Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other
spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.
Italics are represented thus _italic_, bold thus =bold= and
superscripts thus y^{en}.
The repetition of the title immediately before the title page has been
removed.
The footnotes are at the end of the book.
[Illustration:
Ringstead and Holworth.
“Where one may walk along the undulating downs that skirt the Channel,
held in place by parapets of cliff that break down straight into the
sea; where one may walk mile after mile on natural lawn and not meet a
soul—just one’s self, the birds, the glorious scenery, and God.”
(_See page 109._)
_From a water-colour sketch by Mr. William Pye._]
MEMORIALS OF THE COUNTIES OF ENGLAND
General Editor: REV. P. H. DITCHFIELD, M.A., F.S.A.
MEMORIALS
OF OLD DORSET
EDITED BY
THOMAS PERKINS, M.A.
LATE RECTOR OF TURNWORTH, DORSET
AUTHOR OF
“_Wimborne Minster and Christchurch Priory_”
“_Bath and Malmesbury Abbeys_” “_Romsey Abbey_” _&c._
AND
HERBERT PENTIN, M.A.
VICAR OF MILTON ABBEY, DORSET
VICE-PRESIDENT, HON. SECRETARY, AND EDITOR
OF THE DORSET NATURAL HISTORY AND ANTIQUARIAN FIELD CLUB
WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
BEMROSE & SONS LIMITED, 4 SNOW HILL, E.C.
AND DERBY
1907
[_All Rights Reserved_]
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LORD EUSTACE CECIL, F.R.G.S.
PAST PRESIDENT OF THE DORSET NATURAL
HISTORY AND ANTIQUARIAN FIELD CLUB
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
BY HIS LORDSHIP’S
KIND
PERMISSION
PREFACE
The editing of this Dorset volume was originally undertaken by the
Rev. Thomas Perkins, the scholarly Rector of Turnworth. But he, having
formulated its plan and written four papers therefor, besides gathering
material for most of the other chapters, was laid aside by a very
painful illness, which culminated in his unexpected death. This is
a great loss to his many friends, to the present volume, and to the
county of Dorset as a whole; for Mr. Perkins knew the county as few men
know it, his literary ability was of no mean order, and his kindness to
all with whom he was brought in contact was proverbial.
After the death of Mr. Perkins, the editing of the work was entrusted
to the Rev. Herbert Pentin, Vicar of Milton Abbey, whose knowledge of
the county and literary experience as Editor of the Dorset Natural
History and Antiquarian Field Club enabled him to gather up the threads
where his friend Mr. Perkins had been compelled to lay them down, and
to complete the work and see it safely through the press. As General
Editor of the series, I desire to express my most grateful thanks to
him for his kind and gracious services in perfecting a work which had
unfortunately been left incomplete; and all lovers of Old Dorset and
readers of this book will greatly appreciate his good offices.
Few counties can rival Dorset either in natural beauty or historic
interest, and it deserves an honoured place among the memorials of
the counties of England. In preparing the work the Editors have
endeavoured to make the volume comprehensive, although it is of
course impossible in a single volume to exhaust all the rich store of
historical treasures which the county affords. After a general sketch
of the history of Dorset by the late Editor, the traces of the earliest
races which inhabited this county are discussed by Mr. Prideaux, who
tells of the ancient barrows in Dorset, and the details of the Roman
occupation are shown by Captain Acland. Dorset is rich in churches,
and no one was more capable to describe their chief features than Mr.
Perkins. His chapter is followed by others of more detail, dealing
with the three great minsters still standing—Sherborne, Milton, and
Wimborne, the monastic house at Ford, and the memorial brasses of
Dorset. A series of chapters on some of the chief towns and “islands”
of the county follows, supplemented by a description of two well-known
manor-houses. The literary associations of the county and some of its
witchcraft-superstitions form the subjects of the concluding chapters.
The names of the able writers who have kindly contributed to this
volume will commend themselves to our readers. The Lord Bishop of
Durham, the Rev. R. Grosvenor Bartelot, Mr. Sidney Heath, Mr. Wildman,
Mr. Prideaux, Mr. Gill, Mrs. King Warry, and our other contributors,
are among the chief authorities upon the subjects of which they treat,
and our thanks are due to them for their services; and also to Mr.
William Pye for the beautiful coloured frontispiece, to Mr. Heath for
his charming drawings, and to those who have supplied photographs for
reproduction. We hope that this volume will find a welcome in the
library of every Dorset book-lover, and meet with the approbation of
all who revere the traditions and historical associations of the county.
