Why should we thank bishop for our water?

SUPPOSE some wandering cleric, or band of clerics, comes across a spontaneous and reliable eruption of fresh water in a local field. Over several generations, the clerics – with local labour – build a bishop’s palace on the site.

Sensing danger from citizens who have been required to pay taxes to the incumbent, one of this line of bishops (Ralph of Shrewsbury) builds high, protective walls around the palace and its gardens, digs a moat and constructs a drawbridge to keep the peasants at bay. The spring water is thereby sequestered for the use and enjoyment of a long line of bishops.

A few decades later in the 15th century, Bishop Bekynton, according to our present Dean of Wells, “.... allowed the water of the wells in the palace grounds to flow freely into the city of Wells”. And, writes the Dean, “...Thomas Bekynton is now a local hero”. Invitations are sent out encouraging selected citizens to attend a special cathedral evensong to commemorate this act of ecclesiastical charity.

Historical perspective is a notoriously difficult business, but I am personally puzzled by the thought that we should be now giving thanks for being allowed access to natural spring waters grabbed away from the locals by well-armed bishops.

It’s rather like expecting native Americans to commemorate the granting to them, by invading white settlers, of special “Red Indian” reservations.

I prefer to reserve the accolade “local hero” for those who have worked for the National Trust.