I WOULD always be rather proud that in Lydney we have a god of our own, a god wholly unknown in any other part of Britain or the world, the God Nodens,' declared the 1st Viscount Bledisloe in 1953. As the only other evidence for this mysterious god appeared at Cockersand Moss, Lancashire, in 1718 and subsequently vanished without trace, Lord Bledisloe may be forgiven his slight exaggeration. For Lydney in Gloucestershire not only has Nodens, but also an entire temple complex, including a possible dormitory where pilgrims seeking a cure could dream divine healing dreams. Many votive offerings have been found here, most exquisite among them a bronze statue of a greyhound, which has become the Lydney mascot and is so precious that the original is confined to the Hades of a bank vault.
Despite these wonders, the current Viscount, Rupert Bathurst, is more reticent than his grandfather, being rightly protective of Lydney's powerful sense of place. 'I would like all who come across it to experience it as understated and magical,' he proffers. As its custodian, I feel a sense of responsibility and that it's important to remain sensitive to the balance of keeping the sense of spirituality, as well as allowing visitors access to the beauty of the gardens and park.' The approach to the temple, up through the pretty woodland gardens, may mislead visitors into thinking that the site itself might have been tamed. However, on reaching it, the impact of its setting with the River Severn below affords a powerful impression of a more ancient landscape. 'We once had dowsers on site and I must say I was sceptical,' admits Lord Bledisloe. 'But, when they were at the altar, their rods went bonkers, so now I'm not. There really is an energy about the place.'
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning