General

In his landmark study of 1954 ‘The Lost Villages of England’ landscape historian Maurice Beresford cites nineteen places in Dorset where a village had existed in the middle ages, but was later abandoned.

This tally of lost parishes or hamlets does not include the contemporary example of Tyneham, which is probably best known throughout the county as a textbook case of a deserted village. But Tyneham was a community deserted under duress, and under the national emergency of a world war in which the military were above the law in commandeering land and properties for gunnery training. The desertion of by far the majority of England’s medieval villages however, was a much more insidious process, and was mainly underpinned by instances of failed harvests, plague, enclosure, ecclesiastical sequestration, economic decline, or combinations of these. And this process was taking place at least a century before Tyneham and more typically several centuries before it.

Rural depopulation of course is still going on today. Some may say that in a sense many villages still occupied are “lost” or deserted in winter because of their high proportion of second homes owned by affluent townies who have priced local people out of their local housing. The present generation has therefore been forced out in search of employment and an affordable home.

There is no question of second home ownership causing the decline of those villages lost before the 20th century, but rather the other factors already mentioned. We tend to think of villages as collections of houses, farms, a few shops or pubs clustered around a church, green or pond. But following complete dereliction the buildings will progressively fall into ruin. If the buildings were mostly of brick or stone they would understandably persist for many decades, even in the erosive British climate. But the housing stock in medieval times was usually of much more perishable materials such as timber, thatch, wattle, daub and cob, which would have vanished completely over four or five centuries, hastened probably by robbing or re-use of the materials.

What would be left once the buildings had disappeared? As over the centuries of its use the streets of a former village would be worn down relative to the surface upon which buildings stood, what then remains is a field of earthworks in very low relief showing home platforms (tofts) usually aligned along one or two streets preserved either as holloways or shallow linear depressions. Crofts or gardens, quarry pits, well-shafts or rubble footings may also be present. Often beyond the settlement earthworks one would see the ridge-and-furrow of the medieval open-field system of arable farming. Of course, we invariably see these features preserved only in fields, which have permanently reverted to pasture and have never been ploughed, since this activity would destroy the earthworks.

The later 14th and 15th centuries in Dorset are noted for villages either abandoned entirely or reduced to a hamlet or single farmstead. For instance Holworth in the parish of Chaldon Herring is one of the few sites to have been excavated. Here, a rectangular field of about 6 acres shows house platforms and a holloway, marking when a row of cottages once stood along the north side of a single street. Behind the tofts can be seen linear strips and boundaries of each property’s garden and field running down to a stream.

In Dorset several instances occurred where a village was moved to another site by a monastic house or a powerful country squire wishing to empark more of his estate. This is what happened to the first Milton Abbas, one of a long string of villages along the Milborne Brook. This village prospered from the estate of the Benedictine Abbey in the 10th century, but between 1770 and 1776 the then squire Lord Milton (Joseph Damer) relocated 100 homes, 3 inns and a school to a new site, so that he would have an un-interrupted view from his new manor house. The old Milton then disappeared beneath a new ornamental lake.

Again, Moor Crichel was moved to a new site in the parish of Witchampton and re-named New Town by Humphrey Sturt when he enlarged the estate of Crichel House, though in New Town only one cob and thatch house remains today. East Lulworth was a thriving coastal community with a castle and deer park in 1770, but by 1790 the village had been relocated half a mile to the east so that the castle estate could be enlarged. Fortunately for posterity, on this occasion the village life before removal was recorded in a painting by Margaret Weld. Kingston Russell declined in the 16th century, though nine cottages survived east of the manor house until the turn of the 18th century. The building of Kington Russell House (16th-17th centuries), arrested the decline until the 19th century, when landscaping removed what remained of the village.

It is noticeable that in their distribution the abandoned villages are most abundant on the chalk lands. For example in the Cerne Valley there are six within two miles of one another. Those so far identified have been named Pulston (A&B); Herriston (A&B); Cowden and Charlton. Even more noteworthy are a group of four in the upper Piddle valley south of Piddlehinton, all but one of these being completely deserted. There are Combe Deverel and North and South Louvard. Another group lies along the upper North Winterborne valley and includes West Philipston, which was deserted in the 15th century, and West Nicholston.

The valley of the Piddle is also notable as the location of Bardolfeston, one of the most familiar deserted villages of Dorset, which lies adjacent to Athelhampton. Bardolfeston was originally a parish in its own right but was finally abandoned in the 16th century after a long decline attributed to the building of Athelhampton House in 1495. The manor and hamlet of Cheselbourne Ford, near Dewlish House, had a population of 6 in Domesday, just 4 in 1327, and no inhabitants at all by the mid 17th century. It is only visable today as a series of closes on the west side of Devil’s Brook.

