Latest Folklore

Everywhere, in the Highlands, the red-deer are associated with the Fairies, and in some districts, as Lochaber and Mull, are said to be their only cattle. [...] In other parts of the Highlands, as in Skye, though the Fairies are said to keep company with the deer, they have cows like those of men. In Skye, Fairy cattle are said to be speckled and red (crodh breac ruadh), and to be able to cross the sea.

It is not on every place that they graze. There were not above ten such spots in all Skye. The field of Annat (achadh na h-annaid), in the Braes of Portree, is one. When the cattle came home at night from pasture, the following were the words used by the Fairy woman, standing on Dun Gerra-sheddar (Dun Ghearra-seadar), near Portree, as she counted her charge:

“Crooked one, dun one,
Little wing grizzled,
Black cow, white cow,
Little bull black-head,
My milch kine have come home,
O dear! that the herdsman would come!”

Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, by J G Campbell (1900).

To complicate matters, MacGregor (The Peat-Fire Flame, 1937) mentions this story, but also another which is clearly based in exactly same area, and has the same rhyme, but this time the fairy cows are being called back to the sea, rather than to the Dun:

[...] the faery cows that once came ashore at the Great Rock of MacNicol, on the farm of Scorribreac, in Skye. On this occasion, the entire herd was intercepted in its attempt to return to the sea, by the scattering of earth on the strip of land separating it from the water. In the Highlands and Western Isles it was held that a sprinkling of earth taken from a burying-ground was most efficacious in such circumstances.

Toward the evening of the day on which the faery cattle came ashore at Scorribreac, a voice from the sea was heard calling them back by name. And the names by which they were called were taken down at the time. These names, of course, were in the Gaelic; and the Gaelic rhyme by which they are remembered is still known among those interested in these matters. The rhyme illustrates, moreover, that these faery cows varied considerably in colour. One was brown; and another was black. There was a red one, and a brindled one, and so on. In response to the voice from the sea, the whole herd ultimately returned to its watery element.

Alleged offspring of the thorn, a long way from Wearyall Hill, but still in Somerset, just west of Crewkerne.

”Pulman’s Weekly News says that a piece of the original Glastonbury Thorn is growing in the garden of a cottage between Hewish and Woolmingston. For several years past, the tree – or, rather, a small bush – has been visited at midnight on Old Christmas Eve by people who vow that the bush actually blossomed while they were watching it, and became bare again shortly afterwards.

On Friday night, the number of ‘pilgrims’ to this shrine was at least 200 – from Crewkerne, Misterton, and other places – and those who came to scoff remained – if not ‘to pray’ at least to be convinced of the wonderful phenomenon. They say that at half-past eleven not a sign of a flower could be seen, but that at midnight every twig of one side of the bush was covered with delicately-tinted May light blossoms.”

This paragraph appeared in a Crewkerne paper, and was copied, among others, by a Yeovil paper having a circulation of some 25,000 copies in Somerset and the neighbouring counties. Strange to say, however, it has not been contradicted nor even queried so far as I have been able to ascertain. The natives seem quite capable of “swallowing” the above and a great deal more about “the holy thorn.” This notice in a scientific journal may be the means of causing some of your curious readers to endeavour to throw a little light on this superstition or phenomenon – whichever they may decide it to be. -- W. Macmillan, Castle Cary.

From Hardwicke’s Science Gossip, 1877, v8, p95.

The legend behind this site is that a group of monks from the area would gather for feasts and debaucheries with local lords in the forest. Saint Meen passing through the area encountered them and tried to encourage them to be more pious in the pursuit of a monastic life. Driving away the saint with derision and laughter divine retribution was swift in arriving, as the feasting party of monks and lords was pertified at the site of their revels.

The information board at the menhir related some of the folklore that surrounds the stone.

As well as the tale of the warring brothers, it is said that the Devil, from the high ground of nearby Mount Dol, saw Saint Samson building the cathedral at Dol. Enraged by this he launched a huge stone at the edifice, which knocked off the top of the north tower, which landing nearby became the Dolmen of Champ Dolent.

Also it is said that the stone imperceptably sinks, whenever someone dies, or in an alternate tale the moon nibbles a bit off the top of the stone each time it is full, causing it to shrink. In both tales when the stone is finally diminished to nothing it will signify the end of days.

From Canmore:

There are ‘two huge granite boulders, situated on a shelving rock over an abyss on the Loch Avon side of Cairngorm, with hand-made cups on them about a foot wide and correspondingly deep – “sitting on which is said to be efficaceous in cases of barrenness” ‘. Pilgrimages have been made to them within living memory.
A Mitchell 1875.

