detain us, we reach the village of Poxwell, a name that some authors
assure us is a corruption of Puck's well; but it is more likely that
it comes from _Pochesvill_ of the _Domesday_ Survey. This is the
"Oxwell" of the novels; and the singularly picturesque Jacobean house
is "Oxwell Hall", where resided old Derriman in the _Trumpet-Major_.
Apart from its literary associations this old building is well worth a
visit by anyone who is interested in these old types of domestic
architecture. It is one of hundreds of old manor houses in Dorset, and
elsewhere, that have become degraded in the social scale to the status
of a farmhouse. Its most pleasing and distinctive feature is the
gatehouse or porter's lodge, the keystone of the gateway arch bearing
the date 1634. The lower floor of this pleasing little erection gives
entrance to a beautiful walled-in garden of velvet lawns bordered by
bright flower-beds. The upper room, approached by a flight of stone
steps from the garden, is lighted by two small windows, one looking
towards the house, the other commanding a view of the drive. This
upper room is known as the "Fool's Chamber", the tradition being that
the fool of the family was allowed a last throw at any departing
guests from his coign of vantage. For the purposes of his story Mr.
Hardy has placed the house considerably nearer to "Overcombe" (Sutton)
than it really is.
A short walk from Poxwell would land us at Osmington Mills, on the
coast, a most delightful little spot, where hot lobster teas are one
of the standing dishes at the Picnic Inn. From here Lulworth can be
reached by a fine walk past Ringstead Bay and a long toil up the
grassy shoulder of Whitenose, the whole being one of the best coast
walks to be found in Dorset. The main road to Lulworth proceeds from
Poxwell to Warmwell Cross (Warm'ell Cross), the place where Stockdale
released the excisemen who had been overtaken by the smugglers. The
whole of this portion of the coast and its Hinterland, figure in Mr.
Hardy's smuggling stories, the illicit cargoes being hidden in the
neighbouring church of Owermoigne.
Near Warmwell Cross is Warmwell House, an interesting Jacobean
residence that was for some time the home of John Saddler, the famous
Cromwellian jurist, who was despoiled of all his property at the
Restoration. Another interesting old house is that of Owermoigne, the
manor of which, then called Ogres, or Owers, was held by William le
Moigne "of our lord the King in capite by the service and serjeantry
of being caterer in the King's kitchen, and keeper of his larder". A
fine feature of the house is a range of beautiful and original
thirteenth-century windows, in the solar on the first floor. This is
the "Nether-Moynton" of _The Distracted Preacher_, where stands the
church to which Lizzy guided Stockdale. A recent restoration has swept
away the gallery stairs beneath which the illicit cargoes were hidden,
but the tower within which the smugglers lay concealed is much as it
was when described in the story.
[Illustration: LULWORTH COVE]
Another way to reach Lulworth is to take the turn by the Red Lion that
leads through Winfrith Newburgh, a pretty little village, but of no
particular interest save for an old manorial custom by which Robert de
Newburgh held Winfrith "by the service of giving water for the hands
of our lord the King on the day of his coronation; and to have the
basin and ewer for the service aforesaid". At the coronation of James
II a claim was made by the lord of the manor to perform this service,
but the claim was not allowed. We find also that the tithing man of
the neighbouring village of Coombe Keynes was obliged to do suit at
Winfrith court leet; and, after repeating the following incoherent
lines, was mulcted in the sum of threepence:--
"With my white rod,
And I am a fourth post,
That threepence makes three,
God bless the King, and the lord of the franchise;
Our weights and our measures are lawful and true.
Good-morrow, Mr. Steward; I have no more to say to you."
Coombe Keynes is situated a mile or so to the south of Wool, its chief
claim to notice being the singularly beautiful pre-Reformation chalice
preserved within the church, a building that was extensively restored
in 1860. The chalice is one of three pieces of pre-Reformation church
plate that now remain in the county, although out of some three
hundred parishes over one hundred have retained their Elizabethan
chalices, while seventy possess Communion plate of the seventeenth
century.
The Coombe Keynes chalice is in excellent condition, and is surpassed
in beauty only by the very similar but slightly earlier example at
Wylye, in Wiltshire. Its height is 6-3/8 inches; diameter of bowl, 4
inches; depth, 2 inches; narrowest part of base, 3-3/8 inches; widest
part, 5-1/4 inches. The bowl is broad and conical; the slender stem
hexagonal and quite plain, with ogee moulded bands at the junctions.
