraction of this than an original name as there is no evidence of its name before the current improvements. These improvements were down by the local Reverend Greville Phillimore who in 1870 decided it was necessary to improve and sanitise the supply. It was subsequently called Phillimore’s spring.
Phillimore constructed a considerable building for the well. The spring flows into a round shaped basin which is enclosed in the arch of a 10 foot high brick edifice, plastered over to an exposed brink face upon which is the well’s most eye catching and unique facet, a painting which illustrates Rebecca and a servant, standing at the well of Nahor. Either side of the scene as the following inscriptions:
“Rebeka and the Servants of Abraham at the well of Nahor. And the servants ran to meet her and said let I pray thee drink a little water of thy pitcher”.
The well house has a conical tiled roof with gabled frontage with an iron gate which prevents the idle falling in perhaps. At the back is a caved stone inscription with a stone in a segmental stone panel. The structure deserves to be better known being that its artwork was designed by famed garden designer Gertrude Jekyll (1843-1932) and thus makes it unique in the country.
“let I pray thee drink a little water of thy pitcher”
So said Abraham when he met Rebecca at Nahor and she was is remembered as providing water for Mesopotamian camels. Therefore as someone who provided water for thirsty villagers of this small Berkshire community.