Latest Folklore

This one certainly should be marked ‘of disputed antiquity’. But despite its decidedly blocky shape I take encouragement from the Aberdeen County Council Sites and Monuments Record here which suggests it’s possible the nearby Langstone and this stone were once part of a single monument. It also explains the crustacean-unrelated origin of the name, that the stone was on the boundary of land belonging to a burgess of Aberdeen in the 14th century, John de Crabbe.

Volume 19 of the 1797 statistical account says

In September 1644, during the time of the civil wars, the Marquis of Montrose, with an army of about 2000 men, having approached the town of Aberdeen, and summoned it to surrender to him, the Magistrates, after advising with Lord Burleigh, who then commanded in the town a force nearly equal in number to the assailants, refused to give up the town, upon which a battle ensued within half an English mile of the town, at a place calle the Crab-stone, near to the Justice-mills, where Montrose prevailed, and many of the principal citizens were killed.

This was the ‘Battle of Justice Mills’ and it all sounds very unpleasant. There is a well just down the road (the Hardgate Well) which is associated with the battle and was said to have run red with the blood (though the Canmore record puts this idea down to recent folklore). There was another battle here the previous century, the ‘Battle of Craibstone’ on 20th November 1571, part of a long-running feud between the Forbes and Gordon clans.

A little to the west of Hynd Castle, on the ridge which divides this parish from Inverarity, there was a very large heap of stones, called Haercairns or Hoar Cairn, which probably were raised over the bodies of the combatants slain at a great battle fought there in very early times, but of the time, the parties engaged, or the result we are ignorant. Many of the stones have been carted off. Locally it is said to have been the burial place of all the suicides of the district. The Gallows Hill is in the immediate vicinity, and the criminals executed may have been buried there. Many human bones have been found under the stones.

From ‘Angus or Forfarshire, the land and people’ v4, by A J Warden (1884).

The village of Churchill lies near the great Bridgwater Road, and under the north brow of Doleberry Hill. This fine old rugged eminence has served as a place of encampment for every nation that has ever invaded England. The Britons have built here their wattled huts, and on it, and from hence, have blazed their beacon fires, gleaming over the vale of Glastonbury; and the eagle of the Romans, and the white horse of the Saxons, have alike waved from its summit. The peasants still believe the height haunted, and imagine that vast treasures lie concealed beneath its rocky surface.

From ‘Cross Country’ by Walter Thornbury (1861).

What Bob down the pub was telling tourists in 1861. They deserved it, for their ‘gaping rustic’ remark.

Local intellect is undoubtedly highly mystified as to these relics. The children of the hamlet don’t play at “hide and seek” about them after dark, and if public-house oracles are infallible, groans, &c. are not unfrequently to be heard in the stone-close, “when the moon is out,” towards the sma’ hours. One gaping rustic told us, “as how some do zay that it’s a wedding, and that the fiddlers and the bride and groom were all petrified as they went to church.” Now this idea is probably a fable of the seventeenth century, when music always preceded a couple to church. Another old dame said, “Others do zay, nobody can’t count ‘em; certain ‘tis a baker did try with loaves on each, and they never could come right. But there ‘tis, some do zay one thing, and zum another, that there’s no believing none of ‘em.” So we thought, reader, don’t you? An intelligent old farmer told us he had seen men dig several yards down without getting to the foundation of one of these stones. ...

From ‘Cross Country’ by Walter Thornbury (1861).

Here [Abson], and at Wick, Roman coins and other remains have been found; footpaths can be partly traced here, and a field, called the “Chestles, or Castles,” is still pointed out as the scene of a great battle between Ceaulin, a Saxon chieftain, and three British kings, all of whom fell beneath his sword. It took place about the year 577.

.. striking up an unfrequented-looking lane, which is paved like an old Roman road, you arrive at the Chestles field. The three monumental stones, honey-combed and moss-covered with age, rear their old heads from a sepulchral mound. The whole erection bears traces of the greatest antiquity, no inscription or chiselling being visible on their surface. The farmer to whom the field belongs is a great enemy to antiquarians, and has rendered the field, by a malicious sort of ingenuity, almost inaccessible.

I wonder what the malicious ingenuity was. *It sounds like he could be talking about Abson here, but actually the next sentence mentions the church of St Bartholomew, which is in Wick, so it seems the legend is indeed associated with the three stones.

