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December, 2009:

The Family History of John and Hannah Bagg

Dec 22nd, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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John Bagg (1828-1900) and Hannah White (1834-1900) were both born in rural Dorset from working class families. Hannah, the daughter of Joseph and Sarah White was born in the village of Piddletrenthide. John the son of Joseph Roberts Bagg (1801-1882) and Ann Vincent (1799-1874,) was christened in the village of Cattistock. John and Hannah were married on June 24th, 1852 at St. Nicholas Anglican Church, Sydling. Their marriage was to be the start of a dynasty spreading across the world, with living descendants today in Canada, Australia, Wales and England.

John and Hannah had 12 children: Eliza Ann White Bagg (June 14th, 1852 – 1925) Eliza married John Denning of Weymouth, Dorset, where the couple operated a green grocer shop. They had 8 children.

 Emma Jane Bagg was born October 13th 1853; Joseph John White Baggs (March 6th 1856 Piddletrenthide – July 19th, 1930) Joseph emigrated to Newcastle, NSW, Australia where he worked as a coal miner and married Mary Jane Gills (1865-1940) they had 6 children.

George Bagg (July 15th, 1857 Piddletrenthide – May 12th 1951) George married Mary Jane Shaw (1858-1937) and farmed near Woolbridge, Ontario with their 4 children. And James Bagg born June 2nd, 1859 at Piddletrenthide married Catherine Morris and lived near Toronto Junction with their 5 children.

Elizabeth (Bess) Bagg was born July 15th 1861 at Weston, Portland. She married William Bull (1866-1920) at Beaufort in Wales, where they raised a family of 6 children. Bess died on December 30th 1950.

John and Hannah then moved to Weymouth where Frederick William Bagg was born on July 28th 1865. Fred had 4 children with his first wife Annie Dennis (1870-1897) and 3 more children with his second wife Jennie Bishop (1867-1949). Fred was a successful farmer near Guelph, Ontario. He died on September 28th, 1940.

In 1867 on November 28th, Harry (Henry) Bagg was born. Harry married Alice Dennis (1862-1942) and they had 7 children. They operated a successful farm in Downsview now in the City of Toronto.

Thomas Bagg was born in 1869 and married Margaret Graham (1873-1920.) The couple had 3 children. Thomas, who died on August 6th 1942, was a farmer and thresher at Downsview.

William George Bagg was born at Llagattock, Crickowell, Wales in April 1871 and died at just 7 months.

Walter Bagg born May 16th 1874 at Crickowell, Breconshire, Wales died in 1942. He married Charlotte Duncan (1872-1954) and had 7 children. They homesteaded on the unsettled Saskatchewan prairie near Springside, in 1900.

John and Hannah’s youngest child, William Charles Bagg, was born on July 29th 1877 at Crickowell. Bill married Blanche Hadden and they had 7 children. Bill and Blanche also homesteaded near Springside, Saskatchewan, and operated some grain elevators. They eventually retired in the Rocky Mountains near Trail, British Columbia. William died on October 21st, 1953.

The Bagg family moved frequently in search of work. They originally lived near the rural villages of Sydling and Piddletrenthide. Here, like many of his family, John worked in the fields as a general farm labourer. This was a time in British history when mechanisation was replacing the need for farm labourers. The agricultural based economy of rural Dorset County provided fewer and fewer employment opportunities. Industrialisation was underway and many people were forced to move from farm cottages to city slums in search of employment. The working class struggled to survive.

In search of employment, John moved his family to Portland, Dorset, where manual labourers were required to work in the limestone quarries. Long hours, low wages, harsh working conditions and child labour were the norm. The Census taken on April 7th, 1861 has John listed as a labourer living at the top of the steep slope above Fortuneswell on Yeats Road with his younger brother George Bagg (1835-1916) and his family. George is described as a “carter,” which means he worked with teams of horses or mules and a cart used to move materials in the limestone quarry. Hannah (6 months pregnant) and their young children Emma (7), Joseph (5) and James (1) were living about 20 miles away, on the Doles Ash Estate, near Cerne Abbas. Hannah is listed as a “farm servant.” Eight year-old Eliza was sleeping over at her White grandparents’ home at Lower Sydling.

