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January, 2010:

Bincombe – Holy Trinity Church

Jan 13th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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On the morning of the 30th of June 1801, the bodies of two young German soldiers were brought to Holy Trinity Church, Bincombe for burial; a private and a corporal in His Majesty’s York Hussars, the two twenty-two-year-olds had been shot for desertion. At the time King George III, his family and Court stayed at Weymouth for much of the summer and with the threat of invasion from across the English Channel by Napoleon, there were soldiers camped on many of the surrounding hills to ensure the King’s protection, including Bincombe Down. In 1890, Thomas Hardy wrote a short story ‘The Melancholy Hussar of the German Legion.’ Perhaps he had heard the story of these young men.

There is one road into Bincombe and from there the church does not look especially attractive. Pevsner refers to its “Blunt west tower”, which from a distance looks in need of a spire. The centre of the village is all farmyards, appropriate for this rural area, and you have to pass through one to reach the church.

We visited on the Saturday before the rogation service and we came round the side of the building and found people busily preparing the church, arranging flowers and tidying up the churchyard.

Consisting of a west tower, nave, chancel and south porch the church is mostly in the Early English style of the 13th and 14th centuries but there are traces of Norman work in the building. In 1862 the floor of the chancel was raised and other changes made and the church furniture was renewed. The organ came to Bincombe in 1901 from Broadwey Church, were it had been since 1873.

The church is entered through the south porch and beside the doorway (dated 1779) is a mediaeval Holy water stoop. The font is at the west end of the nave, beneath the tower. The round bowl with chamfered under edge dates from the 13th century and is of Purbeck marble. The stem is modern. In days past Fonts were kept filled and, in 1236, the Archbishop ordered that the covers should be secured to prevent the water being stolen for superstitious purposes; on the rim are traces of the old cover.

 The chancel east window is in memory of Elizabeth, the widow of John Howship, a surgeon of Saville Row, London. Elizabeth died on the 20th of November 1860 aged 73 years; she is buried in a single stone covered tomb with her father Robert Tillidge who died in 1806 aged 88 years. John and Elizabeth Howship had a son John who only lived for two months; he died on the 4th of March 1808 and is buried here. The windows on the south side are in the Perpendicular style of the mid 1400’s.

Holy Trinity has two bells: the larger dated 1658, is by Thomas Purdue and the smaller one, dated 1594, is by John Wills of Salisbury and is inscribed ‘Feare God.’

Recent changes include the installation of the clock in the tower as a thanksgiving for delivery and victory in WWII. At a cost of over £80,000 the roof was renewed and other repairs carried out in 1995. The modern sound and Loop system was installed in 2001.

When 2001 census statistics are compared with figures from the 1841 and subsequent censuses, we see an increased population something unusual in rural communities. On the gate of one of the farms on your right as you proceed into the village is the name Pashen – the family name appears in the 1841 census.

The name Bincombe probably means a place where beans were grown, a staple food in prehistoric and Saxon times.

We noticed these family names in the churchyard: Hawker, Fookes, Cooper, Christopher, Pashen. Grant, King, Loveless, Foot, Haines, Gollop, Cake, Hatton and Bayley.

John Hutchins

Jan 13th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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Visitors to Dorset’s History Centre in Dorchester, formerly the Record Office, can see and consult a history of Dorset in four massive volumes. The pages of these gargantuan tomes represent the life work of a remarkable clerical historian who died over 230 years ago, and a challenging project with a chequered history quite as intriguing as the life of its author: the Reverend John Hutchins. His four-volume work is the definitive archive for the county of his day, yet this clergyman’s monumental task suffered setbacks and came close to not reaching the presses at all.

On Sunday, July 25th 1762, 64-year-old John Hutchins, then rector of Holy Trinity Church in Wareham, was away conducting a service at Swyre Church near Bridport when fire broke out in one of Wareham’s many timber buildings. Fanned by wind, the fire rapidly engulfed a large area of the town including the rectory, where Mrs Hutchins was at home. At what must have been great personal risk the rector’s wife left and re-entered the blazing building more than once to salvage whatever she could of her husband’s transcripts and notes – including those for the developing history of Dorset – each time emerging with armfuls of the irreplaceable documents. Not all of the papers could be salvaged but enough were saved to enable Hutchins to continue his work on the project. But for this courageous act of a devoted wife, Hutchins history of Dorset may never have seen completion. Holy Trinity’s Rectory, insured for £300, was the fourth building to catch alight, but the fire left 132 other buildings either badly damaged or reduced to charred embers.

Hutchins attention and interest were first turned to studying the history of Dorset through the unusual channel of a request for a piece of genealogical research. In the mid 1730’s the then Lord of the Manor of Milton Abbas, Jacob Bancks, asked Hutchins if he would conduct enquiries into the history of the Tregonwells – the family of Banck’s mother – on his behalf. This soon led to Hutchins examining collections of earlier documentary material about Dorset. Bancks then encouraged the minister to start collating and writing a comprehensive historical treatise on the county.

In 1736 another noted antiquarian and historian of the day, Brown Willis of Blandford, returned to Dorset and further persuaded Hutchins to undertake the task of writing the county’s history. Three years later Willis devised a six-point questionnaire, together with an appeal for help, which he then distributed throughout the county. Thus John Hutchins came to begin his great undertaking. But what manner of man was this who’s unflagging motivation put his county down on paper for all to consult in the centuries to come?

John Hutchins was born in Bradford Peverill on the 21st of September 1698, the son of the Revd. Richard Hutchins, then rector of All Saints in Dorchester. Richard’s wife, John’s mother, died when John was only eight years old. When older, John was sent to be educated at Dorchester Grammar School, from where he went up to Oxford to study towards taking holy orders, graduating with a BA in 1722.

Hutchins first clerical position was as curate at Milton Abbas, and it was likely during this time that Jacob Bancks was responsible for his preferment to his next ministry as rector of Swyre by 1729. Again, through Banck’s influence, Hutchins secured the living at Melcombe Horsey, where by this time his writing of the history of Dorset was already underway, though the move to Melcombe proved to be a setback in his studies. He did however marry Anne Stephens, daughter of the rector of Pimperne, while at Melcombe. John and Anne had just one child, a daughter they baptised Anne Martha.

The Hutchins last and most enduring move was to Wareham, when John was appointed rector of Holy Trinity (with St. Martins and St Mary’s) in 1744. It was said of him that he was “a sound divine, rather than an eminent, preacher.” Little is known of his parochial activities before coming to Wareham but he seems to have been a conscientious parish priest. However, Hutchins was not without his difficulties during the Wareham years. The town was a stronghold of non-conformism, and furthermore one of Hutchins curates had to be committed to an asylum. Then with Hutchins in absentia came the day of the great fire and his wife’s Anne’s heroic act of salvage.

