Latest Folklore

Kathleen Wiltshire, in her 1973 ‘Ghosts and legends of the Wiltshire Countryside’ mentions a barrow on Knighton Down, north of Stonehenge, where a ghostly dog is said to be seen.

She calls the barrow ‘Doghill Barrow’ but I’m unable to find other references to this. However, as Knighton Longbarrow is the only barrow I can see up here on Knighton Down, I’m willing to bet they’re one and the same. Though if someone with local knowledge knows better..

The idea of dark ghostly dogs – sometimes hellhounds foretelling Bad Things – is common in Wiltshire folklore (as it is in various other parts of the country).

Craig Weatherhill, in ‘Cornovia: Ancient Sites of Cornwall & Scilly’ (Cornwall Books – 1985, revised 1997 & 2000), mentions that “local tradition warns that any attempt to dig the barrow will invoke violent thunderstorms”.

Craig Weatherhill and Paul Devereux, in ‘Myths and Legends of Cornwall’ (Sigma Leisure, 1994) write that the Giant’s “sightless petrified head is said to protrude from an outcrop at the eastern end of this impressive hill, while his hand, also turned to stone, can be found at the opposite end of the great system of prehistoric earthworks which surround two of it’s three summits. Later tradition gives this giant the unlikely name of John of Gaunt.”

They add that Carn Brea has one of the most remarkable examples of a mythical sacrificial rock (at SW683407)...“a huge oval boulder studded with basins and which has the name of the ‘Giant’s Crocks and Kettles’.” I think this is the rock pictured by Hamish, and to a lesser extent in one of my pics.

The reason that Carn Brea is covered in stones whilst St.Agnes Beacon is not, relates to the legend of Bolster (the giant of St.Agnes) feuding with the giant on Carn Brea and throwing all the rock around the Beacon at Carn Brea.

When Borlase was excavating the graves the excavation apparently had to be halted because of a violent and destructive thunder storm. Islanders attributed this to the wrath of the giants who lay buried here.

The panoramic plate on the Beacon gives a tale about the cairns.....“Legend has it the Giant Bolster could stand with one foot on St.Agnes Beacon and the other on Carn Brae. Giant Bolster’s wife was made to clear the neighbouring field of stones, three aprons full are seen today as barrows (burial mounds) on top of the beacon”.

I’ve also read that the two giants on St.Agnes Beacon and Carn Brea would hurl bolders across the space between the two hills, and Bolster was able to stride from the Beacon to Carn Brea with one mighty step.

Like Trencrom Hill and St.Agnes Beacon, there is a legend of a Giant of the hill. The giant feuded with the giant Bolster at St.Agnes Beacon, which is 10km (6miles) to the north.

The Carn Brae giant has several natural rocks named after him on the hill, such as The Giant’s Head, Hand, Couch and Cradle.

This stone, perforated with two circular holes, is traditionally associated with the slaughter of the two sons of Cummin of Inverlochy, in revenge for wrongs perpetrated on the bride of one of his clansmen.

Grinsell (in the Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain) reports the following story connected with the stone:

“They tried to move it and found it eight feet deep in the ground, and the tackle broke as they tried..”

If you visit Gravlaba you will see a cairn and some standing stones. But don’t look too hard just in case. One day some visitors to this site were just too nosy and they saw some Picts (fairies) dancing in the knowe to celebrate the birth of a child. These two people didn’t just intrude and stare, they tried to nick off with a keg of buttermilk that had been laid in for the party! It’s not surprising, but the Picts turned them to stone for their rudeness. The keg of buttermilk got turned to stone too (bit of a mix up with the curses I think). So there used to be three stones there, but now apparently there are only two. Perhaps the Picts eventually worked out how to get their buttermilk back.

(very likely in Grinsell’s ‘Folklore of Prehstoric Sites in Britain’)

I found an alternative version of the story in Whitlock’s ‘The Folklore of Wiltshire’ (1976).

Nearby is ‘Barrow Farm’, and the barrow lies in the field called ‘Barrow Piece’. So one imagines it must have been fairly sizeable and noticeable before excavation and ploughing?

The story in Whitlock’s book goes thus:

When Manton barrow was excavated in 1906 it was found to contain a skeleton adorned with gold, amber, bronze and lignite articles.. After excavation and reinterment of the skeleton the barrow was made up and planted with trees [?]. A widow who lived locally told a Dr JB Maurice of Marlborough (her late husband’s employer) that ‘every night since that man from Devizes came and disturbed the old creature she did come out of the mound and walk around the house and squinny into the window. I do hear her most nights and want you to give me sammat to keep her away.’ The doctor gave her some medicine telling her to go to bed in the dark immediately after taking it. Later the widow said ‘the old creature came round the cottage as usual for a few nights, but not seeing me, gave up, thinking no doubt that she had scared me away’.

batty old wife’s tale – or the truth.....