A short time later, Hannah and the children joined John in Portland. Hannah gave birth to daughter Elizabeth (Bessie) at the small Portland village of Weston on July 15th 1861. They later lived for a few years at nearby Weymouth, where John likely worked at the harbour.

Their first-born son Joseph left home with a friend at 14 years of age, about 1870, and emigrated to Australia. He married and settled in Lambton, Newcastle, New South Wales and worked as a coal miner. Joseph worked in the mines for the rest of his life and many of his descendants are still living in Newcastle today.

Times were still very difficult for John and Hannah and their family, so about 1870 they moved to Wales to look for work in the coal mines and steel foundries. They worked in the coal mine at Llangattock, Breconshire for what was likely subsistence wages in chronically dangerous conditions. It was still very difficult to get ahead financially. Even the young children were expected to work. When she was 12 years of age, Elizabeth (Bessie) went to work as a domestic for the Ebbw Vales Ironworks Company Shop.

John’s younger brother George Bagg (1835-1916) had previously left Portland limestone quarries and moved his wife Mary Ann Porter (1832-1907) and two children, James (1854-1932) and Martha (1856-1941) to Ontario, Canada. They had emigrated in 1871 and were already doing quite well farming near Toronto. George encouraged John and the family to leave Wales and come to Canada. Their decision to do so was a turning point in their lives.

In 1880, John, Hannah and seven of the sons (George, James, Fred, Henry, Thomas, Walter and William) emigrated to the Weston area, near Toronto. George and his “little brother” Walter came to Canada first with their friends, the Mellings family. The family bible states “March 28 1880, leaving for America.” The rest of the family followed several months later. John and Hannah farmed in Downsview on Jane Street and Wilson Avenue. John also kept the tollgate at Wilson Avenue and Weston Road. These areas are now part of the City of Toronto. With the help of their seven sons, John and Hannah lived a happy and prosperous life. They were able to watch their many grandchildren grow up and establish their own farms, businesses and professions.

In April 1900, just as William and Walter were preparing their move to homesteads on the Saskatchewan prairie, John and Hannah died within a week of one another. They are buried together in the Weston Riverside Cemetery. The large “Bagg” tombstone is shared with George and Mary Ann Bagg. Also memorialized on the tombstone are John and Hannah’s grandson Arthur Bagg (1892-April 9, 1918,) who was killed in France during World War 1, and their great-grandson, Sgt Murray John Henry Bagg (1918-July 12, 1944,) who was killed at Caserta, Italy during World War II.

On July 1st 1930, 50 years after John and Hannah’s arrival in Canada, the first Bagg Family Reunion was held at the farm of Harry Bagg in Downsview. This was attended by 130 of the Ontario descendants of John and his brother, George. It is amazing to see how prolific and successful the family of John and Hanah Bagg has been in the last 150 years. There are now over 700 known descendants in Ontario, Saskatchewan, British Columbia, Australia, England and Wales. Like their 19th century ancestors, these Bagg descendants possess a strong work ethic, and a close sense of “family” that includes providing improved opportunities for the following generations.

Thomas Stovey: alias Stubbey (1797-1843)

Dec 22nd, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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Born into a working class family in Dorset during the closing years of the 18th century meant there was little prospect of Thomas Stovey becoming anything other than an agricultural labourer who would marry a local girl and have a large family to support on meagre wages.

Thomas was baptised at Hazelbury Bryan on the 30th of July 1797, the son of John and Sarah Stovey. For reasons that are not clear he was, like his siblings, baptised with the surname Stubbey. In 1840 he was described as being 5’7” tall with brown hair, grey eyes and a fair complexion.

The Hazelbury Bryan burial register records the passing of two-year-old Charlotte Elsworth: “the natural daughter of Priscilla Elsworth and Thomas Stovey.” Charlotte was buried on the 17th of December 1818. Thomas and Priscilla’s affair, if indeed it was an affair, didn’t last. Seventeen months later, on the 24th of May 1820, in the 14th century parish church dedicated to St. Mary and St. James and where he was baptised 23-years earlier, Thomas married Sarah, the eldest daughter of Thomas and Leah White.

The marriage was witnessed by his sister Charlotte who married John Hutchins, also a witness to the marriage, a couple of years later. The other witness was John Gillingham.