P. H. DITCHFIELD,
_General Editor_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Historic Dorset By the Rev. THOMAS PERKINS, M.A. 1
The Barrows of Dorset By C. S. PRIDEAUX 19
The Roman Occupation of Dorset By Captain J. E. ACLAND 28
The Churches of Dorset By the Rev. THOMAS PERKINS, M.A. 44
The Memorial Brasses of Dorset By W. DE C. PRIDEAUX 62
Sherborne By W. B. WILDMAN, M.A. 75
Milton Abbey By the Rev. HERBERT PENTIN, M.A. 94
Wimborne Minster By the Rev. THOMAS PERKINS, M.A. 117
Ford Abbey By SIDNEY HEATH 131
Dorchester By the LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, D.D. 145
Weymouth By SIDNEY HEATH 157
The Isle of Portland By Mrs. KING WARRY 177
The Isle of Purbeck By A. D. MOULLIN 187
Corfe Castle By ALBERT BANKES 200
Poole By W. K. GILL 222
Bridport By the Rev. R. GROSVENOR BARTELOT, M.A. 232
Shaftesbury By the Rev. THOMAS PERKINS, M.A. 240
Piddletown and Athelhampton By Miss WOOD HOMER 257
Wolfeton House By ALBERT BANKES 264
The Literary Associations of Dorset By Miss M. JOURDAIN 273
Some Dorset Superstitions By HERMANN LEA 292
Index 307
INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS
Ringstead and Holworth _Frontispiece_
(_From a water-colour sketch by Mr. William Pye_)
PAGE, OR
FACING PAGE
Bronze Age Objects from Dorset Round Barrows 20
(_From photographs by Mr. W. Pouncy_)
Part of the Olga Road Tessellated Pavement, Dorchester 38
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
Tessellated Pavement at Fifehead Neville 41
St. Martin’s Church, Wareham 48
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
The Chapel on St. Ealdhelm’s Head 50
(_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_)
Brass to William Grey, Rector of Evershot 70
(_From a rubbing by Mr. W. de C. Prideaux_)
Sherborne Abbey (_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_) 76
The Entrance to Sherborne School 86
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
Milton Abbey (_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_) 94
The Paintings in Milton Abbey 95
Milton Abbey: Interior (_From a photograph by Mr. S. Gillingham_) 96
The Tabernacle in Milton Abbey ” ” ” 97
Abbot Middleton’s Rebus 101
St. Catherine’s Chapel, Milton Abbey 104
(_From a photograph by Mr. S. Gillingham_)
Holworth Burning Cliff in 1827 106
(_From a coloured print by Mr. E. Vivian_)
Liscombe Chapel (_From a photograph by Mr. S. Gillingham_) 107
Milton Abbey in the year 1733 110
(_From an engraving by Messrs. S. and N. Buck_)
The Seal of the Town of Milton in America 116
Wimborne Minster (_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_) 118
The Chained Library, Wimborne Minster 128
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
Ford Abbey (_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_) 132
Details from Cloisters, Ford Abbey 134
(_From drawings by Mr. Sidney Heath_)
The Chapel, Ford Abbey 136
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
Panel from Cloisters, Ford Abbey 136
(_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_)
The Seal of Ford Abbey (_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_) 140
High Street, Dorchester 146
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
Judge Jeffreys’ Lodgings, Dorchester 149
(_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_)
Cornhill, Dorchester (_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_) 153
“Napper’s Mite,” Dorchester ” ” ” 155
The Quay, Weymouth ” ” ” 158
Chest in the Guildhall, Weymouth ” ” ” 164
Sandsfoot Castle, Weymouth ” ” ” 166
Doorway, Sandsfoot Castle ” ” ” 167
Some Weymouth Tokens ” ” ” 169
The Arms of Weymouth ” ” ” 170
Old House on North Quay, Weymouth 171
(_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_)
An Old Chair in the Guildhall, Weymouth 172
(_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_)
The Old Stocks, Weymouth (_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_) 176
Portland Cottages ” ” ” 185
“Kimmeridge Coal Money” 192
(_From a photograph by Mr. A. D. Moullin_)
Corfe Castle (_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_) 200
The Town Cellars, Poole ” ” ” 222
Shaftesbury ” ” ” 240
Gold Hill, Shaftesbury ” ” ” 248
Piddletown Church ” ” ” 258
Athelhampton Hall ” ” ” 262
Wolfeton House ” ” ” 264
The East Drawing Room, Wolfeton House 268
(_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_)
William Barnes (_From a photograph by Messrs. Dickinsons_) 280
Thomas Hardy (_From a photograph by the Rev. T. Perkins_) 284
Came Rectory (_From a drawing by Mr. Sidney Heath_) 291
HISTORIC DORSET
BY THE REV. THOMAS PERKINS, M.A.
The physical features due to the geological formation of the district
now called Dorset have had such an influence on the inhabitants and
their history that it seems necessary to point out briefly what series
of stratified rocks may be seen in Dorset, and the lines of their
outcrop.
There are no igneous rocks, nor any of those classed as primary, but,
beginning with the Rhætic beds, we find every division of the secondary
formations, with the possible exception of the Lower Greensand,
represented, and in the south-eastern part of the district several of
the tertiary beds may be met with on the surface.
The dip of the strata is generally towards the east; hence the earlier
formations are found in the west. Nowhere else in England could a
traveller in a journey of a little under fifty miles—which is about the
distance from Lyme to the eastern boundary of Dorset—cross the outcrop
of so many strata. A glance at a geological map of England will show
that the Lias, starting from Lyme Regis, sweeps along a curve slightly
concave towards the west, almost due north, until it reaches the sea
again at Redcar, while the southern boundary of the chalk starting
within about ten miles of Lyme runs out eastward to Beechy Head. Hence
it is seen that the outcrops of the various strata are wider the
further away they are from Lyme Regis.
Dorset has given names to three well-known formations and to one less
well known: (1) The Portland beds, first quarried for building stone
about 1660; (2) the Purbeck beds, which supplied the Early English
church builders with marble for their ornamental shafts; (3) Kimmeridge
clay; and (4) the Punfield beds.
