The legend and shrine of St Winefride

The name of the town of Holywell in North Wales has an obvious origin.  The holy well in question is the shrine of St Winefride, or Gwenffrewi – Winifred in modern English – and her story is a grim one.

Winefride was a young maiden, famed for her beauty, who lived in the early 7^th century.  She was of noble birth: her father, Tewyth, a chieftain of Tegeingl (the local area) and her mother, Gwenlo, a princess whose grandfather was King Lot of Dinas Edin (Edinburgh).  The whole family was devoutly Christian and Gwenlo’s brother, Beuno (Bono), was a noted monk and evangelist who had established a church on a steep hill close by.  Winefride herself had decided to devote her life to God and, in time, become a nun.

News of Winefride’s beauty caught the attention of a local chieftain, Caradoc of Hawarden, who called on the girl when her parents were attending mass in Beuno’s church.  It is not clear whether the two already knew one another, whether the visit had been arranged, why Winefride was on her own and not at mass, or if Caradoc knew of Winefride’s ambition beforehand.  Some accounts suggest that he stopped by to ask for refreshment.  In any event, he was a nasty piece of work.  Finding the girl alone, he first tried to seduce her and then, when this did not work, he tried to rape her.  Somehow, she managed to wriggle free, escape and run down the hill to her parents and uncle at the church.

Caradoc, unreasonably incandescent with rage at the rejection, caught up with Winefride just outside the church door, drew his sword and decapitated the girl.  Her head hit the ground, rolled and a spring of water burst forth from the place it came to rest.  Bueno, emerging from the church in response to the disturbance outside, gently picked up his niece’s head and, saying a prayer, placed it back on her shoulders.  Winefride was restored to life with a white scar encircling her neck as a life-long mark of her martyrdom.  To this day, the scar is shown on statues of her.  Where her blood had spattered the ground, a blood coloured moss began to grow profusely and in time was observed to have healing properties.  As for Caradoc, in punishment for his terrible crime against this innocent young girl, the ground opened beneath his feet and he disappeared, never to be seen again.

Winefride achieved her ambition of becoming a nun and lived at Holywell.  After eight years, she joined a community at Gwetherin, where she went on to become Abbess, and where she died and was laid to rest twenty-two years later.  Bueno went on to found his own community on the Llyn Peninsula and performed several more miracles including, apparently, raising other people from the dead – a rare, and valuable, skill.

Winefride and Bueno are considered to have been real people.  Both became venerated as saints.  The location of the alleged double miracle at Holywell – Winefride’s resurrection and the sudden appearance of the waters – became a shrine to St Winefride and a place of pilgrimage.  The Catholic Church claims a 1300-year unbroken line of pilgrimage that, somehow, uniquely withstood the 16^th century Reformation and subsequent persecution of Catholics in Britain.  The waters of the well are meant to have healing, or restorative, powers and the shrine has become a place of consolation for those who have suffered sexual violence and other abuse.  Indeed, in the 21^st century, St Winefride’s shrine and well attracts thousands of visitors each year.  It has been designated a ‘national shrine’ by the Catholic Church, is one of the ‘Seven Wonders of Wales’ and the town of Holywell has been referred to as ‘The Lourdes of Wales’.

There are various versions of Winefride’s story, although the main thread is consistent.  It is quite possible that its fundamental form is far older than the 7^th century.  Indeed, we might conclude that the spring – which is a powerful one – existed long before Winefride was born.  Moreover, the Celts who ruled these islands before the Romans came, appear to have had a thing about heads, which they seemed to regard as the heart of the soul.  Perhaps the story of a lovely young girl viciously assaulted by a lustful thug is an echo from an even older tale.  Perhaps it has meaning beyond being a shocking murder and a Christian fable of faith.

Despite the claim of 13 centuries of unbroken pilgrimage, the earliest surviving records of Winefride’s tale come from the 12^th century, 400 years after she lived.  One of these accounts was written by a Robert Pennant, prior of Shrewsbury Abbey, whither her saintly remains were transferred in 1137.  It would be cynical to suggest that the two events were in any way connected.  Still, relics were big business in those days and there’s nothing like a convenient saint’s body – or even part of one if you can’t get the whole thing – to attract visitors and, therefore, revenue.  By all accounts, St Winefride’s remains began performing miracles almost immediately.

It is thought there are around 600 sites of holy wells in Britain.  Many of those wells will be springs, many will have been honoured long before Christianity reached these islands and some undoubtedly have folklore associated with their creation.  At least five of them, including St Winefride’s, have bequeathed the name ‘Holywell’ and are significant enough to be included in my not very detailed road atlas.  It’s not exactly clear when this Holywell began to be known as such, but there seems to be a general acceptance that it was at least sometime in the 11^th century.  We do not know what it was called before it was known as ‘Holywell’, but its native Welsh name is Treffynnon, a compound of ‘tref’ meaning ‘town’ and ‘ffynnon’ meaning ‘well’ or ‘spring’; so perhaps it was that.  This part of North Wales was actually included in the Domesday survey of 1086, but Holywell is not mentioned.  A place called ‘Weltune’ is – possibly ‘Well Town’ – but no one knows exactly where it was.

The cult of St Winefride took off in the middle ages, which St Winefride’s well mostly spent in the care of Basingwerk Abbey, just a mile or so up the road.  Its survival as a place of pilgrimage after the Reformation, despite the very best efforts of Protestant officials, is astonishing and must have had something to do with local support and the belief, by now, that the waters had genuinely curative powers.  It has also been visited by royalty – King Richard II in 1398, Henry IV in 1403 and Edward IV sometime in the 1460s.  James II visited the well in 1687 to pray for the birth of a son, a prayer that was answered in June the following year.  However, he was deposed in December that year, so things perhaps did not quite turn out as he had hoped.  It is sometimes said that Richard I and Henry V visited too, but both of these claims are uncertain.  It is known for sure that the future Queen Victoria visited the well in 1828 and His Majesty King Charles III definitely dropped by in July 2021.

The shrine and well of St Winefride today is an interesting complex that consists of a museum and gift shop, the custodian’s house, a small chapel and the main chapel and well.  The chapel is late 15^th century and is claimed to have been built by Margaret Beaufort, mother of the first Tudor king, Henry VII.  It is architecturally unique, set into the hillside and was, alas, closed when the ABAB team visited.  The well itself is on the level below and is quite extraordinary.  The spring bubbles quite forcibly up into an exceptional star-shaped basin under an exquisite vaulted ceiling, and then flows out into a small, modern, outdoor pool.  This is where pilgrims to this day can bathe to cure their ailments and so on.  The water really does look as blue as the photos show.  The museum and shop are both, understandably, heavy on the religion and the latter includes Winefride’s story as well as crutches thrown aside by pilgrims healed in the waters of the well. 

It is my nature to be cynical but, whatever your beliefs, this is an extraordinary site.  It is possible to discern an atmosphere of a place, good or evil, particularly where many have gathered, united in purpose, or where something truly significant has taken place.  I sense that something must have happened here, whether as and when the stories tell, or in some other form and time, otherwise I cannot see the legend lasting.  Let us end with some lines translated from the aforementioned Robert Pennant’s life of Winefride, written 900 years ago:

More fair than all the vernal flowers
Embosom’d in the dales
St Winifride in beauty bloom’d,
The rose of ancient Wales.