However in 1761, a year before the fire but when the History has been in writing for about 25 years, Hutchins received a generous subscription enabling him to research archives in London and Oxford. With occasional assistance from others, Hutchins would be pre-occupied with collating and writing his history for the rest of his days. Throughout these long years he would have little time from preaching, or energy for other writing.

By early 1773 Hutchins health had broken, being paralysed after suffering a stroke. Thereafter Anne Martha helped her father finish the work, writing his letters and other documents as he probably dictated them to her, but this naturally hampered and delayed the completion of the work. Just three weeks after he had written its dedication on 21st June, the author of The History & Antiquities of the County of Dorset died aged 75. He lies beneath an inscribed floor slab of King Edward’s Chapel in St. Mary’s. Wareham.

The first edition of the history of Dorset was published the following year under the supervision of Dr William Cuming of Dorchester and the antiquarian Richard Gough. Meanwhile, Martha had met (though it is not known how) and fallen in love with John Bellasis, a soldier in the East India Company. While Gough and Cuming were concerned for the welfare of widow and daughter, Bellasis was equally concerned to support his fiancée’s mother financially, as well as promoting his late father-in-law to be’s work and memory. Gough then arranged Martha’s passage to India in March 1775 where, re-united with Bellasis, they were married in Bombay Cathedral in June 1776.

Bellasis joined the EIC in 1769. By the time of his fiancée’s arrival in October 1775 he had been promoted from Ensign of Artillery to Lieutenant; he would ultimately become a Major General and Commander-in-Chief at Bombay.

While on an extended two-year leave in England with Martha from 1791 Bellasis arranged for Gough to supervise the publication of a new edition of the history of Dorset with William Morton Pitt MP and Thomas Bartlett Jr, Town Clerk of Wareham, acting as his chief Dorset representatives and helpers. In 1792 he arranged for a mural monument to his father-in-law’s memory to be set up in St. Mary’s.

Anne Hutchins died in 1793 and John and Martha returned to an India they would never leave again for the rest of their days. They had six children, all of whom survived infancy. Anne Martha Bellasis died on May 14th 1797, and in 1803 her widowed husband sent home a preface for the second edition of the History at his own expense; he died in 1808. After the first two volumes of this edition had come off the press a fire broke out at the print works, destroying Volume 3 and unsold copies of the previous two volumes. Fortuitously the printer held one copy of Volume 3 at his home, and this volume was re-printed. The fourth and final volume, The History & Antiquities of Sherborne in the County of Dorset, published by Nichols, Son & Bentley of London, came out in 1815, and the third edition of the set was issued between 1861 and 1873.

Before John Hutchins time the recorded history of Dorset was random and fragmentary. His legacy was to be the first person to marshal the hotch-potch of miscellaneous documents about the county then in existence into a single exhaustive reference. He was, for instance, the first to put forward a speculative account of the possible origin of the Cerne Giant, but also became involved journalistically in the tradition of the Chesil sea-monster called Veasta, and wrote about such historic features as Kingston Lacy and Badury Rings.

In this respect, perhaps, he was a man ahead of his time.

Dorchester – The Maumbury Rings

Jan 10th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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“The largest prehistoric monument of its kind in Britain” is how one early antiquarian observer described Maumbury Rings; just ten minutes walk from Dorchester town centre. It is said to have been able to accommodate ten thousand spectators and enclose an area equal to fifty football pitches, although these claims seem a little exaggerated. Certainly the class of monument to which the Rings belong is one found nowhere else in the world outside England, but many other examples of its kind have since been largely ploughed away, including others in Dorset.

Not so Maumbury Rings. This monument is the largest and most important structure of its kind in Britain and has survived intact simply because of its proximity to Durnovaria (Roman Dorchester) and because it has proved so useful for a range of different functions over the centuries. But Maumbury was originally constructed as a henge, one of those still somewhat enigmatic earthworks of England’s Neolithic people, and its origin can be traced back to about 2,500 BC.

It was Sir Christopher Wren who is said to have been responsible for first applying any archaeologically minded scrutiny to Maumbury Rings, though the great eighteenth century antiquarian William Stukeley also wrote about it at some length. Variously described as a “sun temple” or “a Neolithic dewpond,” others fancied the rays of the sun rising in the east passed through the north-east entrance to strike the rising ground at the opposite end, though this has since been shown to be a fallacy.

A large stone is said to have once stood near or across the south-west entrance, and which was long thought to have been the sighting-stone for solar and lunar observations. It is noted that in 1879 a minor excavation was made in the hope of locating this stone, but none was ever found.

Whatever Maumbury’s original purpose as a Neolithic enclosure was, it may well have suffered the same fate as other henges in the area had not the emperor Claudius resolved to bring Britain into the Roman Empire in 43 AD. When the town of Durovaria was founded it was soon appreciated by some engineers or planners that the Maumbury henge conveniently defined in its own outline an earthwork thought to be easily adaptable to serve as a small amphitheatre for gladiatorial or other entertainment without the extra labour and expense of having to start from scratch. Instead of what had probably been existing insubstantial embankments being levelled into oblivion by ploughing, they were re-inforced with rammed chalk and raised to their present day height.

It is believed that by the first millennium BC Maumbury Rings was in use as a Celtic earthwork, possibly some temple on the lines of Stonehenge. Following the departure of the Roman Legions in about 410 AD, the Rings probably continued in use as a meeting place, but no record exists from the Saxon period. During the Middle Ages the arena became the scene of jousts and other revels.

But it is not until the 17th century that we have a clear record of any major event connected with the monument. During the Civil War the Parliamentarians quickly saw the earthwork’s potential as a defensive site, and turned it into a gunnery emplacement to command the then exposed flank of the town from the direction of the Weymouth Road, up which the Roundheads expected the Royalists to advance. After the Civil War, the macabre rise in popularity of public executions by hanging led to the rings being used for this grizzly purpose. However executions at this locality ceased in 1705.

Rather through hearsay, a story has been handed down about the execution, probably in the late 17th century, notable for its particularly tragic circumstances. The details have apparently never been properly recorded, but a young unnamed woman was sentenced to death for some minor crime by hanging at Maumbury. However, at the time she was condemned she was expecting a child. Not wanting to condemn an unborn child to death as well, the magistrates deferred the mother’s execution until the child could be born in prison.

Following the birth the woman was duly hung, but has ever since left behind the unanswered question of who she was, who the child’s father was, and above all what became of the child. Was the child adopted? Did it die in infancy? Did it grow into adulthood and perhaps emigrate? The tragedy of this case is that it occurred a century too soon for the possible commutation of the sentence to transportation to be enacted. But clearly, this is a mystery, which can never be solved without intensive genealogical investigation.

In 1908 the archaeologist George Cary began the first systematic excavation of the earthwork to be conducted in modern times. Probably Cary hoped that the various romantic imaginings and speculations about the henge’s use in pre-Roman times could be laid to rest once the site’s history was set on a firm footing based upon the evidence of the stratigraphy and finds uncovered. Cary’s first excavation revealed that, as might be expected, sherds of recent pottery, ceramics, and other objects were abundant in the first foot or so of soil removed, and included a Victorian half-penny. But these and some older mediaeval pottery underlying them soon ceased.