Thomas and Sarah had twelve children. Baptised at Fifehead Neville, this is about two miles from Thomas’ birthplace, were: Edmund (1821); Robert (1822); Mary (1824); Henry (1825); Charlotte (1827); James (1829); Susan (1830); Jane (1832); Sarah Ann (1834); Christopher (1835); George (1836.) Then there was Sarah (1838); she was baptised at Hazelbury Bryan. Her mother died giving birth to her; Thomas, who already had a daughter named Sarah Ann, undoubtedly named his last child after his wife.

Two years after the death of his wife, Thomas was charged with committing a misdemeanour. The Quarter Sessions record states that with Thomas Holt and Henry Bushrod – “let them be severally imprisoned in the House of Correction to hard labour for two years” and on the 14th of September 1840 Thomas found himself in Dorchester Gaol, while his children were sent to the Workhouse at Sturminster.

We know from the Dorchester Gaol records that he had a cut above the bottom joint of his right finger on his left hand and another cut just below the middle joint of the middle finger. Work injuries perhaps? But what are we to make of the fact that he had a cut to the left side of his throat? The Gaol records report he was a disorderly prisoner.

It seems likely that on his release from jail Thomas was reunited with his children and they returned to Fifehead Neville. His 10-year-old-daughter, Sarah Ann, died and was buried there on the 18th of June 1843, just two months before Thomas himself passed away. He was buried on the 17th of August 1843 aged just 46 years in the same churchyard as his daughter. His mother was buried at Hazelbury Bryan on the 12th of October 1834 aged 80 years.

John Endicott – Dorset Pioneer in the New World

Dec 22nd, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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Most people will have heard of the famous voyage of the Mayflower, the gallant little ship bearing 102 Puritans fleeing religious persecution, which sailed to the New World from Plymouth in 1620. Just eight years later another little ship sailed from Weymouth, following the lead that the Mayflower had set. That ship, called Abigail, was conveying many Dorset emigrants to the colony of New England. The Abigail was under the mastership of Henry Gauden, but also aboard was the man on his way to become the plantation’s Governor. His name was John Endicott.

Beside Weymouth’s Harbour today there stands a double memorial to Endicott and Richard Clark, a pilot captain from the town involved in the pioneer discovery of Newfoundland. Originally set up by the Pavilion (The Ritz) on 2nd June 1914, the memorial was relocated to Alexandra Gardens after the Pavilion was gutted by fire in 1954. The original unveiling in 1914 was undertaken by Mrs Joseph Chamberlain, a direct descendant of John Endicott. In 1999 an appeal to raise funds for moving the monument to its present site beside the harbour was launched by Weymouth Civic Society. The lower of the two inscriptions is dedicated to Endicott and reads: “John Endicott, who on June 20th 1628 set forth from Weymouth in the ship “Abigail” on the expedition which led to the establishment of the plantation at Salem, Massachusetts.”

John Endicott (sometimes alternatively spelt Endecott) was born in 1558, but there are few or no records relating to his early life. Although he is recorded as having been born in Dorchester, there is also a tradition that he was born in Chagford, a small town on the eats flank of Dartmoor, since here there exists a building bearing his name. Certainly it is known he was a member of the Dorchester Company of the Revd. John White and became one of its six patentees. By means of a purchase of 1627 the company succeeded to the property, rights and privileges formerly belonging to the Plymouth Company. Soon after, Matthew Cradock and Roger Ludlow secured the proprietor rights and became respectively Governor and Deputy Governor at the Company’s headquarters in London. By virtue of being related to both men by marriage, Endicott was assigned the task of taking charge of the colonial plantation at Naumkeag, as Salem was first known, and to develop its potential. In the embryonic colonial world of the early 17th century there were several semi-independent colonies ensconced in what is today southern New England, and each under the control of its own leader.

He duly arrived in New England with his family and sixty men aboard the Abigail in September 1628. The colonists were settling land previously administered by Robert Conant, who had left the Plymouth colony two years before. Endicott was the chief authority, magistrate, soldier and governor in the colony for the next two years until the charter and company were transferred to New England and John Winthrop arrived to take charge in April 1630. In 1634, while a member of the court of assistants, Endicott, angered by a fiery sermon delivered by Roger Williams, had the red cross of St. George struck from the King’s colours hanging before the governor’s gate. The governor evidently deemed the cross to be an idolatrous emblem redolent of popery, but the action brought upon him a stinging reprimand and dismissal from his post.

