SEAHENGE
by Rollo Maughfling
My name is Rollo Maughfling, and I am Archdruid of the Glastonbury Order of Druids, and Stonehenge Officer to the Council of British Druid Orders, more usually known as the Archdruid of Stonehenge and Glastonbury. As a founder member of the Council of British Druid Orders (COBDO), which represents seventeen druid orders and approx. 20,000 druids throughout the U.K, Britain's largest druidic grouping, it is sometimes my responsibility to speak on national issues that affect druids in my capacity as Archdruid of Britain. Early on in the Seahenge debate, when the news of its discovery first broke in the press, it was adjudged by my colleagues that this was one such issue on which we could not remain silent.
Early in 1988, we had been approached by veteran tree spokesperson and conservationist Buster Nolan, whose campaign to draw public attention to the fact that most of our native British trees are dying, in particular the oak, had led us to invite him to Stonehenge to celebrate with us the traditional summer solstice oak ceremony, which, due to mismanagement by the previous English Heritage and government administration, we had been unable to celebrate for ten years.
Being a resident of East Anglia, and a man passionately interested in the life and usage of trees both ancient and modern, he was the first of our representatives on the scene at Holme-by-the-Sea in Norfolk, in early 1999, before the story of the discovery of the oak timbered circle broke big-time. He felt so moved by the experience of seeing Nature herself "give back" possibly the only surviving oak circle in Britain not destroyed by the Romans, that he resolved to take the matter of its protection into his own hands, calling on COBDO to assist him when the time required it.
From the beginning he rightly foresaw that the authorities were going to intervene in the fate of "Seahenge", and not in any manner that either local people or religious interests were going to find acceptable. I can well remember his enthusiastic descriptions of the site over the telephone, and then the solemn pause,
"I can see that I'm going to get cast in the role of number one protester" he said, over his initial conversations with the archaeologists " they don't seem interested in what its for or why it's where it is, they just want to rip it up and pack it off to some museum somewhere where no one can use it and all that will ever happen is that it gathers dust."
Shortly after this, English heritage made the well-documented decision to finance the Norfolk Archaeological Unit excavation of the site, and, as was shown on the Time Team T.V documentary, only informed the local the local residents of Holme Bay about the decision the night before the dig was due to start, angering the local parish council and In particular its chairman, Geoff Needham.
Right from the start those with vested interests in the removal of Seahenge began a whispering campaign against those who wanted to save it. Local pensioner and Parish Council chairman Geoff Needham was accused of "wanting to run boat trips", whilst Buster Nolan and his five friends who stood watch over the excavations through all weathers and conditions were accused of being "the vanguard of the hippie hordes." Needless to say, neither the boat trips nor the hippie hordes ever materialised.
Local people, who rightly felt that their own piece of ancient history was being whisked away from them, joined forces with druids and pagans who equally felt that their religious culture was at threat. A polite protest grew up daily around the diggers on the beach, falling on the deaf ears of the archaeologists and the inquisitive pens of the press alike, whilst ordinary people who had not been consulted tried to express their genuine feelings about treating ancient precious sacred things with more respect, and, preferably, leaving them alone.
Early on, so-called "dendro-archaeologists" had committed the sacrilege of chopping a four foot section out of the central upturned tree altar with a chain-saw, thereby incensing people near and far afield who could not equate such wanton destruction with claims by the authorities that they were preserving our heritage.
As June 1999 went by and more and more posts started being plucked from the sands of the outer circle every time the tide went out, local people and protesters alike found yet further frustration. Technically it was impossible to take legal action against English Heritage to prevent further excavation, as the Secretary of State, Chris Smith, had ruled that it was proper under the 1983 National Heritage Act. He refused to schedule "Seahenge" as an ancient monument and therefore local people apparently did not need to be consulted.
On 30th June I received a call from Buster who sounded like a man close to tears.