The knob is full sized, having six lobes spirally twisted with
traceried openings, terminating in angels' heads, crowned. The date
is about 1500, if not somewhat earlier. The two other examples of
pre-Reformation plate in Dorset are a paten at Buckhorn Weston, and a
chalice at Sturminster Marshall.
A short walk from Winfrith, and we arrive at our destination, the
romantic and justly famed Lulworth Cove. During the summer months this
attractive little spot can be easily reached by steamer from Weymouth,
and for those to whom the literary associations and natural beauties
of the landward route make no appeal, the short sea voyage of about an
hour's duration has much to recommend it, while an ideal holiday jaunt
is to make the outward journey on foot or wheel, and return by sea.
Who among the readers of Mr. Hardy's novels has not longed to visit
the far-famed Lulworth Cove? that "small basin of sea enclosed by
the cliffs", wherein Troy bathed after spending the night in the
porch of Puddletown Church. The sea entrance to the little landlocked
bay requires careful navigation by reason of "the two projecting
spurs of rock which formed the pillars of Hercules to this miniature
Mediterranean". This is the "Lulstead", and occasionally the
"Lullwind" of the Wessex novels, tales, and poems, and is the scene
of the Napoleonic sketch in _Life's Little Ironies_, entitled _A
Tradition of 1804_. Here Cytherea Graye met Edward Springrove, and
here the dead bodies of Stephen Hardcombe and his cousin's wife were
washed ashore.
The prospect from the cliffs that overlook the cove is a very
extensive one. To the west the Bay of Weymouth, with a small portion
of the town, is visible, with the green heights of the down in its
rear. South-west is the bold and rocky mass of Portland, while to the
east the eye takes in the projecting portions of the strangely
contorted cliffs of the Purbeck coast line, and the dangerous
Kimmeridge Ledges, beyond which rises the high wall-like ridge of
cliff that terminates in the bluff promontory of St. Aldhelm's Head.
The village of West Lulworth is rather barren of interest, and the
little trade of the place seems to be confined entirely to
administering to the necessities of visitors and pilgrims. Sad to
relate, this secluded spot, where untrammelled nature has reigned
supreme for centuries, is beginning to show signs of ugly modernity,
and bathing cabins are encroaching on its encircling belt of shingle.
Nothing, however, can vulgarize Lulworth except in patches, for,
modernize it how you will, it will always retain its rugged crags that
tower above its sea margin, and the complex witchery of its
rock-bestrewn coast. The background of Millais's famous picture, "The
Departure of the Romans" is a view of the Dorset coast looking from
the cliffs of Lulworth towards Weymouth, the standpoint being Dungy,
with St. Oswald's Bay in the foreground, and Whitenose terminating the
splendid lateral prospect of the cliffs. It is a singularly literal
rendering of the scene. At the same time learned historians tell us
that it is by no means certain that any of the Roman legions left this
country by way of the Dorset coast.
The greatest architectural attraction of the neighbourhood is Lulworth
Castle, standing in a finely wooded park of 640 acres. The building is
in the form of a cube, and is of early Jacobean date, having been
built almost entirely with material from the Abbey of Bindon, near
Wool, when such was demolished at the Reformation. The façade of the
edifice is ornamented with heraldic shields and allegorical figures
representing Music and Painting. In 1641 it was purchased by the Weld
family, who still own it. It was visited by James I and Charles II,
while George III and his family were frequent visitors during their
residence at Weymouth. Charles X, when exiled from France in 1830,
also found asylum here, by the hospitality of Mr. Joseph Weld. The
interior of the castle may be seen on application to the Lulworth
Estate Office at Wool, and it is well worth while to apply for
permission, as the house contains some fine apartments and a curious
set of portraits painted by Giles Hussey, a native of Marnhull, the
harmony of whose colour-scheme was corrected by a musical scale. The
Welds are a Roman Catholic family of whom the famous Cardinal Weld was
the most prominent member.
[Illustration: WOOL HOUSE]
Close to the Castle stands the Protestant church on the south side and
the Catholic chapel on the north. The latter, built in 1786 by the
special leave of George III, was described by Fanny Burney as "a
Pantheon in miniature, and ornamented with immense wealth and
richness. The altar is all of the finest variegated marbles, and
precious stones are glittering from every angle", a description that
holds good to-day.