Edmund Hogg in his ‘The Golden Vale of Mobray’ (around 1910) thought the mound was from the 6th century – perhaps the artefacts were from a reuse of the barrow. His speculations are as romantic as thoughts about fairies:

A curious ancient Pack-horse Bridge (World’s End Bridge) crosses the Codbeck (very picturesque hereabouts), and from hence the path leads to a tumulus on the east bank of the stream, known as ’ Pudding Pie Hill,” perhaps from its resemblance to a pie or pudding. The hill was opened about fifty years ago, and was found to be a funeral mound and contained skeletons, some in crouched postures. There were funeral urns mid other relics found, which were presented by Lady Frankland Russell to the York Museum. Until the mound was opened its origin had been a source of conjecture. Even Jefferson, the historian of Thirsk, says it was originally raised on which to build a watch tower for the Mowbray Castle of Thirsk. A most strange and foolish guess when we consider the height of the land immediately behind it. All speculation was set at rest by the excavation under the command of Lady Frankland Russell in 1855. The mound has probably been the burial place of a small band or the first Anglian settlers in this district, say about early in the 6th century. In the centre of the barrow, and 16 feet from the surface, lay the skeleton of a warrior of more than ordinary size. His legs and arms were crossed, his shield had rested on his breast, but the central boss of it only remained with the rivets which had held it to the wood. By his right side lay the handle of a sword, so that lie had probably been buried in full dress, with all his arms and accoutrements.

On the evidence, this warrior and leader of the band who had followed him hither from their homeland beyond the sea, had been first buried and then the huge mound raised over him, and afterwards the members of his clan had been laid to rest on either side and above, and further soil heaped over their bodies. The circumference of the mound at the base being upwards of 160 yards, and the height about 17 feet.

Legend has it that a golden image is buried in this tumulus. One night, a long time ago, some local people thought they would dig it up. As they began in the moonlight, they heard the sound of horse’s hooves – and looking up saw the apparition of a headless man on horseback, clutching his severed head under his arm. Understandably they were terrified and abandoned their plan instantly, fleeing into the night. No-one has attempted to claim the treasure since.

(theme collected by Grinsell in ‘folklore of prehistoric sites’)

The story is probably retold in many books, but certainly in Devereux’s ‘Haunted Land’ and forms part of his article in Fortean Times here.

Just one word of caution – Devereux claims ‘the figure clearly saw’ Dr Clay. Is this really apparent in his actual statement above – the figure turned to him, but does that mean it saw him?. It doesn’t particularly tally with the Doctor’s theorising which followed his experience: Peter Underwood, a writer on the supernatural, described in his ‘Ghosts and how to see them’ in 1993 that Dr Clay felt such images were ‘a cinema of time’ replaying certain emotion-charged moments at particular times to particular sensitive people. He also had had a vision of his brother when he was killed in the first world war, for whatever relevance you may see in that. A search of the internet revealed Clay was in charge of at least one dig in Wiltshire – I wonder if his colleagues knew about his unorthodox experiences?

Kathleen Wiltshire also records the tale in her 1984 ‘More Ghosts and Legends of the Wiltshire Countryside’, though she doesn’t say specifically where she heard it. A number of local people were asked about the sighting: an old shepherd was said to say “Do you mean the man on the horse that comes out of the opening in the pine wood?”

Haltadans means the ‘limping dance’. Trows (the little people) often went there to dance in the light of the full moon. One night they got a bit carried away and danced on until the sunrise – and they were turned to stone. The two stones in the middle (originally there may have been three) are the fiddlers who played for them. Around these is the earth and stone circle, with the originally standing stones around the outside.

Over to the northwest are three cairns – these are know as the fiddlers’ crus (the fiddlers’ enclosures).

The tune they were allegedly said to have played is in a book from 1642, and reprinted in the Shetland Folk Book II of 1952. This interesting tome contains a number of tunes actually sung by fairies which were collected over the years. Truly.

(folklore from Grinsell’s folklore of british prehistoric sites)

According to the Pub Barstaff, the bluestone directly in front of the Deleval Arms is not the original, but was placed as a decoy to prevent drunken locals damaging the original, which has been dumped in the beer garden at the back of the pub.

It’s also said that the correct spelling is ‘Blewstone’ and that this refers to the stone’s original status as the ‘ancient saxon oath stone’ that was previously in the centre of the now demolished village of Hartley.

The immediate area is dripping with macabre folklore regarding the Deleval family, who had a reputation for madness, wild parties and witch-burning.

