Eternal Idol

There are a great many intriguing aspects to this most recent excavation at Stonehenge, so I intend to cover them all as time allows. For now, it’s worth looking in detail at what seems to be the main thrust of Prof Wainwright and Darvill’s argument, that Stonehenge was some kind of prehistoric healing shrine and that it functioned as such on account of the bluestones from Wales, which once surrounded healing springs in the Preseli Mountains. On a number of occasions, these two men refer to Geoffrey of Monmouth and to the folklore about healing stones; as I don’t believe anyone’s ever looked into this subject thoroughly, this is as good an opportunity as any to do so.

If I’m mistaken in any way about what Prof Wainwright and Prof Darvill are maintaining, then I’ll happily correct it, because willful misinterpretation is one of the many scourges of modern archaeology, especially in Britain. I’ve no intention of pursuing such a futile line of argument, because it’s unlikely to lead to the truth, because it diminishes the efforts of others and because there are already plenty of shoddy amateur practitioners of willful misrepresentation and I’m rather fussy about the company I keep.

So, I don’t know if Profs Wainwright and Darvill took Geoffrey of Monmouth’s tale as their starting point, or if what he had to say entered the equation at some later point in their deliberations. From a personal point of view, I simply could not be more interested in what old legends have to say about Stonehenge, not least because it seems to me to be sheer madness to overlook any possible source of information on what’s widely thought to be the most incomprehensible prehistoric monument of them all. I’ve made no secret of my admiration for Heinrich Schliemann, who chose to believe every last word of the legends written by Homer and who thereby discovered Troy, so it seems well worth examining every last thing that Geoffrey of Monmouth had to say about Stonehenge.

Geoffrey of Monmouth was a Welsh monk, born in 1100, who wrote and published A History of the Kings of Britain, a much-maligned account of the rulers of the British Isles from around 1,000 BC to his own time. Even in our sophisticated modern era, we’re apparently in the dark as to Stonehenge’s origins, so it’s unthinkable that a shameless writer of pseudo-history such as Geoffrey could have been any better informed about the monument than we are. Be that as it may, let’s look closely at what he had to say on the matter.

In brief, Geoffrey tells us that in the fifth century, after the Romans had left Britain, the Saxon chief Hengist fought a war against the usurping British King Vortigern, then during the course of a truce that they deliberately broke, the Saxons treacherously killed 460 British nobles. The rightful heir to the British throne, Aurelius Ambrosius, along with his brother Uther Pendragon, returned from exile in Brittany and killed Vortigern. They also captured Hengist who was subsequently executed by Eldod, the Bishop of Gloucester’s brother, but Aurelius wished to raise a monument to the memory of the murdered British nobles. He was told to consult Merlin, the personal wizard to the late Vortigern, as to precisely how to go about raising a memorial and this is what Merlin had to say to him:

“If thou be fain to grace the burial place of these men with a work that shall endure forever, send for the Dance of the Giants that is in Killaraus, a mountain in Ireland. For a structure of stones is there that none of this age could arise save his wit were strong enough to carry his art. For the stones be big, nor is there stone anywhere of more virtue, and, so they be set up round this plot in a circle, even as they be now there set up, here shall they stand forever…For in these stones is a mystery, and a healing virtue against many ailments. Giants of old did carry them from the furthest ends of Africa and did set them up in Ireland what time they did inhabit therein. And unto this end they did it, that they might make them baths whensoever they ailed of any malady, for they did wash the stones and pour forth the water into the baths, whereby they that were sick were made whole.”

Aurelius thought the whole thing was a first class idea, so he immediately sent his brother Uther with an army across to Ireland where they defeated the native army in short order. Uther’s army couldn’t move the stones, however, so Merlin helped them in an unspecified fashion to move them to the coast where they were loaded onto ships, then brought to Salisbury Plain where they were reassembled. This final undertaking presumably required Merlin’s help once more, as a mediaeval illustration shows a giant Merlin putting a lintel into place.