Despite his sacking from the Governorship, Endicott continued to serve in several important positions. But Endicott was not without his supporters and sympathisers, principally among the militia. Some even refused to march beneath a flag that bore the George cross. After some controversy, the military commissioners agreed that the cross should only be retained on the banners or ships and forts. In association with Captain John Underhill, Endicott undertook an ineffectual expedition against Block Island and the native Pequot tribe in 1636. But his move against the Indians was extremely harsh and punitive, such that the tribe’s reaction sparked the Pequot War. The combatants in this war however were represented by different leaders with different interests.

John Endicott served several terms as Governor: in 1641, 1644, 1649, then from 1650 until 1665 with the exception of 1654. In addition, in 1645 he was awarded the highest military office in the colony; that of sergeant major general and subsequently became president of the colonial commissioners in 1658. At times he was Commander-in-Chief of the militia and served as Commissioner and President of the United Colonies of New England.

It was entirely typical of Endicott’s business-like acumen that he should early establish a mint in the fledgling colony to meet the fiscal requirements of the time. However, the works contravened a law by continuing to mint coinage for thirty years. Despite his professionalism, like all men, he had his faults. One of these was some would consider an intense religious bigotry and fanaticism in the line of Puritanism, such that he could not endure the least breach or deviation from what he considered the straight line of orthodoxy. He distained episcopacy as much as popery, as some of the prelatic clergy found to their cost, though rather out of character he defended the stance of Roger Williams, who had earlier inflamed the governor with his controversial sermon. Even the Quakers were not above his condemnation, and under Endicott’s administration four of these gentle pacifists were executed at Boston for alleged flouting of the laws. His other unpleasant trait was a quick temper, which on one occasion early in his administration brought upon him a fine of forty shillings for striking another man.

On a more positive note, Endicott was said to be a man of dauntless courage and “a fit instrument to begin the wilderness work.” His was a rugged nature which the strictness of his nonconformity never mellowed, though he could be cheerful and benevolent. He also aimed for the good of the colony and always sought to ensure that its welfare was a priority.

He died in 1665.

The Extraordinary Woodford Kidnap Case

Dec 22nd, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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For the Reverend Robert Bruce Kennard, his forthcoming marriage to Marie Magdalene Bade in September 1881 was hardly a new experience. After all, he had first tied the knot 33 years earlier when he was wedded to Anne Grace Davis, who bore him no fewer than nine children. Now, the second-time-around the Rector of Marnhull in Dorset was on the eve of another matrimonial union and no doubt in eager anticipation of the happy event for his faithful flock and for him personally. Never in his wildest dreams could he have had any inkling of the bizarre fate that awaiting him next.

Kennard had booked a suite for himself at the Castle Hotel in Woodford, near to the residence of his fiancé, and arrived to heck in at seven o’clock on the evening of the 13th September to prepare for the ceremony the following morning. Having ordered a meal for eight o’clock the minister then retired to his rooms. Later he emerged to discuss the arrangements for carriages to be laid on for the wedding guests in the morning, being especially particular to ensure that the coachmen knew where to call for guests on route.

But there were other guests at the Castle Hotel that evening that did not harbour benign intentions. “A tall, dark man with a heavy moustache and military bearing” in the company of two other men had also checked into the hotel sometime before Robert Kennard’s arrival. Having finished a meal they had ordered, the leader of the party asked a waiter if they could view the rooms upstairs, a request that was complied with. The tall dark man then asked the waiter “if a man by the name of Kennard” was staying at the hotel. Since the waiter had no knowledge of the current reservations his answer was inconclusive.

Downstairs meanwhile, the first man’s collaboration had been in conservation with the barman’s wife. Taken aback to be asked whether there may be another Castle Hotel where Kennard could be found, she went to fetch her husband the landlord, who, considering the men looked entirely respectable, did not take much notice of them. After sitting for a while in the coffee room, the men left the hotel by the London Road. Of course, everyone supposed that they were continuing their journey. In fact, they stopped only a short distance from the hotel to lie in wait for Mr Kennard – evidently with the intention of kidnapping him.