From the castle a most charming walk through a wood and down over
grassy fields leads to Arish Mell Gap, a narrow bay shut in by high
grass-covered downs, and near which is situated the Monastery Farm,
founded in 1794, for Trappist monks, by Thomas Weld and his son, who
afterwards attained the dignity of cardinal.
From Lulworth the enterprising pedestrian can find an abundance of
magnificent coast walks by Worbarrow Tout, the Kimmeridge Ledges, and
St. Aldhelm's Head. The walk towards the last-named is one of the
wildest solitude, the only living creatures being the white sea-birds,
and the only sounds the murmur of the waves as they surge round the
bleak pinnacles of rock. Here and there, where the track-way turns at
an angle, we catch a glimpse of vast cavernous recesses, some natural
and some the work of men's hands, where ponderous masses have been
riven away from the face of the cliff, and tumbled headlong into the
water, where they lie amid the swirling eddies of the tide.
It is impossible to describe adequately the manifold beauties of the
Purbeck coast line, which concentrates in itself all the elements of
the bleak and the picturesque, pastoral valleys and grassy downs that
end seawards in great walls of barren rock and masses of fallen cliff.
Some old muzzle-loading guns lying on the shore between Winspit and
Seacombe mark the site of the wreck of the _Halsewell_, an East
Indiaman that was driven ashore here with great loss of life on
January 6, 1786.
While at Lulworth the reader of Mr. Hardy's romances will not fail to
visit Wool, and the old manor house of the Turbervilles wherein was
enacted one of the most dramatic scenes in English fiction. Crossing
the old bridge of "five yawning arches" we stand before "Wellbridge
House", where Tess and Angel Clare came to spend their honeymoon.
"Welcome to one of your ancestral mansions!" was the bridegroom's
greeting, as his bride passed the threshold of the house. At the head
of the stairway are the two panels on which are depicted the portraits
of those ancestors, the sight of which caused Tess to shudder. The
house itself is an interesting specimen of ancient domestic
architecture, from which in the gloom of the evening the phantom coach
and four drives out of the gateway; but this ghostly equipage is
visible only to a member or near relative of the Turberville family.
The house and bridge never look better or more romantic than when
their masses of grey masonry loom out against the evening sky. At such
times the soft murmur of the night wind through the rushes that edge
the shimmering water, and a farewell gleam of sunlight through a rift
in the long low clouds, seem to symbolize the spirit of Tess.
One of the best-known members of this old Dorset family was George
Turberville (1540-1610). He was secretary to Sir Thomas Randolf, Queen
Elizabeth's ambassador in Scotland and Russia. He was the author of
several books on _Falconrie_ and hunting, but the one by virtue
of which he ranks amongst the Elizabethan poets was the _Epitaphes,
Epigrams, Songs, and Sonnets_, the second edition of which was
published in 1567.
Contemporary with Turberville were Barnabe Googe, Thomas Churchyard
the soldier and poetaster, Thomas Phaer, the wellnigh forgotten
lawyer of Norwich, who translated the first nine books of the _Æneid_
into fourteen-syllable verse. Other contemporaries were Sir Thomas
Chaloner, a soldier and diplomatist, who wrote both prose and verse;
and Arthur Golding, an industrious translator of Latin and French
theological works.
Half a mile away is Bindon Abbey, of which the whole of the Abbey
Church can be traced among the ruins. Large portions also remain of
the sacristy, chapterhouse, and calefactory. The original foundation
belonged to the Cistercian Order, and was established in 1172, and
Professor Windle tells us that after it was surrendered to the king in
1539, "its twelve bells were stolen and appropriated by the churches
of Wool, Coombe, and Fordington; a tale which is embodied in the local
rhyme:
"Wool streams and Coombe wells,
Fordington cuckolds stole Bindon Bells".
Two empty stone coffins, one tomb, and one broken grave slab of the
abbot's remain, including one with the matrix of a brass, the margin
of which has an inscription in Lombardic capitals recording the
interment of Abbot Richard de Maners. Here, too, is the old stone
coffin described by Mr. Hardy:
"Against the north wall was the empty stone coffin of an Abbot, in
which every tourist with a turn for grim humour was accustomed to
stretch himself. In this Clare carefully laid Tess."
[Illustration: WAREHAM]
Near at hand Bindon Mill, with its picturesque setting, makes a
charming picture, and one that is a great favourite with artists. It
was here that Angel Clare came to learn the art of milling.
