Rhiannon

Donkeys do have quite dainty feet, but even so, this first snippet perhaps supports the idea the holes are a bit big for human-created rock art. But that they require supernatural explanation is interesting in itself.

Here in Northumberland [pot holes] are the hoof-marks of a devil as at Birtley, or basins formed by Queen Mab and her train for bathing in, as tradition pleasingly narrates, at Rothley. The soul has almost gone out of such legends now, but time was when they were of earnest import to mankind.

The Rev. G. R. Hall, F.S.A., has told the Birtley legend in a former Volume of these Transactions. A wandering demon, once upon a time, was unwary enough to drink at the Holy Well. But the sacred water disagreed with him like molten lead, and dashing his hoofs upon the stone he leaped a full mile from the spot. He alighted upon the rock beside the Leap Crag Pool in the North Tyne; in which deep black hole “tradition averreth he was drowned.” At the Holy Well the tracks are about the size of a small donkey’s, if I dare use the comparison, and consist of several pairs as if the miserable being had waxed fidgetty; beside the pool they swell to the size of an elephant’s.

From a very long article called ‘Tynedale Escarpments’ by Hugh Miller, inNatural History Transactions of Northumberland, volume 7, 1877-79.

But if the marks are natural, the stone doesn’t sound near the water? It’s all rather unclear. Oh to nip up in the Van to check, it being a fine Sunday in (almost) summer.

The Birtley Halywell, or Holy Well, a chalybeate spring, issuing from the face of the sandstone cliff, amidst the ferns, harebells, heather, and other flowers that adorn its interstices, close to the romantic waterfall of the Holywell Burn, and to the curious so-called Devil’s Stone, or Rock, in the near neighbourhood also of two ancient British camps, or oppida, is worthy of special mention among the medicinal wells of North Tynedale.

Though I cannot learn that any particular reverence was formerly shown to this well, which now merely trickles down the ochreous sides of the cliff, at Midsummer, yet I find that people “from far and near” used until recently to visit it on fine Sunday afternoons in summer, and itinerant vendors of refreshments from the village, which is about a mile distant, were wont to be present on the spot. Here, in close proximity, still exists the great upright, weather-worn monolith-- apparently a detached fragment split from the adjacent rock by some natural convulsion --already spoken of as the Devil’s Stone. Tradition asserts this to have been, “once upon a time,” the scene of a Satanic leap, the very “hoof-marks” being yet visible on its altar-like summit in the shape of what geologists would call “pot holes” -- a leap intended to result in the demon’s descent at Lee Hall, on the opposite bank of the river, about half a mile distant; but the interval not having been carefully estimated, the consequence was a fall into the deepest abyss of North Tyne, just below the Countess Park Clints -- thence called the “Leap-Crag Pool,” where the Satanic personage is said to have been drowned!

From Archaeologia Aeliana volume 8 (1880), in an article called ‘Notes on Modern Survivals of Ancient Well-Worship in North Tynedale..” by the Rev. G. Rome Hall.

On ‘Barrow No. 1.’, the largest barrow:

A tradition, which I first heard during the progress of our excavations, was known to a former shepherd’s wife, an aged dame, who had often spoken to her family of her desire to dig into the great mound in search of “the treasure of silver” said to be secreted in this great fairy knoll, so like the Gaelic ”shian” associated with the hero Ossian. Children of the cottage have since told me they had often danced upon it and heard something “rattle and jingle” beneath their feet. Strange it is that the old dame’s wish had not long ago been gratified; but, deterred by superstitious feeling, the mystery of the cairn remained unrevealed.

From the 1887 Archaeologia Aeliana article “Recent explorations in ancient British barrows, containing cup-marked stones, near Birtley, North Tynedale”, by the Rev. G. Rome Hall.

Another and seemingly older interpretation of the name:

Oaks of a great size, firm and sound, have been taken out of a large moss on Bewick-Moor, called King‘s Moss, by the road from Chillingham to Alnwick, near a noted aperture in a freestone-rock, called Catherine‘s cave.