But kidnap him for what purpose? Certainly there was nothing in the clergyman’s background or circumstances that would immediately suggest a motive for such a crime. Like most Anglican clerics of the Victorian period Kennard was a mild-mannered and charitable parish priest with the best interests of his parishioners at heart. Born in 1824 Kennard had been rector at Wymondham in Norfolk before being appointed rector of Marnhull in 1858. His first wife Ann had died on New Year’s Day 1878, leaving the vicar a widower with his children to support or be supported by. With a flair for writing and not one to be idle during his widowhood and latter years, Kennard was to publish a number of books including a translation of Gray’s Elegy into Latin, and even ventured into stock-farming, building up a collection of pedigree dairy shorthorns.

Kennard had been back in his rooms about half an hour when a man called at the hotel stating he had come from a Mr Frazer of Buckhurst Hill, a brother-in-law of the minister. The waiter escorted the man to Kennard’s rooms and a few minutes later the service bell was rung: Kennard asked that his evening meal be put back half an hour as he had been called away for a short time, though he did not specify where he was going. The two men left the hotel together and disappeared into the night.

By three o’clock the following morning Robert Kennard had still not returned to the Castle Hotel. Having waited up for him the landlord came to the conclusion that the minister must have decided to stay the night at a friend’s house. In the morning, preparation of the carriages for the wedding party was proceeding as normal when one of Kennard’s sons arrived and was shocked to find that his father had gone missing.

The son’s immediate response was to telegraph enquiries, the wedding party all the while proceeding to the church in the expectation of finding the clerical bridegroom there. Thoroughly alarmed when Kennard still had not turned up at the church by midday, the guests returned home. However, the minister did arrive at the church about an hour later. Finding no wedding guests, who presumed the ceremony to be cancelled in his absence, he hurried to Woodford rectory for an urgent consultation with the vicar, the Revd. A. Hughes.

Hughes must have heard out the fatigued, overwrought minister’s story with shocked incredulity. Robert Kennard had simply been too polite to return a rough, sceptical answer to the messenger purporting to come from his brother-in-law. Having thus been lured away from the hotel on the pretext of a bogus message about his relative, he was ushered into a waiting carriage. Another man climbed in after the first, while another man was on the driving box. The carriage moved off, but not in the direction of York Villas, the home of the bride–to-be Miss Bade. Instead the coach was heading in the direction of London.

Once the minister realised that the coach was not heading for York Villas and that he was a virtual prisoner, he panicked and began to remonstrate with the driver, but was restrained by being seized by the throat and silenced by the men in the compartment with him. Kennard’s abductors then told him he was not being taken for his money or goods; that robbery was not their intention, though they did not then confide what their motive was. However, at one point the cleric managed to through his hat out of the window in the hope that it could lead searchers to wherever he was being taken.

On arriving in London Kennard again tried unsuccessfully to call for help. The coach stopped at 41 Hunter Street, Brunswick Square and again the minister struggled to break free of his captors while being bundled into the house, but bystanders did nothing to help or raise the alarm. He was taken to a pokey back room in which there were two beds evidently prepared in advance for the night. Kennard, Kennard then passed a sleepless night in agitation, reflecting on the perilous situation he now found himself in.  During these dreadful hours of darkness he heard knocks at the front door and then voices outside, evidently a conversation between his captors and some confederates. At dawn the man who at first brought Kennard the bogus message entered the room and threw himself on the other bed without undressing.

Desperate to secure his liberty, the minister then bribed the messenger, first with £5. He then wrote a telegram to Woodford: “Unavoidably detained. Will explain all in a few hours.” Kennard then gave the second man a further £1 to cover the cost of sending the telegram (in fact it was never sent.) On being offered another £5 the messenger then consented to release Robert Kennard unharmed onto the streets of London, whereupon he caught a cab to Liverpool Street Station to catch the next train back to Woodford.

And so did Kennard, upon his arrival at Woodford, come to be just one hour late for his own wedding. Having related the full facts of his unnerving experience to Revd. Hughes he went straight to York Villas and into the welcoming arms of Marie Bade, who had been entertaining Canon Duckworth of Westminster and other friends of Marnhull’s Rector. Duckworth had been appointed to conduct the marriage ceremony and had arrived at the house with the other friends for the wedding breakfast. By a curious twist however, the Canon’s official duties at the abbey had detained him too late for the scheduled time Kennard’s marriage was to have taken place.