Mitchell and Drummond, A and J (1875) ‘Vacation notes in Cromar, Burghead, and Strathspey. Including notice of one of the supposed burial-places of St Columba’, Proc Soc Antiq Scot, vol.10
Page(s): 645

The well has long been associated with curative properties, particularly relating to skin conditions.

As well as the supposedly curing the eponymous hermit who lived at Gawton’s Stone the well waters were regularly used by local people, who used nearby stone to fashion a small rectangular bathing pool at the site.

Writing in 1686, Dr Robert Plot, in ‘The Natural History of Stafford-Shire’ states:

“There are many waters such as the water of the well at Gawton Stone…which has some reputation for the cure of the King’s evil..”
The ‘King’s evil’ being the archaic name for the disease scrofula.

There is a local story of a hermit using Gawton’s Stone as a hermitage after he was cured from the plague by Gawton’s Well.

The story of the Hermit:

Gawton / Gorton was one of the servants of Knypersley Hall when he became ill with the plague. Due to everyone thinking they too would fall ill he was forced to leave. He left and went to live in a cave (Gawton’s Stone) near Knypersley pool.

Nearby was a spring which is known as Gawton’s Well which is where he bathed every day. He also used the spring for his drinking water. The spring was believed to have the power to heal skin diseases by the locals and apparently cured Gawton of the plague.
Even though he was now healed he continued to stay at the cave and lived there till his death.

(The Biddulph Parish Register shows that a Robert Gorton died in 1611. He was buried on the 06th December).

Local legends say that if you crawl underneath the stone that the ‘Devil will be knocked of your back’, in a similar fashion to the nearby Bawd Stone, less than 10 miles away to the east.

Many local people do believe the stone has strange magical powers and gives off healing properties and a kind of magnetic field when touched.

J. D. Sainter in his “Scientific Rambles round Macclesfield” 1878 states:

‘About one mile south of Wickenstone, and near the reservoir, Knypersley Park, there may be noticed a fine spring of water flowing into two elongated stone cisterns, along with a smaller one that is circular ; and some years ago this spring was much resorted to by the sick and lame, on account of its reputed medicinal properties. A little up the valley to the right, there comes into view that huge,
singularly shaped and poised block of sandstone, named the ” gawton,” gorton, or gawstone ; from the German “gau,” a spring in a hollow or furrow, and ” stan,” a stone,
i.e. the spring near to or not far from this celebrated stone. It will weigh about 60 tons, and forms the capstone of a large sepulchral cell or dolmen that has undergone rough and degrading usage. This form of burial is of an early Scandinavian type that had been adopted in this country.‘

Information taken from the Biddulph museum website.

Hunebed D49 Schoonoord is known as the Papeloze Kerk (church without a priest), a reference to the fact that, in the 16th century, during the Eighty Years War, the Catholic heirarchy forbade Protestants to worship openly. As a result, the Protestants resorted to holding so-called Hagespreken—secret church services held in the open air—often conducted by a lay-preacher rather than a priest, hence the name.

It was rumoured that such services were conducted at the site of the Schoonoord hunebed, which in those days was not surrounded by trees, but was situated in the open treeless heathland of Ellertsveld. The hunebed provided a relatively high look-out point which meant that any uninvited intruders could be detected long before they arrived. It is reputed that Calvinist open air conventicles were held here by the Reverend Menso Alting, although there is no written evidence of this.

The name Papeloze Kerk seems to have been derived from 16th century open-air conventicles held in northern France by the church reformer Jean Calvin, which he called Église Sans Pape. However, the apellation Papeloze Kerk for hunebed D49 only seems to have come into use during the early 19th century.

Nowadays, hunebed D49 is visited yearly for a re-enactment of the hagepreken. Local protestants don historical outfits and a service with music is held around and on top of the dolmen. The service is organised by a historical fellowship, Die Luyden van ‘t Hooge Veene, and the Hervormde en Gereformeerde Kerk. Instead of preaching against the Catholic church of Rome, as was the custom in the sixteenth century, the modern service preaches on fundamental Christianity. The service is held in the regional Drents dialect.

Ah, you will say, but isn’t this a castle motte? Well it is, but as the scheduled monument record allows, the mound was dug into in the 1840s, and it’s thought that it was built onto a handy mound that already existed, a barrow.

Mr. W. Beamont, in a paper read before the Lancashire and Cheshire Historic Society, on the “Fee of Makerfield,” etc., in March, 1873, says, – “On the west side of this rivulet” (the Golbourne brook), “where the red rock rises above it, there is scooped out a rude alcove or cave, which the country people assign to Robin Hood [...]“. The stream near Newton has been blocked by an earthen embankment, and the “Castle Hill” now overlooks a beautiful artificial lake, with three branches. Robin Hood’s cave, alas! had to be sacrificed; four or five feet of water now placidly flows over the site of its former entrance.