The great variety of the formation coming to the surface in the area
under consideration has given a striking variety to the character of
the landscape: the chalk downs of the North and centre, with their
rounded outlines; the abrupt escarpments of the greensand in the
neighbourhood of Shaftesbury; the rich grazing land of Blackmore Vale
on the Oxford clay; and the great Heath (Mr. Hardy’s Egdon) stretching
from near Dorchester out to the east across Woolwich, Reading, and
Bagshot beds, with their layers of gravel, sand, and clay. The chalk
heights are destitute of water; the streams and rivers are those of
the level valleys and plains of Oolitic clays—hence they are slow and
shallow, and are not navigable, even by small craft, far from their
mouths.
The only sides from which in early days invaders were likely to come
were the south and east; and both of these boundaries were well
protected by natural defences, the former by its wall of cliffs and the
deadly line of the Chesil beach. The only opening in the wall was Poole
Harbour, a land-locked bay, across which small craft might indeed be
rowed, but whose shores were no doubt a swamp entangled by vegetation.
Swanage Bay and Lulworth Cove could have been easily defended. Weymouth
Bay was the most vulnerable point. Dense forests protected the eastern
boundary. These natural defences had a marked effect, as we shall see,
on the history of the people. Dorset for many centuries was an isolated
district, and is so to a certain extent now, though great changes
have taken place during the last fifty or sixty years, due to the two
railways that carry passengers from the East to Weymouth and the one
that brings them from the North to Poole and on to Bournemouth. This
isolation has conduced to the survival not only of old modes of speech,
but also of old customs, modes of thought, and superstitions.
It may be well, before speaking of this history, to state that the
county with which this volume deals should always be spoken of as
“Dorset,” never as “Dorsetshire”; for in no sense of the word is Dorset
a shire, as will be explained further on.
We find within the boundaries of the district very few traces of
Palæolithic man: the earliest inhabitants, who have left well-marked
memorials of themselves, were Iberians, a non-Aryan race, still
represented by the Basques of the Pyrenees and by certain inhabitants
of Wales. They were short of stature, swarthy of skin, dark of hair,
long-skulled. Their characteristic weapon or implement was a stone
axe, ground, not chipped, to a sharp edge; they buried their dead in a
crouching attitude in the long barrows which are still to be seen in
certain parts of Dorset, chiefly to the north-east of the Stour Valley.
When and how they came into Britain we cannot tell for certain; it was
undoubtedly after the glacial epoch, and probably at a time when the
Straits of Dover had not come into being and the Thames was still a
tributary of the Rhine. They were in what is known as the Neolithic
stage of civilisation; but in course of time, after this country had
become an island, invaders broke in upon them, Aryans of the Celtic
race, probably (as Professor Rhys thinks, though he says he is not
certain on this point) of the Goidelic branch. These men were tall,
fair-haired, blue-eyed, round-skulled, and were in a more advanced
stage of civilisation than the Iberians, using bronze weapons, and
burying their dead, sometimes after cremation, in the round barrows
that exist in such large numbers on the Dorset downs. Their better
arms and greater strength told in the warfare that ensued: whether the
earlier inhabitants were altogether destroyed, or expelled or lived
on in diminished numbers in a state of slavery, we have no means of
ascertaining. But certain it is that the Celts became masters of the
land. These men were some of those who are called in school history
books “Ancient Britons”; the Wessex folk in after days called them
“Welsh”—that is, “foreigners”—the word that in their language answered
to βάρβαροι and “barbari” of the Greeks and Romans. What they called
themselves we do not know. Ptolemy speaks of them as “Durotriges,”
the name by which they were known to the Romans. Despite various
conjectures, the etymology of this word is uncertain. The land which
they inhabited was, as already pointed out, much isolated. The lofty
cliffs from the entrance to Poole Harbour to Portland formed a natural
defence; beyond this, the long line of the Chesil beach, and further
west, more cliffs right on to the mouth of the Axe. Most of the
lowlands of the interior were occupied by impenetrable forests, and the
slow-running rivers, which even now in rainy seasons overflow their
banks, and must then, when the rainfall was much heavier than now, have
spread out into swamps, rendered unnavigable by their thick tangle of
vegetation. The inhabitants dwelt on the sloping sides of the downs,
getting the water they needed from the valleys, and retiring for safety
to the almost innumerable encampments that crowned the crests of the
hills, many of which remain easily to be distinguished to this day.
Nowhere else in England in an equal area can so many Celtic earthworks
be found as in Dorset. The Romans came in due course, landing we know
not where, and established themselves in certain towns not far from the
coasts.