A short ride in the train or a pleasant walk by road from Wool leads
to Wareham, one of the oldest towns in Dorset, and the "Anglebury" of
the novels, where, at the Red Lion, Ethelberta and Lady Petherwin were
staying when the story of _The Hand of Ethelberta_ opens. In the
earlier editions of _The Return of the Native_, Wareham figures as
"Southerton", the town from whence Thomassin fled in the reddleman's
cart, when the defect was discovered in the marriage licence which
postponed her union with Wildeve. It was at Lychett (Flychett), a few
miles away, that Sol and Lord Mountclere's brother stopped to change
horses on their way to bar the wedding of Lord Mountclere and
Ethelberta at Swanage (Knollsea).
Wareham itself is an interesting little borough, most delightfully
placed on rising ground that slopes to the River Frome on the south,
and to the Trent or Puddle on the north. These two streams flow into
Poole Harbour, so that the boating man has an abundance of freshwater
sailing, which can be varied by taking the craft around the numerous
creeks and inlets of Poole Harbour, past the wooded isle of Brownsea,
and so out into the open Channel beyond. For those who are fond of
boating on a moderate scale this corner of Poole Harbour is an ideal
spot; for although the experienced yachtsman may consider river
sailing rather tame, he will find the adjoining harbour of Poole large
enough to satisfy his roving propensities, and with winds and waves of
sufficient strength to test his skill to the full.
Wareham town has retained several links with its ancient state, which
may be said to be epitomized in the earthen ramparts that enclose it
on all sides but that guarded by the waters of the Frome. Upon and
around these grassy walls the old-time inhabitants fought the Danes
with varying fortunes; for early in the eleventh century the town was
captured by Cnut, who made it his port, and to some extent his
headquarters, until bought off with a grant of money.
The antiquary should not fail to visit St. Martin's Church, a reputed
Saxon building, with some interesting Early Norman features that
include a narrow chancel arch. The parish church of Lady St. Mary has
been over-"restored", but the exquisite little side chapels of St.
Edward the Martyr and St. Thomas à Becket remain unspoilt. An old
stone coffin, a lead font, and two interesting cross-legged effigies
are worthy of attention, as also are two inscribed pillars of stone
that have been alleged to be portions of an old Roman altar. Of Holy
Trinity Church, Hutchins, the historian of Dorset, was once rector.
Before the silting up of Poole Harbour, Wareham was an important port,
and here in 1291 Edward I came to superintend the manning of some
ships for one of his numerous expeditions against the French; and in
later days the profits of the salmon fishery were given by Henry VIII
to Catherine of Aragon as a dowry. In the reign of the third Edward
the town furnished three ships and fifty-nine men for the siege of
Calais.
Mr. Hardy's pre-eminence as a novelist is apt to make us forget that
Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock) was a frequent visitor here, and _Agatha's
Husband_ is full of references to the town and the neighbourhood,
and contains some delightful character sketches of its inhabitants.
Here also lives "Orme Agnus" (Mr. J. C. Higginbotham), at Northport
House close to the railway station.
[Illustration: CORFE CASTLE]
Situated halfway between Wareham and Swanage, and easily reached from
either place, are the ruins of Corfe Castle, all that is left of what
was, until the building was demolished by order of the Parliament, one
of the most powerful fortresses ever erected in Europe. Tradition
associates Corfe Castle, or Corfe, with the murder of "Saynt Edward
Kyng and Martyr"; but certain modern antiquaries are rather suspicious
of the story, and it is very doubtful if any portion of the existing
masonry is of an earlier date than the Conquest, although it is quite
possible that so favourable a site would be chosen for its natural
defensive properties long before the advent of the Normans. The _Saxon
Chronicle_, recording the murder of Edward, does not mention a castle,
but says the foul deed was done "at Corfes Geät", where stood the
_domus Elfridæ_. It has not inaptly been termed the "Royal Prison
of Purbeck", and the many famous personages incarcerated here include
some French nobles whom King John starved to death early in the
thirteenth century. Here also the same monarch imprisoned his niece
Eleanor, together with two daughters of the Scottish King, William,
sent as hostages. Edward II was confined here by Queen Isabella and
her paramour, Roger Mortimer. After being held by various nobles,
including George, Duke of Clarence, of Malmsey-wine celebrity, the
castle was bought by Sir Christopher Hatton from Queen Elizabeth, and
was eventually purchased by Sir John Bankes, to whose descendants it
still belongs. On Sir John's joining Charles I at York, in 1642, Lady
Bankes held Corfe for the King, and so successful was her heroic
defence, that it was only through the treachery of Colonel Pitman, one
of the garrison, that she was forced to capitulate in 1645, when the
brave defenders were allowed to march out, bearing their arms and with
their colours flying. The estates of this "Brave Dame Mary" escaped
confiscation, but she was mulcted in heavy fines, while the fortress
she had so gallantly held against overwhelming odds was reduced to a
mass of picturesque ruins, where wall-flowers grow in the crannies,
sweetbrier twists around the base of a bastion, and ivy and
honeysuckle crown a detached fragment of a ruined gateway. On every
side great masses of broken masonry lie in heaps on the grass, or
are seen suspended as if by magic in mid-air, a testimony to the
destructive power of gun-powder and to the excellence of the mortar
used by the Norman builders. The ancient name of the place was
Corvsgate, from _Ceorfan_ to cut, and referred to the natural cutting
that surrounds the hill on the summit of which this magnificent
fortress was erected.