From ‘The Natural History and Antiquities of Northumberland‘, v1, by John Wallis (1769).

And for another version of the story about bold adventurers exploring the tunnel, it’s rather fun to see George Tate himself do the retelling, in The Border Magazine, November 1863.

The rocks are marked on old maps at NH628437, a short distance from the cairn. There is a well marked close by on the modern OS map, which is conceivably the same mentioned below? Or maybe the water runs straight from the rock?

Above the Inverness District Asylum, and immediately below the ascent to Craig Dunain, is “Fuaran a Chragain Bhric,” or the Well of the Spotted Rock. This was in former times a place of great resort, the waters, among other healing virtues, being supposed to be strongly diuretic. The bushes around were adorned with rags and threads; while pebbles, pins, and shells might be observed in the bottom of the spring. We have seen one juniper bush close by so loaded with rags and threads as to be hardly distinguishable. This was also a fairy well, and if a poor mother had a puny, weak child, which she supposed had been left by the fairies in place of her own, by exposing it here at night, and leaving some small offering, as a dish of milk, to propitiate the king of fairyland, the bantling would be carried off, and in the morning she would find her own, and restored in health.

-Alex Fraser, Northern Folklore on Wells and Water, p. 17.

Quoted by R C Hope in the Antiquary, v 1 (1880).

Another description comes from Reminiscences of a Clachnacuddin Nonagenarian (1886, but written 1830), which also mentions another well with an alleged druidic collection with the stones at Leachkin.

Fuaran a’ Chragan Bhreic, or Well of the Spotted Rock,
which forms an apt description, as the spring is situatednear a mass of rock, spotted with various specimens of moss. The water is said to be strongly diuretic, and used to be as much thought of, and resorted to by the inhabitants of Inverness, as now are the wells at Strathpeffer. A juniper bush grows beside the spring, and the mossy hillocks about it afford a seat to the tired pedestrian, whence he obtains a panoramic view of Inverness and the Moray Firth, which well repays the fatigue of the walk and ascent from the town.

The last celebrated spring in Inverness, which remains for us to notice is
Fuaran Ault an Ionnlaid, or Well of the Anointing Burn.

This is situated on the estate of Muirtown, opposite the toll-gate, and immediately below Craig Phadric. Tradition states, that Montrose, while being conveyed a prisoner from Sutherlandshire to Edinburgh, on passing this well, begged of his guards to unloose him from the horse to which he was tied, and allow him to quench his thirst at this well. The request was complied with, and the noble prisoner expressed the great relief and refreshment which it afforded him.

Above Leaken, and between this well and the one previously mentioned, are the remains of a Druidical temple, and it is said the Anointing Well derived its appellation from the circumstance of the Druidical priests resorting to it to bathe and anoint themselves previously to engaging in their solemn religious rites. Like the other springs before specified, this fountain was celebrated for the wonderfully curative effect of its waters, until about 1730, when a soldier’s wife is said to have therein washed her child afflicted with scurvy, since which the healing properties of the Annointing Well have forsaken the fluid. [...] The late proprietor, Colonel Duff, had inscribed upon the neat stone-work that protects the spot, the following words:--
Luci Fontisque Nymphis.

Somewhere nearby there was another stone with child-related fairy folklore. Canmore summaries its mention in a journal from 1885:

The hollow stone lies on the summit on the ridge of Leachkin above the Mental Hospital. The stone is flat and hollow in the centre [and] resembles in size and shape a child’s coffin. The greater part remains but the foot is broken or weathered away. At one end it used to be hooded over like a cradle and was known variously as Cradle-stone and Clach-na-shia (Fairies’ stone).

Alas the OS could not find it in 1962. But I would hope that’s not a definitive end to the matter.

Archaeologia Cambrensis for 1889 has a translation of the 12th century confirmation charter of Strata Florida abbey. It mentions ‘the Grange which is called Castell y Flemmis’, so the name is clearly an old one. The c19th notes offer an explanation for the name: “a considerable encampment, supposed to have been formerly thrown up and occupied by the Flemings of Pembrokeshire”. Maybe that theory about the name draws onGiraldus Cambrensis‘s report of people from Flanders being settled in Wales.

