Introduction

The City of Wells nestles in the foot-hills of the Mendips. The lower (western) end of Wells abuts verdant meadow, which provides a buffer of dry land between the City and the flood-prone Somerset Levels. The upper (eastern) end of the City peters out along the Bath road. Just before the road leaves the City, the traveller will pass a footpath to Knapp Hill. Knapp Hill leads to Penn Hill, which is the start of the Mendips proper. A stream runs a third of the way down Knapp Hill. It has carved out a small gorge during its lifetime, but now disappears down a swallet, or slocker.*

The reason for mentioning the disparate geology of the area (meadowland at one end, limestone hills at the other), is because it is crucial to understanding why Wells is where it is. Wells is small, the smallest City in England, in fact. About 10,000 people live there, and it’s only around 2.5 miles long. It’s story, like that of Glastonbury, is a story of cold-water springs.

The Geology

The geology of the area is complicated enough for professionals to have devoted entire volumes to the subject. For this entry though, it is probably wise to concentrate on limestone, and the contribution it has made to the landscape.

Very briefly we will cover what’s under the limestone, just to impart an idea of why the geology is so complicated. At various times in history the Mendips have been part of a delta similar to that of the Nile, part of a mountainous desert region, part of a tropical island chain and on a couple of occasions part of a sea-floor. On top of that tectonic activity has pulled, squeezed and bundled up the various strata to further confuse matters.

So onto the limestone. It is composed of the remains of crinoids. The term crinoid encompasses a large variety of marine organisms, the most common of which are known as the ‘sea lilies’. Imagine, if you will, a sea-bed covered in meadows of crinoids, stretching for miles in very direction. They are animals, but they look like plants, consisting of a stem, and crowned with ‘petals’ constructed of calcite. When these animals died, the petals would accumulate on the sea-bed, year after year, generation after generation, creating layer upon layer of calcium, cemented together with calcium carbonate. When subjected to heat and pressure, these layers form limestone. Many of the houses in the Wells region are built from limestone, and the remains of these creatures are easily identifiable.

The important thing about limestone, in relation to Wells, is that it dissolves quite easily under certain circumstances. Not that easily, you won’t be able to watch houses disintegrate whilst waiting for a bus, but over time, and with a constant supply of flowing water, caves form in limestone. And the Mendips are famous for their caves. This is in part due to the sheer amount of limestone in the hills, and in part due to the tremendous amount of rain that falls on them. Sedimentary rock (limestone for instance) is the store-house for much of the planet’s carbon dioxide. When in contact with water, carbon will dissolve out of the rock and form a weak acid which will erode limestone. Once this process is started, a flow of water will etch out a cave many times larger than itself. So the crinoids, after many millions of years, finally get wet again. A vast amount of water can reach the water table without ever breaking cover. Some of this water will be forced above ground through springs. . . which is where Wells comes in.

Prehistoric Wells

Nobody is sure when the springs began to run. If we take our lead from the Chalice Well Springs in Glastonbury, it might be that they have been running since the Jurassic period. The springs of Wells are geologically dissimilar to those of Glastonbury, so we’ll fast forward a little and start with the earliest evidence of humans in the area. The bones of man have been found in other caves on the Mendips dating back 18,000 years. There is no reason to believe that the caves and underground streams that feed the wells have been around for less than that time, so we’ll paint a picture of what the circumstances for the earlier life of the springs might have been like. This is conjecture, but absence of evidence has never been evidence of absence.

The springs, in those days, would have formed a pool or small lake surrounded by swampy ground. There would have been an overflow stream or river which, following the path of least resistance, would have run down the same hill it runs down today; the High Street. The flora would have been identical to that of today, but the fauna is unexpectedly different. Being a natural watering hole, the following animals would have come here to drink; woolly mammoth, lion, hyena, bear, horse, bison, deer and auroch. *

From their presence on the Mendips we can conclude that the springs must have been a busy and dangerous place. A good place to hunt, a good place to be hunted. Keeping an eye out for prey and keeping an eye out for predators must have required a lot of concentration, and a lot of silence. Could this forced higher perception be the reason that wells and springs became known as ‘holy’ places? A natural location in which to reflect on the cycles of life and death, whilst being a heart-beat away from the latter? It’s not impossible. If the spring attained the reputation of a holy place (which it almost certainly would have done in the Iron Age), we could be looking at the reason it became such a holy place later in history. But as has been pointed out, this is merely conjecture.