The Celts were not slain or driven out of their land, but lived on
together with the Romans, gradually advancing in civilisation under
Roman influence. They had already adopted the Christian religion: they
belonged to the old British Church, which lived on in the south-west
of England even through that period when the Teutonic invaders—Jutes,
Angles, Saxons—devastated the south-east, east, north, and central
parts of the island, and utterly drove westward before them the Celtic
Christians into Wales and the south-west of Scotland. Dorset remained
for some time untouched, for though the Romans had cleared some of the
forests before them, and had cut roads through others, establishing at
intervals along them military stations, and strengthening and occupying
many of the Celtic camps, yet the vast forest—“Selwood,” as the English
called it—defended Dorset from any attack of the West Saxons, who
had settled further to the east. Once, and once only, if we venture,
with Professor Freeman, to identify Badbury Rings, near Wimborne, on
the Roman Road, with the Mons Badonicus of Gildas, the Saxons, under
Cerdic, in 516, invaded the land of the Durotriges, coming along the
Roman Road which leads from Salisbury to Dorchester, through the gap
in the forest at Woodyates, but found that mighty triple ramparted
stronghold held by Celtic Arthur and his knights, round whom so much
that is legendary has gathered, but who probably were not altogether
mythical. In the fight that followed, the Christian Celt was
victorious, and the Saxon invader was driven in flight back to his own
territory beyond Selwood. Some place Mons Badonicus in the very north
of England, or even in Scotland, and say that the battle was fought
between the Northumbrians and the North Welsh: if this view is correct,
we may say that no serious attack was made on the Celts of Dorset from
the east. According to Mr. Wildman’s theory, as stated in his _Life of
St. Ealdhelm_—which theory has a great air of probability about it—the
Wessex folk, under Cenwealh, son of Cynegils, the first Christian King
of the West Saxons, won two victories: one at Bradford-on-Avon in
652, and one at the “Hills” in 658. Thus North Dorset was overcome,
and gradually the West Saxons passed on westward through Somerset,
until in 682 Centwine, according to the English Chronicle, drove the
Welsh into the sea. William of Malmesbury calls them “Norht Walæs,”
or North Welsh, but this is absurd: Mr. Wildman thinks “Norht” may be
a mistake for “Dorn,” or “Thorn,” and that the Celts of Dorset are
meant, and that the sea mentioned is the English Channel. From this
time the fate of the Durotriges was sealed: their land became part of
the great West Saxon kingdom. Well indeed was it for them that they had
remained independent until after the time when their conquerors had
ceased to worship Woden and Thunder and had given in their allegiance
to the White Christ; for had these men still been worshippers of the
old fierce gods, the Celts would have fared much worse. Now, instead
of being exterminated, they were allowed to dwell among the West Saxon
settlers, in an inferior position, but yet protected by the West
Saxon laws, as we see from those of Ine who reigned over the West
Saxons from 688 to 728. The Wessex settlers in Dorset were called by
themselves “Dornsæte,” or “Dorsæte,” whence comes the name of Dorset.
It will be seen then, that Dorset is what Professor Freeman calls a
“ga”—the land in which a certain tribe settled—and differs entirely
from those divisions made after the Mercian land had been won back
from the Danes, when shires were formed by shearing up the newly
recovered land, not into its former divisions which the Danish conquest
had obliterated, but into convenient portions, each called after the
name of the chief town within its borders, such as Oxfordshire from
Oxford, Leicestershire from Leicester. The Danes did for a time get
possession of the larger part of Wessex, but it was only for a time:
the boundaries of Dorset were not wiped out, and there was no need to
make any fresh division. So when we use the name Dorset for the county
we use the very name that it was known by in the seventh century. It
is also interesting to observe that Dorset has been Christian from the
days of the conversion of the Roman Empire, that no altars smoked on
Dorset soil to Woden, no temples were built in honour of Thunder, no
prayers were offered to Freya; but it is also worth notice that the
Celtic Christian Church was not ready to amalgamate with the Wessex
Church, which had derived its Christianity from Papal Rome. However,
the Church of the Conquerors prevailed, and Dorset became not only
part of the West Saxon kingdom, but also of the West Saxon diocese,
under the supervision of a bishop, who at first had his bishop-stool
at Dorchester, not the Dorset town, but one of the same name on the
Thames, not far from Abingdon. In 705, when Ine was King, it received a
bishop of its own in the person of St. Ealdhelm, Abbot of Malmesbury,
who on his appointment placed his bishop-stool at Sherborne: he did
not live to hold this office long, for he died in 709. But a line
of twenty-five bishops ruled at Sherborne, the last of whom—Herman,
a Fleming brought over by Eadward the Confessor—transferred his see
in 1075 to Old Sarum, as it is now called; whereupon the church of
Sherborne lost its cathedral rank.
The southern part of Dorset, especially in the neighbourhood of Poole
Harbour, suffered much during the time that the Danes were harrying
the coast of England. There were fights at sea in Swanage Bay, there
were fights on land round the walls of Wareham, there were burnings of
religious houses at Wimborne and Wareham. Then followed the victories
of Ælfred, and for a time Dorset had rest. But after Eadward was
murdered at “Corfes-geat” by his stepmother Ælfthryth’s order, and
the weak King Æthelred was crowned, the Danes gave trouble again. The
King first bribed them to land alone; and afterwards, when, trusting
to a treaty he had made with them, many Danes had settled peacefully
in the country, he gave orders for a general massacre—men, women and
children—on St. Brice’s Day (November 13th), 1002. Among those who
perished was a sister of Swegen, the Danish King, Christian though she
was. This treacherous and cruel deed brought the old Dane across the
seas in hot haste to take terrible vengeance on the perpetrator of the
dastardly outrage. All southern England, including Dorset, was soon
ablaze with burning towns. The walls of Dorchester were demolished,
the Abbey of Cerne was pillaged and destroyed, Wareham was reduced
to ashes. Swegen became King, but reigned only a short time, and his
greater son, Cnut, succeeded him. When he had been recognised as King
by the English, and had got rid of all probable rivals, he governed
well and justly, and the land had rest. Dorset had peace until Harold
had fallen on the hill of Battle, and the south-eastern and southern
parts of England had acknowledged William as King. The men of the west
still remained independent, Exeter being the chief city to assert its
independence. In 1088 William resolved to set about to subdue these
western rebels, as he called them. He demanded that they should accept
him as King, take oaths of allegiance to him, and receive him within
their walls. To this the men of Exeter made answer that they would pay
tribute to him as overlord of England as they had paid to the previous
King, but that they would not take oaths of allegiance, nor would they
allow him to enter the city. William’s answer was an immediate march
westward. Professor Freeman says that there is no record of the details
of his march; but naturally it would lie through Dorset, the towns of
which were in sympathy with Exeter. Knowing what harsh and cruel things
William could do when it suited his purpose, we cannot for a moment
doubt that he fearfully harried all the Dorset towns on the line of his
march, seeking by severity to them to overawe the city of Exeter.