It’s an extremely clear, colourful and detailed story, so let us compare it with what the established facts are concerning the origin of Stonehenge. We know the stone monument wasn’t set in place in the fifth century AD after the Romans left, while we also know that the bluestones came from south Wales and not from Ireland. Neither Merlin nor Aurelius, if they ever were historical characters, had any part in setting the stones in place, while no one has yet found 460 slain British nobles from the same period. Geoffrey tells us that Aurelius was buried at Stonehenge, as was Uther who became king after Aurelius, while it was also the burial place for Constantine, the cousin of Uther’s son Arthur, who broke with tradition by being buried in Avalon. Arthur promised to rise from the dead if ever Britain needed him again, but no one has found Aurelius, Uther or Constantine at Stonehenge. On the face of it, the story seems to be pure fantasy from start to finish.

However, when we remove the dates and names from Geoffrey’s account, we begin to run into very serious difficulties indeed, because otherwise his account is accurate in the most fantastic detail, far more than anyone has previously supposed. The bluestones were not brought from Ireland, but they were brought from a land to the west of England across a large expanse of water. Furthermore, the precise spot from which the stones came was under the dominion of Irish royalty from around 360 AD onwards and certainly through the Arthurian period that Geoffrey was describing, while the stones were brought from the top of a mountain, exactly as Geoffrey specified.

Geoffrey also tells us that the temple was intact when it was found, dismantled then reassembled again on Salisbury Plain. We know from surviving joints and other features on some of the bluestones that they once formed trilithons like the later sarsens did, so there’s a good chance that a standing temple made of dressed and interlocking stone once existed in the Preseli Mountains prior to the structures at Stonehenge, in which case they’d have been dismantled, brought to Salisbury Plain then re-erected – again, exactly as Geoffrey described. Given our persistent failure to transport one of these stones to Salisbury Plain, there’s the real possibility that an army was involved in their movement, an idea once again echoed by Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account.

Geoffrey specifies that a wizard was instrumental in moving the stones, and it’s interesting to note that archaeologists have conclusively linked the discoveries of the Boscombe Bowmen in 2003 and the Amesbury Archer in 2002 with Stonehenge. The Amesbury Archer was buried with copper rather than bronze knives, showing that he was part of the very earliest culture of metal-making in Britain, while every serious commentary on these early metal workers specifies that such men must have been thought of as wizards; Sir Arthur C Clarke’s Third Law states “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”. The Archer has been linked with the construction of Stonehenge in about 2,300 BC, but he originated from as far south as Switzerland.

We know from the chemical analysis of the Bowmen’s teeth enamel that they were likely to have been born and raised close to the Preseli Mountains in south Wales. These burials date from the same time as the Amesbury Archer i.e around 2,300 BC, while the senior “Bowman” was buried with a boar tusk that suggests that he too may have been an early metalworker. In the case of the bowmen, one boar’s tusk and some flints aren’t much to go on, but there’s still a strong case for both the senior Bowman and the Archer to be regarded as wizards.

Both men were intimately connected with Stonehenge, just as Geoffrey said that Merlin was, while Geoffrey also tells us that Merlin was born at what is now Carmarthen, which is just a short distance from the mountains originally housing what was almost certainly a standing bluestone temple. If, as the evidence suggests, the senior Bowman was regarded as a wizard and if he was involved with moving stones from Wales to Stonehenge, then Geoffrey of Monmouth was right on two more counts, if we include the proximity of Merlin’s birthplace to the place from where the stones were taken.

So, let’s look at some of the basic elements that both the archaeologists and the apparently discredited Geoffrey agree upon.
1. Stonehenge was originally built in a land to the west.
2. It stood on land ruled by Irish kings.
3. It stood on a mountaintop.
4. It was intact when it was captured.
5. It was dismantled.
6. It was reassembled.
7. Its movement involved a long journey by water.
8. Its movement employed many men.
9. It was (probably) removed by force.
10. Its stones had healing properties or were otherwise thought of as holy.
11. A wizard was involved in dismantling it.
12. A wizard was involved in reassembling it.
13. This same wizard was born near to the original temple.
14. It was regarded as an architectural wonder.
15. A king played some part in causing it to be built on Salisbury Plain.