By the end of the third season in 1910, two Romano-British graves had been discovered and opened, together with seven shafts approximately of the same age as the henge itself re-exposed in the arena floor. These shafts, which may have served a similar function to that of the comparable pits (Aubrey Holes) at Stonehenge, were found to contain a considerable number of tools made from deer antler, together with Neolithic pottery sherds and flint flakes. Interestingly, the existence of these shafts has led to the conclusion that the Romans experienced considerable difficulties in constructing parts of the arena floor and boundary walling of the amphitheatre.

During a much more recent excavation in the early 1970’s a deep cutting made into the chalk walling on the north east side showed that the Romans had to overlay the prehistoric shafts with rammed chalk in the arena’s western curve in order to stabilise the floor surface. It was therefore evident that the Legionary engineers found it harder than expected to adapt the earthwork to their requirements.

During this excavation another four shafts were exposed, bringing the total known to eleven. During an exploration of the outer part of the north entrance a third grave was discovered in the chalk, this time containing a skeleton of a well-built Romano-British man accompanied by a pottery vessel. But the work of this excavation was mainly concerned with determining the real purpose of the shafts. This was not proved, though it is thought likely that they were flint mines.

Today Maumbury is a tourist landmark and attraction, equally attractive to children and picnickers alike, with its own information board at the northern entrance.

Mary Channing – A Path to the Gallows

Jan 10th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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On January 15th 1705 an extraordinary marriage was solemnised in a Dorchester church. Extraordinary, because neither party to the union, especially the bride, was committed to the other out of mutual affection. Furthermore, the groom could scarcely have imagined that the ceremony would launch them both on a fateful journey that would end in capital crime and capital punishment. Neither could he have imagined that before spring turned to summer that year he would be dead.

The groom was Thomas Channing, a goodly tradesman of a Maiden Newton family, who had established his own successful grocery business in Dorchester; his bride was a reluctant, rebellious teenager called Mary Brooks. And they were wedded not out of love but purely out of convenience: in deference to the wish of the bride’s parents to see their daughter suitably placed with a respected, financially secure citizen.

The chain of events, which culminated in this peculiar tryst of fate, began some 18 years before with the birth of Mary Brooks in May 1687. Her father Richard and mother Elizabeth were keen to give their daughter the kind of education common to children of their social standing. Mary excelled in reading and writing, but her parents neglected to lend equal weight to the girl’s moral and religious instruction.

Whether or not this was a contributory factor, the girl manifested a latent sluttish disposition, which may have been aggravated by emotional depravation caused by her mother’s frequent absences. It was thought that the pastoral simplicity and rude country acumen of 18th century Dorset was no environment in which to equip a country girl for the niceties of high society, and so Mary was packed off to Exeter, London and elsewhere to gain experience of English higher society.

But this extraordinary degree of liberty was to exert further negative consequences on Mary Brook’s already weak character and tainted persona. Her sluttish manner gave way to vanity, promiscuity and riotous living. Every two weeks she would attend the local dance school, staying on for a night of frivolity and mirth with other young friends. She was ever at the homes of her neighbours, luring them into orgies of gluttony and intemperance while frittering the night away in gay abandon.

She was later to disown these “friends” when she began a loose affair with a local man. The pair would frequent public houses, where the wayward teenager would entertain her date with wine and shower him with gifts such as ruffles and cravats. Mary would willingly cover the expenses for these excesses, but her generosity cut deeply into her solvency. To financially support her highly social lifestyle Mary cajoled, or even conspired to rob, her parents of substantial sums, aided by some of her closest friends.

Naturally her cavorting and Jezebellian ways became the talk of Dorchester’s gossips, but Mary continued to drift from one extreme of pleasure-seeking to another. One citizen, who did not even know the Brooks family, even sent Mary’s parents a letter of complaint about their daughter’s wayward conduct. These correspondences would increase as Mary’s excesses increased. Clearly Dorchester’s busybodies had blown any hope the girl may have entertained of keeping her activities under wraps from her parents. Although Richard Brooks was shamed by his daughter’s behaviour and expressed his displeasure, Mary took scant notice.

Once the revelations of the extent of Mary’s conduct had come home to her parents they concluded that the best remedy lay in finding Mary an eligible husband – probably in the hope that she would knuckle down to the sober responsibilities of family life. To make the proposition more attractive they used the prospect of a considerable fortune as a carrot to dangle before several Dorchester bachelors. But of these only one would rise to the bait: Thomas Channing.

Although the grocer was an acceptable suitor in the eyes of the Brooks, their daughter’s affections lay elsewhere. Channing himself turned his attentions to another prospective bride for a time, but the iron will of Mrs Brooks proved to strong to countermand. As for Mary, her rejection of Thomas brought about confinement to her room for several days in punishment. Eventually, for the sake of her freedom, she grudgingly agreed to marry Channing.

After an initial postponement of 24 hours the unhappy union of Thomas Channing and Mary Brooks was consummated. Yet after a while Mary, who before and after was plotting how to rid herself of parental control, came to look on her marriage as the way to achieve this. Shortly before she had also been roused to anger when her current fancy had refused to marry her.

Amazingly the wedding party lasted for two days with the full knowledge of the Brooks, but apparently the total ignorance of the Channings. Only weeks earlier their son had told them he had relinquished all thought of marrying Mary, but after the wedding he changed his mind. By now though, a fateful dye had been cast. When the marriage was barely three months old Mary began an affair with yet another man, a visitor to Dorchester recorded only as Mr Naile, upon which she lavished her accustomed costly entertainment. She even persuaded Thomas to let Mr Naile take his place in their bed. That he did so most likely occasioned the illegitimate conception that added the drop of gall to Mary’s cup of tragedy.

By now, poor Thomas had become an inconvenient hindrance to his wife’s nuptial preferences. On April 17th she administered to her husband a dose of mercury purchased from the maid of the apothecary the previous day. After eating the dish of rice milk Thomas was violently ill and began vomiting. The following day, prompted possibly by the suspicion that he was being poisoned, he made out a last will and testament entirely disinheriting his wife. Following another three days of agony and unremitting pain the grocer died on April 21st. Following the post-mortem sixty to eighty people attended Channing’s funeral at St. Mary’s back in Maiden Newton.

Even before Channing died however, Mary had decamped. She went into hiding for 30 hours, first to a safe house in Dorchester, then into a wood four miles away. From there, with the aid of a friend’s employee, she made it to the home of a relation of her sister-in-law who lived in Charlton Worthorn in Somerset. Once he had learnt of Mary’s purchase of the mercury, Thomas’s father then organised a wide search. On Sunday Mary’s accomplice, following the offer of a reward and out of fear of being charged as an accessory, brought her back. That night Mary learnt of her husband’s death, but showed no emotion or concern.