According to ‘County Folklore Vol IV, Northumberland’, 1904, by MC Balfour, this stone was known as the witches obelisk. It had a variation of an old common theme which said that if you were to run round it seven times without stopping, ‘The Witch’ would appear.

Here’s the text on display in the Deleval Arms Hotel:

“The Blue whinstone at the Old Hartley, near the entrance to the Deleval Arms Hotel, once marked the centre of the village of Old Hartley. A number of these large stones can be seen at various places on the Northumberland coast.
It is generally supposed that they rolled down during the ice age when the ice moved from west to east at the time of the great thaw.
In the early English and Saxon periods, they were called ‘Moot Stones’ and were used as a meeting place by the ‘Wittan’, a council of Village elders who gathered to formulate the laws and dispense justice.
During Norman times these stones were used as markers for castles and boundaries.
“Ye large Blew Stone marked ye site of Warkworth Castle” and at Mokseaton, “Ye Boulder Stone was a large “Blew Stone” near ye burn”.
The Old Hartley Blue Stone marked the centre of the village and stood near the Blacksmith’s shop, it was here that the villagers would meet before setting out on a journey.
At the time of the black death in 1348 it was thought that if one touched the stone they would be immune from the plague.
Over the years the stone became a symbol of good fortune and it was said to become a citizen of Old Hartley you had first to kiss the Blue Stone.
The Story goes that William Carr, the Hartley Samson, who was born at the Hartley Old Engine, and who was in his prime was the strongest man in all England, used to demonstrate his strength by lifting the stone and carrying it under his arm.
When the old village was demolished in 1940, the stone was buried in the path leading from the Blacksmith’s shop to the PM chapel and when the new road was planned, Mr Wesley Dickinson removed the stone for safe keeping. When the roadworks were completed in 1973, the Whitley Bay Borough Council replaced the stone as near as possible to it’s original position.”

According to C.T. Trechmann in 1913, the area immediately to the east of the stone yielded evidence of prehistoric flintworking.
Whilst this proves nowt about the age of the stone, the concentration of flints opposite St Mary’s island was in direct contrast with the paucity of similar evidence between this area and the mouth of the Tyne.

‘Notes on Neolithic Chipping Sites in Northumberland and Durham’ (Transactions Natural History Society of Northumberland, Durham and Newcastle, 2, IV pt. 1, p. 81)

“On the Moor above the village (Cotherstone) is a stone called the Butterstone, whereat a market was held once during a time of plague, and near it is a farmstead, once a school whereat Richard Cobden was at one time a pupil. It is said of this village that once upon a time the folk were so irreverent and Godless as to0 christen calves in open contempt of the sacrament of baptism, and that hence sprang up a derisive saying – “Cotherstone, where they christen calves, hopple loups and kneeband spiders.” “To hopple a loup” means to tie the legs of a flea together; “To kneeband a spider” is not so easy of explanation”
From
The Enchanting North by J.S. Fletcher.
Pub 1908

” A musing stroll across the heath from Studland, brings you to the Aggllestone, the holy stone (Helig – Anglo-Saxon for holy) hurled by the devil on to the crest of a hillock rising above the peaty waste. Fiends often do dress like angels, and it is certainly hard to detect anything of the devil when the Madonna-blue chalices of that visionary flower, Gentiana pneumonanthe, are open on the heath. But devils did traffic with holy stones in archaic England, for devils were once gods themselves fallen from heaven upon evil days, the days when the usurping Celts looked with dread upon the works of their predecessors. For the Agglestone is a menhir”.
Taken from
Downland Man by H.J. Massingham
Pub 1927 by Jonathan Cape

Fitzcoraldo’s account mentions the classic motif that once the man had crossed ‘the first beck’ and put moving water between himself and the hobs, he was safe. Grinsell notes a version of the story, which was told to Raymond Hayes by a local in 1938. The important point here is that the beck was specifically named as the Gypsey Race. Rather grossly, when the man got there the fairies were just catching up with him, and they cut off the back half of the horse, which hadn’t quite crossed the stream. He escaped clinging to the forequarters, which managed to struggle ashore!
The Gypsey Race is right by Willy Howe, so our hero didn’t have far to go, luckily!

I hope Fitzcoraldo won’t mind me reiterating the folklore he’s recorded, because I was fascinated with the extra bit I found out. Apparently the story originally comes from something written by William Newburgh – and considering he died in 1198, that’s proof that the story is pretty old. Often tales were only written down in the Victorian era, and then you can say they’re only Victorian romanticism – but this time it suggests that stories with the same themes and motifs go back a long way. It’s interesting that the Gypsey Race should get first billing. The ‘unknown material’ of the goblet is also interesting and even reminds me of modern tales of alien abduction rather than fairy abduction.

This stone was thrown by the giant of Papa Stour at the giant of Mavis Grind. It weighs about 20 tons.

