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Some Myths and Legends



Travel anywhere in the UK and you’ll run into a bizarre landmark, an odd place name, or a local legend treated as gospel. Yet many of these tall tales that pass for historical facts are the result of eccentric royals, local hoaxes, and ancient geography dressed up in dramatic myth.

So, grab a cuppa and join us on a tour of just some of the UK’s most famous legends - and the surprising reality behind them.

The Royal Knighting of the Sunday Roast
The story that started this particular rabbit hole involves an English king and a cut of beef.

According to legend - variously attributed to Henry VIII, James I, or Charles II - a monarch was so taken by a roasted loin at dinner that he drew his sword and knighted it ‘Sir Loin’ on the spot. It sounds like an eccentric royal quirk, and it’s a brilliant tavern tale.

What really happened: Historical records show the word surloigne existed in Old French long before any of these monarchs ruled. The royal story is just a playful folk legend that likely helped shift the spelling of the meat to sound a little more knightly.

Lady Godiva and the Peeping Tom
Next, we head to 11th-century Coventry for one of history's most famous protests. As the story goes, Lady Godiva pleaded with her husband, Leofric, Earl of Mercia, to lower the crippling taxes he imposed on the locals. Exasperated, Leofric declared he would only lower the taxes if she rode through the town square completely naked. Taking him up on the challenge, Godiva ordered the townspeople to stay indoors with their blinds drawn, wrapped herself only in her long hair, and rode through the streets on a white horse.

What really happened: Lady Godiva and Earl Leofric were real historical figures who were major benefactors to the Church, but the legendary ride wasn't recorded until 100 years after their deaths by chronicler Roger of Wendover. (Bonus myth: The detail about a local tailor named Tom who peeked through his shutters was added in the 17th century - giving birth to the phrase ‘Peeping Tom’).

Robin Hood and The Sherwood Outlaw
No tour of English myths would be complete without visiting Nottinghamshire. According to legend, Robin Hood was an exiled noble (the Earl of Huntingdon) living in Sherwood Forest during the late 12th century who fought the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham, robbed from the rich to give to the poor, and rescued King Richard the Lionheart.

What really happened: There is no record of a noble named Robin Hood in Sherwood during King Richard's reign. ‘Robinhood’ (or Rabunhod) actually became a generic pseudonym used by English courts in the 13th century for any outlaw on the run. The heroic ballads we know today were a composite of several different historical outlaws merged over centuries.

The Magic London Stone
Heading down to the capital, embedded in the wall of a building on Cannon Street in London, is a small block of limestone. Recent (2002) folklore dictates that this is the very stone from which King Arthur pulled Excalibur, or that it was brought to London by Brutus of Troy, the mythical founder of Britain. An old rhyme warns: "So long as the Stone of Brutus is safe, so long shall London flourish."

What really happened: The stone is real, but its origin is far more practical. It is believed to be an ancient Roman milestone (milliarium) placed near the centre of Roman Londinium around 43 AD, used as the official zero point from which all distances along Roman roads in Britain were measured.

The Raven Prophecy of London
Just down the road at the Tower of London, another famous tale takes hold. According to legend, King Charles II ordered that six ravens must always be kept at the fortress - warning that if the ravens ever leave, the White Tower will fall, and the entire Kingdom of England with it.

What really happened: Historians have found no record of the raven prophecy before the late Victorian era. In fact, some suggest it was created by Tower staff during the Second World War when air raids disrupted the local bird population! Today, the Government still employs an official Ravenmaster to trim the birds' flight feathers to ensure the ‘prophecy’ stays intact (and to care and feed the Tower’s resident ravens).

The Monster and the Toy Submarine
Crossing the border and heading north into the misty Scottish Highlands, we arrive at Loch Ness. Deep in its dark waters allegedly dwells a prehistoric plesiosaur - famously captured on film in the iconic 1934 "Surgeon's Photograph" - that has managed to dodge modern science for tens of millions of years.

What really happened: Sightings go back to the 6th century, but the famous photograph that launched modern Nessie mania was a complete setup. In 1994, Christian Spurling confessed on his deathbed that he and his stepfather built the monster using a toy submarine attached to a carved wooden head to pull off the ultimate prank on the local press.