Later that morning the Cannon returned to the Castle Hotel with Kennard to stay the night with him there. At eight o’clock the following morning, a Thursday, and with the assistance of Hughes, Duckworth solemnised the wedding of Robert B. Kennard and Marie Magdalene Bade in Woodford parish church. Curiously, Cannon Duckworth later found it necessary to send a letter to the editor of The Standard, correcting a mistake that had been published about the timing of the marriage: “Sir, in your report of the extraordinary abduction of the Revd. R.B. Kennard there is one inaccuracy it is important to correct. Mr Kennard’s marriage, which was so strangely prevented on Wednesday, took place not on Friday but on Thursday morning. I married him in Woodford Church on that day at eight o’clock on the earliest moment after his escape at which the wedding was legally possible.”

One Robert Kennard had returned to Woodfood and placed the matter in the hands of the police, who managed to trace the perpetrators and keep the minister informed of developments. It’s a strange story, and one that over the century following the event has thrown up several conspiracy theories as to what could have led to the kidnap of a respected and well-loved clergyman.

It was never considered a possibility that the incident had had anything to do with Marie Bade. She was German by birth at a time of Franco-German hostility, the daughter of a Charles Bade of Bremen, and the circumstances in which she met Kennard were certainly unusual and rather obscure. Instead, suspicion fell upon members of Kennard’s own inner circle. One theory was that the kidnap had been nothing more than an extremely overplayed practical joke perpetrated in order to delay the wedding. Then there was a rumour circulating in the village at the time that the abduction was concocted by one or more of the minister’s sons or relatives out of covetousness for Kennard’s wealth and the belief that Miss Bade might be the sole beneficiary in the event of his death. Indeed, he was wealthy, a touch eccentric and about to wed a woman much younger than himself. It was thought that, at considerable personal risk, some of the minister’s family may have wanted to have him kidnapped and imprisoned for a period in order to humiliate him and prevent his marriage. Those most interested in the disposition of Kennard’s estate, it is surmised, may have resolved to interfere by putting him out of the way in the expectation that, once his marriage was delayed, it could never afterwards take place. Possibly the abductors were criminals hired to carry out the job, though the amazing thing is that they should have been able to pull off such a daring and foolhardy plan.

The matter was duly referred to the civil courts. Apart from being thoroughly roughed up and traumatised by his experience Robert Kennard was able to resume a normal life soon enough. After the wedding the couple honeymooned at Windsor, and the minister went on to enjoy another fourteen years of productive life in the service of the parish. In 1882, less than a year after his kidnap and re-marriage, he restored the chancel of St. Gregory’s, Marnhull at his own expense, and in 1884 bought the Nash Court estate. He built up his fine herd of pedigree shorthorns, one of which, “Queen Mary,” came to be an unbeaten champion of the show ring. He published The Subversion of the Constitution (an indictment of the admission of Jews into Parliament) besides the Latin version of Gray’s Elegy.

Robert Bruce Kennard died in 1895 aged 71. His son Stanley, who did not live at Nash Court but at Orchard House, sold off his father’s estate in 1921.

Weymouth’s Wonderful Wealth of Authors

Dec 22nd, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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If you have ever wondered what it is about Liverpool that has bred so many actors, entertainers and popular music bands, then spare a thought for the extraordinarily rich heritage of women and men-of-the-pen associated either by birth or adoption with a town much further south.

That town is Weymouth, Dorset’s mid-coastal port-cum-resort, with its spacious marina and harbour. And while the Lancastrian port can lay claim to the Beatles, the Scaffold, Ken Dodd and others, Weymouth can boast at least twenty-two authors and journalists who have left their marks in the great litany of letters handed down to our time. While some of these writers were quite prolific, others were one-title authors or newspaper columnists who have not left behind a name to be remembered by anyone other than lifelong Weymouth residents.

As to what in their environment inspired these writers to put pen – or typewriter – to paper, we can make some fairly educated guesses. Likely it was simply the boundless open sea before them, or the busy harbour. Even those not blessed with a spectacular view of the Chesil from a window at home would have been in easy reach of a viewpoint of the great shingle spit. Then of course there is the chequered history of the town and coast to lend substance to the visual aspects.

