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[Picture: Weymouth: St. Mary Street and statue of George III.]
THE
HARDY COUNTRY
LITERARY LANDMARKS OF
THE WESSEX NOVELS
* * * * *
BY
CHARLES G. HARPER
AUTHOR OF “THE INGOLDSBY COUNTRY,” ETC.
“Here shepherds pipe their rustic song,
Their flocks and rural nymphs among.”
[Picture: Medallion]
_ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR_
* * * * *
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1904
_PREFACE_
_Dorsetshire_, _the centre of the_ “_Hardy Country_,” _the home of the
Wessex Novels_, _is a land literally flowing with milk and honey_: _a
land of great dairies_, _of flowers and bees_, _of rural industries_,
_where rustic ways and speech and habits of thought live long_, _and the
kindlier virtues are not forgotten in such stress of life as prevails in
towns_: _a land desirable for its own sweet self_, _where you may see the
beehives in cottage gardens and therefrom deduce that honey of which I
have spoken_, _and where that flow of milk is no figure of speech_. _You
may indeed hear the swish of it in the milking pails at almost every turn
of every lane_.
_Thatch survives in every village_, _as nowhere else_, _and here quaint
towns maintain their quaintness at all odds_, _while elsewhere foolish
folk seek to be—as they phrase it_—“_up to date_.” _It is good_, _you
think_, _who explore these parts_, _to be out of date and reckless of all
the tiresome worries of modernity_.
_Spring is good in Dorset_, _summer better_, _autumn—when the kindly
fruits of the earth are ingathered and __the smell of pomace is sweet in
the mellow air—best_. _Winter_? _Well_, _frankly_, _I don’t know_.
_To all these natural advantages has been added in our generation the
romantic interest of Mr. Thomas Hardy’s novels of rural life and
character_, _in which real places are introduced with a lavish hand_.
_The identity of those places is easily resolved_; _and_, _that feat
performed_, _there is that compelling force in his genius which
inevitably_, _sooner or later_, _magnetically draws those who have read_,
_to see for themselves what manner of places and what folk they must be
in real life_, _from whose characteristics such poignant tragedy_, _such
suave and admirable comedy_, _have been evolved_. _I have many a time
explored Egdon_, _and observed the justness of the novelist’s description
of that sullen waste_: _have traversed Blackmoor Vale_, _where_ “_the
fields are never brown and the springs never dry_,” _but where the
roads—it is a cyclist’s criticism—are always shockingly bad_: _in fine_,
_have visited every literary landmark of the Wessex Novels_. _If I have
not found the rustics so sprack-witted as they are in_ THE RETURN OF THE
NATIVE _and other stories—why_, _I never expected so to find them_, _for
I did not imagine the novelist to be a reporter_. _But—this is in
testimony to the essential likeness to life of his women—I know_
“_Bathsheba_”; _only she is not a farmer_, _nor in_ “_Do’set_,” _and I
have met_ “_Viviette_” _and_ “_Fancy_.” _They were called by other
names_, _’tis true_; _but they were_, _and are_, _those distracting
characters come to life_.
_A word in conclusion_. _No attempt has here been made to solemnly_
“_expound_” _the novelist_. _He_, _I take it_, _expounds himself_. _Nor
has it been thought necessary to exclude places simply for the reason
that they by some chance do not find mention in the novels_. _These
pages are_, _in short_, _just an attempt to record impressions received
of a peculiarly beautiful and stimulating literary country_, _and seek
merely to reflect some of the joy of the explorer and the enthusiasm of
an ardent admirer of the novelist_, _who here has given tongues to trees
and a voice to every wind_.
CHARLES G. HARPER.
