Legend surrounds Lincoln Cathedral’s St Anne’s Well, where it’s said the devil awaits those brave enough to seek him out, writes KIZZY HELGESEN
That Lincoln Cathedral still stands for us to tell this story is nothing short of a miracle.
On the early morning of 15 April 1185, people living in the East Midlands awoke to feel the ground shaking violently below them.
Many homes and smaller villages were completely destroyed by an enormous earthquake, and the monumental cathedral was said to have been “split from top to bottom”.
The West Front is the only part that survived, and there is a depiction of the quake in a stained glass window in the cathedral’s Chapter House.
The “new” cathedral is perched high up on Steep Hill in Lincoln, stared at by the medieval castle as if in historical one-upmanship.
Those who live locally will call out “Who can see the Cathedral?” first on returning from any distance, as it dominates the landscape.
It is without a doubt a home of religious beauty, and many know of it through the story of the Lincoln Imp. But a lesser-known and darker tale lurks in the grounds of this deliciously gothic cathedral.
Whilst the choir sing hauntingly beautiful hymns within, the devil is said to be waiting close by in St Anne’s Well, padding around in its murky depths, awaiting those who would be brave enough to come to him for judgement.
What is St Anne’s Well?
St Anne’s Well, also known as Minster Well, is situated in the grounds of the cathedral.
It is a butter-coloured stone hexagonal building, made from oolitic limestone and not much taller than a person, with a singular gothic wooden door.
The door is fixed tightly shut with a large metal lock and strident hinges. But peculiarly, on the wooden door are six symmetrical holes.
Three across, and then three aligned below them. Just large enough to place a finger into.
The question being, why would anyone want to do that? Even more so if you had heard that the devil himself was sitting, waiting to give sentence upon your soul. Yet the question of souls awaiting judgement is a familiar one for Lincoln.
In 1349, the Black Death ravaged the population of Lincoln, and the dead quickly mounted up, overwhelming the clergy’s ability to bless and bury the remains properly. The uncounted bodies were tumbled together into a mass grave just to the right of the cathedral.
This hastily and poorly completed grave has given rise to legends that once a year, these dead rise from their unconsecrated barrow and begin a terrifying march towards the cathedral doors, pleading, wailing and singing for absolution for their abandoned souls.
Imagine yourself standing at the cathedral and with St Anne’s Well in front of you. Would you have the courage of your integrity?
Those brave enough will need to circle the well seven times. I imagine that with each whispered count — one… two… — that the devil will be growing more and more feverish… three… four… perhaps he will be chuckling meanly to himself… five… six… and now holding his breath, crouching behind that very door… seven!
Now faced with the six dark holes, which of them will you choose? Do you truly trust your nature? Take a deep breath and place your trembling finger inside.
The devil will take a long sniff at your vulnerable digit, and if he judges you to be of a good heart, you will simply feel his icy breath on your finger.
However, if you are judged to be black-hearted or villainous, the devil is said to peel back his blackened lips in a cruel smile, open wide his terrifying mouth and snap down on your finger, biting it clean off.
Regardless of your thoughts or beliefs in this folk tale, the truth is that anyone poking their finger into a dark hole feels a measure of anticipation. This is a natural wariness to stop us doing ridiculous things like sticking our fingers into dangerous dark holes.
In this case, however, you can be fairly assured that all will be “well”.
The building was actually moved in 1985 from closer to the Chapter House, where the original well is still in place, and now the building of St Anne’s Well actually covers just a fire hydrant.
Still, it’s a brilliant story, and you will certainly be tempted to test your self-belief if nothing else.
KIZZY HELGESEN is by day a charity fundraiser and addictions counsellor from Lincolnshire. By night, when the laptop closes, Kizzy creaks open the Underwood typewriter and descends into her favourite genres of the macabre, historical true crime and the irrepressibly spine chilling. A past host of Fright Nights across the UK and a collector of cats, top hats and creator of two suitably creepy children.