It’s amazing how one thing can lead to another. When I was researching the history of Middridge Quarry for a recent blog post, I discovered it is close to a fairy hill – at least according to legend.
Stories like this have always fascinated me so I decided to find out more about the myth of the Middridge fairies (Middridge faeries). I’m sharing the results of my research in this blog post and will try to ascertain the location of the hill associated with the alleged fairy activity.
Unfortunately, these days, many people from the local area have never heard about the myth of the Middridge fairies, and even among those who have the stories can differ. As for finding the location of the hill, that’s an even bigger challenge.
The first thing to know about the fairies at Middridge is they are not as benign as the ones associated with other parts of the British Isles. If you have spent any time reading books about myths and folklore, you will no doubt be aware the beings in the average “fairy” story are not usually nasty or aggressive. According to old tales from the area, the fairies at Middridge were a different kettle of fish. At best, they tormented people and caused mischief in the area. At worst, they exhibited demonic tendencies. The limited sources of information available don’t always tally but overall they suggest these particular County Durham fairies could be troublesome.
Various sources suggest the Middridge fairies wore green clothing made from very fine, delicate fabrics. Hundreds of them would gather at the base of a high hill and run around it. Did they live inside the hill? Perhaps. This is often the case with similar stories of these mythical beings.
It’s unlikely that any of the residents of Middridge still believe in fairies but at least until the mid-1800s, a lot of people did. In 1823, during the construction of the Darlington to Shidon railway line George Stephenson faced one of his greatest challenges while trying to lay the tracks across a marshy patch of land between Heighington and Darlington called Myers Flatt. To progress, it was necessary to fill the bog with tons of soil but every time his workers appeared to make progress by day, the soil sunk during the night, causing some locals to blame the Middridge fairies.
A similar story tells of embankments crumbling during the night in an area closer to Middridge village, where it was necessary to cut through a hill to lay the tracks. The workers were so unnerved by this they demanded and got extra pay.
A book called English Fairy and Other Folk Tales, written by Edwin Sidney Hartland, and published in 1890 provides an insight into earlier beliefs about the Middridge fairies. Its pages are filled with tales of goblins, giants, ghosts, and other supernatural beings, along with a section on faires that includes a chapter about the myth of Midridge. It contains information shared by a woman in her eighties. The tales were passed down from her great-grandmother. That would place them somewhere in the 1700s.
According to the book, the fairies frequented a “rather lofty hill” only a short distance from the village, where they gathered by the hundreds at dusk on summer nights. Catching sight of them could result in good luck or ill tidings, depending on the circumstances.
Any girl who visited the area alone and caught sight of the fairies would become the wife or lover of the person she loved before the end of the year. Boys who caught sight of the fairies would be similarly blessed, though not necessarily as quickly. They would get a “weel tochered lassie,” long afore their brows became “wrinkled with age.”
However, anyone observing the fairies’ antics while accompanied by someone else or as part of a group would court bad luck instead of good. If any of the faires became aware of their presence ill luck would follow them throughout their lives.
Speaking to the fairies in “plain prose or rustic rhyme” entailed a more dramatic response. This was well-known in the Middridge area at the time. Nevertheless, fuelled by alcohol, one local man was foolish enough to do so anyway. The story of what happened was passed down from generation to generation but this no longer seems to be the case. Although some local people are familiar with it, others are not.
The story goes like this:
It was a beautifully clear August evening when the final sheaf of corn had crowned the last stack of the harvest. After calling the harvest home, the daytale men and household servants were enjoying themselves over massive pewter quarts foaming over with strong beer. [Modern terminology: they were having a knees up.]
During the course of the evening, the conversation turned to the subject of the faires of the neighbouring hill. Many of those present shared the tales they’d heard from their grandparents or other elderly members of the parish.
The most senior member of the party had a friend called William who didn’t believe in fairies. In those days, it appears he was the odd one out. These days it would be the other way around. What happened next remains a quite common course of action, the man issued his friend with a dare. He dared him to get on the master’s best steed and gallop around the hill shouting the following rhymes at the top of his voice:
“Rise little Lads,
Wi’ your iron gads,
And set the Lad o’ Midridge hame.”
William accepted the challenge and Tam o’ Shanter-like and full of ale, rode to the fairy hill. When he arrived at its base, he began shouting the rhyme. The last words had scarcely left his mouth when hundreds of little folk appeared and surrounded him keen to award punishment for his insulting behaviour. The strongest of the fairies, who may have been the fairy king Oberon was especially intimidating, wielding an enormous javelin.
Outraged by the taunting rhyme, he threw back a rhyme of his own:
“Sillie Willy, mount thy filly;
And if it isn’t weel corn’d and fed,
I’ll hae thee afore thou gets hanie to thy Midridge bed.”
William’s home wasn’t too far away from the hill and there was still a little light left in the sky to help him see where he was going. Filled with fear, he struck his spurs into the sides of his horse, which was equally alarmed, and darted away as fast as possible towards its owner’s mansion instead.
Fortunately, it was an old-style house with an entrance large enough to admit a horse and rider safely and luck was on William’s side because when he arrived at the mansion the door was wide open. Believing the house to be a safer sanctuary than the stables, he rode straight into the hall, instantly becoming the centre of attention as the door was slammed upon the pursuing fairies.
As soon as William got his breath back and had taken better control of his nerves, he told everyone what had happened. From that point onward, nobody was able to get him to accept a similar dare or even the invitation of an evening walk to Middrige.
However, the story doesn’t quite end there. After the angry fairies left and everyone was sure it was safe to unbar the door there was a further shock awaiting. When the thick oak door swung open, it brought the fairy king’s javelin with it. The javelin had pierced the wood easily, even though it was plated with iron.
The spear was so far embedded that the strongest man in the room struggled to remove it and had to hammer it out with a large, blacksmith’s hammer.
Allegedly, the javelin was kept for many generations until it fell into the hands of someone who had no interest in safeguarding such a relic and got rid of it. It’s fate is lost somewhere in the annals of time.
One young man I spoke to in the village knew a similar version of the story but said the house was within the village—the one with the blue door. The only blue door I saw was of a normal size. That contradicts the old story.
Some sources say the javelin incident happened at Middridge Grange Farm. This seems more plausible. William was on his master horse, which was so startled it ran towards its stable. Middridge Grange Farmhouse is not huge but, during the 1700s, the farm owner probably required the help of many local labourers at harvest time. It’s equally likely there would have been a yearly celebration at the farm to mark the end of the harvest.
The question remains: Where was the fairy hill?
When I was walking along Walker’s Lane towards the village, I asked an old man about the hill. He said it was back the way I’d come from, suggesting it was approximately in the area of the present quarry. That would make sense. It’s a pretty high hill and, on the other side, there’s a footbridge over the railway line that suggests the railworkers had to remove part of the hill to lay the line.
The straight rock faces hidden behind undergrowth is a further indication of human intervention. After you cross the bridge, Middridge Grange Farm is more or less directly ahead as the crow flies. So when I was exploring the area around the quarry, it seems likely that I was also atop the mythical fairy hill.
I’ve been to a lot of places and done many things but never before have I stood on top of a fairy hill and I wasn’t even originally looking for one, so that was an unexpected first.
I’m not sure too many people would want to go out of their way to visit the hill associated with the myth of the Middridge fairies. However, if you are already in the area and want to spend a little time enjoying the British countryside, it’s a pleasant area to explore.
– – – – –
– – –
– – –
– – – – –