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The Little Book of Dorset is a funny, fast-paced, fact-packed compendium of the places, people, legends and true stories about the county's past and present.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010
DAVID HILLIAM
Title Page
Author’s Note
Introduction
1. Place-names & Pubs
2. Bones & Burials
3. Books & Writers
4. Abbeys & Churches
5. Kings & Queens
6. Hardy & Wessex
7. Work & Leisure
8. Smuggling & the Jurassic Coast
9. Castles & Curious Stones
10. Men & Women
11. Skirmishes & War
12. Ghosts & Old Tales
13. This & That
14. On This Day
Acknowledgements
Copyright
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Following the county boundary changes of 1974, Dorset was enlarged to incorporate a part of Hampshire, including Christchurch and Bournemouth. This book treats the new area as if it had always been a part of Dorset.
The Little Book of Dorset is just what the title implies – nothing pretentious, and certainly not claiming to be a comprehensive history or guide. It is a somewhat quirky collection of some of the things that make Dorset unique as a county – the ‘Wessex’ of Thomas Hardy’s vivid novels.
Dorset has had a fascinating past, going back to Jurassic times. It has been the centre of many crucial moments of English history and it has had associations with a huge variety of people, from Alfred the Great to Lawrence of Arabia and Enid Blyton.
Even in the twenty-first century Dorset remains the county of Tess of the D’Urbervilles,The Mayor of Casterbridge and Far From the Madding Crowd. It is the beautiful and somewhat melancholy world of Thomas Hardy, whose brooding presence is for ever to be seen in his memorable statue in Dorchester. Flowers still appear there on the anniversaries of his birth and death.
But also, alongside this, the Dorset of the twenty-first century is the scene of the 2012 Olympics, the vibrant nightlife of Bournemouth, and the many tourist attractions such as Bovington Tank Museum, Monkey World and Poole’s arts centre, now called ‘Lighthouse’, where superb performances by the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra can be heard.
It is to be hoped that readers of The Little Book of Dorset will want to visit and revisit this beautiful county again and again.
David Hilliam, 2010
1
No other English county has towns and villages with so many magically poetic place-names as Dorset. John Betjeman recognised this when he began one of his poems by simply listing some of them: ‘Rime Intrinsica, Fontmell Magna, Sturminster Newton and Melbury Bubb.’
There are over three hundred towns and villages in Dorset – many with names which are intriguing and puzzling. Here are the top twenty place-names in Dorset which cause most surprise.
Like many Dorset villages, Affpuddle is named after the River Piddle. It means ‘the land by the River Piddle which belongs to Aeffa’ – Aeffa being one of the early Saxon settlers here. In some place-names, the Piddle is somewhat prudishly changed to ‘Puddle’ to avoid bringing a blush to sensitive cheeks!
Several Dorset villages have ‘Caundle’ in their names: Purse Caundle, Stourton Caundle, and Caundle Marsh. They are situated near hills, and it is thought that ‘caundle’ was an ancient British word for a chain of hills. The ‘Bishop’ of Bishop’s Caundle is the Bishop of Salisbury, who owned the manor here. ‘Purse’ of Purse Caundle is probably derived from a family name.
‘The market town where there is a ford at which gudgeon or blay (Old English blaege) are to be found.’ ‘Forum’ is the Latin word for a marketplace, and interestingly, in 1288 the town’s name is recorded as ‘Cheping Blaneford.’ – cēping being an Old English word for a market.
The meaning of ‘Windsor’ in this name is the same as that of Windsor in Berkshire, from which the present royal family chose to be called. Literally, ‘windsor’ means ‘river-bank with a windlass’ – from windels, Old English for ‘windlass’, and ora, Latin for a river-bank. The original windlass must have been used for loading and unloading boats on the river. As for the ‘Broad’ part, this simply distinguishes the place from nearby Littlewindsor.
‘Chaldon’ means ‘hill where calves graze’ – from two Old English words: cealf, ‘calf’, and dun, ‘a hill’. Like so many other doublebarrelled place-names, the second part (Herring) points to a family who owned an estate here, in this case, the Harangs. Their name is also found in Herrison, Langton Herring, and Winterborne Herringston.
There are two other Okefords in Dorset – Okeford Fitzpaine and Shilling Okeford (more usually called Shillingstone). ‘Okeford’ itself is self-explanatory – ‘ford by an oak-tree’ – but the ‘Child’ in Child Okeford is not so easily explained. The Old English word cild meant ‘son of a royal or noble family’ – but who is being referred to is not known. ‘Fitzpaine’ refers to a previous landowner. Also, ‘Shillingstone’ derives from a surname – it is Schelin’s ‘tun’ or hamlet.