The little old-world village of Corfe has also many architectural
attractions in the way of projecting upper stories supported on
columns, gabled houses, and the fine old manor house of the Dackombes.
The ruined castle on its scarped hill is fascinating from every point
of view. Whether flushed with the warm tints of sunset, veiled by
opalescent haze, or looming stern and dark against a dull and stormy
sky, it has always great pictorial charm, and a rugged beauty that
suggests the embodiment of mediaevalism, its grandeur, pride, cruelty,
arrogance, and death.
In the Wessex novels Corfe Castle appears under its ancient name of
Corvsgate, and it figures as such in _The Hand of Ethelberta_, a
novel in the early editions of which it is also referred to as "Coomb
Castle". Here came Ethelberta on the donkey she had hired at Knollsea
(Swanage) on the occasion of the meeting of the Imperial Association,
to which she had been invited by Lord Mountclere.
"Accordingly Ethelberta crossed the bridge over the moat, and rode
under the first archway of the outer ward.... The arrow-slits,
portcullis-grooves, and staircases met her eye as familiar
friends, for in her childhood she had once paid a visit to the
spot."
Among these historic ruins and the fashionable company that had come
to inspect them, Ethelberta disowned her donkey, the faithful steed
that had served her so well; and here Lord Mountclere presented her to
"Sir Cyril and Lady Blandsbury; Lady Jane Joy; also the learned Dr.
Fore; Mr. Small, a talented writer, who never printed his works; the
Reverend Mr. Brook, Rector; the Very Reverend Dr. Taylor, Dean; and
the rather reverend Mr. Tinkleton, Nonconformist, who had slipped into
the fold by chance."
Five miles from Corfe Castle is Swanage, a town that is rapidly coming
to the front as a fashionable watering-place. During the summer an
excellent steamboat service connects it with Bournemouth and Weymouth,
from both of which it is also easily reached by rail. The place has
changed vastly since it served as a background for Ethelberta's life
history, the place where she retired to marry Lord Mountclere, with
Sol and the bridegroom's brother vainly endeavouring to reach
"Knollsea" in time to stop the ceremony. Mr. Hardy writes: "Knollsea
was a seaside village, lying snug within two headlands as between a
finger and thumb. Everybody in the parish who was not a boatman was a
quarrier, unless he were the gentleman who owned half the property and
had been a quarryman, or the other gentleman who owned the other half,
and had been to sea."
"The row of rotten piles" to which the steamer was moored in the days
when _The Hand of Ethelberta_ was penned, have long since been
supplemented by a substantial pier, while in place of the boatmen and
quarriers the inhabitants to-day seem to depend for a living on
attending to the needs of the many tourists attracted to Swanage by
its splendid climate and beautiful surroundings.
A fine walk over Ballard Down not only commands some exceptional and
sweeping views of the Dorset and Hampshire coast, but leads to
Studland, a charming village with an ancient Norman church and a
glorious little bay of golden sand, that is edged by the wide expanse
of unenclosed moorland known as Studland Heath. The magnificent
panorama from the high land above Studland embraces nearly the whole
of the eastern half of Dorset, the far-famed Isle of Purbeck, and as
we turn from the amphitheatre of rolling downs the eye ranges to the
blue sea breaking at the base of the chalk cliffs of the Isle of
Wight, or foaming round the near promontory of Peveril Point.