[...] The writer further informs us that the “Castle Hill is said to be haunted by a white lady, who flits and glides, but never walks. She is sometimes seen at midnight, but is never heard to speak.

The Rev. Mr. Sibson adds -- “There is a tradition that Alfred the Great was buried here, with a crown of gold, in a silver coffin.”

From On some ancient battlefields in Lancashire by Charles Hardwick (1882).

I thought this massive split boulder on the beach at Fionnphort much more striking than the standing stone down the road. It deserves a story and it looks like it’s got a few. It’s quite different stone from the famous pink granite of the area.

I asked a local fisherman about the split rock so obvious on the beach at Fionnphort, which is known to tourists as ‘Fingal’s Rock’. The locals call it rather more curiously ‘The Swordstone’, and it does appear cleaved clean in two by a sword – the story goes that around 1870, the quarry had a lifesaving contract cancelled on a dubious quality control claim. This led to protests, the novel result of which was packing a crack in the rock with gunpowder and splitting the block in two, a symbol of the historical division between local loyalties and higher, vested powers in Scotland.

That unlikely tale is from the Stone Country blog. Or there’s the story that it’s to do with giants throwing stones at each other, as you can read at the website of the nearby Seaview B+B. Fingal’s Cave is only a reasonably-priced boat trip out to Staffa, you know, maybe that’s the inspiration for the connection. Mmm Staffa.

From archaeology.ie:

A circular hollow (diam. 0.4m; D 0.25m) in a natural rock outcrop is known locally as the ‘Wart Well’. Traditionally, the ‘well’ appeared after St Brigid’s horse left a hoof-mark in the stone. For a cure, it must be visited three times; a pin is left at the first visit and at the third visit the pins and warts will have disappeared.

The small ‘wishing stone of Mevagh’ (now missing) is said to have rested on top of the standing stone.

There are local traditions of a battle fought here by the Scots supported by cairns in Scotsburn Wood and by the name Lochan a’ Chlaidheimh, sword loch.

From Easter Ross by Alexander Polson, 1914.

An 18th century visitor tries to communicate the atmosphere:

Roche-Rocks (so called from the neighbouring village of St. Roche) are situated in the midst of an open heath, half a mile south from the road leading through Bodmin to Truro, and about six miles from the former place. The country around is naked, barren, and dreary almost beyond conception.

[...] A pile of rocks starting abruptly out of a wide green surface, and covering some space with enormous fragments on which there are only a few vestiges of incipient vegetation, form a singular scene, exhibiting a kind of wild sublimity peculiar to itself. Some of them are full sixty feet in height, and on a projection in one part stands a small Gothic building to all appearance very ancient, and tradition reports that it was once the cell of a hermit.

volume 1 of William Maton’s “Observations relative chiefly to the natural history, picturesque scenery, and antiquities of the western counties of England, made in the years 1794 and 1796.”

Moist semi-oxygenated particles of iron, it is well known, have an agglutinating power; – the AGGLESTONE, therefore, which is composed of ferrugineous sand-stone, appears to me to have been formed on the spot, and there can be no necessity for supposing that the Druids (if it be true that it is a Druidical monument) would bring so enormous a mass from a distance. --

This extraordinary insulated rock, is situated on the heath, not far from Studland, and is about eighty feet in circumference, at a medium, the height being about twenty. It is somewhat in the shape of an inverted cone. The spot whereon it stands is raised like a barrow. This circumstance occasioned the conjecture that it was erected as a monument to some British chief, interred below. Whether it was intended for a sepulchral memorial, or whether the heap of earth was thrown up only to render the top of the rock accessible, the name Agglestone (from the Saxon halig-stand, i.e. holy stone) certainly seems to shew that it was erected for some superstitious purpose.

The country people call it the Devil’s night-cap, and there is a tradition that his Satanic Majesty threw it from the Isle of Wight, with an intent to demolish Corfe Castle, but that it dropped short here!

From volume 1 of “Observations relative chiefly to the natural history, picturesque scenery, and antiquities of the western counties of England, made in the years 1794 and 1796” by William Maton.

Strange Newes From Hereford.