From ‘Cross Country’ by Walter Thornbury (1861).

Knightstone was a few years ago a solitary rock extending into Weston bay, and an island at high water, but joined the land at its retreat by a bank of loose pebbles thrown up by the sea... It is said to have derived its name from having been the burial place of a Roman knight, who probably had been stationed, either at the settlement at Uphill, or at the camp above, on the summit of Worle hill. The tradition is in some measure confirmed, by some human bones of a gigantic size having been discovered, when the rocks were blown up, preparatory to the present buildings. The author has examined some of these bones, which are in the possession of a gentleman of Bristol, who carried them from the island, and can vouch for their gigantic dimensions.

He drew her to the top of the mount; there they were clear of the mist, which lay like snow below and round them, covering the morass and the water. The clear cut crescent moon hung over a clump of pines on Mersea.

Rebow looked at it, then waved an arm in the direction. “Do you see Grim’s Hoe yonder? -- That great barrow with the Scotch pines on top? Do you know how it comes there? Have you heard the tale?”
Mehalah was silent.
“I will tell you, for I often think of it, and so will you when you have been told the tale. In the old times when the Danes came here, they wintered on Mersea Isle, and in the summer they cruised all along the coast, burning and plundering and murdering. There were two chiefs to them, brothers who loved one another; they were twins, born the same hour, and they had but one heart and soul; what one willed the other, what one desired that the other desired also. One spring they sailed up the creek to St. Osyth’s, and there they took Osyth and killed her. She had a sister, very beautiful, and she fell to the lot of the brothers. They brought her back to Mersea, and then each would have her for his own. So the brothers fell out whose she should be, and all their love turned to jealousy, and their brotherhood to enmity, and it came about that they fought with their long swords who should have the maid. They fought, and smote, and hacked one another till their armour was broken, and their flesh was cut off, and their blood flowed away, and by nightfall they were both dead. Thereupon the Danes drew their ship up to the top of the hill just above the Strood, and they placed the maid in the hold with a dead brother on either side of her, in his tattered harness, sword in hand, and they heaped a mountain over them and buried them all, the living and the dead together.”

Rebow paused, and pointed to the moon hung over the hoe. “When the new moon appears, the flesh grows on their bones, and the blood stanches, and the wounds close, and breath comes back behind their ribs. When the moon is full they rise in the ship’s hold and fall on one another, and if you listen at full moon on the hoe you can hear the brothers fighting below in the heart of the barrow. You hear them swear and curse and cry out, and you hear the clash of their swords. But when the moon wanes the sounds grow fainter, their armour falls to bits, their flesh drops away, the blood oozes out of all the hacked veins, and at last all is still. Then, when there is no moon, you can hear the maid mourning and sobbing: you can hear her quite distinctly till the new moon reappears, and then she is hushed, for the brothers are recovering for a new fight. This will go on month after month, year after year, till one conquers the other and wins the maid; but that will never be, for the brothers are of the same age, and equally strong, and equally resolute.”

From ‘Mehalah’ by the Revd Sabine Baring-Gould (1880).

Baring-Gould was reverend of East Mersea for ten years. He was quite the story-teller and wrote a huge number of books (fiction and non-fiction). It’s suggested he totally invented this bloodthirsty tale – inspired no doubt by various tales he’d come across in his archaeological and folkloric researches though.
sbgas.org/Reluctant_rector.pdf

Actually not a particularly cheerful story, especially in view of Valentine’s day, but it is another one that connects the goings-on at Ludlow Castle and Caynham Camp.

We learn, through a very curious and interesting Anglo-Norman History of the Fitz-Warines, that the camp was temporarily occupied in late Norman times. This history, which is written in verse, is called “The Romance of the Fitz-Warines.” It must have been composed at an early period of the thirteenth century, and gives a very early notice of Caynham.