PETERSHAM, SURREY,
_July_ 1904.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. PRELIMINARIES: THE HARDY COUNTRY DEFINED; 1
FAWLEY MAGNA; OXFORD
II. WINCHESTER: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL OF WESSEX 9
III. WINCHESTER TO STOCKBRIDGE AND WEYHILL 16
IV. STOCKBRIDGE TO SALISBURY AND STONEHENGE 26
V. THE OLD COACH-ROAD: SALISBURY TO BLANDFORD 35
VI. THE OLD COACH-ROAD: BLANDFORD TO DORCHESTER 47
VII. DORCHESTER 62
VIII. DORCHESTER (_continued_) 74
IX. SWANAGE 84
X. SWANAGE TO CORFE CASTLE 92
XI. CORFE CASTLE 105
XII. WAREHAM 114
XIII. WAREHAM TO WOOL AND BERE REGIS 122
XIV. BERE REGIS 133
XV. THE HEART OF THE HARDY COUNTRY 148
XVI. DORCHESTER TO CROSS-IN-HAND, MELBURY, AND 168
YEOVIL
XVII. SHERBORNE 178
XVIII. SHERBORNE TO CERNE ABBAS AND WEYMOUTH 191
XIX. SHERBORNE TO CERNE ABBAS AND WEYMOUTH 205
(_continued_)
XX. WEYMOUTH 214
XXI. THE ISLE OF PORTLAND 222
XXII. WEYMOUTH TO BRIDPORT AND BEAMINSTER 232
XXIII. WEYMOUTH TO LULWORTH COVE 246
XXIV. BOURNEMOUTH TO POOLE 257
XXV. WIMBORNE MINSTER 270
XXVI. WIMBORNE MINSTER TO SHAFTESBURY 277
XXVII. WIMBORNE MINSTER TO SHAFTESBURY (_continued_) 288
XXVIII. WIMBORNE MINSTER TO HORTON AND MONMOUTH ASH 297
XXIX. OVER THE HILLS, BEYOND THE RAINBOW 302
INDEX 313
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Weymouth: St. Mary Street and Statue of George III. _Frontispiece_
Fawley Magna 3
High Street, Oxford, _Facing_ 4
High Street, Winchester 11
Winchester Cathedral, _Facing_ 14
Weyhill Fair 24
Salisbury Cathedral 30
Stonehenge 32
Pentridge 36
Eastbury 41
Blandford Forum 45
The Old Manor-House, Milborne St. Andrew 49
Weatherbury Castle 50
The Obelisk, Weatherbury Castle 51
Piddletown 55
A Quaint Corner in Piddletown 57
Lower Walterstone Farm; Original of “Bathsheba’s 59
Farm” in _Far from the Madding Crowd_
Ten Hatches, Dorchester 69
Dorchester Gaol 75
The Hangman’s Cottage, Dorchester 77
Colyton House, Dorchester 79
The Old Church, Swanage 89
Encombe 95
Corfe Castle 99
Corfe Castle, _Facing_ 106
Approach to Wareham: The Walls of Wareham 116
Wareham 119
The Abbot’s Coffin, Bindon Abbey 123
Woolbridge House 125
Woolbridge House: Entrance Front 127
Gallows Hill, Egdon Heath, _Facing_ 128
Chamberlain’s Bridge 130
Rye Hill, Bere Regis 131
Bere Regis 135
Bere Regis 137
Bere Regis: Interior of Church 141
“Toothache,” Bere Regis 143
“Headache,” Bere Regis 143
Bere Regis: The Turberville Window 145
Stinsford Church; the “Mellstock” of _Under the 149
Greenwood Tree_
Birthplace of Thomas Hardy 158
Birthplace of Thomas Hardy 159
The Duck Inn, Original of the “Quiet Woman” Inn in 161
_The Return of the Native_
Tincleton 163
An Egdon Farmstead 165
A Farm on Egdon 166
Cross-in-Hand, _Facing_ 170
Batcombe 171
Tomb of “Conjuring Minterne” 173
Melbury House, _Facing_ 174
Sherborne Abbey Church, _Facing_ 184
Long Burton 192
Holnest: the Drax Mausoleum 194
Dungeon Hill and the Vale of Blackmore 195
Cerne Abbas 201
The Gatehouse, Cerne Abbey, _Facing_ 202
The Cerne Giant 203
Cerne Abbas 206
Wolveton House 207
Weymouth and Portland from the Ridgeway 209
The Wishing Well, Upwey 211
Weymouth Harbour 219
Sandsfoot Castle 223
Bow and Arrow Castle 229
Portisham 233
The Road out of Abbotsbury 235
Sheep-Shearing in Wessex, _Facing_ 236
West Bay, Bridport 239
High Street and Town Hall, Bridport 243
Sutton Poyntz: the “Overcombe” of _The Trumpet 247
Major_
Bincombe 249
Poxwell Manor 251
Owermoigne: the Smugglers’ Haunt in _The Distracted 253
Preacher_
Lulworth Cove 254
Lulworth Cove 255
Lytchett Heath: The Equestrian Effigy of George 256
III.: Entrance to Charborough Park, _Facing_
Bournemouth: The Invalids’ Walk 258
Poole Quay 267
Sturminster Marshall: Anthony Etricke’s Tomb, 270
Wimborne Minster, _Facing_
The Wimborne Clock Jack 273
Wimborne Minster: the Minster and the Grammar 274
School, _Facing_
The Tower, Charborough Park 281
Weather-vane at Shapwick: the “Shapwick Monster” 283
The Maypole, Shillingstone 285
Sturminster Newton: The White Hart Inn 286
Marnhull 289
Gold Hill, Shaftesbury 295
The Observatory, Horton, _Facing_ 298
Horton Inn: the “Lorton Inn” of _Barbara of the 299
House of Grebe_
Monmouth Ash 300
Bingham’s Melcombe 303
Milton Abbas, _Facing_ 306
Milton Abbas, an Early “Model” Village 307
Abbot Milton’s Rebus, Milton Abbey 309
Milton Abbey 310
Turnworth House 311
CHAPTER I
PRELIMINARIES: THE HARDY COUNTRY DEFINED; FAWLEY MAGNA; OXFORD
IN the literary partition of England, wherein the pilgrim may discover
tracts definitely and indissolubly dedicated to Dickens, to Tennyson, to
Ingoldsby, and many another, no province has been so thoroughly annexed
or so effectively occupied as that associated with the Wessex novels