Sir,
My kind love and service remembred unto you and your good wife, these are to let you understand of a strange thing which happened in the Wergins upon Wednesday was sennight in the day time about 12. of the clock, a mighty wind did drive a Stone as much as 6. Oxen could well draw six-score, and ploughed a furrow a foote and a halfe deepe all the way it went, and another Stone which 12. Oxen did draw to the Wirgins many yeares since, that Stone being farre bigger then the other Stone, was carried the same time a quarter of a myle, & made no impression at all in the ground, but the Water was in the Medow a foote deepe. The bigger Stone was round and a yard and a quarter over, and about a yard deepe, the lesser Stone was a yard and halfe in length, and was made fast upon the other Stone untill the wind, and I know not what did part them, there was a man of Mr. Iames Seabornes, which was riding to Hereford, did see one of the Stones going, and as he relates, a blacke Dog going before the Stone, the man was a great distance of and put in a greate feare, other Market people doe relate it, because I would write the truth unto you, I ridde this morning to see the Stones, and as I could guesse the Stones to be carried the same distance which I have written unto you, I presume you knew the Wirgins, it is the way as we ride to Sutton, and the stones were brought to the Wirgins long since, for a Marke to know the way. All your friends here are in good health, and we wish the like to you and yours. Thus praying to God to mend these miserable times, I cease.
Your loving friend,
William Westfaling.
Hereford, Febr. the 23. 1641.

From an appendix in Memorials of the Civil War by the Rev T W Webb (v2), 1879. Apparently this strange incident was seen as one of a number of strange portents ‘attended to with intense interest and dread’ that occurred in the period leading up to the war, as the Rev explains here.

... we reach the little village of Treen, the inhabitants of which seem to be nearly all either guides to, or entertainers of, visitors to the Logan Rock, or, as its name was always formerly, the Logan Stone. This block of granite weighs about ninety tons, “yet any one, by applying his shoulder to the edge, and favouring the vibrations, can easily cause the stone to log through a very sensible angle.”

The Logan Stone, in fact, requires management, and a knowledge of its disposition, in the person attempting to rock it. On the day we visited it, one of the guides made it vibrate for several minutes by merely pressing his back against one end, whereas four gentlemen, strangers, exerted all their united strength without succeeding in making the stone move in the least degree.

This stone was thrown down, in 1824, by some seamen, but was afterwards raised again into its original position by order of the admiralty. It is said that it does not rock so well now as it did previously to its overthrow, and its appearance is certainly injured by the stone underneath it having been broken off at the edges in the process of re-erection. This stone is finely situated on the top of one of the cliffs in the narrow promontory of rocks which juts out into the sea beyond Treryn Castle. This promontory consists of three separate groups of rocks, extending nearly in a line from the castle to the sea.

The Logan Stone is situated on the island side of the middle group, and on the rocks opposite to it, nearer the castle, are two large rock-basons, about fifty yards asunder. That to the east is formed like a sofa, is about fourty inches wide, and is called the Giant’s Chair. The other is known as the Giant’s Lady’s Chair, and the tradition is that they would repose for hours in these easy seats, lovingly conversing with each other.

Treryn castle and these rocks were formerly inhabited by three giants, one lady and two gentlemen; but the latter quarrelled, I presume for the possession of the fair one, and one of them “stabbed the other in the belly with a knife,” to use the words of my informant, an octogenarian who evidently believed the tale. After this occurence, the two remaining members of the party lived happily there for many years.

This is the only Cornish tradition I have met with in which a female giant is introduced. The introduction of the incident of stabbing with a knife, the Anglo-Saxon and old English term for dagger, seems to indicate that this tradition is of great antiquity. There is a cavity underneath one of the rocks here which is called the Giant’s Cave.

Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

The village herbalists and rural advisers have not entirely fallen into disrepute. Many are the remedies, some no doubt beneficial, recommended by them. The use of some, however, are equivocal. Thus rheumatism is attempted to be cured by a “boiled thunderbolt;” in other words, a boiled celt, supposed to be a thunderbolt. This is boiled for hours, and the water then dispensed to rheumatic patients. I know not whether it be a libel that one old woman, who employed this remedy, used to express her astonishment that, keep the saucepan on the fire as long as she would, none of the celt would ever boil away.

J O Halliwell-Phillipps reporting in Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants (1861).

Hither, on the first Wednesday in May, are still annually brought crippled or maimed children. At that period a bath is formed in front of the well by stopping up the course of the little stream with pieces of turf. Each child is stripped, and then made to drop a pin into the well itself, previously to being immersed three times in the bath. My informant, a native of the parish, told me that he had hardly, if ever, known the process to fail in giving relief. He also told me that the well was sometimes called the Giant’s Well, – a title that seems inconsistent with the attribution of such great virtues.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O HAlliwell-Phillipps (1861).