Evidence of Iron Age occupation is simultaneously incredibly obvious, and yet easy to miss. Maesbury hill-fort is on the side of the Mendips over-looking Wells. It is a huge hill-fort, 960ft across its width, with mature trees growing in what would have been the embankments. It hovers above the City like a gigantic ‘O’. Above and to the right of it is Penn Hill Mast, a transmitter mast for television and mobile phones which, in a bizarre coincidence, measures 960ft in height.

Hill forts were not permanently manned by a standing army. They were a place to keep your family and livestock safe in times of conflict. Judging by the size of Maesbury, there must have been a big human population, and a large amount of livestock. Maesbury can be reached on foot in about an hour from Wells, so we may well be looking at the defensive fall-back position of the Iron Age population of the City.

The Cathedral

The Saxon King Ine, and Saint Aldhelm reputedly founded the first church at the Great Spring at Wells in 707, although nothing was recorded until 766. During an archaeological excavation in the late 1970’s, an 8th century Merovingian* coin was found on the site, along with shards of blue and green glass near the earliest phase of building. It is not mentioned whether the glass was from bottles, glasses or windows.

There are great gaps in the recorded history of the Norman Gothic Cathedral. The next stop will be a charter from Bishop Robert (1136–1174), in which he lodges a complaint about the noisy markets held in the church and its environs, and the fact that they were causing hindrance to peaceful prayer. Shortly afterwards the markets were moved out of the church and out of the town. From 1136 we jump forward to a little before 1250. Cathedrals are always built on an East/West axis, but the Lady Chapel of 1250 (approx) had an oblique angle. This mystery was cleared up when it was noticed that some of the streets also ran at this angle, as did St.Cuthbert’s church, some way down the hill. The builders had been following the course of St.Andrew’s stream, the overflow from the Wells. In later renovations the oblique angle was corrected.

In the 14th century Wells had the largest population of any town or City in Somerset (1,500 inhabitants). It was in this century that the ‘strainer’ or ‘scissor arches were built. Shaped like an ‘X’, each of the arches abuts three others, to support the central tower. Other supports were constructed like trees, long ‘trunks’ leading up to the ceiling of the Cathedral, sprouting ‘crowns’ at the top to support the roof.

Leading off the north side of the Cathedral are the stairs to the Chapter House. This is a most impressive flight of stairs and a most impressive room. The steps rise up to the refectory, and right to the octagonal Chapter House. The Chapter House roof is supported by a slender pillar, topped with a symmetrical crown of ‘branches’. The Chapter House was a meeting place for the various community leaders of local areas. Reading the names of the regions that were included gives you an idea of the sway of the Bishop. Some parishes are as much as 40 miles away from the Cathedral. The acoustics have to be heard to be believed. To the left of the stairs to the Chapter House is a 14th century clock. The face is divided into 24 parts, and every 15 minutes, knights rotate around the top, and knock each-other’s heads off (for images of the clock, visit the London Science Museum). Gargoyles abound both inside and out. There are no less than 11 representations of tooth-ache.

The West front of the Cathedral is an homage to masonry. There are 297 surviving statues, with niches for a further 59. In its heyday the West front was brightly painted, as was the interior of the Cathedral itself. The stained glass for the west windows had to be built to withstand the forces of Atlantic gales. Although quite a distance from the sea, there is a distinct lack of geology in the way to buffer winds. Also, damage to the west windows has been received from birds which, we must assume, have great difficulty steering in strong tail-winds.

The Bishop’s Palace

Adjoining the Cathedral, the Bishop’s Palace is ringed by a fine moat, fed by the wells, which are now ensconced in the Palace’s ornamental gardens. The moat is shallow, but quite wide, and runs round three sides of the gardens. Kingfishers can be found there. Between the gardens and the moat is a high defensive wall, with a fighting platform running the length of the inside. Arrow slits pierce the wall here and there. The slits are cruciform in shape and slightly inset. The cross-beams of the cruciform are subtly off-kilter. This had the effect of altering the perspective of attacking archers and ruining their aim. The defensive wall is constructed of limestone and blocks of Old Red Sandstone, as are large parts of the Palace*.