"This beautiful tree circle" he said, "it's been there for four thousands years, and now that it's visible again, for everyone to enjoy, all they want to do is destroy it"
He asked me for help. That night I resolved to go up to Norfolk the next and see what I could do. It seemed to me that by now the urgency of the situation called for an official Druidic Proclamation, a full moon was shining ghostly about the fields of Avalon where I live, as I penned the words herewith enclosed on a separate sheet.
On 1st July 1999, I made the long journey by car, setting off in the early hours from Somerset to arrive in the neighbouring town of Huntstanton in Norfolk to meet Buster and Simon in time for low tide at Holme-by-the-Sea. It was a grey, wet day, with everything seawards looking stormy and menacing as we covered the last few miles and parked up. Surprise, surprise, we had an escort for the last leg of the journey from the local constabulary, a sergeant and a constable who knew Buster and were well aware of his continued efforts to keep the protest "within the law."
Knowing that I was scheduled to perform an official druidic proclamation at the site, we duly informed the police of our intentions, who thanked us for keeping them informed, and promptly drove off again. I put on my ceremonial robes, praying the weather would turn, and that we wouldn't get blown away. We were in luck however, for as we strode across the dunes towards the beach, suddenly the sun came out, the wind dropped, and conditions remained stable for the rest of the day.
After meeting Des Crow, the only resident protester, whose lone vigil against the gales of the Norfolk coastline seemed somehow redolent of the heroism of former times, we decided to head off across the beach to the shoreline, to see what the retreating tide would reveal. By now it was a beautiful sunny afternoon, on a completely deserted golden beach that seemed to stretch on forever.
Just us, the sand, the sea, and the birds.
Then Buster grabbed my arm. "Look, there it is !" he said. And sure enough there were the first of the remaining and by now familiar weathered looking wooden posts emerging from the waves where they must have been for who knows how long a part of their four thousands year old history. As we watched, up popped another, and another, and then, all at once, the magnificent upturned central tree formation, sea water pouring off it and lapping round it. A shiver ran down my spine as I realised that the sea was revealing something most of us have only read about in books, one of the ancient sea altars of the druids, perfectly preserved.
Suddenly there was a noise and a commotion behind us. Norfolk Archaeology Unit's land rovers were shattering the peace and quiet by heading towards us at full tilt. They screeched to a halt and out came ropes and stakes and spades and buckets and pumps and compressors and all the paraphernalia of the removal business.
Behind them, blue light flashing, came a police patrol car with senior officers on board. Behind them came T.V. crews and reporters and the whole sea-side circus of on-the-spot media coverage. And behind them, on foot, wanting to see the treasure for themselves before the official "looting" was complete.
As the sea retreated further and archaeologists in green wellies headed out into the waves with ropes and stakes in order to cordon off the whole area, I realised that it was now or never. I announced that I had an official druidic proclamation to make and that I would be doing so, stood barefoot, on the central oak bole. The leading archaeologist appealed to the police to prevent me from doing so. I explained that under our common law rights of religious assembly granted by King Richard I in 1189, we had every right to do so. The police withdrew.
And then, with my heart thumping nineteen to the dozen, and the waves soaking the bottom of my ceremonial robes, I waded out into the sea and climbed up onto the central altar of the Seahenge oak timbered circle, and began to make our druidic proclamation to the assembled crowd of onlookers, well-wishers, and others. But not without first having to find my balance.
And in that split second, between finding my balance and my voice, and nearly losing both, I suddenly remembered that old school days tale of King Canute, and felt how he must have felt, trying to make the waves go back, in the vain attempt to prove to the world that you cannot legislate against Nature.
Later, we watched the depressing spectacle of the licensed exhumation carrying on unabated, as though nothing had happened. Young students barely able to think for themselves glad to get work experience for cash. Mud everywhere. Protesters and local people remonstrating with students and archaeologists alike. Archaeologists ignoring everyone.