On the next hill, the dreary one of Bartinney, is a monument of somewhat similar description [with a vallum and ditch], but it is in a sad state of ruin and nearly overgrown with turf and furze. The wide vallum that surrounded it can, however, be distinctly traced, as may be also the three circular enclosures near the centre, all mentioned and figured by Borlase.

There is a tradition that there were rows of seats on the inner side of the vallum, and that games or plays were performed in the centre.

According to another, hence came the giants of Bosworlas Lehau, when they were inclined for a little recreation.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

From Tresvenack we crossed the fields and moor in the direction of Mousehole, to visit another stone [..] preserved in a field adjoining the farm-house of Chyanhall. This is a block of unhewn granite, irregularly shaped, nine feet in eight, eight feet in circumference near the base, but tapering towards the top in a wedge-like form.

It now answers the ignoble purpose of a rubbing-post for the cattle; but that it was not one originally is clear, not only from its large size, but from the tradition of the neighbourhood that it is a memorial belonging to very ancient times. The labour of moving and erecting such large blocks preclude, as a general rule, any such supposition. A very old man at the farm informed me that it had been there all his days, and had always been spoken of as a stone erected by “the ancient people.”

Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

.. the celebrated stone circle called the Dawns Men, the Dance Stones, or, popularly, the Merry Maidens. This is a very perfect circle of nineteen stones which average about three feet and a-half in height above the ground, the circle itself being nearly seventy feet in diameter.

There are various country traditions which account for the existence of these stones. Some say that they were maidens who were transformed into stones for dancing on the Lord’s Day. Others assert that a man is buried under each stone. All, however, agree that the stones are placed there by supernatural agency, and that it is impossible to remove them.

An old man at Boleigh, who informed us that a farmer, having removed two or three of the stones on one occasion, was astonished to see them in their old places the next morning, was evidently displeased at the account being inconsiderately received with a smile of incredulity.

Another story respecting them is, that an attempt to drag them out of their places, although a vast horse or oxen power was engaged, utterly failed, and that the cattle employed in the task fell down, and shortly after died.

[...]

The Dawns Men were no doubt so called by the country people because the stones are placed in the order in which persons arranged themselves for an ancient dance, termed Trematheeves, which continued in vogue in Cornwall as late as the last century. Hence also probably originated the legend above mentioned; although it is to be observed that similar tales are current elsewhere to account for such-like circles of stones in Wales and other countries.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

A few minutes’ walk from the Fogou, immediately after passing the wretched little hamlet of Boleigh, brings the tourist to the two remarkable stones called the Pipers; giant musicians turned into stone for playing on the sabbath to the dance at which the Merry Maidens were similarly transformed.

The pipers are two huge pillars of granite, about three hundred yards asunder, and are conspicuous objects in the surrounding locality. Another tradition reports that they mark the site of a final victory obtained by Athelstan over the Cornishmen; but, unfortunately for the probability of this, there is no good evidence to show that he was ever in this county.

They are figured in Borlase, p. 164. Sometimes they are called the Giant’s Rocks, and are stated to be the sepulchral memorials of two giants; and occasionally the Giant’s Grave, as if they were the head and foot stones of the sepulchre of one giant.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

The grid reference may be fractionally out, but these rocks are definitely somewhere in the wood – hopefully next to the public footpath!

Trevella Carn, between two and three miles from Newlyn, is an object worthy of a walk. After passing through Newlyn on the Paul road, take the way to Buryan through the small hamlet of Sheffield, after passing which the first turning to the right leads direct to Trevella. The carn is situated a little to the right of the road.

Its summit is over nearly perpendicular rocks, at the bottom of which is a large cavity, formed by a large rock leaning against the main part of the pile, known by the country people as the Giant’s House. On the top of this carn are several rock-basons.

Mmm rock basins. From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

Another little folklore snippet is that in William Bottrell’s long story in ‘Traditions and Hearthside Stories’ called ‘The Dwelling of Chenance’, he mentions that “people say, you know, that the devil’s huntsman and his hounds have often been seen (after hunting Trevella and Mimmis carns) to come down over the moor and vanish in the Clodgey pool. So maybe that might have been a local tale too. Mimmis Carn is eluding me, though H-P says it’s ‘a little distance from this carn, nearer St. Paul’. He says ‘upon it is a disposition of a rock in the form of a seat, called the Giant’s Chair. Near this was an ancient circle of upright stones, which was removed about twenty years ago.‘

About half-a-mile to the south of Carn Kenidjack is an ancient stone circle, about sixty feet in diameter, consisting of twelve upright stones, which are on the average three feet in height above the surface of the ground. The country people generally call this circle of stones the Merry Maidens.

The map calls the area ‘Nine Maidens Common’.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell Phillipps (1861).