It states that when Joce de Dynan laid siege to Ludlow Castle, he made his headquarters here; and it gives also the only details known of the early history of the castle. This Joce de Dynan, who had received the castle as a free gift from the king, was frequently at feud with his powerful neighbours the de Lacys, who laid claim to the castle;

and upon one occasion Walter de Lacy, accompanied by a trusty knight, Arnold de Lisle, having approached too near the walls, were taken prisoners and lodged in the castle, where they appear to have been well treated, and were frequently visited by the ladies of the Court. One of them, Marian de la Bruere (Marian of the heath), being smitten by the courtly mein of Arnold de Lisle, assisted them to escape through one of the windows of the tower by means of towels and napkins tied together.

Shortly afterwards Joce went upon a visit to Hertland, leaving the castle in charge of thirty knights and seventy good soldiers, ‘for fear of the Lacy and other people.’ Marian de la Bruere, having remained behind on the plea of sickness, sent word to Arnold de Lisle to come and visit her, and promised to let him in by the same window by which he had escaped. This invitation he accepted, and brought with him a leathern ladder and one hundred men, who were left concealed below. The ladder being drawn up to the window, the knight entered, leaving it suspended in readiness for his men to follow, who in the darkness of the night, made their way onto the walls; and having thrown down the guards that were on duty, entered the apartments and slew the knights and soldiers in their beds, and thus did the castle fall into the hands of the Lacys.

Marian at daybreak, hearing the shouts of the victors, and learning the treachery that had been enacted, seized Sir Arnold’s sword, and thrusting it through his body afterwards committed suicide by throwing herself from the window and breaking her neck. Joce, having received tidings of these events, assembled his men and came and besieged the castle.

Failing, however, after repeated efforts to regain possession, he finally retired, to take up a position upon Caynham Camp. Here, with a force of 7,000 men, he lay entrenched for three days, surrounded by the Lacy and his Welsh allies, numbering 20,000 men. At the end of the third day, being hard pressed, and reduced by famine and thirst, ‘for there is no well within the camp,’ they were compelled to fight their way through their enemies.

Joce being severely wounded was, together with most of his knights that were not killed, taken prisoners and committed to the dungeons of his own castle. A very valiant young knight, however, Fulke Fitz-Warine, who had been under the guardianship of Joce from his youth up, and who had married his daughter Howyse, made a desperate attempt to rescue his father-in-law, but was himself wounded, and with difficulty escaped and joined King Henry at Gloucester. The king received him with great favour, and commanded Walter de Lacy to set free Joce de Dynan. He did so, and Joce joined his son-in-law at the Royal Court, then retired to Lambourne, where he died in peace shortly afterwards.

From ‘Notes upon Caynham Camp’ by C Fortey, in Archaeologia Cambrensis for July 1899.

On the Six Inch O.S. Map, Pembrokeshire, Sheet x, N.W. (second edition, 1908), within the parish of Llanllawer (for older Llanllawern), on the right hand side of the road going east from the parish church, and about three-quarters of a mile from the same, is a spot marked “Standing Stones”, these being in the hedge of a field along the road, another field adjoining being called “Parc y Meirw”.

These stones are known as y pyst hirion and are traditionally said to mark the site of a battle, in which the defeated were driven south over some high rocks, known as Craigynestra, into the river Gwaun. Some of the bodies were carried down by the river to Cwm Abergwaun, or Fishguard Bottom. The folk add no explanation of the name Craigynestra, which may be for Craig lanastra.

In the Arch. Camb. for April 1868, in a paper by Mr. Barnwell, there is a reference to these stones, which are described as “a single line of stones of great size, which Fenton does not mention, although he deliberately pulled to pieces a fine cromlech near it”. “Local tradition (says Mr. Barnwell) adds an account of a desperate battle fought on the spot, among the pillar stones themselves..... The height of the stones is not so striking, as their lower part is embedded in the tall bank of earth that does the duty of an ordinary hedge; but some of them are full sixteen feet long....... There were no traces to be discovered of any second or other lines of stone, so that this seems to have always been a single line; but although single it must have been a striking object at a time when no enclosures existed, and the present level of the soil lower than it is now.”

From notes in ‘Parochiale Wallicanum; or, the names of churches, chapels, etc...’ by Arthur Wade-Evans (1911).