The notion of a wizard being born near to the temple is not one that’s actually stated outright by Geoffrey in the story of Aurelius, but the fact remains that Geoffrey accepted elsewhere that Carmarthen was where Merlin had been born, while it is close to the Preseli Mountains and the Bowmen are known to have originated in the same area. As for the involvement of a king, the Amesbury Archer is otherwise described by senior archaeologists as “The King of Stonehenge”. Admittedly, given his skill as an early metalworker, he could double up as a magician or wizard, but the senior Bowman or “Builder of Stonehenge” seems to fit that description very well.

Furthermore, if we regard the Amesbury Archer or King of Stonehenge as Aurelius, or the member of royalty responsible for building Stonehenge, some more truly fantastic possibilities arise, because he was found buried with a companion, or “Prince of Stonehenge.” Uther and Aurelius were in exile in Brittany before they returned to Britain and had Stonehenge built, so it seems an incredible coincidence that two close male relatives described as royalty by senior archaeologists should have been around when Stonehenge or part of it was being put in place. It seems that the Prince grew up in Britain, but the Archer is known to have come from somewhere on the continent, which is close enough to Geoffrey’s account of Aurelius returning from exile.

Geoffrey didn’t actually state that Hengist was executed at Stonehenge, but he did say that Eldol, brother of the Bishop of Gloucester, personally beheaded Hengist, and we know of at least one beheading from early Saxon times at Stonehenge. So, if we disregard the names and dates, and accept that some of the characters’ functions may have been confused, Geoffrey still leaves us with a highly accurate picture of the circumstances of Stonehenge’s construction, because we’ve found the remains of people fitting the description of the kings and wizards he described and there’s a case for saying that they originated in the same areas he described. On top of that, there’s the headless “Hengist” at Stonehenge and the remains of something like 240 dead people from the early phase of Stonehenge – this isn’t quite the 460 nobles that Geoffrey described, but it’s a sizeable figure all the same and it may well have been higher.

Furthermore, on page 47 of Christopher Chippindale’s Stonehenge Complete, we learn that the Duke of Buckingham dug a pit at Stonehenge in 1620 in which was found, among other things, “batter-dashers, heads of arrows, some pieces of armour eaten out with rust…” all of which sounds suspiciously like the remnant of some mediaeval engagement. When we add to this the amazing discovery by Profs Wainwright and Darvill that one of the bluestone sockets at Stonehenge may have been in use as late as mediaeval times, it all points towards Geoffrey of Monmouth somehow being extraordinarily accurate regarding the principle elements of the construction of Stonehenge.

Here we have fifteen points of similarity, so it would be as well to bear in mind that not so long ago, a man could be hanged in Britain if there were between eight and sixteen points of similarity on an incriminating fingerprint. This is all surprising enough, given that Geoffrey has long been consigned to the outer darkness as a historian, but these points of similarity become even more astonishing if we examine the options open to him if he were cheerfully making everything up as he went along.

As a writer of entertaining fiction, a pseudo-historian and someone who could not possibly have known anything about the origin of Stonehenge over 3,500 years before his time, how else could he reasonably have described the building of the monument? Let us take the structure itself, which Geoffrey describes as intact when Uther’s forces laid claim to it.

Geoffrey could well have described it as having been completely in ruins, partly in ruins or scattered over a wide area. It could also have been removed from its original site, with two or more competing groups of people possessing a part of it, or else Merlin could have simply told Aurelius that he knew of some fantastic stones lying around in a general area that would make a superb monument if they were put together. Merlin was a wizard, so he should also have been able to turn some of Aurelius’ enemies into stone if he chose, much as Lot’s wife turned into a pillar of salt, but we shall content ourselves with six possible variants on the composition of the original structure for now.

Geoffrey told us that it stood on a mountain, but if he was making the whole thing up, he could just as easily have said that it had been sited on a hill, overlooking a cliff, in a valley, on a plain, in a forest or wood, on an island, in some deep hole or cavern, on the seashore or partly submerged by the sea, arising only at low tide. Here we have another eight variants with which to multiply our first six, but there are a few more possibilities to consider.