written by Mr. Thomas Hardy. He holds Wessex in fee-simple, to the
exclusion of all others; and so richly topographical are all those
romances, that long ere sketch-maps showing his literary occupancy of it
were prepared and published in the uniform edition of his works, there
were those to whom the identity of most of his scenes offered no manner
of doubt. By the circumstances of birth and of lifelong residence, the
“Wessex” of the novels has come to denote chiefly his native county of
Dorset, and in especial the neighbourhood of Dorchester, the county town;
but Mr. Hardy was early an expansionist, and his outposts were long ago
thrown forward, to at last make his Wessex in the domain of letters
almost coterminous with that ancient kingdom of Saxon times, which
included all England south of the Thames and west of Sussex, with the
exception of Cornwall. The very excellent sketch-map prepared for the
definitive edition of Mr. Hardy’s works very clearly shows the
comparative density of the literary settlements he has made. Glancing at
it, you at once perceive that what he chooses to term “South
Wessex”—named in merely matter-of-fact gazetteers Dorsetshire—is thickly
studded with names of his own mintage, unknown to guidebook or ordnance
map, and presently observe that the surrounding divisions of Upper,
North, Mid, Outer, and Lower Wessex—as who should say Hampshire,
Berkshire, Wilts, Somerset, and Devon—are, to follow the simile already
adopted, barely colonised.
His nearest frontier-post towards London is Castle Royal, to be
identified with none other than Windsor; while near by are Gaymead
(Theale), Aldbrickham (Reading), and Kennetbridge (Newbury). In the
midst of that same division of North Wessex, or Berkshire, are marked
Alfredston and Marygreen, respectively the little town of Wantage,
birthplace of Alfred the Great, and the small village of Fawley Magna,
placed on the draughty skyline of the bare and shivery Berkshire downs.
Then, near the eastern border of Upper Wessex is Quartershot, or
Aldershot, and farther within its confines Stoke-Barehills, by which name
Basingstoke and the unclothed uplands partly surrounding it are
indicated. Its “gaunt, unattractive, ancient church” is accurately
imaged in a phrase, and it is just as true that the most familiar object
of the place is “its cemetery, standing among some picturesque mediæval
ruins beside the railway”; for indeed Basingstoke cemetery and the fine
ruins of the chapel once belonging to the religious who, piously by
intent, but rather blasphemously to shocked ears, styled themselves the
“Brotherhood of the Holy Ghost,” stand immediately without the railway
station. At Stoke-Barehills, Jude and Sue, visiting the Agricultural
Show, were observed by Arabella, Jude’s sometime wife, with some
jealousy.
[Picture: Fawley Magna]
Finally, northernmost of all these transfigured outer landmarks, is
Christminster, the university town and city of Oxford, whose literary
name in these pages derives from the cathedral of Christ there. This
remote corner of his kingdom is especially and solely devoted to the
grievous story of _Jude the Obscure_, a pitiful tale of frustrated
ambition, originally published serially in _Harper’s Magazine_, under the
much more captivating, if less descriptive, title of _Hearts Insurgent_.
The story opens at Fawley Magna, to whose identity a clue is found in the
name of Fawley given the unhappy Jude. The village, we are told, was “as
old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an upland
adjoining the undulating North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the
well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained
absolutely unchanged. . . . Above all, the original church, hump-backed,
wood-turreted and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either
cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilised as pigsty
walls, garden-seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the
flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of
German-Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a
new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had
run down from London and back in a day.” Who was that obliterator thus
held up to satire? Inquiries prove the church to have been rebuilt in
1866, and its architect to have been none other than G. E. Street, R.A.,
than whom the middle Victorian period had no more accomplished architect.
Truly enough, its design is something alien, but candour compels the
admission that, however detached from local traditions, it is really a
very fine building, and its designer quite undeserving of so slighting a
notice.