In the morning she was brought before the justices at Dorchester for questioning. During the trial Mary had the opportunity to defend herself, but against the weight of two barristers and many prosecution witnesses the jury took only half-an-hour to find her guilty. On pronouncement of the death sentence Mary pleaded “her belly” (postponement on account of her pregnancy.) Until her baby had been born the sentence could not be carried out.

This pregnancy, of course, was a critical, if unintended artefact in the Channing case, providing an 8-month window of opportunity for appeals against the sentence to be lodged. Richard Brooks lost no time in petitioning Queen Anne and Mary’s eldest brother presented a petition signed by several Dorchester citizens to the judge at Wells. Mary’s mother sought the help of a lady, but all these efforts were to no avail. Multifarious deaf ears could not save a sinful teenager from the terror and humiliation of a public hanging.

While in prison much pressure was put on Mary to confess and repent, but she would maintain her innocence to the end. At first the Brooks were able to pay for respectable accommodation for their fecund daughter, but later seemed to lose concern for her welfare. Their support payments lapsed, so that Mary had to be relocated to a much more spartan cell with a bed made from only canvas tilting of an old wagon. It was in here on December 19th that Mary delivered a son that was immediately baptised at her request. The mother refused to have the baby withdrawn from her care.

But the opportunity for maternal care almost never arose. Soon after the birth Mary was smitten with fever and nursing the baby greatly weakened her. In these last tragic days Elizabeth Brooks was at Mary’s side constantly. On March 8th 1706 Mary was again summoned to the bar and asked if she could show just reason why the death sentence should not be passed. She could not, and so was told to prepare for death. Various clergy began a campaign to persuade Mary to repent of her sins, but without success. Yet Mary asked to be baptised (the Brooks were Baptists, who did not believe in infant baptism.) But how could the chaplain baptise one who wouldn’t repent? After a special dispensation from the Bishop of Bristol however, Mary was baptised on the 17th of March.

Only four days later on March 21st 1706 Mary Channing’s time had come. From the prison she was brought to her place of execution at Maumbury Rings on the outskirts of Dorchester, where a crowd of over three thousand had gathered for the macabre ordeal. Burning at the stake was the customary execution for women until the end of the 18th century. At 5 o’clock in the afternoon Mary was bound by the neck to a post while faggots piled up around her were lit. But the 19 year-old was already dead from strangulation by the noose. Then, with no sense of shock or revulsion, the multitude dispersed as Mary Channing’s mortal existence was consumed by fire.

As to the fate of her son, this seems to have been lost to history. Did he die in infancy? Was he perhaps brought up in a workhouse or even adopted by his grandparents or another family? Did he stay in Britain or emigrate to seek his fortune overseas? We may never know.

Chilcombe

Jan 7th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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One of the most interesting aspects of Dorset is its profusion of almost redundant hamlets. A paramount example of this is Chilcombe, not least because of its extraordinary degree of concealment, almost to the point of seeming not to exist at all. And yet, paradoxically, there exists a church, which is rather more than a mere chapel, for it possesses a consecrated ground for burials.

Chilcombe is a hamlet lying on the northern edge of the Bride valley and is accessed from a narrow lane, which is the continuation of the High Street of Swyre, two miles to the south. From its northern end this lane is accessed from the A35 near Bridport. Curiously, the settlement did not grow up along the lane itself, but is offset from it slightly to the east, and today lies within a thick copse of mature trees which completely conceal it from the north and south views along the lane. Quite likely this aspect was more open in mediaeval times, but the fact remains that Chilcombe apparently never the potential for evolving as a populous, economically viable community which could not be missed by the traveller passing through. Indeed, a visit to this well-sheltered and enchanted spot may well leave one with the impression that here is community fossilised in time and space.

From the south, access to the church is via an unsurfaced track leading off to the right from the lane, opposite the relatively modern house of Chilcombe Farm. The end of the track opens out into an area with a farmyard to the left and the 16th century stone-built house of the Manor Farm and its grounds to the right. Situated between these two elements is the low-walled enclosure of the church, its west end facing towards the onlooker, its north side overshadowed by a splendid mature ash tree.

If the church was ever dedicated to a saint, his or her identity has been long lost or forgotten. This unknown dedication, and the simple plan or topography of the building is typical of, or consistent with, a church built to serve a community which failed to thrive or develop the kind of economic prosperity so often the fulcrum for an increase in size and population. It is of the elementary bi-partite plan of nave and chancel, but for which there was apparently never a manorial lord with the wealth or motivation to add aisles, transepts or a tower at later times.

Even before the church is entered however, one will be struck by the smallness and quaintness of the churchyard, from which the building must be accessed through the south facing porch. The burial ground is rectangular, and entirely confined to the south side, so that only a dozen or so burials, took place within it.

Centrally placed in this churchyard is a grey stone cross marking the grave of Frederick Samways (1813-1880), a member of a local family who married into another Dorset land owning family, the Gales. Another quaint feature of this churchyard which will readily be noticed are the bantam hens and chicks given free range over the grounds. In springtime the burial ground, which also had a yew planted within it, is (or was) kept trim by allowing a ewe and her lamb to graze it. This churchyard is said to be one of the smallest in the country.

On entering the church through the south door, the visitor walks into a cool, lofty whitewashed nave with some narrow stained glass windows. Some of this glass is said to date from the 15th century, but the window nearest the chancel arch on the south side bears an inscription at the bottom which includes a late 18th century date. Standing like a large open stone chalice in the south west corner behind the door is a 12th century Norman font with cable moulding. Above the door is displayed a gilded coat of arms in raised relief. As it bears no distinctly legible inscription, it is uncertain who or what this emblem represents, though it is quite likely to be the arms of either the Strong or Bishop (Bysshop) families, who were the principal landowners associated with the Manor of Chilcombe.

The chancel retains two notable features of the church, not including the Norman arch separating the chancel from the nave. Immediately noticeable to the right is a wooden armchair in memory of Robert Bishop whose initials – RB – and the date 1642 can be seen carved into the backrest. The date is presumably the date of Robert’s death, for this chair is thought to have stood in this position for almost three-and-a-half centuries.

Another memorial in the chancel is a stone lintel from above a door in the original Tudor manor house, which was demolished in 1939. It is inscribed: John Bysshop, Eleanor Bysshop Anno Domini 1578. Another member of this family stood as MP for Bridport during the reign of Charles II. The manor later passed to the 2nd Earl Nelson, nephew of Admiral Nelson of Trafalgar, in 1832. A Bishop daughter married a Dr Sagittary, who in 1660 built a remarkable brick house in the Plocks at Blandford. In the south east corner of the chancel can be seen a niche in the wall indicating a rare example of a piscina, or alcove for holy water, dating to the 14th century.