Geoffrey specified Mount Killaraus in Ireland as being the original home of Stonehenge, but if we regard it as a land to the west that lay across water, then he was correct, so what were his other choices? He could have chosen a land or area of land to the north, south or east in Britain and we must remember that Geoffrey’s list of kings began with Brutus, a Trojan who liberated his fellows from slavery in Greece before making his way to Britain. Obviously, the amount of places in the known world of the time that Geoffrey could have situated the original Stonehenge could easily run into the thousands.

When speaking of the history of the stones, Merlin told Aurelius that “Giants of old did carry them from the furthest ends of Africa…” so Geoffrey could have supplied all manner of locations in Egypt alone where this temple could have stood. But he did not – he specified a mountaintop to the west, saying it was Ireland, when in fact it was a region under Irish rule. If we suggest a miserly two thousand possible locations in the world known to Geoffrey in the mid twelfth century when he was writing his account of the origin of Stonehenge, and multiply them by the variants we’ve already considered, then there’s something like a one hundred thousand to one chance that Geoffrey could have got everything so right if he was making it up.

You might like to consider some further relevant variants and multiples. The most notable element of the stones’ journey was the transportation across water, so a journey not involving water is an option, as well as perhaps a trek through some huge wood, making three.

What else could Geoffrey have made up? Well, even though it seems that the sarsens and bluestones eventually became merged in his explanation of the completed monument on the plain, he said that the stones on the mountaintop that would eventually become Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain had healing properties. Given what we know of the springs in the Preseli Mountains and the way in which many of them were surrounded by bluestone, this seems accurate enough, but Geoffrey could equally well have described “The Giants Dance” as a representation of a crown, as a meeting place or parliament of sorts for nobles, a huge sundial, a sanctuary for criminals, an arsenal or storage place for weapons, a monument to commemorate an ancient battle, a prison for giants, an observatory, a bullring, a lighthouse, lookout post or beacon, a place marking buried treasure, a rallying point for his army in times of war, a place of pilgrimage, an execution place for criminals or the remains of some kind of Tower of Babel, perhaps. Remember, we are told time and again that Geoffrey wrote fiction or pseudo-history, so it is only fair to consider the many dramatic options open to such a writer; with little effort, we’ve just presented sixteen reasonable choices that were open to him on this count, which increases the odds against him being correct as something in the region of one and a half million to one.

Geoffrey said that a wizard and two royal brothers were involved in making Stonehenge and it seems that he was right – you don’t have to take my word for it, because this is how the King and Prince of Stonehenge and the Bowmen have been described by senior archaeologists and what’s more, they were around at precisely the same time that the monument was being put into place. One of them, the senior Bowman, originated from close to the Preseli Hills and Geoffrey averred that Merlin had been born in Carmarthen, while the royal brothers, Aurelius and Uther, were said to have been in exile in Brittany – the King and Prince of Stonehenge were certainly relatives and at least one of them crossed the channel to get here, so it seems that yet again, Geoffrey was correct in the most minute detail about events that took place 3,500 years or so before his time.

How precisely did Geoffrey arrive at his remarkably accurate conclusion? He claims to have had possession of what he described as “a certain very ancient book written in the British language…attractively composed to form a consecutive and orderly narrative that set out all the deeds of these men, from Brutus, the first King of the Britons, down to Cadwallader, the son of Cadwallo.” He says that his friend Walter, the Archbishop of Oxford, lent him this book, but it is now lost to us. Nonetheless, it is possible to draw a number of hard and fast conclusions from this whole affair.

Whichever way you calculate the odds against Geoffrey of Monmouth being correct by chance, the figures are still astronomical, so we either accept that he was right as a result of a truly fantastic stroke of luck, or else we believe his explanation that he once saw a certain “very ancient book written in the British language…” There can be no doubt that Geoffrey of Monmouth was accurately describing events in 2,300 BC, but he couldn’t have done this unless an extremely clear memory of those events had persisted and been written down at some point. And who do we find placed almost exactly in the middle of the pre-literate builders of Stonehenge in 2,300 BC and Geoffrey of Monmouth in the twelfth century? None other than the supposedly Iron Age Druids, who apparently had no connection whatsoever with the construction of Stonehenge, but who did have very long memories and what’s more, they were also the first recorded people in Britain to possess the ability to write.

