Hi there!
Welcome back to The History Edit! This month has mostly been spent decorating our dining room and having a bathroom fitted. But we also had family visiting, so much eating and making merry was had too.
I absolutely cannot wait for the festive period to begin, but I also don’t want to get bored of it before it’s even here. So therefore I have refrained from too many christmassy activities and that includes this newsletter. 😂
As ever, you can find me here or on Instagram!
The Bolton Strid
Next month’s edition of the History Edit will be fully festive with bells on, so for this month I will be providing you with a refreshing break and refraining from too much Yuletide cheer.
So, without further delay, we shall take a look at the Bolton Strid ...
Innocent appearance
The Bolton Strid is a painting-worthy section of the River Wharf near Bolton Abbey, Yorkshire. At first appearance, it is a gently flowing stream with small waterfalls and mini rapids, surrounded by picturesque overhanging trees, moss-covered rocks, and beautiful views. So why is it known as one of the world’s most deadly stretches of water?
According to local legend, 100% of people who have fallen in have met their end. One of the first mentioned victims of the Strid is that of William de Romilly, who fell to his death in the water in 1154. There have been numerous deaths through the centuries, with two of the latest and most famous being that of a couple on their honeymoon in 1998.
Even the name of the stream invokes a sense of idyllic innocence hiding a deadly secret. The etymology of the name comes from the Old English word of Stryth, which means turmoil. This has over the years been changed to Strid , which hints at the possibility of simply striding across the stream. There has even been a short story named The Striding Place by Gertrude Atherton about the Strid.
Why is it so deadly?
So what makes its so dangerous? Firstly, those pretty, mossy boulders embellishing the banks of the water are betrayingly slippery, meaning that anyone tempted to ‘stride across’ will be in for a shock.
Secondly the anatomy of the river itself explains the deadly torrent that lies beneath. The River Wharf either end of the Strid is a wide, fast-flowing river with shallow areas, but as it approaches the area of the Strid the water is forced into a narrower gap, which in turn makes the water flow much faster.
But that isn’t all. As we know, water will always follow the path of least resistance and the Strid has found a natural fault in the earth. Centuries of flowing downwards through this fault has created a deep but narrow waterway with deadly currents. The Strid’s banks are deeply undercut and are full of caves of an unknown depth. Anyone caught unawares will be sucked into their death, and due to the unknown dangers below the surface, their bodies may never be found, and will rest eternally in the torrid depths.
I will leave you with a poem by William Wordsworth about the death of poor William de Romilly and the founding of Bolton Abbey:
The Force of Prayer; Or, the Founding of Bolton Priory
'What is good for a bootless bene?'
With these dark words begins my Tale;
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring
When Prayer is of no avail?
'What is good for a bootless bene?'
The Falconer to the Lady said;
And she made answer 'ENDLESS SORROW!'
For she knew that her Son was dead.
She knew it by the Falconer's words,
And from the look of the Falconer's eye;
And from the love which was in her soul
For her youthful Romilly.
--Young Romilly through Barden woods
Is ranging high and low;
And holds a greyhound in a leash,
To let slip upon buck or doe.
The pair have reached that fearful chasm,
How tempting to bestride!
For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side.
This striding-place is called THE STRID,
A name which it took of yore:
A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.
And hither is young Romilly come,
And what may now forbid
That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Shall bound across THE STRID?
He sprang in glee,--for what cared he
That the river was strong, and the rocks were steep?--
But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
And checked him in his leap.
The Boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled by a merciless force;
For never more was young Romilly seen
Till he rose a lifeless corse.
Now there is stillness in the vale,
And long, unspeaking, sorrow:
Wharf shall be to pitying hearts
A name more sad than Yarrow.
If for a lover the Lady wept,
A solace she might borrow
From death, and from the passion of death;--
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.
She weeps not for the wedding-day
Which was to be to-morrow:
Her hope was a further-looking hope,
And hers is a mother's sorrow.
He was a tree that stood alone,
And proudly did its branches wave;
And the root of this delightful tree
Was in her husband's grave!
Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first words were, 'Let there be
In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,
A stately Priory!'
The stately Priory was reared;
And Wharf, as he moved along,
To matins joined a mournful voice,
Nor failed at evensong.
And the Lady prayed in heaviness
That looked not for relief!
But slowly did her succour come,
And a patience to her grief.
Oh! there is never sorrow of heart
That shall lack a timely end,
If but to God we turn, and ask
Of Him to be our friend!
The Monthly Edit
Who do you think you are?
This BBC article explores the possibility and probability of having descended from royalty. Just like Danny Dyer, thousands of people can trace their lineage back to Edward III, and almost two million can call Edward I a relative.
7000-year old skull brought to life
The National Geographic brings an early human from Gibraltar to life in this piece.
The skull was discovered in a cave in 1996 and since then experts at the Gibraltar National Museum have used DNA studies and cutting-edge 3D cloning technology to put flesh on her bones.
The mark of time
Here are some incredible photos showcasing the effects of time on everyday objects.
Outdated traditions?
This may be a soapbox moment…
Hunting is as old as mankind itself and has been vital to its development and survival over millennia. Even now in the modern world, hunting is still carried out.
Where I live in France, hunting is deeply entrenched in the local culture. The hunting of wild boar especially is carried out in equal parts due to tradition and the necessity of managing the populations of the animal. When killed, the boar is immediately butchered and will be eaten and appreciated.
Even though I have issues with the safety of the public and pets during these hunts, I appreciate the fact that the animal is quickly dispatched, is not wasted, and that it’s an inclusive activity to all levels of society.
Not so with fox hunting in the UK. Fox hunting has its roots in the 15th century and its modern form in the 19th century, which was quickly adopted by the upper echelons of society. According to tradition, if a fox was killed, various body parts were given out as trophies and the rest of the fox given to the hounds to tear apart. This is after being chased to the point of exhaustion and savagely killed by hounds.
Even the hounds and horses are treated rather badly, as can be seen in many news stories from recent years: primary school teacher abusing her horse, imperfect hounds dispatched, hunting hound lost by the hunt knocked down by police on purpose.
The admirable hunt saboteurs have known and understood what a lot of people should have for years. Fox hunting never stopped when Labour banned it in 2005. The hunts have continued under the guise of trail hunting (following a false scent trail rather than foxes) while still killing foxes ‘by accident’. Even the National Trust has banned trail hunting on their land due to hunts repeatedly being caught using them as cover for actual fox hunting. The hunt saboteurs and anyone outspoken about the outdated cruelty of fox hunting (Chris Packham anyone?) have been victims of violence and intimidation from members and followers of the hunts.
However, for the sake of balance, there is a hunt out there that genuinely practices fox-free hunting. The Clean Boot hunting dogs of the Three Counties Bloodhounds, backed by people like Dr Brian May, are apparently never trained to follow the scent of foxes but instead follow the scent of human beings. The human quarry gets a head start and then the hounds and those on horseback follow. Once they have caught up with them the dogs get a treat and an ear scratch. But sadly it seems they are a rarity in the world. You can find out more here.
In my opinion there really is no room in the modern world for this ‘sport’ of fox hunting or the false trail hunting and it should be relegated to history.
Monuments to death
If you are as fascinated by cemeteries as much as me then you’ll appreciate this listicle about grave stones.
I hope you have enjoyed this months newsletter. Have you ever visited the Strid and did you even know about its deadly reputation? Also please let me know your thoughts on fox hunting and its place in the world.
See you next month!