In the wars between Stephen and Maud, Dorset was often the
battle-ground of the rival claimants for the throne. Wareham,
unfortunate then, as usual, was taken and re-taken more than once,
first by one party, then by the other; but lack of space prevents the
telling of this piece of local history.
King John evidently had a liking for Dorset. He often visited it,
having houses of his own at Bere Regis, Canford, Corfe, Cranborne,
Gillingham, and Dorchester. In the sixteenth year of his reign he put
strong garrisons into Corfe Castle and Wareham as a defence against his
discontented barons.
In the wars between his son, Henry III., and the Barons there was
fighting again in Dorset, especially at Corfe. Dorset, among other
sea-side counties, supplied ships and sailors to Edward III. and Henry
V. for their expeditions against France.
The Wars of the Roses seem hardly to have touched the county; but one
incident must be mentioned: On April 14th, 1471, Margaret, wife of
Henry VI., landed at Weymouth with her son Edward and a small band of
Frenchmen; but she soon heard that on the very day of her landing her
great supporter, though once he had been her bitterest enemy, Warwick
the King-maker, had been defeated and slain at Barnet. This led her to
seek sanctuary in the Abbey at Cerne, about sixteen miles to the north
of Weymouth; but her restless spirit would not allow her long to stay
in this secluded spot, and she started with young Edward, gathering
supporters as she went, till on May 4th her army was defeated at
Tewkesbury, and there her last hopes were extinguished when King Edward
IV. smote her son, who had been taken prisoner, with gauntleted hand
upon the mouth, and the daggers of Clarence and Gloucester ended the
poor boy’s life.
We hear nothing of resistance on the part of Dorset to the Earl of
Richmond when he came to overthrow Richard III. Probably, as the
Lancastrian family of the Beauforts were large landowners in Dorset,
Dorset sympathy was enlisted on the side of the son of the Lady
Margaret, great-granddaughter of John of Gaunt.
Like all the rest of England, Dorset had to see its religious houses
suppressed and despoiled; its abbots and abbesses, with all their
subordinate officers, as well as their monks and nuns, turned out of
their old homes, though let it in fairness be stated, not unprovided
for, for all those who surrendered their ecclesiastical property to the
King received pensions sufficient to keep them in moderate comfort, if
not in affluence. Dorset accepted the dissolution of the monasteries
and the new services without any manifest dissatisfaction. There was no
rioting or fighting as in the neighbouring county of Devon.
Dorset did not escape so easily in the days of the Civil War. Lyme,
holden for the Parliament by Governor Creely and some 500 men, held
out from April 20th to June 16th, 1644, against Prince Maurice with
4,000 men, when the Earl of Essex came to its relief. Corfe Castle and
Sherborne Castle were each besieged twice. Abbotsbury was taken by Sir
Anthony Ashley Cooper in September, 1644. Wareham, also, was more than
once the scene of fighting. In the north of Dorset a band of about
5,000 rustics, known as “Clubmen,” assembled. These men knew little and
cared less for the rival causes of King and Parliament which divided
the rest of England; but one thing they did know and greatly cared for:
they found that ever and again bands of armed horsemen came riding
through the villages, some singing rollicking songs and with oaths on
their lips, others chanting psalms and quoting the Bible, but all alike
treading down their crops, demanding food, and sometimes their horses,
often forgetting to pay for them; so they resolved to arm themselves
and keep off Cavaliers and Roundheads alike. At one time they encamped
at Shaftesbury, but could not keep the Roundheads from occupying the
Hill Town; so they, to the number of 4,000, betook themselves to the
old Celtic camp of Hambledon, some seven or eight miles to the south.
Cromwell himself, in a letter to Fairfax, dated August 4th, 1645, tells
what befell them there:
We marched on to Shaftesbury, when we heard a great body of them was
drawn up together about Hambledon Hill. I sent up a forlorn hope of
about 50 horse, who coming very civilly to them, they fired upon
them; and ours desiring some of them to come to me were refused with
disdain. They were drawn into one of the old camps upon a very high
hill. They refused to submit, and fired at us. I sent a second time to
let them know that if they would lay down their arms no wrong should
be done them. They still—through the animation of their leaders, and
especially two vile ministers[1]—refused. When we came near they let
fly at us, killed about two of our men, and at least four horses. The
passage not being for above three abreast kept us out, whereupon Major
Desborow wheeled about, got in the rear of them, beat them from the
work, and did some small execution upon them, I believe killed not
twelve of them, but cut very many, and put them all to flight. We have
taken about 300, many of whom are poor silly creatures, whom, if you
please to let me send home, they promise to be very dutiful for time
to come, and will be hanged before they come out again.
From which we see that “Grim old Oliver,” who could be severe enough
when policy demanded it, yet could show mercy at times, for throughout
this episode his dealings with the Clubmen were marked with much
forbearance.