A close examination of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account virtually proves that, contrary to decades of outraged denials by archaeologists, the Druids played a major part in the construction of Stonehenge, if only as onlookers, although I suspect that they were involved to a far greater degree. Be that as it may, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s uncannily accurate account of the building of Stonehenge also has something very interesting and very relevant to tell us about the theory behind the most recent excavations there.

This link to a recent Guardian article by Maev Kennedy contains the following paragraph:

If the excavation bears out Wainwright and Darvill’s ideas, it would blow out of the water the rival theory of their colleague, the equally distinguished archaeologist Mike Parker Pearson, who after excavating at nearby Woodhenge is convinced his site was a henge for the living, and Stonehenge the abandoned realm of the dead. “A very elegant theory,” Wainwright sniffed yesterday, “lacking only the quality of a shred of supporting evidence.”

Well, it’s curious that Profs Wainwright and Darvill repeatedly cite Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account in support of their theory, because this very same account, remarkable for all its stunning accuracy, blows out of the water the notion that Stonehenge was a prehistoric healing shrine. It doesn’t matter what the component materials were or what use they were previously put to, because Aurelius specifically tells Merlin that he wishes to erect a memorial to the dead British nobles, to which Merlin replies “If thou be fain to grace the burial place of these men with a work that shall endure forever, send for the Dance of the Giants that is in Killaraus, a mountain in Ireland. For a structure of stones is there that none of this age could arise save his wit were strong enough to carry his art. For the stones be big, nor is there stone anywhere of more virtue, and, so they be set up round this plot in a circle, even as they be now there set up, here shall they stand forever…”

Professor John North deals with this matter in detail on page 278 of his book Stonehenge, Neolithic Man and the Cosmos, where he writes “The rituals of foundation are not necessarily the rituals of use. To take a simple parallel with a later Christian practice: a parish church may have been aligned on the rising of the Sun on the day of its patron saint, but most worship in the church will reflect that fact in no way whatsoever.”

Merlin goes on to say that giants once washed these stones and collected the water to cure the sick, but that’s neither here nor there, because the purpose of building Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain couldn’t be clearer – it’s “to grace the burial place of these men with a work that shall endure forever”, while it’s worth bearing in mind that the Druids claimed descent from Dis Pater, a Lord of the Underworld. This last quote by Merlin is well-known, but if we take the trouble to look further into Geoffrey of Monmouth’s detailed account, the very same one that seems to have inspired Profs Wainwright and Darvill, we find repeated and highly specific references to Stonehenge being erected on Salisbury Plain as a memorial to the dead.

This is the first reference and there’s no mention of the stones being used for the supplementary purpose of healing:

“There was there a convent of three hundred brethren upon the Mount of Ambrius, who, as is said, was the founder thereof in days of old. When he [Aurelius] looked around upon the place where they lay dead, he was moved to pity and tears began to flow. At last he fell to pondering within himself in what wise he might best make the place memorable, for worthy of remembrance did he deem the green turf that covered so many noble warriors that had died for their country.”

The second reference also specifies that Stonehenge should be a memorial to the dead:

“Accordingly he called together from all quarters the master craftsmen in stone and wood, and bade them put forth their utmost skill to contrive some new kind of building that should stand for ever in memory of men so worthy. But all of them, mistrusting their own mastery in such a matter, were only able to meet him with a ‘Nay.’

As does the third:

Whereupon Tremounos, Archbishop of Caerleon, came unto the King and saith he: ‘If man there be anywhere strong enow to carry out this ordinance into effect, let Merlin, Vortigern’s prophet, set hand thereunto. For well I wot that never another man in thy kingdom is there that is brighter of wit than he, whether it be in foretelling that which shall be or in devising engines of artifice. Bid him come hither and set his wits to work, and I warrant he shall build thee a memorial to last!’