‘Corfe’ comes from an Old English word meaning ‘cutting, or pass’ – that is, a cutting between two hills. The same name occurs, of course, in Corfe Castle. As for ‘Mullen’, this refers to the mill which used to be here. The French word Moulin, ‘mill’ – as in Moulin Rouge – springs to mind, though the can-can is rarely seen in Corfe Mullen.
‘Fifehead’ is a slight distortion of ‘five hides’ – where a ‘hide’ meant the amount of land considered sufficient to support one family. In the Domesday Book this estate was called Fifhide. ‘Magdalen’ refers to the dedication of the church here, to St Mary Magdalen.
‘Gussage’ comes from two Old English words: gyse, ‘water suddenly breaking forth’, and sīc, meaning ‘water-course’. As in so many double-barrelled village names, ‘All Saints’ refers to the dedication of the church. There are also two other ‘Gussages’ in Dorset, both with church dedications: Gussage St Andrew and Gussage St Michael.
The ‘hazel wood’ on the estate of the Bryene family, who derived their name from Brienne in France.
The first part of this name derives from the Celtic Lētocēto, which means ‘grey wood’ – and this is probably the same as the first part of the name of Lichfield. The second part derived from the family of Hugh Maltravers, who owned the manor in 1086, the year of the Domesday Book. The same family gave its name to Langton Matravers.
This village gains the second part of its name from the Bubbe family, who owned land and property here in the thirteenth century. William Bubbe held the manor here in 1212 – three years before the signing of Magna Carta. The first part, ‘Melbury’, means ‘multicoloured hill.’ The other Melburys in this area are Melbury Abbas, which belonged to the Abbess of Shafesbury; Melbury Osmund, which is probably named after ‘William the son of Osmund’ who is mentioned as having owned the manor here in the twelfth century; and Melbury Sampford, named after the Sampford family. Interestingly, in the Middle Ages Melbury Sampford had the name of ‘Melbury Turberville’ – after an earlier owner (with a name much more familiar to readers of Hardy!).
Perhaps surprisingly, yet so obvious, the ‘Mint’ part of the name actually refers to the herb, mint. The name Minterne, therefore, means ‘the house where mint grows’, with the second part of Minterne deriving from the Old English word ærn, meaning ‘house’. As for ‘Magna’ this is the Latin word for ‘large’ and so distinguishes Minterne Magna from Minterne Parva (‘little’).
No, not a village, but a very distinctive sea-stack of chalk, rising out of the sea just off the cliffs at Studland. ‘Old Harry’ was another name for the Devil. In 1896 another sea-stack, Old Harry’s Wife, collapsed into the sea.
One of the many villages deriving their names from the River Piddle. This extraordinary name means ‘Estate on the River Piddle assessed at thirty hides’ – i.e. it could support thirty families (see Fifehead Magdalen earlier). The word trente is simply the French for ‘thirty’. Sometime during the Middle Ages this village was referred to as ‘Pidelthirtihide’ – which perhaps makes its meaning clearer.
This is the name that John Betjeman used to begin his poem on Dorset – but oddly enough he misspelt it! The ‘Ryme’ part is simply the modern word ‘rim’, and means that the place is on the edge or border of a ridge or perhaps a county boundary. The word intrinseca is Latin, meaning that it is ‘within the bounds’ – as distinguished from its opposite, extrinseca. There used to be a manor called Ryme Extrinseca in Long Bredy, but this has disappeared.
A fascinating name, which is sometimes even seen as ‘6d Handley’! ‘Handley’ derives from two Old English words, hēah and lēah, meaning ‘high wood’ or ‘clearing’. The ‘Sixpenny’ part, which is more intriguing, means ‘hill of the Saxons’ deriving from an Old English word, Seaxe, and a Celtic word, penn, meaning ‘hill’.
A wonderful name, meaning ‘Toller of the pigs’ – as opposed to Toller Fratrum, a nearby village, which means ‘Toller of the brothers’. Both porcorum and fratrum are Latin; Toller Porcorum got its name because of the herds of swine which were bred there, and Toller Fratrum gained its name from the fact that the manor used to belong to the Knights Hospitallers – who were ‘brothers’ in arms. As for ‘Toller’, this was once the name of the river which runs nearby. This is now renamed the River Hooke. Toller Porcorum was called Swyne Tolre in the Middle Ages.