Charles II., after his defeat at Worcester, September 3rd, 1651,
during his romantic wanderings and hidings before he could get safe
to sea, spent nearly three weeks in what is now Dorset, though most
of the time he was in concealment at the Manor House at Trent, which
was then within the boundaries of Somerset, having only recently been
transferred to Dorset. This manor house belonged to Colonel Francis
Wyndham. Hither on Wednesday, September 17th, came Jane Lane, sister
of Colonel Lane, from whose house at Bentley, Worcestershire, she had
ridden on a pillion behind one who passed as her groom, really Charles
in disguise, with one attendant, Cornet Lassels. Jane and the Cornet
left Trent the next day on their return journey, and Charles was
stowed away in Lady Wyndham’s room, from which there was access to a
hiding-place between two floors. His object was to effect his escape
from one of the small Dorset ports. Colonel Wyndham rode next day to
Melbury Sampford, where lived Sir John Strangways, to see if either of
his sons could manage to hire a boat at Lyme, Weymouth, or Poole, which
would take Charles to France. He failed in this, but brought back one
hundred pounds, the gift of Sir John Strangways. Colonel Wyndham then
went to Lyme to see one Captain Ellesdon, to whom he said that Lord
Wilmot wanted to be taken across to France. Arrangements were then made
with Stephen Limbrey, the skipper of a coasting vessel, to take a party
of three or four royalist gentlemen to France from Charmouth. Lord
Wilmot was described as a Mr. Payne, a bankrupt merchant running away
from his creditors, and taking his servant (Charles) with him. It was
agreed that Limbrey should have a rowing-boat ready on Charmouth beach
on the night of September 22nd, when the tide was high, to convey the
party to his ship and carry them safe to France, for which service he
was to receive £60. September 22nd was “fair day” at Lyme, and as many
people would probably be about, it was necessary that the party should
find some safe lodging where they could wait quietly till the tide was
in, about midnight. Rooms were secured, as for a runaway couple, at a
small inn at Charmouth. At this inn on Monday morning arrived Colonel
Wyndham, who acted as guide, and his wife and niece, a Mrs. Juliana
Coningsby (the supposed eloping damsel), riding behind her groom
(Charles). Lord Wilmot, the supposed bridegroom, with Colonel Wyndham’s
confidential servant, Peters, followed. Towards midnight Wyndham and
Peters went down to the beach, Wilmot and Charles waiting at the inn
ready to be called as soon as the boat should come. But no signs of the
boat appeared throughout the whole night. It seems that Mrs. Limbrey
had seen posted up at Lyme a notice about the heavy penalty that
anyone would incur who helped Charles Stuart to escape, and suspecting
that the mysterious enterprise on which her husband was engaged might
have something to do with helping in such an escape, she, when he came
back in the evening to get some things he had need of for the voyage,
locked him in his room and would not let him out; and he dared not
break out lest the noise and his wife’s violent words might attract
attention and the matter get noised abroad. Charles, by Wyndham’s
advice, rode off to Bridport the next morning with Mistress Coningsby,
as before, the Colonel going with them; Wilmot stayed behind. His horse
cast a shoe, and Peters took it to the smith to have another put on;
and the smith, examining the horse’s feet, said: “These three remaining
shoes were put on in three different counties, and one looks like a
Worcester shoe.” When the shoe was fixed, the smith went to a Puritan
minister, one Bartholomew Wesley, and told him what he suspected.
Wesley went to the landlady of the inn: “Why, Margaret,” said he, “you
are now a maid of honour.” “What do you mean by that, Mr. Parson?” said
she. “Why, Charles Stuart lay at your house last night, and kissed you
at his departure, so that you cannot now but be a maid of honour.”
Whereupon the hostess waxed wroth, and told Wesley that he was an
ill-conditioned man to try and bring her and her house into trouble;
but, with a touch of female vanity, she added: “If I thought it was the
King, as you say it was, I should think the better of my lips all the
days of my life. So, Mr. Parson, get you out of my house, or I’ll get
those who shall kick you out.”
However, the matter soon got abroad, and a pursuit began. Meanwhile,
Charles and his party had pressed on into Bridport, which happened
to be full of soldiers mustering there before joining a projected
expedition to capture the Channel Islands for the Parliament. Charles’s
presence of mind saved him. He pushed through the crowd into the
inn yard, groomed the horse, chatted with the soldiers, who had no
suspicion that he was other than he seemed, and then said that he must
go and serve his mistress at table. By this time Wilmot and Peters had
arrived, and they told him of the incident at the shoeing forge; so,
losing no time, the party started on the Dorchester road, but, turning
off into a by-lane, got safe to Broadwinsor, and thence once more to
Trent, which they reached on September 24th. On October 5th Wilmot
and Charles left Trent and made their way to Shoreham in Sussex. But
they had not quite done with Dorset yet; for it was a Dorset skipper,
one Tattersal, whose business it was to sail a collier brig, _The
Surprise_, between Poole and Shoreham, who carried Charles Stuart and
Lord Wilmot from Shoreham to Fécamp, and received the £60 that poor
Limbrey might have had save for his wife’s interference.