The fourth reference, containing an outburst by King Gilloman, seems to contradict the idea that there’s anything special about these stones, while the clear implication is that the Irish King’s been told that they’re to be used as a memorial to the dead:

At that time was Gilloman King in Ireland, a youth of marvellous prowess, who, so soon as ever he heard of the Britons having landed in Ireland, got together a huge army and started forth to meet them. And when he had learned the reason wherefore they had come, he laughed, and saith he unto them that stood by: ‘No wonder the craven Saxon folk were strong enough to lay waste the island of Britain when the Britons themselves are such gross-witted wiseacres. Who hath ever heard of such folly? Are the stones of Ireland any better than those of Britain that our kingdom should thus be challenged to fight for them? Arm yourselves, men, and defend your country, for never while life is in me shall they carry off from us the very smallest stone of the Dance.’

The fifth reference is to a burial-place:

“And when they were all weary and spent, Merlin burst out on laughing and put together his own engines. At last, when he had set in place everything whatsoever that was needed, he laid the stones down so lightly as none would believe, and when he had laid them down, bade carry them to the ships and place them inboard, and on this wise did they again set sail and returned unto Britain with joy, presently with a fair wind making land, and fetching the stones to their burial-place ready to set up.”

As is the sixth:

“When this was reported unto Aurelius, he sent messengers throughout the countries of Britain, bidding summon clergy and laity, and enjoining them when summoned to assemble at the Mount of Ambrius with rejoicing and honour to set up the stones again round the foresaid burial-place.”

While the seventh reference further specifies that Stonehenge is to be a place of the dead, not a healing place:

“And when he had settled these and other matters in his realm, he bade Merlin set up the stones that he had brought from Ireland around the burial-place. Merlin accordingly obeyed his ordinance, and set them up about the compass of the burial-ground in such wise as they had stood upon Mount Killaraus in Ireland, and proved yet once again how skill surpasseth strength.”

Finally, without the benefit of the profound acumen and wisdom automatically conferred by a degree in archaeology, one just has to struggle by as best one can, so I’ll spell out my conclusions on this whole matter.

The Smithsonian and the BBC have put their considerable resources behind this most recent excavation at Stonehenge, but sadly, no one involved seems to have done their homework or to have thought matters through to their logical conclusion. The driving force behind this excavation appears to be Profs Wainwright and Darvill’s belief that Stonehenge was a place of healing in prehistoric times, and in support of this, they frequently cite Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account of the building of Stonehenge.

They describe Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account as folklore, a term that suggests that the source isn’t 100% reliable. However, even a brief examination of this twelfth-century record shows that Geoffrey of Monmouth was exactly right about the origin of the bluestones when he said that they came from the top of a mountain. The area in question was under the rule of Irish kings, it had associations with healing and there may well have been a standing temple of bluestones in place there before it was dismantled and later reassembled on Salisbury Plain. Geoffrey was also correct when he said that the stones originated from a land to the west and that their journey to Salisbury Plain entailed a long journey by water.

Furthermore, Geoffrey told us that Stonehenge was put in place on Salisbury Plain after two royal brothers returned from exile on the continent. In May 2002, archaeologists found two close male relatives of royal status who were around when Stonehenge was being built, while one of these men had come to Britain from the continent.

Geoffrey also told us that a wizard named Merlin was instrumental in bringing Stonehenge from the land to the west to Salisbury Plain. In May 2003, archaeologists discovered the remains of a number of men, one of whom may well have been an early metalworker or wizard, who was around at the same time that Stonehenge was being built. Furthermore, tests on this man’s tooth enamel show that he originated from close to the home of the bluestones, while Geoffrey of Monmouth believed that Merlin had been born in Carmarthen, a town not far from the home of the bluestones.

When we also bear in mind the matter of Hengist being beheaded, we’re reminded of the man who was decapitated at Stonehenge in early Saxon times, while it seems to me that the men who later came to be known as Uther, Aurelius and Merlin were taken from their graves and placed in Salisbury Museum, I believe, all without the archaeologists who were responsible noticing. All this, however, is far from being the end of the matter.