Giant Feuds and Baby Clothes
Taking a quick trip across the Irish Sea to County Antrim, we find the Giant's Causeway. Legend says the Irish giant Fionn mac Cumhaill (Finn McCool) built a stone pathway across the sea to fight his Scottish rival, Benandonner. When Fionn saw how massive Benandonner was, his clever wife Oona disguised Fionn as a baby. Seeing the staggering size of the ‘baby’, Benandonner fled in terror, thinking the father must be astronomical, ripping up the path behind him as he ran.

What really happened: The 40,000 interlocking hexagonal basalt columns are actually the result of intense volcanic activity around 50 to 60 million years ago. As molten lava cooled rapidly and contracted, thermal cracks formed the geometric stone columns we see today.

The Drowning of the Welsh Atlantis
Heading into Wales, we stop at the coast of Cardigan Bay. Legend says there once lay Cantre'r Gwaelod, a rich kingdom protected from the sea by massive dykes and sluice gates. The keys were held by a nobleman named Seithenyn, who got notoriously drunk at a royal feast, leaving the floodgates wide open. An ocean storm battered the coast, completely submerging the city. Legend says you can still hear the church bells ringing from under the waves in times of danger.

What really happened: This legend has real geological roots. During the Bronze Age, sea levels were lower, and forest areas along Cardigan Bay were inundated as ancient glaciers melted. Fossilised trees embedded in the sand are routinely uncovered during low tides, proving that real land was indeed swallowed by the sea.

The Tale of the Faithful Hound
We finish our journey in the Snowdonia region of Wales. Prince Llywelyn the Great returned home from hunting to find his baby’s cradle overturned, blood splattered across the room, and his beloved hound, Gelert, standing with a dripping red muzzle. Grief-stricken and enraged, Llywelyn ran Gelert through with his sword. Seconds later, he heard his baby cry from under a blanket - safe alongside the body of a giant wolf Gelert had killed to protect the child. Overcome with remorse, Llywelyn buried the dog with great honour. Today, the village is named Beddgelert ("Gelert's Grave") in his memory.

What really happened: Gelert never existed! In the late 18th century, David Pritchard, a clever local innkeeper in the village (then called Cynwyd), fabricated the entire story to boost tourism to his pub. He even set up a stone monument in a nearby field to act as the ‘grave’. The marketing ploy worked brilliantly - tourists flock there to this day.


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Nimbus · M
We visited Gelert's 'grave' and were slightly underwhelmed by it all albeit the countryside around was fantastic.

Thanks for the revelation!
ArishMell · 70-79, M
A few others for you:

The Luddites.

The word "Luddite" is now applied very loosely and wrongly to deride anyone who is not as clever at using, or indeed chooses not to use, the sort of technical equipment the critic considers compulsory.

The original Luddites were textile makers frightened the newly-invented machines would make them redundant, in the earliest phases of the Industrial Revolution. They feared for their livelihoods, and were not afraid of the new machines they were perfectly capable of learning to use; but simply destroyed them.

When arrested for criminal damage, they named Thomas Ludd as their leader.

Thomas Ludd was remarkably elusive though. That's because he did not exist! The aggrieved spinners and weavers had invented the name to baffle the authorities.

===

The Cerne Giant.

This decidedly risque chalk figure of a nude male carved into the hillside above the Dorset village of Cerne Abbas, gained a reputation for being an ancient, perhaps Bronze Age, fertility symbol. There is no evidence for that, and more recently other interpretations have been suggested, some more credible than others.

The reality is that his age is unknown, his creators unknown, his purpose unknown.

Even the local abbey, destroyed in the Dissolution, did not seem to have recorded the figure - if it existed then - although any such document is likely lost, perhaps in the closure of the abbey.

+++


Stonehenge is a Druidic temple.

Not at all. It is far older (Neolithic), built on a site apparently already significant long before its erection; and we do not know its purpose.

The date can be ascertained, to some extent, but its original and and later genuine uses cannot be known, because there are no records. We do not know what the society that created this and similar monuments believed, nor how they organised themselves, although evidence from contemporary graves suggests they were strongly religious.

The modern stone-huggers fancy themselves as latter-day Druids but I doubt they really know much about the Late Bronze Age / Romano-British priestly caste, who anyway appeared much later than the henges era. If anyone recorded anything about the real Druids, they would have been Roman historians, not the Ancient Britons themselves.

++++

Vëasta - a fabulous sea-animal.