Dorset was the stage on which were acted the first and one of the
concluding scenes of the Duke of Monmouth’s rebellion in 1685. On June
11th the inhabitants of Lyme Regis were sorely perplexed when they saw
three foreign-looking ships, which bore no colours, at anchor in the
bay; and their anxiety was not lessened when they saw the custom house
officers, who had rowed out, as their habit was, to overhaul the cargo
of any vessel arriving at the port, reach the vessels but return not
again. Then from seven boats landed some eighty armed men, whose leader
knelt down on the shore to offer up thanksgiving for his safe voyage,
and to pray for God’s blessing on his enterprise. When it was known
that this leader was the Duke of Monmouth the people welcomed him, his
blue flag was set up in the market place, and Monmouth’s undignified
Declaration—the composition of Ferguson—was read. That same evening the
Mayor, who approved of none of these things, set off to rouse the West
in the King’s favour, and from Honiton sent a letter giving information
of the landing. On June 14th, the first blood was shed in a skirmish
near Bridport (it was not a decisive engagement). Monmouth’s men,
however, came back to Lyme, the infantry in good order, the cavalry
helter-skelter; and little wonder, seeing that the horses, most of them
taken from the plough, had never before heard the sound of firearms.
Then Monmouth and his men pass off our stage. It is not for the local
Dorset historian to trace his marches up and down Somerset, or to
describe the battle that was fought in the early hours of the morning
of July 6th under the light of the full moon, amid the sheet of thick
mist, which clung like a pall over the swampy surface of the level
stretch of Sedgemoor. Once again Dorset received Monmouth, no longer
at the head of an enthusiastic and brave, though a badly armed and
undisciplined multitude, but a lonely, hungry, haggard, heartbroken
fugitive. On the morning of July 8th he was found in a field near
Horton, which still bears the name of Monmouth’s Close, hiding in a
ditch. He was brought before Anthony Etricke of Holt, the Recorder
of Poole, and by him sent under escort to London, there to meet his
ghastly end on Tower Hill, and to be laid to rest in what Macaulay
calls the saddest spot on earth, St. Peter’s in the Tower, the last
resting-place of the unsuccessfully ambitious, of those guilty of
treason, and also of some whose only fault it was that they were too
near akin to a fallen dynasty, and so roused the fears and jealousy of
the reigning monarch.
Everyone has heard of the Bloody Assize which followed, but the names
and the number of those who perished were not accurately known till a
manuscript of forty-seven pages, of folio size, was offered for sale
among a mass of waste paper in an auction room at Dorchester, December,
1875.[2] It was bought by Mr. W. B. Barrett, and he found that it was
a copy of the presentment of rebels at the Autumn Assizes of 1685,
probably made for the use of some official of the Assize Court, as no
doubt the list that Jeffreys had would have been written on parchment,
and this was on paper. It gives the names of 2,611 persons presented
at Dorchester, Exeter, and Taunton, as having been implicated in the
rebellion, the parishes where they lived, and the nature of their
callings. Of these, 312 were charged at Dorchester, and only about
one-sixth escaped punishment. Seventy-four were executed, 175 were
transported, nine were whipped or fined, and 54 were acquitted or were
not captured. It is worth notice that the percentage of those punished
at Exeter and Taunton was far less than at Dorchester. Out of 488
charged at Exeter, 455 escaped; and at Taunton, out of 1,811, 1,378 did
not suffer. It is possible that the Devon and Somerset rebels, having
heard of Jeffreys’ severity at Dorchester, found means of escape.
No doubt many of the country folk who had not sympathized with the
rebellion would yet help to conceal those who were suspected, when they
knew (from what had happened at Dorchester) that if they were taken
they would in all probability be condemned to death or slavery—for
those “transported” were really handed over to Court favourites as
slaves for work on their West Indian plantations. It is gratifying to
know that it has been discovered, since Macaulay’s time, that such of
the transported as were living when William and Mary came to the throne
were pardoned and set at liberty on the application of Sir William
Young.
Monmouth was the last invader to land in Dorset; but there was in the
early part of the nineteenth century very great fear among the Dorset
folk that a far more formidable enemy might choose some spot, probably
Weymouth, on the Dorset coast for landing his army. Along the heights
of the Dorset downs they built beacons of dry stubs and furze, with
guards in attendance, ready to flash the news of Napoleon’s landing,
should he land. The general excitement that prevailed, the false
rumours that from time to time made the peaceable inhabitants, women
and children, flee inland, and sent the men capable of bearing arms
flocking seaward, are well described in Mr. Hardy’s _Trumpet Major_.
But Napoleon never came, and the dread of invasion passed away for ever
in 1805.
In the wild October night time, when the wind raved round the land,
And the back-sea met the front-sea, and our doors were blocked with
sand,
And we heard the drub of Dead-man’s Bay, where bones of thousands
are,
(But) knew not what that day had done for us at Trafalgar.[3]
The isolation of Dorset, which has been before spoken of, has had much
to do with preserving from extinction the old dialect spoken in the
days of the Wessex kings. Within its boundaries, especially in “outstep
placen,” as the people call them, the old speech may be heard in
comparative purity. Let it not be supposed that Dorset is an illiterate
corruption of literary English. It is an older form of English; it
possesses many words that elsewhere have become obsolete, and a grammar
with rules as precise as those of any recognised language. No one not
to the manner born can successfully imitate the speech of the rustics
who, from father to son, through many generations have lived in the
same village. A stranger may pick up a few Dorset words, only, in all
probability, to use them incorrectly. For instance, he may hear the
expression “thic tree” for “that tree,” and go away with the idea that
“thic” is the Dorset equivalent of “that,” and so say “thic grass”—an
expression which no true son of the Dorset soil would use; for, as
the late William Barnes pointed out, things in Dorset are of two
classes: (1) The personal class of formed things, as a man, a tree, a
boot; (2) the impersonal class of unformed quantities of things, as a
quantity of hair, or wood, or water. “He” is the personal pronoun for
class (1); “it” for class (2). Similarly, “thëase” and “thic” are the
demonstratives of class (1); “this” and “that” of class (2). A book
is “he”; some water is “it.” We say in Dorset: “Thëase tree by this
water,” “Thic cow in that grass.” Again, a curious distinction is made
in the infinitive mood: when it is not followed by an object, it ends
in “y”; when an object follows, the “y” is omitted:—“Can you mowy?” but
“Can you mow this grass for me?” The common use of “do” and “did” as
auxiliary verbs, and not only when emphasis is intended, is noteworthy
(the “o” of the “do” being faintly heard). “How do you manage about
threading your needles?” asked a lady of an old woman engaged in
sewing, whose sight was very dim from cataract. The answer came: “Oh,
he” (her husband) “dô dread ’em for me.” In Dorset we say not only
“to-day” and “to-morrow,” but also “to-week,” “to-year.” “Tar’ble” is
often used for “very,” in a good as well as a bad sense. There are
many words bearing no resemblance to English in Dorset speech. What
modern Englishman would recognise a “mole hill” in a “wont-heave,” or
“cantankerous” in “thirtover”? But too much space would be occupied
were this fascinating subject to be pursued further.
