CHAPTER XIV.
WELL WORSHIP AND SUPERSTITIONS CONNECTED WITH WATER.
I can see the place as it was of yore,
When its crystal riches would ripple and pour
From a fountain channel fresh and dank,
'Mid flowering rush and grassy bank;
When the pale cheek left the city wall,
And the courtier fled the palace hall,
To seek the peaceful shadows that fell
On the waters of the "Holy Well."
···
Eliza Cook.
Perhaps no ancient superstition has had a more enduring existence than what Mr. Hunt terms "well-worship." This may have arisen, to some extent, from the fact that water, under certain conditions, possesses undoubted "medical virtues." The necessity of personal cleanliness to ensure ordinary comfort, and the value of aqueous agency in its achievement, would doubtless exercise some influence, even in remote times. Add to this the horrors of a "water famine," the intense suffering resulting from prolonged thirst, and we can well imagine that the early tribes of men who worshipped fire would feel a corresponding reverence for what may be termed its natural complement—water. The sun's heat was powerless for good, nay, it was potent for evil, unless in close alliance with the "gentle rain from heaven." From their union springs the warm moisture essential to vegetable growth. Water, too, in more modern times, has been largely employed as a symbol of purity; and, in the Roman Catholic Church, especially, has been consecrated to religious purposes, and rendered "holy." It is, indeed, employed by all Christian sects, in the rite of baptism, as symbolising purity. Hence it is not surprising that many springs, and especially in the neighbourhood of religious houses, should in the middle ages have been invested with a sacred character, or that superstition of a more ancient and a heathen origin should yet, as it were, haunt their precincts. On this subject Mr. Robert Hunt makes the following eloquent and pertinent observations:—"The purity of the liquid impresses itself, through the eye, upon the mind, and its power of removing all impurity is felt to the soul. 'Wash and be clean,' is the murmuring call of the waters, as they overflow their rocky basins, or grassy vases, and deeply sunk in depravity must that man be who could put to unholy uses one of nature's fountains. The inner life of a well of waters, bursting from its grave in the earth, may be religiously said to form a type of the soul purified by death, rising into a glorified existence and the fulness of light. The tranquil beauty of the rising waters, whispering the softest music, like the healthful breathing of a sleeping infant, sends a feeling of happiness through the soul of the thoughtful observer, and the inner man is purified by its influence, as the outer man is cleansed by ablution."
Many such wells as those in connection with the "Old Friary," at Preston, which gave the name to Ladywell-street, in that borough, like that which performed a similar office for the now notorious "Hollywell street," near the Strand, in London, have passed away, and left nothing behind but the street nomenclature referred to. Others, however, like the St. Mary's well, at the foot of the hill on which the old priory of Penwortham was situated, yet retain, in many minds, not only their reputation for the medical value of their waters, but a vague remnant of reverence and even superstition is still to a large extent associated with them.
A spring in the parish of Brindle, near Preston, has some traditionary associations in connection with it which I am inclined to think date back far into pagan antiquity, notwithstanding the fact that it has been for centuries named "St. Helen's well." The name has become corrupted by the neighbouring peasantry in a most singular manner. On my first visit to the locality, I inquired of an elderly woman if she could inform me in what direction I should proceed to find St. Helen's well. She at first said she had never heard of such a place, but after considerable hesitation she at length exclaimed with some animation, in the dialect of the district, "Oh! it ull be Stelling well yo mean, I'll be bun." A writer under the signature, "Leicestriensis," in vol. 6, p. 152, of "Notes and Queries," speaking of a St. Austin's well, near Leicester says:—"On making some inquiries, a few years ago, of the 'oldest inhabitant' of the neighbourhood, respecting St. Augustine's well, he at first pleaded ignorance of it, but at length, suddenly enlightened, exclaimed, 'Oh! you mean Tosting's well.'" Cakes baked for the lace-makers' feasts in Buckinghamshire, in honour of St. Andrew, their patron saint, are locally termed "Tandry Cakes." These are both curious and instructive specimens of the manner in which names of places and persons undergo changes in their transmission from generation to generation by popular tradition.
St. Helen's well, which is now sadly neglected, is situated about a mile and a half to the south-west of the village of Brindle. Dr. Kuerden, who resided in the neighbourhood, thus refers to it, about two centuries ago:—
"Over against Swansey House, a little towards the hill, standeth an ancient fabric, once the manor house of Brindle, where hath been a chappel belonging to the same, and, a little above it, a spring of very clear water rushing straight upwards into the midst of a fayre fountain, walled square about in stone and flagged in the bottom, very transparent to be seen, and a strong stream issuing out of the same. The fountain is called Saint Ellen's Well, to which place the vulgar neighbouring people of the Red letter do much resort, with pretended devotion, on each year upon St. Ellen's day, where and when out of a foolish ceremony they offer or throw into the well pins, which there being left may be seen a long time after by any visitor to that fountain."