But something had happened. Perhaps in that moment when for a brief second I felt myself suspended between heaven and an ignominious watery fiasco, the silent prayers of those who built Seahenge had echoed down the millenia and met the silent prayers of those who wanted to save everything that Seahenge stood for, and the gods had intervened. I didn't slip.
But the opposition did.
I was tired. Everything seemed a blur. Buster was explaining to everyone why it wasn't right to break up ancient sacred sites for the museum and tourist industry, he looked over at the young student diggers and said "Would you still be doing this job if they told you to dig up Stonehenge ?" At which point one of the senior archaeologist lost his rag. He came up behind Buster poking him with his finger and telling him to leave them alone. Buster wisely retreated having spent weeks ensuring that the protest was peaceful and that no violence ensued.
But the dye was cast. Whereas no amount of endeavour had managed to penetrate the way in which the legal establishment appeared to protect everything that English Heritage and Norfolk Archaeology Unit did, i.e. no solicitor would take a case against them, now the boot was on the other foot, did we but know it, they were about to prosecute us.
I had driven home that Wednesday, past the neighbouring and significantly named Sand-ring-ham, pleased that the proclamation had been made, but deeply saddened that nothing had appeared to stop the dig, and wondering how many other digs might there be in the future that should never have been begun ?
On the Friday, though none of us knew it, English Heritage had taken out injunctions against myself, Buster, Des, Geoff Needham, and "John Doe", meaning anyone else who might seek to interfere with work at Holme Bay. On the Sunday, we had heard that a local man and a magistrate, Mervyn Lambert, had spent £2,000 at Norfolk Crown Court trying to defend us, knowing that we had not even been served notice of the proceedings, although our addresses were known to English Heritage. The proceedings were subsequently adjoined to the High Court in London for Tuesday 6th July, so that we could attend in person.
The first judge who was about to hear the case stood down, because he was a member of English Heritage. Thus we ended up instead in front of Ms. Justice Arden, a lady judge who was keen to hear the arguments for both sides. The barrister for English Heritage presented their case, complete with photographs of everything that occurred at Seahenge the previous Wednesday. Then it was our turn to defend ourselves, individually.
The hearing lasted an entire day, but after our initial trepidation at being served a massive file full of legal papers we had no time to read, and having to listen to complicated legal arguments about way leaves and precedents, things settled down. Buster asked leave to explain to the judge about all that had happened at holme bay, and why so many people felt so strongly that what was being done in the name of archaeology was wrong, and the rest of us followed suit.
After listening sympathetically, the judge ruled that although buster and Des and "John doe" should not be allowed to interfere with excavation works in future, myself and Geoff Needham should be excused from the injunction, i.e acquitted and awarded costs, as we had sought only to bring publicity to the issue, and not to interfere with the works.
But more importantly in her summing up, after quoting our Druidic proclamation in its entirety, she ruled that although she had no statutory power to prevent English Heritage from completing the excavation, nevertheless they had been at fault in that,
"their actions have been perceived as provocative by a number of people.
To an extent the problems have been brought to ahead by, for instance, removing the slice from the oak which is the central bole in the tree circle. It was a large piece of wood and is very visible. Secondly, there has been, I understand from Mr. Needham, no local meeting, and thirdly, this is a religious place of worship for the druids and thus work done at the site has led to high feelings about the work being done. In those circumstances, to an extent, it seems to me that the claimant must have brought this situation to a head by its own actions."
Mrs. Justice Arden then went on to rule that not only should English Heritage supply an account of its actions with regard to the slicing of the central oak bole, but in future E.H. should take into account such points as the need for a local meeting to consult with local people, and the wishes of genuine religious groups such as the Council of British Druid Orders. She also suggested that E.H. should look into the possibility of preserving the site further inland as I had suggested, or should it not be possible to preserve the timbers, to give active consideration to a replica or its equivalent. She then thanked the respondents for their representations.
At last justice seemed to have been done.
Or had it ?