Another name coming from the River Piddle. The first part – ‘Tol’ – is interesting because it records the fact that a lady called Tola used to own the lands here. In fact this lady was the widow of Urc, a ‘housecarl’ or bodyguard of Edward the Confessor. Urc was probably a part of King Edward’s bodyguard. Tola generously gave all these lands to Abbotsbury Abbey a few years before the Norman invasion.
There are many ‘Winterbornes’ in Dorset, which are explained below, but the ‘Came’ part of this name is curious, because it is a corruption of Caen in Normandy. After the Norman conquest the manor here belonged to the abbey of St Stephen at Caen.
There are two rivers in Dorset with the name Winterborne – which means a ‘stream flowing in winter’ – i.e. when there is more water to flow into them. The South Winterborne is a tributary of the River Frome, and the more northerly Winterborne is a tributary of the River Stour. On the South Winterborne river are many villages:
Winterborne Abbas – ‘Abbas’ meaning ‘belonging to the Abbey (of Cerne)’.
Winterborne Stapleton – ‘Steepleton’ meaning ‘village with a church steeple’ (only three medieval Dorset churches had steeples).
Winterborne St Martin – named after the dedication of its church – an alternative name for this village is Martinstown.
Winterborne Monkton – ‘Monkton’ meaning ‘village of the monks’ – because the place formerly belonged to a French priory.
Winterborne Herringston – ‘Herringston’ named after the Harang family, as also in Chaldon Herring (see earlier reference).
Winterborne Came – see above for an explanation of ‘Came’.
There are even more Winterborne village names on the north Winterborne river:
Winterborne Houghton – ‘land on the Winterborne river owned by Hugh’ – who probably was Hugh de Boscherbert, who owned property here at the time of the Domesday Book.
Winterborne Stickland – ‘Stickland’ meaning ‘with a steep lane’.
Winterborne Clenston – ‘Clenston’ referring to the Clench family, who owned property here in the Middle Ages.
Winterborne Whitechurch – ‘Whitechurch’ is fairly self-explanatory, but it may be that it referred to the fact that the church was built of stone rather than wood.
Winterborne Kingston – ‘Kingston’ meaning ‘farm or estate belonging to the King’ – equivalent to ‘Regis’ as found in other names.
Winterborne Muston – ‘Muston’ meaning ‘farm or estate belonging to the de Musters family’ who owned property here.
Winterborne Tomson – ‘farm or estate belonging to someone called Thomas’, but in fact no one knows who this Thomas was. This ‘Winterborne’ consists merely of a church, a farm, and a seventeenth-century cottage.
Similar to the Winterbourne rivers, the River Tarrant gives rise to eight village names along its length. The name ‘Tarrant’ is Celtic, and possibly meant ‘the trespasser’ because of its habit of flooding and ‘trespassing’ on the fields beside it.
Tarrant Crawford – ‘Crawford’ meaning ‘a ford where there are crows’.
Tarrant Gunville – ‘Gunville’ refers to the Gundeville family who owned property here in the Middle Ages.
Tarrant Hinton – ‘Hinton’ meaning ‘town or place belonging to monks or nuns’ from the Old English word hiwan. Here, the nuns referred to were those of Shaftesbury Abbey, who owned the manor here.
Tarrant Keynston – ‘Keynston’ refers to the Cahaignes family, who owned property here in the Middle Ages.
Tarrant Launceston – ‘Launceston’ derives from the name of an individual or family, but it is not clear who they were.
Tarrant Monkton – ‘Estate belong to the monks’ – in this case the manor belonged to the priory of Cranborne and the abbey of Tewkesbury.
Tarrant Rawston – ‘Rawston’ probably means ‘Ralph’s farm or estate’.
Tarrant Rushton – ‘Rushton’ meaning ‘land or estate held by the de Rusceaus family’, who owned it in the Middle Ages.
Found in Bere Regis, it is now called Sitterton on the current Ordnance Survey map – presumably for the same reason that Piddle has been bowdlerised into Puddle. The meaning of the original ‘Shitterton’ was that it was ‘a farm at the stream used as a sewer’. (See Dorset’s Naughty Names, p. 8.)
Some old maps and books call this Dorset headland between Swanage and Weymouth ‘St Alban’s Head’ – and indeed the Ordnance Survey Map gives both names. But as all Dorset folk know, St Aldhelm was Sherborne’s first bishop, so much loved and respected that everyone knew him as a saint. St Alban had nothing at all to do with Dorset!
