DORCHESTER—BENSON
Dorchester, Oxon, has not the slightest resemblance to Dorchester,
Dorset: the two have little in common save their name, which might well
have been much more than duplicated, seeing how many must have been the
camps and fortresses upon various waters. Fortunately, with the result of
saving us from the confusion of dozens of Dorchesters, our very remote
ancestors were possessed of sufficient resourcefulness to enable them to
fit distinctive names to those places.
The great days of Dorchester are done, and the place is so quiet
and slumberous, although on a high road, that the first part of the
place-name might almost be held to derive from the French verb _dormer_,
to sleep. The one street, long and somewhat picturesque, the fine stone
open-balustraded bridge across the Thame, and the church: in that
inventory you have an outline of Dorchester. The great parish church that
was once an Abbey church, the successor of an early Cathedral, although
an architectural and archæological feature of great interest, does not
form so striking a picture as it should; for the building is long and
low, with level, unbroken roof-line, and an ineffective tower at the west
end; and it displays its inordinate length prominently to the road.
[Illustration: SEDILIA, DORCHESTER ABBEY.]
The cathedral that once stood here was that of the great bishopric of
Dorchester, founded in A.D. 635 by Birinus, who had been sent by the
Pope, Honorius, the year before, to preach Christianity to the Saxons.
The see of Dorchester lasted, with some intermissions, until 1086,
and comprised the greater part of England, including what are now the
bishoprics of Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Bath and Wells, Lichfield,
Hereford, Worcester, and Oxford.
A few traces remain of that abandoned Saxon cathedral, but they are such
that only expert archæologists can point them out; and of the Early
English Abbey church begun by the Augustine monks to whom it had then
been granted, in 1140, the nave alone is left. The nave in an ordinary
building would be an important item, but the Abbey church of Dorchester
is an extraordinary structure, and of such a plan that the architectural
features of its nave cannot well be very striking. The building was
originally without aisles. It adjoined the Abbey cloisters, which were
situated on the north side, and consequently the north wall of the nave
has few openings. The choir was rebuilt grandly, in the Decorated style,
about 1330; and at a slightly earlier date a north aisle had been added
to it, _circa_ 1280. In 1300 a south-choir aisle was built, and twenty
years later, a south-nave aisle. To this was added the Perpendicular
porch. The tower was constructed about 1680, in a debased manner.
Thus the northern wall, from end to end, is largely blank, and the
architectural graces of the building are reserved chiefly for the south
aspect. The remarkable east end is built upon ground abruptly sloping to
the east, and is, moreover, closely set about with trees.
The choir is the most notable portion, containing finely-carved stone
sedilia, with small spherical triangular windows at the back, filled with
twelfth- and fourteenth-century stained glass, setting forth the story of
St. Birinus. The arrangement of these sedilia and the shape and design of
these windows, profusely decorated with the “ball-flower” ornament, form
probably an unique architectural composition. The great east window, for
beauty easily in the front rank among elaborately-designed windows, is as
remarkable as it is beautiful, being intricately traceried in its entire
length, instead of, in the usual way, plainly mullioned for two-thirds
of its height, with the enrichment confined to the head. The surpassing
beauty of this design is perhaps even thrown into more prominent relief
by the stark ugliness of the bare stone pillar dividing it in half. It
seems probable that in olden times this was filled with a Crucifixion.
The presence of this undesirable feature is a structural necessity. It
is, in fact, a buttress, necessitated by the sharp fall in the ground
outside. There is no excuse, however, for the stupidity which has caused
some hangings to be erected at the back of the altar, by which a portion
of the window is obscured.
[Illustration: THE EAST WINDOW, DORCHESTER ABBEY.]
But certainly the most extraordinary and interesting of windows is that
on the north side of the choir, immediately adjoining the east window. It
is the famous “Jesse Window,” of which the centre mullion represents the
genealogical tree of Jesse, whose figure, in a reclining posture, is seen
below. From the centre mullion spring branches at regular intervals on
either side, worked decoratively in stone. Twenty-seven little figures,
also carved in stone, represent the various personages of the House of
David, and sixteen others are in stained glass. The exterior of this
remarkable window is extraordinarily mean and thin, and gives no hint of
the beauty of the interior.
Some altar-tombs and brasses remain, sadly mutilated, and the west end
of the church is more or less of a stone-heap, where many fragments of
the building are preserved. The chapel at the east end of the south
choir-aisle was rebuilt by Sir Gilbert Scott. The work was largely a
conjectural reconstruction, a type of undertaking Scott above all things
delighted to engage upon, generally with results far from satisfactory;
but in this case it is an unquestioned artistic success. It may, however,
be observed that the constructional part of it is poor, for it is bodily
subsiding into the deep gully that runs past the east end; and must soon
be underpinned, or heavily buttressed, if it is not to fall into ruin.
The Norman font is of lead; a very fine example, exhibiting, within
arcading, seated figures of the twelve apostles, in high relief. Another
leaden font, greatly resembling that at Wittenham, is at Warborough, two
miles distant.
[Illustration: THE JESSE WINDOW (ON THE LEFT), DORCHESTER ABBEY.]
Between Dorchester and Wallingford, whether we proceed by the Oxfordshire
side of the river or the Berkshire, we are in a level district of many
springs, to which the place-names of the villages numerously bear
witness. Thus in Berkshire there are the two conjoined delightful
villages of Brightwell and Sotwell, where a little rill goes rippling
by, until early summer dries it up. The name “Brightwell” thus speaks
for itself. Sotwell, I presume, means “sweet well.” And in Oxfordshire,
beyond the scope of these pages, is another Brightwell, with the family
name of “Salome” added to it; while the name of Ewelme, a beautiful and
historic village near by, means simply “wells.” Just beyond Wallingford,
too, is Mongewell. The river runs between, with the beautiful stone
bridge of Shillingford, and the water-side village of Benson on the
way: Benson, by common consent lopped of much of its name, being really
“Bensington.” So unanimously has the locality agreed upon the shorter
form, and for such a length of time, that even map-makers have adopted
it. Of the clan of Bensings, whose chief settlement this was, we can know
nothing; and the later conflicts between the Saxon kingdoms of Wessex and
Mercia, in which Bensington changed hands with great frequency, until
Mercia at length assimilated it, are such far-off, remote doings that it
is perhaps a little difficult to take even a languid interest in them.
Even the old coaching days seem remote, although large and imposing
specimens of English coaching hostelries stand in the crooked street of
Benson, a little dazed by motor-cars and the noise and the stink of them,
wondering whither have gone the mails and the stages of yore.