Of the earliest of these writers in comparatively modern time, i.e. from the mid-19th century onwards, the name John Falkner (1858-1932) ranks first. Under the better-known name of J. Meade Falkner he penned the smuggling adventure ‘Moonfleet,’ one of the most famous novels ever to be inspired by and written in Dorset. Though born in neighbouring Wiltshire, Falkner wasn’t yet nine-years old when he walked from Dorchester to Weymouth to visit three aunts who lived in a house in the town’s Brunswick Buildings, while the rest of the family travelled by train. When John was twelve his father, an Anglican curate, accepted the living at the Rectory

Puddletown – Church and Parish

Dec 22nd, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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Puddletown: small town or large village? The name suggests the former and in earlier times there is no doubting it deserved the rank. Nowadays, with the decline of services and facilities common to all rural areas its role has diminished to a dormitory for Dorchester. The designation large village is more appropriate for a parish of some 7,185 acres.

Puddletown attracted people from the surrounding villages and hamlets and was the commercial hub for this rural and under developed part of Dorset. Only about half of the nearly 1400 inhabitants recorded in the census of 1851 were born there. The town had permission, granted before the reformation, to hold two fairs each year and to hold weekly markets. There was employment for all kinds of craftsmen and tradesmen.

In addition to the several shopkeepers there were three bakers, a couple of butchers, a grocer and a post office complemented by two inns, two pubs or alehouses, six cordwainers (boot and shoe makers), three stonemasons, a cabinet maker, three blacksmiths, a saddler and harness maker, two tailors and two dressmakers, all doing business in the town. Puddletown also had a surgeon and a dentist and the town employed two school mistresses.

The parish church is near the centre of the village. St.Mary’s is a church that has escaped being mucked about by our Victorian ancestors but since the 12th century it has enjoyed its fair share of restoration works. There was a church here in Saxon times but the oldest part of St. Mary’s visible today is a section of the tower, probably no older than the late 12th century. Transepts added in the 13th century, turned the earlier structure cruciform in plan.

Most of the building we see today date from around the beginning of the 15th century when the glorious oak roof was put up. A century later more restoration work saw the roof being raised, the addition of a clerestory, a north aisle, the tower heightened by 20ft with an external staircase built on and the parapet on the tower was added at the same time. The tower’s bell chamber is home to six bells one dating from 1599.

In 1634 the people of Puddletown were to agree to fit out the church with much of the interior furniture and fittings we see here today. New seating, a new pulpit and prayer desk, communion table and rails as well as a new font cover were commissioned. The texts on the walls are from this period.

The unusual tumbler shaped font is from the 12th century decorated with a repeating pattern of acanthus leaves; the octagonal pyramid shaped cover is from 1635. From the same period the magnificent three stage pulpit with tester, the box pews and, the most ambitious addition from this time, the west gallery.

Difficult to believe now but the chancel was a tiny space till restoration works paid for by Revd. J.C. Brymer and completed in 1911. Nowadays, the east end of the nave, the carpeted chancel and the north east chapel make a wide open spaced area contrasting with the nave proper resulting in that appearing a little cluttered by the box pews that are, nevertheless, delightful. The nave has a north arcade of four bays and there is a wide north aisle. There is a south chapel containing tombs from the 13th to 16th centuries, and a south vestry.

By the end of the 19th century the population of Puddletown had fallen by about a third but now, no doubt because of its convenience for the county town, the number of inhabitants is back up to levels not seen for nearly two hundred years.

Bridport Gets Weaving

Dec 8th, 2009
by Dorset Ancestors.
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When in 1213, King John found he needed the production of rope and sailcloth for his navy’s ships increased; he issued a Royal decree to the effect. To make the canvas for the ship’s sails he looked to Bridport as the place most appropriate for the nature of the task in hand. The king stated: “You cause to be made in Bridport night and day as many ropes for ships large and small and as many cables as you can and twisted yarns of cordage for ballistrae.”