In a hollow between two hills called Uwch Mynydd and Mynydd y Gwyddel, are the ruins of St. Mary’s chapel (Capel Fair); and below the cliff is a cave (Ogo Vair), in which there is a well (Ffynnon Vair). The point of the rock is called Braich y Pwll, and that particular part of it under which the well is situated Maen Melyn, the yellow stone. In the times of Popery this well, which was only accessible at low water, was much frequented by devotees, who superstitiously believed that if they could but carry a mouthful of the water by a circuitous and dangerous path to the summit of the hill, their wish, whatever it might be, would be surely gratified. The chapel was placed here to give seamen an opportunity of invoking the tutelar saint for protection, through the dangerous Sound of Bardsey; and probably the walls of the chapel were in those superstitious times covered with votive tablets.

from ‘The History of North Wales’ v2, by William Cathrall (1828).

.. on the side of the hill called Mynydd Moelvre, or Mynydd yr Ystum, are the ruins of an old chapel called Capel Odo; and near it tumulus distinguished by the appellation of Bedd Odo or Odo’s grave, who according to tradition was a great giant.

The aerial photos on Coflein’s record for this site show the double bank clearly, so Odo’s castle is still there. They don’t mention the remains of any chapel. Their record for the mound within the fort suggests it’s of medieval or later origin, maybe a pillow mound for rabbits. Perhaps that’s the mound that’s Odo’s grave?

Perhaps wholly unrelated, but certainly very close by and directly east of the fort is Ffynnon Ddwrdan, a holy well on the Afon Daron.

Quote from ‘The History of North Wales’ v2, by William Cathrall (1828).

On the 1:25,000 map, very close by, you will see ‘Ffynnon Gybi’ marked.

The Revd. Mr. Owen says, “Upon Clorack farm there is an upright stone with a large protuberance on one side of it, called Lleidr Ty Dyvridog, i.e. the Tyvrydog Thief, concerning which there is a tradition, that a man who had sacrilegiously stolen a church bible, and was carrying it away on his shoulders, was for his transgression converted into this stone.

There are also two wells on this farm, one on each side of the road leading to Llanerchymedd, and exactly opposite to each other, remarkable not for their medicinal virtues, but as having been, according to tradition, where St. Seiriol and St. Gybi (the former the patron of Ynys Seiriol, and the latter of Caer Gybi or Holyhead,) used to meet near midway between both places, to talk over the religious affairs of the Country. The wells are called Ffynnon Seiriol and Ffynnon Gybi, i.e. Seiriol’s Well and Gybi’s Well, to this day.”

From ‘The History of North Wales’ v2, by William Cathrall (1828).

Its artificial defences are now very insignificant, but the site by nature is almost impregnable. The principal entrance, to which a steep, zigzag pathway still conducts, is in the northern angle, facing the bay.

..Tradition connects the spot with the fatal expedition of Gryffydd ab Cynan, prince of North Wales, against the usurper Trahaearn, when he received that signal overthrow at Bron yr Erw, about three quarters of a mile distant. His line of march from Abermenai hither, is still traceable by several traditional designations; such for instance as Bryn Cynan, by Llandwrog, Carreg Cynan above Penarth, and Craig Cynan. From its elevated and conspicuous site, commanding at one glance the fearful pass of Bwlch-dau-fynydd, leading to Lleyn and Eifionydd, the pass of Bwlch Derwydd to Ffestiniog and Ardudwy, together with a multitude of military posts scattered between Segontium and the Rivals, its chief use probably was that of signal and observation.

From Archaeologia Cambrensis v14, 1849.

...upon Cefn Amwlch estate a cromlech resting upon its supporters; the tradition is, that when it is thrown down, the estate will change its owner.

From Archaeologia Cambrensis v14, 1849, quoting a manuscript from 1772.

The map shows lots of hut circles here, so initially I wondered if the circle must have been one of those. But it sounds far too grand for that.

CWM MAWR. -- Distance 3 miles from Dolbenmaen, in the way to it, several pillars of difference appearances, &c.; none of them equal to those of the grand monument, whose situation in upon the gradual slope of a very high hill, commanding a most extensive prospect, viz. the whole Isle of Anglesey, part of Ireland, &c. The first object in approaching it is a lonely pillar, distant 160 paces from the grand Ellipsis. this colonade is in diameter, one way, 44 cubits, the other, 36; consisting of 38 upright stones of various forms, heights & sizes, as well as distances from each other; some turgescent, some flat, some incline one way & some another; some are pyramids & some are cones.