Baring-Gould mentions another name in his ‘Lives of the British Saints’: Vuarth Caraun / Buarth Caron – meaning Caron’s cattle-fold. He says “at” Castell Fflemish, near Tregaron. But what else round here would act as a good cattle-fold? It must surely refer to the fort?

Caron is the patron of nearby Tregaron (Plwyf Caron).If you wanted, you could see mixed up in the story a barrow and a christianised site?

The local tradition, still curent, varies – that he was a prince, a brave chieftain, or a bishop – but it agrees in saying he was buried where the church tower now stands, and that over his grave a large mound was raised. We have here evidently traditions of two distinct persons, a chieftain and an ecclesiastic, who have become mixed up in the popular mind.

Back in Tregaron on the other side of the Teifi, there was and is his well:

His Holy Well there, Ffynnon Garon, was at Eastertide, in days gone by, a centre of great attraction for the young of both sexes. On Easter Eve crowds of children resorted thither, each one bringing a small mug or cup and a quantity of brown sugar, and drank copious draughts of the water sweetened with sugar. On Easter Day, or Low Sunday, the swains met their sweethearts at the spot, and made them gifts of white bread (bara can), which they ate, washing it down with the crystal spring water in token of affection.

On the other side of the rock (f) in fig. 9, Plate VII. is an exact circular hole, as is seen in fig. 11, Plate VIII.* which is a South view of the Tor. I found there was no possibility of getting near enough to examine this rock, but I should suppose, from the little channels on the other sides, that there are rock basons on the top.

There are many large rocks scattered about, which must have fallen from the top, where, when they stood erect, filling up every part of this elevated Tor, the effect must have been sublimely striking to the superstitious Britons, who had been taught to venerate those sacred rocks.

That the Druids had fixed upon this hill for the celebration of their religious rites, I think cannot be doubted; it was usual to inclose their places of worship, and here a fence of large rough stones now plainly appears to have surrounded the rocks near the bottom of the hill.

Some druidic imaginings in An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS. In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

I cannot see (f) in fig. 9 here but I guess it’s the one right at the top.

(*seems to be labeled no.12, but that is my bad cropping of the picture.)

At the South-west end of Stanton moor, in the Peak, and in Hartle liberty, is an assemblage of rocks, which stand on the summit of a circular hill called Graned Tor, but more commonly known by the name of Mock Beggar’s Hall.

When I had the honour of communicating to the Society some years ago an account of the Druidical monuments in that neighbourhood, I had not an opportunity of examining this Tor with that accuracy which is necessary in the investigation of these ancient monuments; but having been since in the vicinity of these rocks, at the house of my worthy friend Bache Thornhill, esq. to whose politeness I am much indebted, I requently examined every accessible part of this Tor, and, notwithstanding the many large rocks that have fallen from the top, there is sufficient evidence of its having been a curious group of Druidical monuments.

Fig. 9, Pl. VII. is a North-west view of Graned Tor; the rock marked (a) with four rock basons, is 29 feet in circumference, and plainly appears, from its present position, to have fallen from the top. The three stones (b, c, d,) seem to have been placed by art, and the uppermost is, I think, very likely to be a rocking stone, but there was no possibility of getting near enough to make the experiment.

Whilst I was taking a drawing of this Tor, an old man who stood by, told me that he remembered when he was a boy, his grandfather’s pointing to the stone (b), and saying, it had always been called the Great Altar, and that several other rocks had names, but he had forgot what they were. We are led by traditional accounts to form probable conjectures; and, as the Heathens always placed their altars on their highest ground, there is great reason to suppose that this elevated rock was a Druidical altar.

At the bottom of the third rock from the top, marked (d), is a large rock bason of an oval shape, diameter 4 feet by 2 feet 10 inches, which evidently appears to be cut with a tool; the rock (e) is placed slopingly against the rock (d), and forms a kind of cavity, big enough to hold three or four people, in which is the rock bason above-mentioned.