Why Bridport? The raw materials for making sails at that time were flax and hemp. The climate made much of Dorset and the South West in general ideal for the cultivation of these crops. In particular the position of Bridport near the English Channel made the town ideal for locally growing flax and hemp for export, crops essential in the manufacture of rope and sailcloth. This established the town’s tradition as a centre of the flax, hemp, twine, rope, netting and sailcloth industries from Saxon times, when the town was one of only four Royal burghs.

The tradition of rope and net making in the area can be traced back to Roman times, as rope-line was needed for such jobs as catching fish and tethering animals. However, when the villagers of nearby Burton Bradstock began making rope in the 16th century Bridport objected and petitioned Parliament for trade protection against it. In response, Henry VIII, then actively building his rope-and-sail dependent navy, enacted a law in 1530 prohibiting any cordage-making within a five mile radius of the town.

Bygone production of rope involved a surprisingly long apprenticeship and a very crude form of weaving carried out in long passageways called ropewalks, several of which can still be seen around Bridport today. They are preserved as unusually long and narrow backyards or gardens, particularly in the area of the west side of South Street. Several workers, usually women with thick loops of yarn around their waists would stand at one end of the passage. They fed out the thread towards another roper positioned at the other end of the passage or open path. Who operated a machine like a spinning-wheel which plaited the yarns into twine and then into finished cordage. Already by the 14th century Bridport was the foremost producer and supplier of white, black and “bastard” thread and rope in the country and for more than seven centuries the town has been at the forefront of net-making technology.

The proximity of the Channel became an economic convenience because by the mid-19th century Bridport’s cordage and net industry was still very much a family concern. Of the local families engaged in the business those of Grundy and Houndsell were especially significant. The Gundry’s were rope and net makers who founded what has become today the BRIDPORT GUNDRY GROUP, a world leader in the manufacture of specialist textiles and netting. Today, Bridport-made nets are used by fishing fleets the world over. Bridport-Gundry also makes a whole range of other nets: for the tennis courts at Wimbledon and elsewhere, international airlines, even the ‘arrester’ nets for the space shuttle.

William Houndsell founded a water-powered spinning mill on the Brit in 1670 to make hemp yarns and fishing twines; from this a concern under the name of WILLIAM HOUNDSELL & Co was in existence by the end of the 18th century, which in turn became amalgamated as HOUNDSELLS (Bridport) LTD in 1913. During the 19th century there was a sharp rise in production to meet the needs of a rapid expansion in the cod fishing industry off the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. Indeed, this association resulted in some Houndsells emigrating to the New World. The business was still in existence in 1935 as ROBERT HOUNDSELL & Co.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries the traditional long rope and spinning walks west of St. Michael’s Lane developed into St. Michael’s Works (now Bridport Industries.) Priory Mills for example, was steam-powered by the 1840’s and used the adjoining fields as drying areas for its products; it was the first purpose-built spinning mill in Bridport. The Stover Place Works and some other small scale textile concerns making netting and ropes, together with homes, were built for the workers in Ropewalks. Today the town is dominated by the extensive Court Mills works, including warehouses and a museum developed from the core of another 19th century mill.

Back gardens remained as long rope walks and the fields behind the main streets were still cultivated, including the glebe land of St. Mary’s Church. Until well into the 19th century the weaving of cloth and nets in Bridport was contracted to women outworkers employed at home in outlying farms and villages. The Industrial Revolution had a market effect on Bridport’s cordage and net industries. While the centralisation and mechanisation of the textile industry throughout the country generally came with this revolution in the mid 18th century, in Bridport the process remained labour intensive and home or workshop-based for longer than in Northern England, in fact until the mid 19th century.

At the start of the 19th century the textile industry, at least in the north, was experiencing something of a slump. While Bridport drew its workers mainly from the local population, some depressed northern weavers migrated to southern England in search of employment, including to Bridport, where there was still demand for skilled weavers because of the need for sailcloth. The introduction of mechanisation into the industry in Bridport coincided with the time the town began to specialise in net production for the fishing fleet and export.

The cottage industry then generally ceased when power looms were introduced into the Bridport works in 1851 – coincidently, the year of the Great Exhibition that included, among many other inventions on display, a power loom. Work based at home, along ropewalks, or in workshops was replaced by multi-storey mills powered by water or steam that industrialised the south-west quadrant of Bridport between the River Brit and South Street.

The legacy of this development is the fascinating industrial archaeology landscape of much of Bridport today.

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