The vulgar believe that no one can count them. The area of the monument violated by the plough & harrow, &c. Tradition says that upon one of them being carried away to the adjoining farm house, for a lintel over the door, such a dreadful storm of thunder & lightning ensued, that the sacrilegious hands were forced to return it to its former place. However, the author says that the vacancies show that several have been carried away, &c.

From Archaeologia Cambrensis v14, 1849. A cubit, should you be too far indoctrinated into the metric system to know, is the distance from your elbow to your hand. Or fingers. &c. The information (hence the mention of the ‘author’) is taken from a manuscript dated 1772.

Uley Bury Camp.-- This famous fortress, according to old village tradition, was known as the “maiden” hill; it being said that it was never taken by besiegers. [..] So steep is the hill, that it is hard to think it could be captured by a hostile attack, unless it were taken unawares at the entrance in the narrow neck which unites it with high lands to the east.

From Gloucestershire Notes and Queries v5 (1891-4). Elsewhere on the Internet people like to claim the name ‘maiden’ comes from some alleged Celtic words for ‘great hill’. But whether that’s any more or less likely I don’t know. Maybe the latter is / was a less embarrassing explanation.

A winding, up-hill lane conducts us in about two miles to the first genuine piece of moorland – Winsford Hill. Between the finger-post marking the cross-roads and the hedge on the right, and at the side of an old track -- I believe the former highway -- is a rude standing stone of hard slaty rock, known as the Longstone. It leans considerably out of the perpendicular, and has met with rough usage, a portion of the top having been broken off. The height is 3 feet 7 inches, the breadth 14 inches, and the thickness 7 inches. It is inscribed lengthwise with characters, but of what age or date I am unable to decide. That they have been there for many centuries, there can, I think, be no doubt, their worn appearance testifying to many an onslaught of the elements. The aforesaid fracture, the work of a mischievous youth but a few months back, has probably obliterated a part of the second line, and although I was able to find the splintered fragment, and fit it into its place, it availed me not, as the surface had flaked off. I read the inscription thus: CVRAACI FPVS. The first word apprently stands for ‘(son) of Curatacus,’ evidently the Latinized form of some British name. This is the only interpretation I can offer. The local legend says that it marks a deposit of treasure; but it is somewhat strange that there are no traces about the stone indicating that a search has been made.

From ‘An exploration of Exmoor and the hill country of West Somerset’ by John Lloyd Warden Page (1890).

There are the usual wild legends pertaining to Mouncey Castle. A neighbouring farmer announced his opinion that it was Druidical! while another told me that the ground beneath was hollow, and that as a consequence people were afraid to dig there. There was a rumour, too, of a subterranean passage, but where it was supposed to lead was unknown.

From‘An exploration of Exmoor and the hill country of West Somerset’ by John Lloyd Warden Page (1890).

A mile inland, close to Wiliton, is a field, or rather several fields, known as Battlegore, traditionally, as its name implies, the scene of a battle. In them are the remains of three large mounds, though one is now ploughed nearly level with the field, and another has been reduced by one-half by a hedgerow. The largest is close to the road.

From time immemorial the tale has been handed down that here the Danes fought with the Wessex men. A tradition, also unfortunately dating from time immemorial, states that much armour and many weapons have been discovered in these fields. But who found them, and what became of them, is as unknown as their period and fashion. The only weapon taken from the spot that I have seen is a remarkably fine bronze celt which would go some way to show that it was a British rather than a Danish battleground.

Collinson refers to ‘several cells composed of flat stones, and containing relics,’ as having been found in these tumuli, to which he gives the name of Grab-barrows. From this it would appear that they were chambered tumuli. I venture to think, however, that he is mistaken, except perhaps with regard to the mound now nearly levelled, inasmuch as neither of the existing barrows have been properly explored.

Close to the barrow near the road are two enormous stones, the one lying on its side, the other leaning against the hedge, as well as a third and smaller block, nearly concealed by brambles. As there are no similar blocks in the vicinity, they must have been brought here for some definite purpose, perhaps to mark the grave of some notable chieftain. Or, perchance, they are, as certain antiquaries opine, the supports of a British cromlech. The local story is that they were cast there from the Quantocks by the devil and a giant, who had engaged in a throwing match. The print of Satan’s hand still marks the leaning stone.

