Anne Damer 1749-1828. Wife of John Damer. See our story Milton Abbey Mystery – Or the Riddle of the Bodyless Coffin, to be found in the Milton Abbas Category.
Milton Abbas
Milton Abbey Mystery – or the riddle of the body-less coffin.
Joseph Damer, Lord Milton of Milton Abbey, could hardly be numbered among Dorset’s more kindly, considerate or philanthropic squires. The Damers were a gentry family of considerable wealth, but Joseph was a man of ambition and ruthlessness. In 1752, only ten years after his marriage to Caroline Sackville, daughter of the first Duke of Dorset, he acquired Milton Abbey. He immediately set about re-configuring the estate’s landscape to his own egocentric tastes, even evicting the inhabitants of the old village upon expiry of their leases and re-settling them in a purpose-built village (today’s Milton Abbas,) so that time-honoured cottages of old Milton could be flooded by an enormous ornamental lake.
John Damer was the first of Joseph and Caroline’s four children and like his father he married well by 18th century standards. His bride was Anne Seymour Conway, 18-year-old daughter of the Rt Hon Henry Seymour Conway, a prominent soldier, statesman, MP and one-time Governor of Jersey. Anne’s fortune was around £10,000, and the couple received an annuity of £5,000 from Lord Milton. At first the younger Damers made the most of their riches, but it soon became apparent that their marriage was faltering. Anne was increasingly spending more time away from home socialising at parties and entertainment than at home with John. But according to Anne’s biographer Percy Noble, her husband took some share of the responsibility for the marital difficulties himself, caused by addictions to the gaming table and turf, which he had to fund by means of loans from Jewish financiers. This made Damer difficult to live with, yet his shortcomings did not restrain him from complaining that his wife was constantly away from home!
Although heir to a fortune of about £30,000 a year, Damer’s debts were mounting. Falling in with a wild, spendthrift set of gad-abouts frequenting London, he seemed to find some curious satisfaction in annoying Anne. In 1775 she duly returned from a visit to Paris and publicly announced her separation from John – no easy commitment for a woman of her “refined and delicate temperament.” By summer 1776 Damer was in the red by £70,000, a fortune that his despotic father refused to bail him out for, since the latter was already saddled with paying off gambling debts incurred by John’s two younger brothers, a burden that was eating into the Milton estate balances.
On the night of August 15th that year Damer happened to be lodging at the Bedford Arms tavern, Covent Garden. By 3 a.m. in the morning, receiving no answer from Damer’s room a blind fiddler called Burnet alerted Bedford Arms landlord John Robinson, saying he had been disturbed by a peculiar smell in Damer’s chamber. Robinson was soon to discover that the odour was not, as supposed, due to burning by a spilt candle, but cordite from a fired pistol. The heir to Milton Abbey House was slumped in a chair, blood pouring from a wound to his right temple. On the floor between his feet lay a gun with the cocking hammer closed.
An inquest was convened in the inn at 6 p.m. the same day. Coroner Thomas Prickard and a 22-man jury heard evidence from Robinson, Burnet, and John Armitage, Damer’s house steward. Robinson testified that Damer had been a regular customer at the Bedford for a number of years and that he had received an order for supper from him between 7 and 8 o’clock the previous evening, together with a request for Burnet and four women to entertain him. The landlord further stated that, although the note was not the first he had received from Damer, this one differed from the rest in that it was written in a “confused manner” out of character with his usual style. Soon after 11 p.m. Damer, Burnet and the ladies retired to an upstairs room where the fiddler played and the four women sung, though it was noted that Damer ate little of his supper. The group broke up shortly before 3 a.m. when Damer told his steward to dismiss the women.
Burnet then gave an account of his movements from the time he arrived at the inn to when he went to call Damer in his room, received no reply from within, and noticed the smell he took to be a spilt candle. He then informed Mr Robinson who upon reaching the room exclaimed, “Oh my God – he has shot himself!” Armitage made only a brief statement about his service with Damer and that he (Damer) had lent him £26. 5s just two days before. The jury had little difficulty in reaching a verdict of instant death due to suicide while “not being of sound mind…but lunatic and distracted.”
Did John Damer really die by his own hand in the Bedford Arms that August night? Certainly the inquest made some glaring omissions. For example there is no record of a pistol shot ever being heard, and it was found that the shot had not entered Damer’s head. Nor was there any mention of an apparent suicide note left on a table nearby. No witnesses who could testify to Damer’s monetary predicament were called. In fact, only Robinson and Armitage were in a position to identify the body (since Burnet could not see.) It would not have been impossible therefore, for these two witnesses to collaborate in a conspiracy hatched by Damer to fake his own death. This is not as far-fetched as it first appears, for in the London of the time it would have been relatively easy to “borrow” a corpse to be returned later.