[Picture: High Street, Oxford]
From Fawley the scene of Jude’s tragedy changes to Christminster, the
Oxford of everyday commerce. Oft had he, as a boy, seen from this
vantage-point the faint radiance of its lights reflected from the sky at
night, twenty miles away. His anticipations and disillusionments, his
strong resolves and stumblings by the way, over stumbling-blocks of his
own and of extraneous making, picture a strong character brought low,
like Samson by Delilah—cheated of scholarly ambition by the guardians of
learning, who open its gates only to wealth or scholarships acquired by
early opportunity. Take _Jude the Obscure_ as you will, it forms a
somewhat serious indictment of university procedure: “They raise pa’sons
there, like radishes in a bed. ’Tis all learning there—nothing but
learning, except religion.” Jude sought learning there, and Holy Orders,
but never rose beyond his trade of stonemason, and, after many fitful
wanderings through Wessex, ends tragically at Oxford.
Since _Jude the Obscure_ was written Oxford has gained another historic
personality, none the less real than the great figures of actual life who
have trodden the pavements of its High Street. You may follow all the
innermost thoughts of that mere character in a novel, and see fully
exposed the springs that produce his actions; and thus he is made seem
more human than all your Wolseys and great dignitaries, whose doings,
smothered in dust, and whose motives, buried deep beneath their own
subterfuges and the dark imaginings of historians with little but ancient
verbiage to rely upon, seem only the spasmodic, involuntary capers of so
many irresponsible jumping-jacks. Nowadays, when I think of Oxford, it
is to recall poor Jude Fawley’s fascination by it, like the desire of the
moth for the star, or for the candle that eventually scorches its wings
and leaves it maimed and dying. “It is a city of light,” he exclaimed,
not knowing (as how should he have known?) that the light it emits is but
the phosphorescent glow of decay. And when I walk the High Street, “the
main street—that ha’n’t another like it in the world,” it is not of
Newman or his fellow Tractarians I think, but of Jude the stonemason,
feeling with appreciative technical fingers the mouldings and crumbling
stones of its architecture.
In one novel, _A Pair of Blue Eyes_, Mr. Hardy has made an expedition far
beyond the confines of his Wessex. Away beyond “Lower Wessex,” or
Devonshire—itself scarce more than incidentally referred to in the whole
course of his writings—he takes the reader to the north coast of
Cornwall, the “furthest westward of all those convenient corners wherein
I have ventured to erect my theatre for these imperfect little dramas of
country life and passions; and it lies near to, or no great way beyond,
the vague border of the Wessex kingdom, on that side which, like the
westering verge of modern American settlements, was progressive and
uncertain.”
“Castle Boterel” he styles the stage of his tragical story of _A Pair of
Blue Eyes_; a place to be found on maps under the style and title of
Boscastle. That tiny port and harbour on the wildest part of a wild
coast obtains its name, in a manner familiar to all students of Cornish
topography, by a series of phonetic corruptions. Originally the site of
a castle owned by the Norman family of De Bottreaux, its name has in the
course of centuries descended from that knightly designation to that it
now bears. Leland, four hundred years ago, described the place as “a
very filthy Toun and il kept,” and probably had still in mind and in
nostrils when he wrote the scent of the fish-cellars and the fish-offal
which to this day go largely towards making up the bouquet of most of the
smaller Cornish fishing-ports.
Still, as in Leland’s time, goes the little brook, running down from the
tremendously hilly background “into the Severn Se betwixt 2 Hylles,” and
still the harbour remains, from the mariner’s point of view, “a pore
Havenet, of no certaine Salvegarde,” winding, as it does, in the shape of
a double S, between gigantic rocky headlands, and most difficult of
approach or exit. It will thus be guessed, and guessed rightly, that,
although poor as a harbour, Boscastle is a place of commanding
picturesqueness. Its Cornish atmosphere, too, confers upon it another
distinction. In the romantic mind of the novelist the district is
“pre-eminently (for one person at least) the region of dream and mystery.
The ghostly birds, the pall-like sea, the frothy wind, the eternal
soliloquy of the waters, the bloom, of dark purple cast, that seems to
exhale from the shoreward precipices, in themselves lend to the scene an
atmosphere like the twilight of a night vision.”
But it is not always like that at Boscastle. There are days of bright
sunshine, when the sea is in colour something between a sapphire and an
opal, when the cliffs reveal unexpected hues and the sands of
Trebarrow—the “Trebarwith Strand” of the novel—shine golden, in contrast
with the dark slaty headland of Willapark Point—the “cliff without a
name” where Elfride, the owner of that pair of blue eyes, saves the prig,
Henry Knight, by the singular expedient none other than the author of the
Wessex novels would have conceived. The average reader may perhaps be
allowed his opinion that it had been better for Elfride had she saved her
underclothing and allowed Knight to drop from his precarious hand-hold on
the cliff’s edge into the sea below waiting for him.
The town of “St. Launce’s” mentioned in the book is of course Launceston,
and “Endelstow” is the village of St. Juliot’s.