This stone was upright some forty or fifty years since. It was toppled against the hedge by some young men anxious to test the truth of the legend that it was immovable.

From‘An exploration of Exmoor and the hill country of West Somerset’ by John Lloyd Warden Page (1890).

Humbledon, a small village, on an eminence, under which a great victory was obtained by Henry Lord Percy, and George Earl of March, over the Scotch under the command of Archibald Earl of Douglas, on Holyrood-day in the harvest, 3 K. Henry IV, 1402. Earl Douglas‘s forces consisted of 10,000 men. He possessed the hills, but Lord Percy, sirnamed Hotspur, cutting off his retreat to Scotland with the plunder he had acquired in Northumberland, he was forced to come to an engagement on the plain. With him were most of the barons, knights, and gentlemen of Fife and Lothian, who escaped by flight, 22d of June, the year before, from the battle of Nisbet, in the Merse, in which fell most of the Lothian-youth. A great part of them were either slain or taken prisoners. Among the latter were the Earls of Fife, Murrey, Angus, Atholl, and Monteith. Earl Douglas received five wounds, and lost an eye. Five hundred Scotchmen in the pursuit were drowned in the Tweed. The field of battle is called Red-Riggs, from the blood spilt on it. By the side of the road, under Humbledon-Bauks, is an upright pillar of whinstone erected in memory of it; in height, six feet, six inches, and a half; in diameter, twelve feet.

From v2 of ‘The natural history and antiquities of Northumberland’ by John Wallis (1769). It sounds so dreadful that it doesn’t seem unreasonable to want to appropriate the stone as a memorial.

An earlyish mention of the legend, and it’s sort of interesting that there’s another stoney place involved in the story:

We now turn southward on the Etall-road from Cornhill, about two miles from which, on the right hand, in Brankston-west-field, is a large upright pillar, of whinstone, six feet, seven inches high, and thirteen feet in diameter towards the base; a memorial of the great victory obtained over K. James IV, of Scotland, by the Earl of Surrey, on Friday, 9th of September, 5[sic] K. Henry VIII, 1513.

This battle is called, The battle of Brankston, from the chief scene of action being near that village; also the battle of Floddon from the Scotch intrenchments being on Floddon-hill, out of which they were drawn forcibly, as it were, to an engagement, by the Earl of Surrey’s cutting off their retreat homewards. Among the slain was their sovereign, with his natural son, Alexander, Archbishop of St. Andrews, who had the learned Erasmus for his tutor; also two other Scotch prelates, four abbots, twelve Earls, seventeen lords, a great number of knights and gentlemen, and about eight thousand, or as some say, twelve thousand common men. According to Sir John Froisart, K. James fell near Brankston, where he was found the next day by Lord Dacres.

On the highest part of Flodden-hill, near it, is a natural rock, called the King‘s chair, from which he had a good view of his own, and of the English army, and of the country round him.

In the time of the battle the thieves of Tynedale and Tiviotdale were not idle. They rifled the English tents, and took away many horses, and other things.

From v2 of ‘The natural history and antiquities of Northumberland’ by John Wallis (1769). I love the way the mere 8 (12) thousand get bottom billing on the list of the dead.

There is, in the neighbourhood of Eyam, a very popular tradition of some great chief, or king, having been buried in this barrow; and it has been frequently explored in search of something appertaining to him. Nothing, however, has ever been found except the urn; but in the vicinity, spears, arrow-heads, axes, hatchets, and a many other remains of antiquity have been turned up. About a mile west of this barrow there was, about forty years ago, another of great dimensions: it stood on Hawley’s piece. The diameter at the base was twenty-two yards, and about twelve yards high. When the Moor was enclosed, it was carried away to make fences. An urn of great size was found near the centre on the ground, and was carried away to the residence of the person who found it; but was afterwards broken and buried. The person who had this precious relic of antiquity, was persuaded by his silly neighbours that it was unlucky to have such a thing in the house; and on losing a young cow, he immediately buried it.

From ‘The History and Antiquities of Eyam’ by William Wood (1842). He also spouts a lot about Druids and even Phoenicians – but I suppose it was the fashionable explanation. Though he gets a little carried away with talk of the sacrifice of a ‘lovely female’ with her ‘heaving bosom’. Hmm.

