Nancy and I were in our seats on our tour bus traveling through the pleasant pastures of the rural Somerset region of southwest England a few days ago,
having just left Glastonbury, believed by many to be the home of the country’s earliest church and the legendary burial place of the legendary King Arthur. We were headed for the ancient Roman city of Bath, but hoping that perhaps the bus might stop just for a moment in a small community where ancient pre-Britons erected a stone circle contemporaneous with the better-known Stonehenge about 4,000 years ago.
Specialists in place names (the science of toponymics) suggest the name of the community conveys a sense of “mud, earth, clay, soil,” or perhaps is a reference to “earth houses” that actually are Bronze Age barrows, or burial hills.
Unfortunately, we were on a tight schedule and the bus could not stop so Nancy and I could jump out and have our pictures taken at the city limits sign reading:
PRIDDY
We have some camera shots through the bus windows as we passed by.
This is sheep country near the scenic Mendip Hills. In 1348, the infamous Black Death that produced several plagues in England, forced the annual sheep show to be moved from what we would call the county seat of Wells, to Priddy. It was continued until 2013 and eventually abandoned as unsustainable.
This also is holy ground, not just to those named Priddy but perhaps to all who call themselves Christian.
Archaeologists have found Roman lead ingots in the area dating to about 49 CE and others have found evidence of lead working as far back as 300 BCE. Local legend has it that a tin trader from what we now call the Holy Land, with his young nephew, stayed at Priddy. The trader was Joseph of Arimathea, uncle of Jesus who—legend says—traveled with him during his “lost years” in the Biblical accounts of Jesus’ life.
The legend has been memorialized by the great English poet, William Blake, who asked in his poem, “Jerusalem:”
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green & pleasant Land.
You will recognize the poem, perhaps, as the source of the title of an Academy Award-winning movie from 1981. Set to music, it is considered England’s unofficial second national anthem, often sun as one of the final numbers during the last night of the annual Promenade Concerts, held at Royal Albert Hall.
(7) BBC Proms – Hubert Parry: Jerusalem (orch. Elgar) – YouTube
There is scholarly doubt about the Jesus part of the story and it is felt that the song is based on older recorded account that Joseph of Arimathea brought Christianity to ancient Britain after the death of Jesus.
Fourteenth Century records claim the Glastonbury Abbey, now in ruins, was founded by Joseph of Arimathea. Legend has it that Joseph brought with him the Holy Grail, the vessel used to collect Christ’s blood.
We had explored the mesmerizing ruins of Glastonbury Abbey that morning. We explored the remains of the Roman baths in Bath and had lunch before betting back on our bus and moving on to the next destination.
The more I look at this picture, the more I want to be that person on the bench.
We did not have time to learn if anyone named Priddy still lives in the area. But we know that the first Priddy in this country came from nearby Cornwall. Captain Robert Priddy was a privateer—the owner of a boat that he used on behalf of his country to fight Pirates on the Spanish Main (an area comprising the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea), for which he received a land grand in Virginia about 1650 from Queen Elizabeth I.
So much history. So much legend. We were immersed by it that day. Glastonbury and Bath seized us, as evidenced by the large number of photographs we have that put us back there with arresting images. And in the midst of the record of that dramatic day are a few hurried glimpses of a town with our name.
That’s life, isn’t it? A series of glimpses and then we move on to the next day, the next adventure, the next tour through life. But at least, we were there. At least we were among the fortunate ones who have had those glimpses.
And we took a lot of pictures, even if we didn’t get one that we wish we could have—the city green that includes a view of the 13th Century Church of St. Lawrence and its medieval altar frontal. .[
We are grateful for what we did get. And if that’s all this lifetime afford us, being within those sacred grounds with centuries of family links will have been enough.