But probably the most interesting and unusual feature is an engraved wooden panel fixed upon the north wall directly opposite the door. Approximately three feet long by twenty inches deep, the work is inlaid with scenes depicting the Crucifixion. It once served as the church’s reredos, though the story behind its origin is somewhat legendary and shrouded in a certain amount of myth. While possibly dating from Elizabethan times, the long-held view that it is a Spanish spoil of the Armada has recently been proved to be a fallacy. The wooden inlay work is English, but a consultation with the Churchwarden has revealed that it is believed to be one of a tableau of three Christian iconographic carvings, the other two possibly portraying the birth or ascension of Christ.

As already stated, Chilcombe Church does not possess a tower. There is only a small louvered capella at the west end housing a single bell, the rope for which rests against the wall inside. As in many other parishes in Dorset and elsewhere in England, Chilcombe lost its clergy during the Black Death, and there is no record on site of the succession of incumbents.

The church was built to accommodate a congregation of 40, but it is likely to have been a very long time since even half this number, were attending regular Sunday services. This does however suggest that Chilcombe’s population, whilst infinitesimally small by today’s standards was larger at an earlier time in its history. Quite possibly the manorial families and their retinue and staff would have comprised the majority of the worshippers.

The now separated (by ownership) Manor house and farm, the farm buildings, a smaller house nearby, Chilcombe Farm and two cottages down the lane are all that remains of Chilcombe today. But as a haven of peace off the beaten track it is in a class of its own.

“…Transported to Such Places Beyond the Seas.”

Jan 7th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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A sign on the bridge over the River Frome at Lower Bockhampton serves notice that “anyone wilfully injuring the bridge will be guilty of felony and upon conviction liable to be Transported for Life.” People were transported for a lot less serious offences than that and many people sentenced to death for more serious crimes had their sentences commuted and were transported instead.

The idea of being rid of troublesome citizens by transporting them beyond the seas was around long before Britain commenced despatching its felons to Australia. In 1597 during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I an Act (39 Eliz C.4) was passed entitled “An Acte for Punyshment of Rogues, Vagabonds and Stray Beggars.” It allowed for people to “be banished out of this realm” and went on to say “shall be conveyed to such parts beyond the seas as shall be assigned by the Privy Council.” And for good measure declared if a “rogue so banished” returned to England without permission he would be hanged.

Law enforcement during the 17th and 18th centuries was an uncertain business. Anyone who thinks the present British government’s efforts to privatise the prison service are a new idea is mistaken: half the prisons in England were privately owned then. There was no police force. Employing Watchmen was, on the whole, a futile enterprise as most were open to accepting the offer of a small bribe to turn the other way and those given the job were often elderly and stood little chance of apprehending a fit young criminal.

Detection was also in the hands of the private sector. Thief takers – an early incarnation of the private detective – would seek out thieves and other criminals and bring them before a magistrate for a reward. Getting caught was not all bad news for the criminal: in many cases a criminal would come to an arrangement with his victim to repay him or do some work for him rather than face prosecution. This was not an unattractive option for the victim who, if he proceeded to prosecute, would have to pay all the costs involved. Nevertheless, large numbers of people were incarcerated in the country’s jails.

Using the 1597 Act, transportation of groups of criminals got under way in the early 17th century: Sir Thomas Dale, Marshal of Virginia, took 300 “disorderly persons” with him in 1611 and it was not long before he was asking for more convict labour, claiming 2000 were needed.

A new Act (4 Geo 1, C.11) was passed early in the 18th century which provided that minor offenders could be transported for 7 years to America while men on commuted capital sentences, that is having enjoyed the King’s mercy, might be sent for 14 years. The courts did not have a wide selection of punishments to hand down and were often faced with the choice of letting a criminal off or passing the death sentence.

The merits of transportation from the Government’s point of view were that it preserved the Royal Prerogative of Mercy – the felon was left alive; the felon was removed from the realm as effectively as if he had been hanged; It got rid of the prison as well as the prisoner and it provided a labour force to be used in the colonies.

From the middle of the 18th century Britain’s population increased dramatically. The population of London doubled between 1750 and 1770. Young men turned to thieving to make a living. For 60 years during the 18th century 30,000 people were sent to America; convicts were shipped off to face a life of slavery at the rate of about 500-600 a year and few if any returned. The King frequently used his royal prerogative and it was not at all unusual for a death sentence to be commuted. A cynic might think a corpse hanging from the gallows was a deterrent to others but the reprieved man was a long-term asset to be used to build the American colonies. This shameful traffic in humankind kept England’s jails from overflowing.

On August 25th 1768 Capt. Cook set sail from Plymouth and a little over a year later was off the coast of New Zealand where he proceeded to sail his ship Endeavour round both islands. On March 31st 1770 Capt. Cook and his crew were ready for the homeward voyage. On April 19th 1770 a new coastline was discovered and on August 21st 1770 Cook formally claimed Australia for King George III.
In London the new colony was not uppermost in the minds of the politicians who had their hands full trying to head off armed rebellion in America. It was this more taxing matter that was concentrating the mind of the British Prime Minister, the recently ennobled Frederick, Lord North. Matters in America came to a head with the Declaration of Independence on the 4th of July 1776. At a stroke the transportation of convicts to North America was brought to a full stop and very shortly Britain’s jails were at breaking point.

That year Lord North drew up legislation that was to become known as ‘The Hulks Act’ (16 Geo.111, C. 43.) Hulks, old troop transports, their rigging gone, were dotted along the Thames and some southern ports, and were to become home to convicts sentenced to be transported, until the government could find somewhere to send them. The number of convicts being held in this way was increasing by about a thousand annually.

As the situation worsened and the government realised that the door to North America was firmly closed to them a House of Commons Committee was set up in 1779 to decide what was to be done. Hope lingered in some of the more optimistic corners of government that something would turn up to resolve the American problem, but this was not to be. Lord North resigned in 1782 and briefly trod London’s corridors of power again as the Home and Colonial Secretary between March and December 1783.

His successor in that office, Lord Sydney, on appointment faced a clamour for action to be taken to deal with the problem of the terrible overcrowding in the prisons and on board the hulks; the situation was becoming more pressing with each passing day. A new Act (24 Geo.III.C.56) was drafted to allow transportation to places other than America and this entered into law in August 1784.

It was someone from outside of the administration, ironically American born, who in 1783 presented a commercial proposition to the government concerning Australia. At the time Lord North was in charge of Home and Colonial Affairs and he dismissed it.  James Matra, later hearing the government was urgently looking for somewhere to send the convicts, altered the slant of his proposal and re-submitted it to Lord Sydney. Serious consideration was given to transporting the convicts to a settlement on the south west coast of Africa and for a while Australia wasn’t a contender.

William Pitt the younger was now Prime Minister and he was under increasing political pressure especially from some independent members of parliament representing constituencies where some of the hulks were berthed. 

After further consideration the Botany Bay or Australian option was formally approved by the cabinet. The Admiralty was told of the decision on the 31st of August 1786 and instructed to commission the fleet: Captain Arthur Phillip was appointed “Governor of our territories called New South Wales” and received his commission from King George III on 12th October 1786.