He does however, also mention

One large stone ont he Moor has been a great object of curiosity, from it having a circular cavity in the top about a foot in diameter, and the same in depth. The stone is of an extraordinary size – by far the largest on the Moor. It is conjectured to have been the altar, or central stone of some large circle, but of which there is no trace now. That this place was one of the principal places of the Druids there are numberless proof; but as it is out of the road to any place of note, it has been rarely noticed.

Is this something people recognise?

[The legend] which clings to the ‘Devil’s Chair,’ the highest rock on the Stiperstones, [has been] told me by the country people somewhat in this fashion:--

‘Once upon a time the Devil was coming from Ireland with an apronful of stones. Where he was going to I cannot say; some say it was the Wrekin he was carrying in his leather apron, some say he was going to fill up Hell Gutter, on the side of the Stiperstones Hill. But any way he had to cross the Stiperstones, and it was a very hot day, and he was very tired, so he sat down to rest on the highest rock. And as he got up again to go on his way, his apron-string broke, and down went the stones, and very badly he cursed them too, so I’ve heard. There they lie to this day, scattered on the ground all round the Devil’s Chair, and if you go up there in hot weather you may smell the brimstone still, as strong as possible!‘

But ‘old Netherley,’ a lame old man who used to ‘lug coal’ with a cart and two donkeys about the Condover country twenty or thirty years ago, told a different story, as he had learnt it from the miners employed at the lead-mines in the hill-side.

According to him, of all the countries in the world the Devil hates England the most, because we are good Protestants and read the Bible. Now if ever the Stiperstones sink into the earth, England will be ruined. The devil knows this very well, so he goes whenever he can, and sits in his chair on the top of the hill, in hopes that his weight will flatten it down and thrust it back into the earth, but he hasn’t managed it yet, and it is to be hoped he never will!

From ‘Shropshire Folk-lore: a sheaf of gleanings’ by Charlotte Sophia Burne (1883).

Ms Burne also mentions that like on the Wrekin,

there is another Needle’s Eye, a long narrow channel accidentally formed among the huge fragments of rock which lie heaped up round the Devil’s Chair. Through this passage visitors must crawl, but I have been unable to learn particulars of person, occasion or consequences. [..] It is said that if any one ventures to sit in the Devil’s Chair, a thunderstorm immediately arises.

I don’t remember any sulphuryness, but if you climb up into the chair you’ll see it’s indeed shaped for a giant devil’s bottom. I once told the story to a captive audience seated around the dip. I could spin the Wild Edric story out as well – you can almost imagine him and his fairy wife Godda might gallop past. But if the mist comes down you’re best off out of there before the devil turns up. Listen out for the red grouse telling you to go back go back gobackgobackgoback. (It’s excellent up there, thanks for reminding me TSC.)

As if the Devil in his chair and the dead of Shropshire weren’t enough:

Watch out for the Seven Whistlers. Legend has it that six birds fly up and down the Stiperstones slopes looking for a lost companion. When the seventh bird is found, the end of the world will occur

As mentioned in “Shropshire – An Archaeological Guide” by Michael Watson (Shropshire Books 2002), but no further source for the legend is given.

There’s another legendary stone at the church (it seems one is not enough)? It’s the lintel above the Priest’s Door.

Owen usually attended divine service at Corwen Church, where I was shown a doorway now made up through which he entered to his pew in the chancel. Upon one of the stones is cut, half an inch deep, the figure of a dagger, and my guide told me, with a face more serious than my own, “that upon the Berwyn mountain, behind the Church, was a place called Glyndwr’s seat, from which he threw his dagger, and made the impression upon the stone.” If this had happened in our day, the whole bench of bishops would have united in pronouncing him Jacobin. Exclusive of the improbability of the tale, my friend forgot that it refutes itself, for the mark of the dagger is upon the very door-way which Owen passed, which probably was not built up in his day. I climbed the mountain to what is called Owain’s seat, among the rocks, and concluded he must have been more agreeably employed than in throwing his dagger, for the prospect is most charming. Here the rich and delightful vale of Corwen expands to view, with the Dee in the centre. Here Owen might view near forty square miles of his own land.

Hutton’s ‘Remarks upon North Wales’ (1803).