For the dispossessed cottagers of Milton Abbas however, it was a virtual certainty that word of the Milton heir’s demise would set the rumour mill turning in favour of the fake-death theory. News of the death sent shock waves through England’s high society, but for villagers embittered by the fragmentation of their centuries-old community, a presumption of faking death to avoid remunerating creditors was bound to arise. It was likely they considered the son to be the same as his despised father and so entirely capable of such a devious plot, although there was never strong evidence to substantiate it.
The fake suicide rumour may have stayed just that indefinitely: a rumour, were it not for an astonishing discovery made 97 years later on the villagers own doorstep. About 1837 some repairs to the north transept of Milton Abbey were in progress, which necessitated opening the Damer family crypt. At the time a man called Frederick Fane of Moyles Court, Fordingbridge was staying at the Abbey when one morning he decided to visit the ancient building to look in on the repair work. While there the foreman, with whom Fane had entered into conversation, alluded to a “fake funeral” having taken place nearly a century before when the Abbey was Milton Parish Church. An extravagant son of Lord Milton, he said, was being sought by the bailiffs when a message arrived stating that the man had died on the continent and was to be brought back for burial here at the Abbey. The foreman then invited the visitor to “see something that would convince him of the truth of the Damer legend.”
Down in the vault the two men stopped beside a coffin with a plate bearing Damer’s name. Fane was then bizarrely invited to attempt to lift the coffin, but on doing so found it was too heavy. When asked to try to lift the coffin beside it, however, he was surprised to find that one could be lifted easily without any exertion. What was the explanation for the difference?
As the foreman explained, the second coffin was much lighter because its body had decomposed, but the first coffin could not be lifted because it had been filled with stones. Here there was hint of a strong vindication of the villager’s suspicions if the opportunity for access to the vault and inspection of remains ever arose. More than 20 years later Fane related his extraordinary experience to a meeting of the Dorset Natural History and Field Club.
If Damer, then, had not faked his suicide, why go to the trouble of staging a fake funeral? Moreover, how do we explain the claims of villagers, who mostly never believed Damer to be dead and buried, that they had seen him alive and well in the grounds on several later occasions?
If the supposed conspiracy was intended to satisfy Damer’s creditors, then it succeeded, but Joseph Damer’s malign attitude to his son’s death provoked almost as much public shock and indignation as the news of the supposed death itself. Lord Milton even vented his spleen on poor Mrs Damer, who deserved only sympathy.
This has been a strange, though true story. But unless or until any real, rather than circumstantial evidence materialises the truth about John Damer’s fate is unlikely ever to be revealed.
As for Anne Damer, following her husband’s departure she went on to live a long and productive life, becoming a noted sculptor, continental traveller and actress on the London stage, acquainted with many royal, political, literary and artistic figures of the period. She died at the ripe old age of 80 in May 1828 and was buried near to other members of the Conway family at the parish church of Sundridge, Kent.
Milton Abbas
The Milton Abbas Street Fair is a huge event that takes place every two years along the famous and much photographed village street and the next fair will be held on July 27th 2013. Always well attended the event is as authentic an eighteenth century fair as the organisers can make it. Bunting is hung up and down and across the street; residents and stall holders dress in period costume and visitors are encouraged to join in.
But there is a lot more to see and learn about the parish of Milton Abbas to provide even the most experienced tourist with an interest-packed day: the Abbey Church and St Catherine’s Chapel, not to mention the village street with its uniform housing, almshouses and St. James’ Church all in a beautiful setting.
The original church was founded by King Athelstan of Wessex in 933 AD, to commemorate the death of his brother Edwin who died at sea. In 964 King Edgar turned-out the priests and replaced them with Benedictine monks from Glastonbury. Around the monastery a thriving town grew to over 100 houses and several taverns but it was demolished and replaced by the model village we see today.
Middleton as it was known until 1753 was a prosperous market town sitting in the valley between the present day Milton Abbas and the Abbey. What became of Middleton? Joseph Damer, later to become Lord Milton, the first Earl of Dorchester, tore down the old abbey buildings and built himself a mansion in the Gothic style next to the Abbey Church calling on the services of Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown the leading landscape designer and gardener of the day to improve his view.
Brown had a reputation for not letting anything stand in the way of the successful execution of his plans and elsewhere had moved whole communities to ensure that his grand designs were fully realised. Middleton was no exception; it was in the way so it had to go.
In 1780 Joseph Damer built Milton Abbas to house the residents of Middleton. The new village was built over the hill where it would not spoil his view. When the last resident at Middleton, a lawyer, refused to be evicted Damer opened the sluice gates to the new dam and flooded him out. That last man later had his day in court with Damer – and won.