The moat has a huge and thriving population of sticklebacks, and one carp. The stickleback population suffered during the summer of 2001, due to foot and mouth disease. This may sound peculiar, but it was a knock-on effect. Foot and mouth severely reduced the number of tourists, who normally chuck lots of bread into the water for the resident ducks and swans. So much bread is offered that the birds rarely manage to eat it all, and the surplus is greedily consumed by the sticklebacks. Less bread equals fewer sticklebacks. The carp is a bit of a mystery though*. The swans are famous for pulling a rope at the draw-bridge gate-house which rings a bell, and alerts an attendant that they are in need of feeding. If you are lucky enough to catch this performance, and the attendant is indeed alert, you may witness a portion of crusty loaf being lobbed out of the little leaded window and into the water. If you faint with excitement at this ceremony, try to fall back against the grass bank, and not forward into the moat – the swans can be quite skittish.

The main Palace building was constructed by Bishop Jocelyn in the 13th century. He also built the chapel and the great hall, the latter of which sadly no longer survives. Well, actually, parts of it do, and it’s those parts that make the garden so pleasant to visit. Before it fell into disrepair, some huge banquets were held there. According to an information board in the Palace gardens, two Royal Commissioners visited the Palace in 1337, when it was under the auspices of Bishop Ralph of Shrewsbury. 268 guests were served the following: 672 loaves, 86 pipes of wine, 340 pipes of ale, the main dishes included pike, eel, hake, salmon, plaice, bream, pollock, pickerel*, a whole sheep, duck, chicken, and a half a cow. There were also some unspecified dishes. A pipe (as in a pipe of wine/ale) was 105 gallons. That’s per pipe. That 8 pints per gallon, which works out at 840 pints per pipe. So that was 269 pints of wine per person, and 1065 pints of ale each. At ten pints of ale per night alone, it would have taken the average guest 107 nights just to finish their beer. One can only assume they spilled a lot, or took most of it away with them. If they didn’t it would mean that, including wine, a banquet would go-on for about five months. Not forgetting coffee. The whole show cost Bishop Ralph £6.53 (in modern sterling).

Now the North wall is about all that’s left of the hall. There’s a solitary tower too, which indicates where the East and South walls would have met. By the 16th century the building had fallen into disrepair and the lead and timbers of the roof were sold off to raise funds. Later, Bishop Henry Law (1824-1845) had some of the walls pulled down for repairs elsewhere, and had the gardens landscaped. The present day appearance is principally his work. If you walk through the remains of the hall, passing the tea-room on the left, you enter the rear of the moat, and another ornamental garden. This is where the wells are kept. They still flow into their self created lake, off down a water-fall and into the moat proper. There is also an extensive arboretum here, in which you are welcome to picnic. The Palace is open from April to October.

The Town and People

The town. The history of Wells is closely entwined with that of the Cathedral and Palace. It is picturesque* in the extreme. There’s Market Square, with a lively market on Wednesdays and Saturdays. The High Street runs down from Market Square, and some of the overflow from the wells run down the wide stone gutters. The effect is quite pleasant, but it can also be quite hazardous. A highly slippery form of algae grows on the stone floor of the gutters. The pavements are quite narrow, and occasionally people are forced to step into the gutters. This almost invariably results in a spectacular fall and can be quite injurious, and not only to those who have fallen. A man was witnessed stepping into the gutter, only to slip. He threw his arms out in a wild and desperate attempt to steady himself, slapping another man in the eye in the process. The man didn’t fall into the gutter, but he nearly received a slap in return. Caution is advised.

I could go into the pubs in detail, but they are all fairly decent. The City Arms stands out though, as it used to be a gaol in Tudor times. It serves excellent beer and good food, and has (when in bloom) one of the prettiest courtyards of any pub in England. There is an iron torture implement hanging on one of the walls, and if you have ordered something to eat, it is advisable that you avoid reading the information notice next to it.

Wells has the highest ratio of charity shops for any town or City in Somerset (per head of population). According to the government population statistics for Wells, over 28% of the population are O.A.P’s*. Another 20% are aged between 45 and O.A.P. This may be something to do with it.

Only 16% are aged between 0 and 16. These chaps have been waiting for a skate-board park to open. Since 1974. Some of the original campaigners must now be accelerating through the statistic pie-chart wedges at an alarming rate. Unemployment is low. Out of 10,000 residents, only 106 are unemployed.

Summing up, if you want a quiet place to live, move to Wells. Nothing happens there at all. During the Indian floods of early 2001, the front page of the local paper had a large photograph displaying a couple of tiles that had fallen from the roof of a pub and caused the traffic to slow down a bit.

There is a lot more to see in Wells that can be covered in this entry, and visit is highly recommended.