The first fleet sailed from Portsmouth early on the 13th May 1787 and arrived at Botany Bay on 18th January 1788. Convicts continued to be transported to Australia for a further 70 years.

Those who survived the voyage were to face a harsh disciplinary regime, near starvation, and we know not what other horrors. There were men, women and children all enduring the same fate irrespective of whether they were guilty of a petty or serious crime. Their guards did not fare any better. The experience was a little easier for later arrivals. It is incredible that out of this hell has grown the great nation we know and respect today.

A Cardinal’s Progress – The Life of John Morton of Stileham

Jan 7th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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On Easter Sunday in April 1471 a small ship docked at Weymouth after a stormy crossing of the Channel from Brittany. Queen Margaret of Anjou was returning to England with her son Prince Edward of Lancaster on a mission to raise an army against the Yorkists at Tewkesbury. Their escort inland for this critical event in the Thirty Year’s War was a rising Dorset born clerical statesman soon to have an important influence on the course of England’s dynastic history – John Morton.

Morton was born in Stileham, Milton St. Andrew, Dorset, in 1420. On his mother’s side he was a descendant of the Turberville family of Bere Regis (the D’Urbervilles of Thomas Hardy’s Tess. Who are commemorated by a stained glass window in the Church.) His grandfather and other members of the family are also buried in the church.

Educated at Cerne Abbey and Balliol College, Oxford, young John graduated in law and went on to study for the priesthood. By 1446 he had become one of the University’s commissioners and was subsequently appointed Moderator of the Civil Law School, Master in Chancery and Chancellor of the Duchy of Cornwall by the time he was about 30. From here on Morton emerged as a most distinguished clerical lawyer, holding several preferment positions, including that of Vicar of Bloxworth. He was to have an important effect on the country’s affairs in the latter half of the 15th century.

This chiefly came about through Morton becoming committed to supporting the Lancastrians during the Wars of the Roses. He probably realised that the cause of the Lancastrian Henry VI was lost, but held office under him and lent his support nevertheless. But after the Yorkist victory at the battle of Towton in 1461, the Earl of Warwick deposed Henry and put Edward IV on the throne. The new king took Henry prisoner and Morton escaped to France wit Henry” other followers, spending several years in exile there with Queen Margaret.

It appears that sometime before 1470 Morton decided to seek the King’s pardon. This Edward granted, and Morton returned from France. But as the King was also aware of Morton’s ability and loyalty to a cause, Edward further appointed him Master of the Rolls, then Bishop of Ely (he plays a minor role as such in Act 3, scene 4 of Shakespeare’s Richard III.) After Edward had been on the throne for a few years he quarrelled with Warwick, who deposed him and restored Henry. But at the battle of Barnet in 1471 Warwick was killed and Henry died, presumed murdered, in prison soon after.

It was at this point that Queen Margaret and Prince Edward returned to England to be escorted by John Morton to Cerne Abbey en route to Tewkesbury. But at the Battle there later in 1471 Edward IV inflicted a defeat upon the Lancastrians and Queen Margaret was taken prisoner, but after paying a ransom was allowed to return broken hearted to France.

For Edward, Morton had been a valued advisor whose duties often took him abroad. When Edward died in 1483 his 12-year old son Edward, Duke of York briefly succeeded as Edward V. But his Uncle Richard, Duke of Gloucester, imprisoned Edward and his younger brother in the Tower where, according to tradition, he had the princes murdered so as to claim the throne for himself as Richard III. The new king’s suspicions about Morton’s loyalty outweighed any regard he had for his abilities as a statesman. On the pretext of some cleverly contrived charge or excuse, Morton was committed to prison, first in the Tower, then later Brecknock Castle. For some months his life would hang by a slender thread, and he faced being murdered, had he not managed to escape.

After this timely breakout Morton joined and sided with Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond in Brittany, where he helped to plan the Earl’s invasion to oust Richard from the throne. The fatal engagement came at Bosworth, where Richard was killed and Henry came to the throne as Henry VII. As a reward for his loyalty Morton became the first Tudor’s most trusted advisor, being promoted from Commissioner to Chancellor of Oxford University.

Thus Morton helped to establish the Tudor dynasty, but his effect on the course of English history did not end there. He effectively brought the dynastic civil war to its end, ushering in a new age of peace and material progress by advocating in 1486 the marriage of Henry to Elizabeth of York – the future mother of Henry VIII – so symbolically uniting the two royal houses. That year also Morton was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. The following year he became Lord Chancellor and, in 1493, a Cardinal.

Morton helped Henry accumulate substantial reserves while becoming wealthy himself at the same time. The Cardinal was intensely dedicated to ambitious building and restoration projects, into which he poured much of his personal assets. He rebuilt the palaces of Wisbech and Hatfield, and funded those of Lambeth and Canterbury.

Another re-building venture close to his own heart was the re-ordering of Bere Regis Church, where he constructed the timber roof as a memorial to his parents and also left a legacy for the upkeep of the paintings. He is represented personally in the bosses, the central boss being specially carved to portray the unification of the York and Lancastrian houses. But one of Cardinal Morton’s greatest achievements was the excavation of a great leet or drainage ditch through the East Anglian fens between Peterborough and Wisbech and named Morton’s Dyke after him.

Another facet of the Cardinal’s character was his ingenuity in procuring “benevolences” from the poor and wealthy alike, a practice which gave rise to the expression “Morton’s Fork”. If he heard a nobleman was rich he would say “I hear you are a very rich man, and are surely able to spare some money for the King.” He would then “turn the prong” to the nobleman who lived frugally and say “you are a careful thrifty person who must have saved much money, and some you will be able to spare for the King.” Neither then escaped their obligations to the royal coffers. But Morton did restrain certain financial policies that Henry proposed.

The opinions of contemporary writers about the Cardinal vary considerably however. Many saw him as a strange character, one accusing him of acting “from base and sordid motives,” even of sorcery. As a young man the statesman and writer Sir Thomas More served in the Morton household. He later wrote that Morton was “a man not more venerated for his high rank than for his wisdom and virtue.”

Other writers said he was energetic, sometimes brusque with polished manners, exemplary as a lawyer, one possessed of a great mind and a phenomenal memory. Through discipline and hard study he improved the talents which nature had bestowed upon him. He was a wise man, according to Bacon, but “a harsh and haughty one.” Morton could also be summed up as being accepted by the King, envied by the nobility, but hated by the people.

Cardinal Morton died at Knole, Sevenoaks in Kent in 1500 in his 80th year, and was buried in the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral.

Wimborne to 1800 – A Brief History

Jan 7th, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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There is no certainty whether the site of Wimborne, the historic Minster town of Dorset, had any pre-cursor before the Saxon period. The town occupies a rather strategic position on the floodplain of the convergent rivers Stour and Allen, a situation of quick flooding and drying as the rivers rise and subside. But the Allen had long protected and restricted urban development eastwards.