National schools, however, are corrupting Wessex speech, and the
niceties of Wessex grammar are often neglected by the children.
Probably the true Dorset will soon be a thing of the past. William
Barnes’ poems and Thomas Hardy’s Wessex novels, especially the latter,
will then become invaluable to the philologist. In some instances Mr.
Barnes’ spelling seems hardly to represent the sound of words as they
are uttered by Dorset, or, as they say here, “Darset” lips.
THE BARROWS OF DORSET
BY C. S. PRIDEAUX
The County of Dorset is exceedingly rich in the prehistoric
burial-places commonly called barrows. At the present time considerably
over a thousand are marked on the one-inch Ordnance Map, and,
considering the numbers which have been destroyed, we may surely claim
that Dorset was a populous centre in prehistoric times, owing probably
to its proximity to the Continent and its safe harbours, as well as to
its high and dry downs and wooded valleys.
The long barrow is the earliest form of sepulchral mound, being the
burial-place of the people of the Neolithic or Late Stone Age, a period
when men were quite ignorant of the use of metals, with the possible
exception of gold, using flint or stone weapons and implements, but who
cultivated cereals, domesticated animals, and manufactured a rude kind
of hand-made pottery. Previous to this, stone implements and weapons
were of a rather rude type; but now not only were they more finely
chipped, but often polished.
The round barrows are the burial-places of the Goidels, a branch of the
Celtic family, who were taller than the Neolithic men and had rounder
heads. They belong to the Bronze Age, a period when that metal was
first introduced into Britain; and although comparatively little is
found in the round barrows of Dorset, still less has been discovered in
the North of England, probably owing to the greater distance from the
Continent.
Hand-made pottery abounds, artistically decorated with diagonal lines
and dots, which are combined to form such a variety of patterns that
probably no two vessels are found alike. Stone and flint implements
were still in common use, and may be found almost anywhere in Dorset,
especially on ploughed uplands after a storm of rain, when the
freshly-turned-up flints have been washed clear of earth.
In discussing different periods, we must never lose sight of the fact
that there is much overlapping; and although it is known that the
long-barrow men had long heads and were a short race, averaging 5 ft.
4 in. in height, and that the round-barrow men had round heads and
averaged 5 ft. 8 in.,[4] we sometimes find fairly long-shaped skulls in
the round barrows, showing that the physical peculiarities of the two
races became blended.
Long barrows are not common in Dorset, and little has been done in
examining their contents. This is probably due to their large size,
and the consequent difficulty in opening them. They are generally
found inland, and singly, with their long diameter east and west;
and the primary interments, at any rate in Dorset, are unburnt, and
usually placed nearer the east end. Some are chambered, especially
where large flat stones were easily obtainable, but more often they
are simply formed of mould and chalk rubble. Their great size cannot
fail to impress us, and we may well wonder how such huge mounds were
constructed with the primitive implements at the disposal of Neolithic
man. One near Pimperne, measured by Mr. Charles Warne, is 110 yards
long, and there are others near Bere Regis, Cranborne, Gussage, and
Kingston Russell; and within a couple of miles of the latter place,
besides the huge long barrow, are dozens of round barrows, the remains
of British villages, hut circles, stone circles, and a monolith.
[Illustration: _PLATE I._ Figs. 1 3 2 4 6 5
BRONZE AGE OBJECTS FROM DORSET ROUND BARROWS
(IN THE DORSET COUNTY MUSEUM).
_⅕ Scale._]
[Illustration: _PLATE II._ Figs. 1 3 2 4
BRONZE AGE OBJECTS FROM DORSET ROUND BARROWS
(IN THE DORSET COUNTY MUSEUM).
_⅕ Scale._]
The late Lieut.-General Pitt-Rivers, in 1893, removed the whole of Wor
Barrow, on Handley Down,[5] and made a very exhaustive examination of
its contents, which presented many features of peculiar interest. This
barrow, with ditch, was about 175 feet long, 125 feet wide, and 13½
feet high; inside the mound on the ground level was an oblong space,
93 ft. by 34 ft., surrounded by a trench filled with flints. The earth
above the trench bore traces of wooden piles, which were, no doubt,
originally stuck into the trench with the flints packed around to keep
them in place, thus forming a palisade; the wooden piles in this case
taking the place of the stone slabs found in the stone-chambered long
barrows of Gloucestershire and elsewhere.