This is a modern concoction, illustrating how some of the older legends may have originated. Only, people nowadays are far less credulous. Well, most are. Allegedly. The modern equivalents are the conspiracy-"theories", personality-based "religious" cults and some financial arrangements.

A little geographical background:

The original Portland and Weymouth on the South English coast, not the US namesakes, form a triangular peninsula between two broad bays; Weymouth to the East; Lyme on the West, open to the South-West all the way to the Caribbean. That exposure to the prevailing Westerly, and sometimes Easterly, weather made Portland and its adjoining Chesil Beach very dangerous to shipping in the days of sail. Modern ships use the appropriate lee side to shelter from storms in the English Channel.

Portland is a tombolo and although now joined to the rest of England by a modern road (and for a hundred years, a railway) along the isthmus, until the 19C it was very isolated. Prior to the bridges local access used a ferry across the narrow entrance to the Fleet lagoon between Chesil Beach and the land.

Socially, the Portlanders were very insular and self-sufficient too; their main occupations being stone-quarrying, fishing and small-scale farming; but for centuries most people anywhere rarely travelled far from home anyway. It was and is a "Royal Manor", and a small tax was levvied on its stone exports for community purposes.


Vëasta first surfaced in a letter to the Dorset Echo, in the 1980s or 90s - I forget exactly when. A Weymouth man claimed to have read a Mediaeval bishop's account of having visited the isolated, insular Isle and Royal Manor of Portland. The bishop wrote local fishermen told him of this fabulous animal they called "Vëasta", which apparently dwelt only in Lyme Bay, and was occasionally seen off Chesil Beach. It apparently looked rather like a fantastical version of a porpoise; but the fishermen would have known the local and occasional visiting animals.

1) The letter writer did not cite the document, its location and why he would have seen it. A Mediaeval church paper would have been written in Latin, in the handwritten font of the time, and now so irreplaceable only genuine historians and ecclesiastical academics able to read and translate it would see it, for proper research purposes. A modern translation would be public.

2) This was the first time anyone had ever heard of odd creatures apparently living only in a fairly small region of the English Channel, nowhere else. Strays do appear occasionally though, in this arm of the NE Atlantic Ocean, and people hundreds of years ago might well have been baffled, even frightened, by their appearance.

3) The writer followed that tale with another, even less likely.

4) It is feasible a bishop had visited Portland, and he being Very Clever as he could read Latin (including the Bible) and was in some authority, the locals might have found him patronising so concocted the Vëasta as a parcatical joke. Modern travellers have sometimes encountered similar jokes against them.


What became of Vëasta?

A local pub commissioned an engraved plaque illustrating it, carved in the (local) Portland Stone, for public display on an exterior wall. Presumably that was destroyed when the pub was closed a few years ago by the extremely rich Dorset land-owner who owned it, and demolished to be replaced by a big block of flats.

The County Council commemorated Vëasta by naming a road roundabout after it. That's fame for you.

Otherwise, Vëasta swam away into oblivion and occasional local memories of a letters in a newspaper.
@ArishMell thanks
PatientlyWaiting25 · 46-50, F
@TheSirfurryanimalWales @ArishMell I live not far from the town that's at the centre of Luddite history. On the day of the bloodiest attack, the rioters spent the day drinking in local pubs then fueled with alcohol, they shot a night watchman and smashed up 55 of the new machines. Six of the men were hung for the crime. The former home of the owner of one of the textile mills is believed to be haunted. In 2006, workmen renovating the building discovered a secret hidden hatch within the floorboards. It led down to a network of tiny brick-cased rooms and a secret tunnel believed to be his personal escape route from a potential Luddite ambush. The rooms are so small they resemble dog kennels and are built with breathing pipes leading to the surface.
ArishMell · 70-79, M
@PatientlyWaiting25 Thankyou for that.

I didn't know the "Luddites" could be so violent as to commit murder.

Times must have been very dangerous for mill owners to need such desperate measures.
PatientlyWaiting25 · 46-50, F
This was brilliant. These myths and legends might not be true but the are certainly a lot of fun. The stories connected to our inland waterways are great too. I keep thinking about compiling a post. Thanks for sharing. Xx
ninalanyon · 70-79, T
@PatientlyWaiting25
I keep thinking about compiling a post.
Go for it.

 
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