Although it did not originate as a Saxon Burgh with the status of Bridport or Wareham, Wimborne has nevertheless been a significant royal manor since the 8th century AD. Early in that century King Ina (or Ine) of the West Saxons (688-726) founded the bishopric of Sherborne and appointed St. Aldhelm as its first bishop. In 705, Ina’s sister Cuthberga founded a nunnery on the site, which then became a monastic order for men as well as women. Both Cuthberga and her sister Quinberga – credited with being the co-founders of the town – were buried there.

The term ‘Minster’ occurs in other Dorset place names and can signify both a group of churches founded by King Ina to support a bishopric, and a monastic abbey church. Wimborne first appears as a Minster in 871. The nunnery was sacked and destroyed by invading Danes in 1013, but in 1043 Edward the Confessor founded a college of secular canons on the site. The collegiate building has not survived, but some of the fabric of the late Saxon church (i.e. the Minster) is preserved in the transepts and crossing. For centuries the church retained a special status as a royal free chapel independent of the bishop.

At Doomesday in 1086 Wimborne was held by Queen Matilda as lands of the King, and fell within the 32-hide Hundred of Badbury. But it was the Earl of Gloucester (the future King John) who granted the Minster a charter. The Minster then underwent phases of extensive re-ordering and enlargement in 12th, 13th and 14th centuries. Two developments in the 15th century were the addition of the western tower and a spire to the crossing-tower, though the central tower’s embattled parapet and pinnacles were not added until 1608. The main interior features of interest are the Norman Purbeck Stone font, a 15th century brass to king Ethelred, a medieval astronomical clock and the Chained Library – possibly the earliest public library anywhere.

Like other religious foundations Wimborne attracted settlement of population, though its site was less spectacular than that of Shaftesbury or Corfe. By 1200 a market and fair to be held on St. Cuthberga’s Day (August 31st) was in existence. Originally this was held in the churchyard but in 1244 it was compelled to move onto open space now partly occupied by the present Cornmarket, just west of the Minster. This market was the property of the Deanery Manor and provided the church with an income from stallholders. Further streets would later grow up around the Cornmarket, which also held the stocks for public punishments.

The church/market area then provided the focus around which the town developed in the form of what can be identified as three distinct boroughs or areas. Essentially the area to the north of the Minster and its grounds developed as two boroughs laid out along the axis of what would be called East Street and West Street. Here was centered the first commercial activity in the town. This development was established by the de Lacy’s, Lords of Kingston Lacy, who may have set up a market while the Deanery was without Royal support. But the long streets of East and West Boroughs were not laid out as a natural development from the town centre; rather, their origin is in a rival market set up in opposition to the Deanery.

This market was the borough manor market of the de Lacy’s, which had its own court, and it is recorded that this manor was involved in a dispute with the manor of the Dean in 1236. The noted Dorset historian John Hutchins mentions that there were already burgage tenure properties and evidence of stalls by very early in the 13th century, so indicating the appearance of the Boroughs as a northerly appendage to the ecclesiastical hub. Then about 1300 John de Lacy’s son Henry staked a claim to hold a fair once a year with a weekly market on Sunday and Monday.

The part of the East Borough leading into the Square was originally a narrow winding street crowded with buildings and known as Black Lane. The area of the square was once occupied by a chapel called St. Peters, which was later demolished. The area of the High Street where it bends sharply just east of the Minster, was called Cheapside, though many other street names of the earlier Wimborne are now lost.

The third area of growth centered on a meadow just south west of the Minster long recorded on maps as The Leaze and belonging to Deans Court. This area lies between the Minster and the Stour, and superficially appeared not to have been developed. However, it had been noted that a lane branching from King Street grades into a holloway before ending abruptly some distance from the river, suggesting some main street access to a former residential area. Interestingly, this was indeed confirmed by excavations between 1961 and 1964, revealing the presence of streets and the platforms of houses or cottages extending to the Stour’s floodplain boundary. This evidence dated The Leaze as a borough to around 1200, but it was apparently abandoned by the mid 14th century.

The Black Death did much to halt any further expansion of the town by 1350, and this decease is likely to have been the cause of the desertion of The Leaze. Leprosy was also widespread in the district and a building was dedicated to St. Margaret as a hospital for lepers. In 1800 a document, seemingly to date from King John’s time, was discovered in a chest in St. Margaret’s Almhouses, which superceded the hospital on the site, stating that it was a building for the welfare of lepers.

In 1496 the Countess of Richmond and mother of Henry VII, Lady Margaret Beaufort, founded the grammar school which Elizabeth I re-endowed and which was re-named after her in 1562. Another parchment deed exists endowing a school in Wimborne in 1510, though churchwarden’s accounts at the Reformation indicate trouble and expense in the maintaining of this institution. The governors were then accused by royal commissioners of allowing the building to fall into dis-repair.

Poet Matthew Prior is believed to have been born in Priors Walk in 1664. Wimborne had an unenviable reputation for uncleanliness until 1800, by which time the town had largely been rebuilt. In 1758 the Market House opened in the Cornmarket. The first regular coach service from London to reach here started in 1772, when the fare was £1.4s for the 14-hour journey. In more recent times the smuggler Isaac Gulliver and writer Thomas Hardy lived in Wimborne for a time and it is believed that the memorial to Gulliver in the Minster was the inspiration for the characters Snodgrass and Wardell in the Pickwick Papers. By the 19th century the parish covered 12,000 acres.

In 1915 Canon Fletcher and a doctor, Sir Kaye Le Flem, were sorting archive documents in the Minster library when they stumbled upon hitherto lost churchwardens accounts for 1403 and 1475. The documents revealed that at the time they were written the people of Wimborne were paying rent to the church as the landlords of the property they occupied, as well as burial fees.

From Shaftesbury To a Place In Australia’s History

Jan 3rd, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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In 1834 Elijah Upjohn was 11 years old, 4’10” in height, with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and of a fair complexion. Born on New Year’s day 1823 at Shaftesbury Holy Trinity he quickly learned from his father Henry a disregard for other people’s property.

Elijah had been caught stealing a pair of trousers and on 8th April 1834 he found himself before the Mayor, Mr R. Buckland and Mr. J.B. Chitty, Justices of the Peace for Shaftesbury, who sentenced him to three months imprisonment during which time he was to be whipped twice. His Dorchester Gaol record describes his conduct as disorderly. He was released on 7th July 1834.

Three years later he was again in trouble with the law and was sentenced to six weeks with hard labour for stealing rabbits. As was the case during his previous imprisonment his conduct while serving his punishment was said to be disorderly.

A year after that sees him back again in front of the Justices and this time the enforcers of law and order thought they had seen quite enough of this boy’s anti-social behaviour. He was now 16 years of age and this time he had been caught stealing shoes. In what may be seen as an early interpretation of the “three strikes and you’re out” rules his sentence was that he be transported beyond the seas for seven years.