Fig. 10 is a near view of this aperture, whence there is a very extensive prospect, of course well calculated for the purpose of divination.

Stone (a) is the one on the left with four big holes in it. Stone (b) is the highest on the right, with (c) and (d) beneath it, and (e) being the pointy one overlapping (d).

From An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS. In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

There is in the Peak of Derbyshire a very remarkable rocking stone, called by the country people Robin Hood’s Mark; it stands on the edge of a declivity near the top of a hill on Ashover common, looking down upon Overton hall, an estate of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart. the respectable President of the Royal Society, who will undoubtedly preserve this curious Druidical monument.

Fig. 1. plate V. represents the South view of this rocking stone, which, from its extraordinary position, evidently appears not only to have been the work of art, but to have been placed with great ingenuity; the two upper stones (a and b) have been shaped to fit exactly with the two upright stones (c and d) on which they rest; and so artfully contrived, that the lower stone (b) moves with the upper stone (a). It measures about 26 feet in circumference.

That this is a Druidical monument formed by art, cannot, I think, be denied; we are assured that the Druids were well skilled in the art of magic, by which the superstitious Britons were led implicitly to believe in the miracles performed by these rocking stones.

At about two hundred yards North of this rocking stone, is a singular shaped rock called the turning stone. See fig. 2. plate V. It stands on the edge of a hill on Ashover common; height nine feet. It was a very ancient practice among the Britons to make three turns round their sacred rocks and fires, according to the course of the sun. Martin, in his account of the Western isles, says, “that in the Isle of Barry there is one stone about seven feet high, and when the inhabitants come near it, they take a religious turn round according to the ancient Druid custom.” Hence there is great reason to suppose, that the above-mentioned stone was a rock idol to whom the Druids offered up their devotional rites.

From ‘An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS.’ In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

Of the Bolleit cave it is said that the roof will fall in and crush any one who remains there more than a certain number of minutes.

Just to cheer you up if you’re visiting. From Churches of West Cornwall by J T Blight (1885).

Edward Lhuyd gives us to understand that the parish church of Cellan, in Cardiganshire, which he writes “Keth-Lhan,” is dedicated to [St Callwen], and that there is a spring there called “Ffynnon Calhwen.” All Saints is the dedication now usually given to the church. On one of the mountains in the parish is a cistvaen called Bedd y Forwyn, the Virgin’s Grave.

Maybe this is the right place. Coflein doesn’t mention the name. But The Cambrian Traveller’s Guide says “Upon the mountain to the N. of the river Frwd, are two beddau or graves; and on an eminence to the S. are two more, one of which is called Bedd-y-forwyn, or the Virgin’s Grave.” So it’s in the right sort of place.
Edward Llwyd was writing in the 17th century.

There were curative wells at Cerne; one called Pill Well, now dry, and St. Austin’s Well, anciently Silver Well. Hel Well still flowing, in a marshy place covered with trees and brushwood, was not curative. A man now living, named Vincent, aged fifty-five years, had a crippled child. Every morning, for several months together, Vincent carried his child, wrapped in a blanket, to St. Austin’s Well, and dipped it into the well, and at last it was cured. Sore eyes are healed by bathing them, and feeble health is restored by drinking. A farmer used to go down to this well every morning and drink a tumblerful of the water. (Jonathan Hardy, aged 65, born at Cerne, and now sexton there.) I have not analysed the water, but can affirm that it is not chalybeate. The spring sometimes “breaks,” that is, suddenly begins to flow with increased energy. Its water never freezes.

[...]

If anyone looks into St. Austin’s Well the first thing on Easter morning he will see the faces of those who will die within the year. (--Miss Gundry.)

St Austin’s Well also seems to be called St Augustine’s well. But it’s interesting that it gets a non-religious name too? The well is just south of the Abbey, which is to the south of the Giant and Trendle hill.
From ‘Dorset Folklore Collected in 1897’ by H. Colley March, in Folklore v10, Dec 1899.