(from Grinsell’s folklore of prehistoric sites)

Sir Walter Scott visited the stone in 1814. He mentions it in chapter 19 of The Pirate:

“The lonely shepherd avoids the place, for at sunrise, high noon, or sunset, the misshapen form of the necromantic owner may sometimes wtill be seen sitting by the Dwarfie Stone.”

Later in the book he describes the ‘witch’ Norna’s visits to it to communicate with the troll who lives there.

In the 17th century at least, it was considered to be the home of a giant and his wife, with the stone inside their bed, and a hollowed area in it showing where the pregnant wife slept. Though judging by the size of it, a ‘dwarfie’ would fit better than a giant!

A late 16th century tradition suggested that the hole in the roof was gnawed by a giant who was trapped inside, after another giant blocked the entrance with a stone.

(info from Grinsell’s folklore of prehistoric sites)

An echo is called, in Icelandic, ‘dverg-mal’ or dwarf-talk, and there is said to be a fine echo from under the Dwarfie Hamars. Then there is Trowie (Troll’s) Glen to the westward of the stone. A troll or trow in old Icelandic lore is a huge creature or giant, mostly in an evil sense. Mr Heddle states that Trowie Glen is still considered an uncanny spot, and that people will go a mile or two out of their way rather than pass it after dark. In Jamieson’s Scottish Dictionary, under Hill-Trows, it is stated that the superstitious in some places endeavour to bribe the trows by leaving an offering of food for them every night, being persuaded that otherwise they would destroy the family before morning. Probably this accounts for the offerings mentioned by Dr. Clouston as being left in the Dwarfie Stone.

From Alfred W Johnston’s ‘The ‘Dwarfie Stone’ of Hoy, Orkney’ in the Reliquary for April 1896.

And speaking of echoes, the ones in the tomb itself don’t sound much better: check out the tale at the bottom of this Everything2 page
everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1524143&lastnode_id=1372629

More folklore connected with Callanish is that it was a traditional place to exchange betrothal vows. Any marriage consummated amongst the stones would be especially happy.

(from Grinsell’s collected folklore of prehistoric sites)

TomBo’s story below is very reminiscent of the story told at Mitchell’s Fold.
In ‘the Secret Country’ the Bords add the weird information that the white cow (white with red ears perhaps – a typical otherworldly animal) appeared ‘in the sea’ at this time of famine. It politely interrupted a woman who was so desperate she was intent on drowning herself – telling her to go to the Callanish stones with her neighbours and a couple of pails. I wonder why it should have originated in the sea?

Clach an Trushal might mean ‘stone of compassion’, or maybe ‘stone of gathering’. It’s the largest standing stone on Lewis at 5.8m high and allegedly was erected to mark a victory by the Morisons of Ness over their enemies the MacAulays of Uig.

(I probably read this in Mr Grinsell’s ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’ (1976)).

The Odin stone, long the favorite trysting-place in summer twilights of Orkney lovers, was demolished in 1814 by a sacrilegious farmer, who used its material to assist him in the erection of a cowhouse. this misguided man was a Ferry-Louper (the name formerly given to strangers from the south), and his wanton destruction of the consecrated stone stirred so strongly the resentment of the peasantry in the district that various unsuccessful attempts were made to burn his house and holdings about his ears.

(County Folk-Lore, vol. 3: Examples of Printed Folk-Lore Concerning the Orkney & Shetland Islands, collected by G. F. Black and edited by Northcote W. Thomas (London: Folk-Lore Society, 1903).

online at pitt.edu/~dash/monuments.html

Sir Walter Scott used these beliefs in his book ‘The Pirate’ (chapters 22 and 33).

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At the OrkneyJar webpages
orkneyjar.com/history/historicalfigures/pirategow/
you can read about the ‘Stromness Pirate’ John Gow, who was hanged in London in 1725. It is said that he was engaged to the daughter of a Stromness merchant, and that they’d pledged their betrothal by joining hands through the Odin Stone. After he was hanged, his poor girlfriend (it is said) had to travel all the way to London, to touch his hand and so release her from the oath. What a terrible thought. You rather hope the story isn’t true.

Stukeley wrote that the country people “make merry with cakes, figs, sugar, and water fetched from the ‘Swallow head’.” (see ‘Swallowhead Springs.)

It has been suggested that this ceremony had some connexion with the gospel story of the barren fig tree, but it is much more probable that the tradition has a very early origin. As a matter of fact the cakes were mostly made with raisins which are called figs by natives of Wessex.

from Wanderings in Wessex by Edric Holmes (date?)
online at project gutenberg:
gutenberg.org/dirs/1/1/4/1/11410/11410-h/11410-h.htm