Looking towards St Aldhelm’s Head, Brandy Bay is a shameless reminder that smugglers used it for landing their illegal barrels.
This curious name can be found at Colehill, north-west of Wimborne. The story behind it is that Oliver Cromwell billeted his troops near here before the battle for Corfe Castle. His men were ‘blessed’ here, to ensure victory.
Originally named for its drains, Shitterton was coyly renamed Sitterton in the Victorian age. However, in our more robust twenty-first century it has now proudly reasserted its older, more earthy, version – Shitterton. Predictably, Shitterton’s wooden signboards were constantly being stolen by thieves with a lavatorial sense of humour. Shitterton villagers therefore responded by clubbing together, each paying £20 to purchase a large, engraved block of Purbeck stone weighing more than a ton and which is now firmly concreted into the ground.
A cliff-top valley between Durdle Door and Swyre Head, its odd name refers to the fact that is it a rough hollow. Famously, it was the scene of the opening of the 1967 film Far from the Madding Crowd, when Gabriel Oak’s sheep were driven over the cliff-edge by his sheepdog.
Thomas Hardy gave it the more dignified name of Norcombe. It is near Hooke.
A much more comfortable-sounding name, it is near Corfe Mullen.
A Site of Special Scientific Interest, being a valley mire lying on the northern flank of Rampisham Hill. Sadly, no one now knows who Aunt Mary was.
A village near Bovington. Prince Harry, while stationed at the army camp in Bovington, rented a nearby cottage at Shaggs, allegedly sharing it with his girlfriend. Not surprisingly, his fellow-officers were much amused.
Near Sherborne, it is believed by some to have a double-entendre, though this may well elude those of a pure mind.
Alas, it cannot be mentioned here as it is just over the border in Hampshire. It is a popular holiday centre near Fordingbridge.
Nowadays ‘The Bottle’ is famous for hosting the Annual World Nettle-Eating Championship (see page 95) but it has existed since 1760 at least, and gains its name from being the first inn locally to sell beer by the bottle.
The building in the car park has been used as a school and then as a shop – selling, as the pub-owner boasted, ‘everything from a mousetrap to a car’. When challenged, he obligingly sold the enquirer a mousetrap and a Rover 100.
Just on the outskirts of Blandford, the Damory Oak pub is named after a famous tree that grew nearby. It was probably the biggest oak tree ever to grow in England. The statistics of this gigantic oak are staggering: it measured no less than 68ft round (20.72m) at ground level, and it was 23ft (7m) in diameter. It was reckoned to have been at its best in the fourteenth century, but by the seventeenth century it had become so hollow that twenty men could get inside the cavity, which measured 15ft wide (4.72m). At one time, an old man sold ale in it. Then, after the great fire of Blandford in 1731, two homeless families lived for a while inside the hollow trunk.
Sadly, the tree was sold in 1755 for £14, and was chopped up for firewood. The Damory Oak pub is the only memorial to this incredible tree. ‘Damory’ derives from the name of the D’Amorie family, who were given lands here by William the Conqueror – and Damorys still live in Dorset almost 1,000 years later.
For centuries this was a well-known coaching inn or pub, but it is now an excellent guest-house named Quiet Woman House, offering top-quality bed and breakfast accommodation. The ‘Quiet Woman’ was St Juthwara, or Judith, a medieval saint who had been beheaded – hence her quietness! (See page 156 for her story.)
Dorset boasts that this is the smallest pub in England. At one time it was a blacksmith’s, and the story goes that King Charles II (reigned 1660–85) while visiting the area, drew up there to have one of his horses shod.
He asked for a glass of ale, and when the blacksmith told the king he had no licence, Charles immediately granted him one. It’s a curious and picturesque pub, very tiny, with a conical-shaped thatched roof.
Local legend tells how a mermaid was washed ashore near here in the eighteenth century – and this is how the pub got its name. There are many stories of weird creatures coming out of the sea here. The sixteenth-century historian Raphael Holinshed described one such oddity:
‘In the moneth of November 1457, in the Ile of Portland not far from the town of Weymouth was seen a cocke coming out of the sea having a great creast upon its head and a red beard and legs half a yard long: he stood on the water and crowed foure times and everie time he turned him about and beckened with his head toward the north the south and the west, and was of colour like a fesant and when he had crowed three times he vanished awaie.’