In front of a blacksmith’s shop here, occupying a vacant spot a little out of the upper road leading to Ledbury, near Colwall Green, is a mass of rough limestone rock, which bears the name of “Colwall Stone.” I observed this name inscribed on an old map of Herefordshire; but have been unable to ascertain the purport of the stone, or its origin. I should feel inclined to consider it of the Druidical age, or at any rate a boundary or manorial “hoar stone;” but Mr. Allies states [... see other Folklore post].

The tradition I myself heard respecting the stone (which would carry us back to the times of Celtic heathenism) was, that it had been a place of worship (an idolatrous stone?) before the church was erected, and that the poor of the parish formerly received pay on this stone.

From ‘Pictures of nature in the Silurian region around the Malvern Hills..‘ by Edwin Lees (1856).

How the north side [of the chamber] was formed there is no evidence to shew. If a single slab stood there, it must have been removed when a pit was dug in front of it, some years ago, by a treasure-seeker. We have here again the old story, so often told in connexion with the destruction and plundering of ancient monumental structures. A miner in the neighbourhood had long set a covetous eye on the barrow as the storehouse of great riches; and one night he had so impressive a dream, bringing vividly before him a great crock of gold, that at dawn he proceeded to the mound, and dug the pit just referred to, exposing the kistvaen, into which he got full access; but what he found there, my informant, whom I accidentally met near the spot, and who knew the miner, could not tell; and as the explorer himself has since left Cornwall, there seems now to be but little chance of ascertaining what the cell contained, a state of things much to be regretted, as from its structure and peculiar position the barrow is of more than ordinary interest.

From Archaeologia Cambrensis v13, s3 (1867).

The only existing cromlech in the parishes of Llanllechid and Llandegai is situated in the upper part of the parish of Llandegai, near a small farm called Ffynnonbach. It goes locally by the name of “yr hen allor” (the old altar), and tradition, as usual, ascribes its erection to the Druids; and the use to which it is said to have been applied, is indicated in its being called an altar. But that the cromlech was a mere burial-place, has long since been settled. The cap-stone measures in breadth 5 feet; in length, 14 ft. 5 ins.; in thickness, about 1 ft. 6 ins. throughout.

More on the state of the stones in 1867, along with associated finds, in volume 13, series 3 of Archaeologia Cambrensis, viewable at the Internet Archive.

The fort is mentioned in a miracle play written down in 1504: ‘Beunans Meriasek’ – the Life of St Meriasek. It’s been suggested that it’s a subversively anti-English. It was written in Cornish, which few toffs would understand, and the villain is called Teudar, which sounds remarkably like Tudor. Teudar is an invader who is reigning by force. Meriasek says he needs baptising but Teudar isn’t having it and wants Meriasek hanged. The saint is warned in a vision and hides easily from Teudar’s soldiers under a rock, consecrating the spring there to cure the insane, and then runs off to Britanny.

The second part of the play introduces Teudar’s nemesis, the Duke of Cornwall, who vows to get rid of Teudar for having driven away the saint.

Me yv duk in oll kernow
indella ytho ov thays
hag vhel arluth in pov
a tamer the pen an vlays
tregys off lemen heb wov
berth in castel an dynas
sur in peddre
ha war an tyreth vhel
thym yma castel arel
a veth gelwys tyndagyel
henna yv o[v]fen tregse

I am Duke in all Cornwall:
So was my father,
And a high lord in the country
From Tamar to the end of the kingdom.
I am dwelling now, without a lie,
Within the castle of Dynas
Surely in Pidar,
And in the high land
I have another castle,
Which is called Tyntagel:
That is my chief dwelling-seat.

Pydar is one of the hundreds of Cornwall. You can see the play here in Whitley Stokes’ translation, published 1872. There is much interesting discussion of it here in J P D Cooper’s ‘Propaganda and the Tudor State’ (2003).