In March 1839 the ship ‘Marquis of Hastings’ took on 100 prisoners at Woolwich and then sailed to Portsmouth to receive 140 more, amongst them Elijah Upjohn; he was never to return to England. The convict ship sailed from Portsmouth on the 17th March 1839 and reports say seven of the prisoners died during the voyage.

On arrival in Tasmania Elijah was transferred to Launceston where we believe he served out the rest of his 7-year sentence, he would have been freed in 1846. The next sighting we have of Elijah in Australia is in Geelong, near Melbourne. Why or how he ended up in Geelong we can only speculate but his brother Robert was there around this time and we also know his father had been transported to Australia and may also have been in that town. We know Elijah married there and had children but only two of his boys survived to manhood.

It was not long before he returned to his old ways; from 1864 to 1880 he was in and out of jail, each time for longer periods. He was put away for larceny in 1880 when the judge described him as a “rogue and vagabond.” His life to this point was very similar to that of many convicts transported overseas but a spur of the moment decision secured for Elijah Upjohn a place in Australia’s history books.

In Melbourne gaol a man was to be hanged. The executioner wasn’t available and the warden of the jail lined up the prisoners and asked for a volunteer to execute the man. Elijah Upjohn stepped forward for the job, probably assuming that with it would be some privileges; he could have had no idea how famous this decision was to make him.

Earlier in the morning of the 11th November 1880 he was just another prisoner, now he was preparing a man for his death and playing a part in the ceremony that these occasions become. An elderly, grey headed but fit-looking man, he did not look out of place in his new role as he proceeded along with the warden, the governor, priests attending and some local dignitaries to the cell of the man to be hanged. After being released Elijah Upjohn continued in his new career as a public hangman.

An expert contributor to an Australian radio program broadcast in July 2000 said “Elijah Upjohn would have to be probably the country’s most famous hangman” and goes on to suggest that he got this first hanging right but “the rest were pretty appalling. He was often drunk and he lost his nerve because people were harassing him and giving him such a bad time.” At one time things got so bad for him he was allowed to live in Pentridge Jail at Melbourne for his own safety. Apparently he had been arrested for drunkenness, indecent exposure, and carting nightsoil.

At the time of his death there was no mention of his wife or sons. He was found at Bourke by a constable, was sick and survived only two days. His death certificate dated 28th September 1885 reads: “Upjohn. Public Hangman. About 70 years of age.” Actually he would have been 62 years of age.

Elijah Upjohn had a tragic life. Yet nearly two hundred years after his birth in Shaftesbury, Dorset, newspaper and magazine articles, films and television documentaries, frequently recall his name.

The man he hanged on 11th November 1880 was Ned Kelly.

The Church of St. Mary Magdalene at Loders

Jan 1st, 2010
by Dorset Ancestors.
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Arriving in Loders from the direction of Uploders, which seems quite separate but is within the parish of Loders, there is an opportunity to admire the attractive village street: the houses on either side are mostly of stone, some dating back to the 17th century.  To the north and overlooking the village is Waddon Hill, with its strip lynchets. Straight ahead and on a sharp right hand bend in the road is the entrance to the churchyard; continue and you will soon be in Bridport. The only parking is on the street but it is well worth stopping awhile to visit The Church of St. Mary Magdalene.

Loders is an old name believed to be the ancient name for the river Asker from the Celtic words lo (pool) and dour (water.) The place is first recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086 as Lodre and later as Loddres in 1244 and Loderes in 1291. Around 1445 Uploders was separately identified as Uppelodres or Uplodre, the addition simply means higher upstream.

A Benedictine priory was established here in 1109 under the Abbott of Montebourg and St. Mary Magdalene’s was the priory church from 1107 until 1414, when the priory was dissolved. A list of Priors and Vicars in the church informs us that the first known Prior was Baldwin in 1209 and the last Prior between 1401 and 1414 was William Burnell.

In the churchyard are memorials to members of the Gale and Samways families who have been discussed on Dorset Ancestors. There are several large tombs; in best condition is the one for “Mary, wife of Geo.Knight of this parish. Who departed this life the 30th of January 1777.” Another recalls members of the family of Robert and Joan Budden who died in 1762 aged 53 years and December 1787 aged 78 years respectively. John Budden, son of Robert and Joan Budden, died in November 1789 aged 45 years; and William Budden, his brother, died January 1790 aged 41 years; and another son Henry died in April 1807 aged 54 years. There is also reference to their other sons James and Robert and the inscription tells us they died in 1757 and 1802. Some while ago a member of the Budden family set us all an example by bearing most of the cost of repairing the tomb.

This church is a mixture of medieval styles from the 12th to 15th centuries and more recent works carried out during a restoration in the 19th century. Entering through the porch, above which there is a chamber that in earlier times was used by visiting clergy, there is immediately ahead of you an eroded crucifixion relief in Purbeck stone and you will also notice a bell, more about that later. To your left look along the side by the organ pipes and on the west wall you will see the remains of a painting ‘Time and Death’ said to be 17th century. The font is of Purbeck marble from around 1150; the pedestal is later. The chamfered nave windows have two lights separated by a single mullion; the window to the west is stained blue and the other red. Access to the pulpit is by a branch off the stairs to the rood loft.

The main chancel window is dedicated to the memory of Dame Margaret Nepean who died on 26th December 1833, aged 73 years. Along the north wall of the chancel is a stained lancet and its neighbour to the west is a smaller stained window below which is a blocked off doorway; this in earlier times possibly led directly to the priory of which nowadays there is no trace.

The south transcept has a small crucifixion relief and in the south wall a piscina. Here there is a wall memorial to Sir Evan Nepean (1812.)  There appears to be, a hagioscope or to give it a simpler name a squint and this allows those seated in the south transcept to view the altar.

The parish registers for Loders are held at the Dorset Record Office in Dorchester and include Baptisms 1636 to 1991, Marriages 1636 to 1985, Burials 1636 to 1993, and Banns 1691 to 1963.
 
The peal of six bells at Loders was inspected in 2003 by the firm Mears and Stainbank who were to repair the fifth bell, but on inspection it was found to be cracked and has now been replaced. At the same time two of the other bells were taken away to be re-tuned. The last time this happened was in 1927 when the third bell was replaced and the peal re-hung. The earlier third bell is the one presently on display as you enter into the church. It was cast in 1641 its replacement paid for by Sir Edward Le Breton. A brass plate tells us that the 1641 bell, which hung in the tower for nearly 300 years, is kept in memory of Colonel Sir Edward and Lady Breton who lived at Loders Court 1921 –1961 and worshipped in the church. Perhaps its antiquity also guarantees the bells continued existence.

The tenor bell dating from 1626 is the oldest and weighs 28 pounds short of one ton and has a diameter of 48 inches. The fifth, the new bell, is stamped 2003 the fourth is dated 1884; the third was new in 1927; the second dates from 1826 and the treble bell dates from 1843.

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