Milton Abbas is considered to be the first planned town or village in Britain. After visiting the village in 1791 Frances “Fanny” Burney (1752-1840) a leading woman author and contemporary of Mary Wollstonecraft noted in her diary that she admired the new village “built by his Lordship, very regularly of white plaster, cut stone fashion and thatched” but she thought the houses too good for “the Poor.”
The village is about half-a-mile south east of the original town and comprises two rows of cottages all set out on either side of a broad and gently winding road. The cottages are two-storied and have cob walls and thatched roofs. Originally each cottage would have comprised two homes but most are now single dwellings and all benefit from a generous area of lawn at the front. On one side and mid way down the street are the almshouses and the parish church of St. James.
After the dissolution of the monastery in 1539 it was sold the following year to Sir John Tregonwell for £1,000. He made the abbey church into the parish church and used the abbots lodging as his own private residence. The estate was bought by Joseph Damer in 1752 and he employed John Vardy to build a new mansion next to the Abbey Church. Following Vardy’s death in 1765 Sir William Chambers was commissioned but he resigned in 1774 after frequent arguments with “this unmannerly imperious lord.” The project was taken over by James Wyatt.
The Abbey Church of St. Mary, St. Sampson and St. Branwalader is the largest mediaeval building in central Dorset and commands a spectacular landscape in a deep valley surrounded by wooded hills. Comprising a chancel, tower and transepts; the nave was never built and the chapels have been demolished. If completed as originally intended it would be a huge structure. What we see here is of the 14th and 15th centuries and much of the work was undertaken by Abbot William Middleton; the original buildings were destroyed by fire in 1309 after lightning struck the spire.
Joseph Damer married Caroline Sackville, daughter of the first Duke of Dorset. After her death the Italian sculptor, Carlini, was commissioned to make a monument to her and this stands in the north transept of the Abbey.
The Chapel of St. Catherine is set on a hill overlooking the Abbey Church, about 300 yards from it, and stands on the lowest of a series of artificial terraces inside its own enclosure. It comprises a nave and chancel both of the late 12th century and benefits from restoration work carried out in the late 15th or early 16th century when some of the windows were enlarged. Further works were carried out in the 18th century. The chapel was converted to secular use during the 19th century but restored as a place of worship in 1901.
There is a story concerning the son of Sir John Tregonwell who at the age of 5 is said to have fallen 60 feet from the top of the church tower. Apparently he was dressed in the style of the day and his petticoats acted like a parachute and he touched down none the worse for the fall and went on to live for another 77 years. An unlikely tale and one that is repeated in some impeccable sources.
Milton Abbas is about eight miles to the south west of Blandford, between the villages of Milbourne St. Andrew and Hilton, in the heart of Dorset.
All Saints – Hilton
The heart of this place is a quintessential sleepy Dorset village tucked up on all sides by surrounding hills. Arthur Mee spoke of it “gladdening the traveller’s heart,” but that was long before the local authority built an estate of modern housing here in the seventies. Nevertheless this is a quiet and peaceful part of the county and the surrounding woodland is an ideal setting for the nearby Nature Reserve run by the Dorset Wildlife Trust.
What we see today of All Saints Church at Hilton is of the 15th and 16th century but the 12th century font, fragments of 12th century architectural ornament and the quirky position of the south porch reveal that there was an earlier church on the site.
The church is built of partly squared rubble and flint, the roofs covered with slate and lead. Consisting of west tower, nave, chancel, north and south aisles to the east of each and structurally undivided from the aisles are north and south chapels entered from the chancel through side arches; to the north of the tower is the vestry.
The west tower and the south porch are of the 15th century and the anomalous position of the south porch extending more than four feet into the south aisle suggests that at some time the aisle has been widened, probably when the nave, with its north and south arcades, and chancel were rebuilt and the north aisle added: the north arcade probably rests on the foundations of the original north wall. The windows in the north wall are from nearby Milton Abbey as are some of the gargoyles found on the north wall including one of a man playing the bagpipes.
The tower has three stages topped off with an embattled parapet and pinnacles rising from gargoyles at the corners. The top stage has a belfry window on each side and there is a smaller similar east window in the second stage. There are six bells dating from 1626 to 1684.
More hand-me-downs from Milton Abbey can be found hanging on the north and south walls of the lower stage of the tower just above the 12th century font. The two large modern frames each carrying six 15th century panels depicting the apostles. Each panel is 7’3” x 1’3” and they come from a screen in Milton Abbey. About these Pevsner brusquely comments “badly done” but the parishioners of Hilton seem to like them well enough and prominently display them.