[A mysterious cavern] at Bolleit, in the parish of Buryan, which was so large and perfect in the time of the Great Rebellion, that Cavaliers were for some time concealed there; where, like the prophets of old, they were fed by Mr. Levellis of Trewoof, until opportunity offered for them to return to the King’s army.

From the second series, volume 4 of the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of London (1868).

One day, [Sawyl] and his party broke in [to the monastery of S. Cadoc], and carried off meat and drink, but did no further damage. Cadoc was absent at the moment, but on his return learnt what had been done, and was further informed that the marauders were at a little distance, eating and drinking what they had ravished from his larder and cellars.

After they had gorged themselves with meat and ale, Sawyl and his rogues lay down to sleep. Cadoc seized the opportunity to inflict on them a stinging insult. He set his monks to shave half the heads of the drunken men, and then with the razors to slash off the ears and lips of their horses.

We are informed that Sawyl and his men had retreated to a hill-top for their carouse, and if our identification of the localities be accepted, this can have been none other than the Garn Goch. When the barbers had done their work, Cadoc and fifty of his clerics assumed their ecclesiastical vestments, and marched in procession to the hill to meet, and if possible, to mitigate the resentment of the freebooter.

What happened is veiled in fable. The earth opened and swallowed up Sawyl and his men, “and the ditch where they were engulfed is known unto this day to all the passers-by”. That nothing of the sort took place we may be pretty sure. What probably occurred was that the settlers in the neighbourhood assembled and assumed a threatening attitude, and the bully was fain to decamp.
[..] After this, Cadoc sang Te Deum, and blessed the men who had made his adversaries ridiculous, and had so barbarously mutilated the dumb beasts.

That last sentence sounds like S B-G disapproves of animal cruelty, which is pleasing. Surely saints shouldn’t be asking people to do such things. He supposes Sawyl might have been based at Pen-y-Ddinas (although that seems rather a long way to walk to go pilfering from monasteries). From The Lives of the British Saints, volume 2, by Sabine Baring-Gould (1908).

It was possibly whilst Cadoc was at Llangadog that he was annoyed by Sawyl Benuchel, who had established himself in the pleasant mountain basin of Cynwyl Gaio, where a bunch of rock, starting out of the level bottom that was once a lake bed, offered a suitable position for a caer, commanding as it did the entire basin. It bears the significant name of Pen-y-Ddinas, showing that at one time a stronghold occupied its crown, but the ruins of prehistoric fortifications have disappeared, as the hill has been converted into a rabbit-warren.

Below it stands Llansawel, leaving us to suspect that this ruffian in his old age turned saint and founder [...] The church is supposed to be dedicated to S. Sawyl Felyn ab Bledri Hir, and this may have been the chief who worried Cadoc, and later turned serious and founded the church [...]

Coflein notes that the area known as ‘the Warren’ was said to show remains of the fort at the turn of the 19th century. The hill has since been quarried.

A legend featuring Sawyl is connected with Carn Goch.

From The Lives of the British Saints, volume 2, by Sabine Baring-Gould (1908).

It’s possible this story relates to the fort (or indeed, it could relate to the Roman one of Cicucium, upriver). Whichever, you’d imagine the grain would be pretty manky. Which makes you wonder if it’s a remembrance of a real discovery somewhere here, combined with the stories of the saint?

Whilst Cadoc studied at Llanspyddid, famine raged in the land, and the master and his pupils were put to straits for food. However, Cadoc observed a mouse carrying a grain of wheat. He succeeded in catching it, and borrowing a thread from a widow, tied it to the foot of the little creature and let it run; whereupon it darted into a hole. Cadoc dug on the spot, and discovered an underground chamber stored with grain. Such secret granaries were by no means uncommon, and are found in many ancient Welsh, Irish and Scottish forts. Or it may have been that one of the hypocausts that have been discovered at Y Gaer had been used as a storehouse for grain. On this supply the master and his pupils were able to live for some time.

From ‘The Lives of the British Saints‘, volume 2, by Sabine Baring-Gould (1908).