A splendid old coaching inn situated in High East Street, built in about 1720. King George III would change horses here on the way to his holidays in Weymouth. Famous people who have stayed here include Princess (later Queen) Victoria, Edward VII (incognito), Lord Nelson, Augustus John and the Russian ballerina Pavlova.
For readers of Hardy’s novels, this is the inn where Michael Henchard did his business in The Mayor of Casterbridge. Hardy himself knew this pub well, and described it exactly, not even changing its name:
The building … was the chief hotel in Casterbridge – namely, the King’s Arms. A spacious bow-window projected into the street over the main portico, and from the open sashes came the babble of voices, the jingle of glasses, and the drawing of corks.
The Mayor of Casterbridge, Chapter V.
Not for nothing did Egon Ronay choose The Fox at Ansty as his first Pub of the Year in 1980 – and it has remained one of his favourites ever since. It was once the imposing residence of the Woodhouse family, famous for their brewing, and now its reputation for excellent food and drink draws countless ‘foodies’ from far and wide. Most notable, in every nook and cranny, is its unique and fascinating collection of Toby mugs – over 800 of them at the last count.
This pub got its name because the master of a Newfoundland trading vessel gave the landlord a black dog from that country – a black Labrador. It was the first of the breed to be introduced into England.
Sadly, this is no longer a pub, but a part of a tiny, attractive shopping mall, and the Oak Room – a part of the original old Antelope Inn – is now a busy restaurant. But the Oak Room has a hugely important past, because it was there, in 1685, that Judge Jeffreys condemned 300 men to death or transportation in the ‘Bloody Assizes’ for taking part in the Monmouth rebellion.
This is the only pub in the entire country with this strange name. But the ‘finger’ is really a corruption of the Latin ad vincula, meaning ‘in chains’. St Peter was often shown in medieval paintings as a prisoner.
Opposite this pub in the early nineteenth century was an important depot for the button-makers to bring their products to sell to the Case Brothers, whose grandfather had originally set up this industry in Dorset.
Several pubs in Dorset are named after well-known landowning families of the county: The Drax Arms in Bere Regis has the splendid coat of arms of the Drax family of Charborough Park for its inn sign. The Bankes Armes Country Inn at Studland and The Bankes Armes Hotel at Corfe Castle take their name from the owners of Kingston Lacy. The Weld Arms at Lulworth refers to the famous family who own Lulworth Castle. Other aristocratic pubs are The Rivers Arms at Cheselbourne, Dorchester, the picturesque Hambro Arms at Milton Abbas, and The Digby Tap in Sherborne.
In the eighteenth century, a wealthy and eccentric landowner named Thomas Hollis bought a large estate in Halstock and Corscombe. He was a passionate defender of liberty and free-thinking and set about renaming the farms on his newly purchased land, calling them after his heroes and even after abstract ideas.
Not only was there a Liberty Farm, but also farms called Neville, Locke, Sydney and Marvell. Hollis had close links with America, where he had made many bequests to universities, especially Harvard, where today there is a Hollis Hall.
Thanks to Thomas Hollis there are farms and fields in this part of Dorset which have American names such as Boston and Massachusetts. More oddly, there are fields named Toleration, Constitution, Education, Lay-preacher, Government, Understanding, Comprehension and Reasonableness.
There was even a Stuart Coppice – named for the grim reason that the hazel trees there had to be frequently beheaded!
2
The churches and churchyards of Dorset contain some surprises – and there are some odd tales to tell.
When Thomas Hardy died in 1928, his reputation as a writer was so great that nothing short of a burial in Westminster Abbey was deemed appropriate. Unfortunately, Hardy himself wanted to be buried in Stinsford, beside the Dorset church where he had worshipped since childhood. A somewhat gruesome compromise was agreed – his body would go to the abbey, but his heart would be buried in Stinsford.
Going about this odd business, the local doctor went to Max Gate to cut out Hardy’s heart, and then left it on the kitchen table, wrapped up in a cloth. Shortly afterwards, when the undertaker arrived to take possession of the 87-year-old heart, he was appalled to find that it had disappeared, and a cat was nearby, obviously having just enjoyed an unusual meal.
According to credible sources, the undertaker acted swiftly, with commendable presence of mind. He killed the cat and took it away with – presumably – Hardy’s heart inside it. An amateur photograph of Hardy’s funeral at Stinsford shows the clergyman bearing Hardy’s heart in a wooden casket, rather larger than would be necessary to hold a heart, but of a convenient size to hold a cat.