Geoffrey of Monmouth tells us that the sole British noble to survive Hengist’s treacherous massacre was a man named Eldod, who managed to defend himself by using a wooden stake or a club against adversaries using knives. As I pointed out in a previous entry, the men now known to us as the Amesbury Archer and the Boscombe Bowman both had smashed left legs, injuries that might have been incurred by an encounter with a muscular, right-handed opponent wielding a club. Of course, this makes little or no sense if these two men went on to become known as Aurelius and Merlin, but the element is there all the same, for what it’s worth. If we look for betrayal at Stonehenge around the time the monument came into being, then there’s the “man from the ditch” or The Sentinel, who was felled by having a volley of arrows fired into his back. It may not be much, but there are still faint echoes of what Geoffrey of Monmouth told us took place there.

Geoffrey’s specific mention of healing stones is very interesting, especially in light of what Profs Wainwright and Darvill tell us about Preseli, but Geoffrey of Monmouth’s frighteningly exact account gives just one mention of healing stones as opposed to seven or eight specific mentions of Stonehenge being built as a place to commemorate the dead, an idea further born out by the extensive research carried out by Professor Mike Parker Pearson.

By way of conclusion, there’s yet another astonishing implication to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s tale that the archaeologists do not seem to have noticed. Everyone’s assuming that Merlin’s simply describing the bluestones at Preseli when he makes his famous speech to Aurelius, but when we look more closely, it’s clear he’s saying nothing of the kind: “If thou be fain to grace the burial place of these men with a work that shall endure forever, send for the Dance of the Giants that is in Killaraus, a mountain in Ireland. For a structure of stones is there that none of this age could arise save his wit were strong enough to carry his art. For the stones be big, nor is there stone anywhere of more virtue, and, so they be set up round this plot in a circle, even as they be now there set up, here shall they stand forever…”

When stood upright, the Stonehenge bluestones are roughly the same height as an average human, so this hardly suggests the work of giants. The science of building castles of stone was well-advanced by Geoffrey’s time, so it hardly makes sense to suggest that bluestones weighing 3 or 4 tons each could not be put in place by mere humans. Merlin specifically refers to a structure of big stones set up in a circle, which is the defining characteristic of the sarsens, not the bluestones, which were arranged in a variety of designs. He stresses that no one could construct such a circle on account of its sheer size, which yet again implies the much larger sarsens as opposed to the bluestones, so as Geoffrey was correct about everything else, it seems unavoidable that he was writing about Stonehenge in its entirety i.e bluestones and sarsens, being removed from a mountaintop in a land somewhere to the west and transported to Salisbury Plain.

Such an idea might seem to be fantastic, but the fact remains that no conclusive study has been carried out on the origins of the sarsen stones. Everyone automatically assumes that they came from the Marlborough Downs, but I’ve yet to see any proof of this, even though there should by rights be gaping pits and flakes in abundance at the sites and quarries from where the stones were removed. There are no known sarsen fields in Wales, but that in itself cannot rule out the possibility, however incredible, that the entire monument of Stonehenge once stood on a mountaintop in Wales.

Does Geoffrey of Monmouth have anything else to say on the matter of the stones? Yes, he points out that “Giants of old did carry them from the furthest ends of Africa” which again seems completely out of the question, so you may imagine my surprise when I discovered this article in the prestigious Nature magazine. South Africa sounds very much like “the furthest ends of Africa” to me, especially as far as Geoffrey of Monmouth was concerned, but how he had any inkling in 1130 AD that sarsen could be found there is absolutely beyond me. It has to be a complete coincidence, of course, just like every other matter than he somehow got right.

Well, I’d be very interested indeed to hear the forthcoming Timewatch programme explain any of this or even look into it for that matter, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’ll all be conveniently overlooked in favour of some healing bluestone tunnel vision. Oh well, I’ll conclude for now by quoting Marcus Aurelius for the hundredth time: “If anyone can show me, and prove to me, that I am wrong in thought or deed, I will gladly change. I seek the truth, which never yet hurt anybody. It is only persistence in self-delusion and ignorance which does harm.”

Words by Dennis Price. Photographs copyright Pete Glastonbury 2008.

Categories: Archaeological discoveries 2008, Bluestone, Stonehenge, Stonehenge Sentinel, The Druids
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