There were press photographers and reporters everywhere as we left the court, and it took some time to complete all the interviews. But when we looked in the papers next day, there was not a single mention of any of it. I rang the top London lawyer who had advised us and asked him about it.
"Sounds like it's been D-noticed !" He said matter-of- factly.
This saved me from being paranoid about what happened, but did little to inform the general public about this historic decision. In fact, it wasn't until the ground-breaking debate about the future of archaeology in the wake of the Seahenge debacle at the University of East Anglia, eight months later, that any of these facts came to light, and are now being more widely circulated in this present book.
Looking back at all the furore and the fuss about Seahenge, several things became abundantly clear.
Whatever fine work may have been undertaken by the directors of the Flag Fen timber preservation centre in the past, it became evident fairly early on that when it came to Seahenge, they had bitten off more than they could chew.
In mobilising the whole government bureaucratic machinery of English Heritage with a view to examining the oak timbered circle, they had made the following mistakes.
Instead of excavating a couple of timbers, which might more easily have been replaced, they decided to go for the whole lot, and then found that they were unable to preserve it. Theirs was a fresh water operation, not a marine one.
But most damaging of all, was their insistence on digging the whole thing up in order to examine a few axe marks which revealed how the timbers were felled, at the expense of any detailed consideration of the purpose it served, or the reason for its location.
In an interview with Tony Robinson at the end of the Time Team programme, Dr. Francis Pryor on behalf of Flag Fen, said that if any similar discoveries were to come to light in the future, he would "do the same thing all over again."
Fortunately, this ghastly vision of all our remaining oak circles, if there are any, ending up rotting in a shed somewhere was put paid to by E.H. archaeological advisor and commissioner Professor Richard Morris, who at the end of a lively debate on the subject at the University of East Anglia said "I am virtually certain that E.H. will never do the same again."
As came out in court, English Heritage had three options with Seahenge. Full excavation, partial excavation, or no excavation. They chose the option to excavate because of the erosion by the sea, which had already been going on for four thousand years anyway. As a result, there is no more Seahenge, just a pile of useless timbers.
Many theories have been put forward about its purpose, from the excarnation of bodies being picked clean by sea birds ( an archaeological theory) to the place where the skulls of important chieftains kept watch over the shoreline to protect us from attack (druid theory.)
Certainly from a druid point of view, both theories are possible, although to us all "house of the dead" theories are limited. To we druids, the place of the honouring of ancestors was nearly always also a place of the living, as life and death were anciently regarded as but two sides of a coin, and even in death those that had gone before still played an important part in the survival of the community.
Not only were such places as these shoreline sanctuaries used for magical ceremonies to stave off the threat of foreign invasion by the living, and to supplicate the forces of Nature to prevent coastal erosion and inundation, but they also sustained the life of the local community for whom they were built by providing a focus for the celebration of the passage of the seasons, according to the rites and ceremonies of the old druidic Nature religion, under whatever name it was then called. They were also linked to other sacred sites of national importance.
It is no accident that the major axis of orientation of the Seahenge oak circle was found to be the line of the North-eastern summer sunrise and the South-western winter sunset. A feature it shared with the great stone circle of Stonehenge itself. More than this, the actual midsummer-midwinter ley-line on which Seahenge used to sit, is the very same one that passes through Stonehenge, and eventually through Maiden Castle in Dorset, making the Seahenge circle in Norfolk the coastal marker of the very first ray of light which enters the land on its way to the great sanctuary of Stonehenge itself.
In our view, as with all ancient sites that have suffered erosion, Seahenge should be replaced some little distance inland on the same major axis of orientation as it originally was, if not with the existing timbers, then with new ones.
It was a place of major significance to the ancient spiritual ecology of Britain, whose rediscovery, associated world view and potential, may yet prove useful to the harmony of post-modern society, whilst according a unique insight in to the way our ancestors related to their environment. Preserved in situ, it was a wonder and a joy to all who were lucky enough to experience it.
(C) Rollo Maughfling 25.3.2000
first published in Druidlore