Knowlton, in the parish of Woodlands is better known for its complex of ancient henges and ruined church, but the village itself, which grew up along the south bank of the River Allen, was long ago deserted. However, nearby is the farmstead Brockington, which impinges on extensive settlement remains covering 10 acres. This area includes the site where Knowlton once stood, and seems to indicate that the two were once almost united.

In the north-east parish of Sixpenny Handley was once the village of Minchington, one of two settlements belonging to Shaftesbury Abbey in the reign of Edward II. Its size and extent remain unknown and no part of the site is occupied by a building today. Similarly, Philipston is recorded as being in the parish of Wimborne St. Giles, but does not appear on Isaac Taylor’s map.

Two other places who’s names and buildings only survive today in a single farm are Didlington and Lazerton. Didlington was a hamlet held by the church at Domesday, but by 1743 all that remained were some building foundations, the chapel’s font, and a mill on the Allen. The village had disappeared entirely by 1765, leaving only as Didlington Farm. Lazerton is much better known as an authenticated site between Stourpaine and Iwerne Stepleton. Domesday recorded a population of 30, but the hamlet had almost vanished by the mid 15th century, leaving the name to survive only in Lazerton Farm. Iwerne Stepleton was itself deserted by 1662, leaving only the house with the remains of the parsonage in its grounds. The RCHM placed Cripton as a manor and villa reduced to a small farmhouse on or very near to Came Home Farm, though no remains have been found here.

Winterborne Farrington was a separate parish in the south Winterborne valley. Hutchins wrote that by 1773 Winterborne Farringdon was entirely de-populated. Both Farringdon and Winterborne Came were experiencing decline as early as the 14th century. On the site of Winterborne Farringdon only the east gable of St. Germains Church is still standing amid the earthworks of the village it once served.

Other of Dorset’s Medieval Villages’s, which may be noted are:

Modbury is one of two truly deserted villages in the Bride valley north of Bridport, located across the road between Litton Cheney and Burton Bradstock.

Holworth was a village of Saxon origin found on excavation to have had Romano-British occupation on its site. It was part of the Milton Abbey Estate at Domesday.

West Burton and West Ringstead represent two former settlements in a coastal position. West Burton is first mentioned in a Charter of Bindon Abbey in 1313 but was entirely abandoned between the 14th and 15th centuries. West Ringstead is a 10 acre site showing clear outline traces of a village with some remains of the church on land near Ringstead Bay.

Sturthill lies adjacent to its chapel and has a traceable plan. It was disused and in ruins after the 17th century.

Colber is the only authentic deserted village site north of the chalkland belt. It lay west of the Stour opposite Sturminster Newton. Eight acres in size it was a royal manor at Domesday, but is now only a parcel of empty open ground.

Gatemerston is the only instance so far known of a hamlet being spontaneously evacuated by fire. Its exact location is no longer known, but is thought to lie on the West to East Lulworth road.

As many people by now will be aware, public interest in family history has increased greatly over the past decade. Genealogy can be a discipline with an almost forensic dimension to it, yet unravelling the complexities of one’s family tree is not an exact science or an easy task. It can lead up many blind alleys or to dead ends. Apart from contingencies such as absent, incomplete – or illegible – parish records there is one very significant pitfall, which the beginner just setting out is unlikely to be aware of.

There is something peculiarly unique about the year 1751 – it was only nine months and seven days long. Strange as it seems, New Years Day has not always been on January 1st. In fact from 1190 to 1752 the New Year began not on January 1st but on March the 25th! From 1190 to 1752 England was using the Julian Calendar devised by Julius Caesar, which was set to run from March 25th (Lady Day) to the last day of the year, the following March 24th. In this calendar the tropical year is approximately 365.25 days, making an error of 1 day in 128 years.

Under an edict issued by the Council of Trent Pope Gregory XIII addressed this error by reforming the Julian Calendar so that the tropical year equalled 365+ 97/400 days or 365.2425 days. The new system named after him also meant that it took 3,300 years for the tropical year to shift a day with respect to the Gregorian Calendar. However, in 1752 Lord Chesterfield passed a bill in Parliament enacting the change over to Pope Gregory’s calendar, which ever since would logically set the first day of each year at January 1st. Since 1752 had to begin on this day, 1751 ended on December 31st – not the following March 24th!

What then are the implications of this change for genealogical or title research? It means that any date from the 1st of January to the 25th of March before 1751 has to have another year added to it. For example, the 11th of January, 9th of February or 23rd of March 1780 would actually be in 1751 for today’s purposes under Gregorian system. Before 1752 the progression of any year’s months commenced in March, so the 29th of April in 1709 would actually be June 29th 1709, not April 29th.

Again, if a document gives a date in any year prior to 1752 written as the ninth day of the tenth month 1736, the month should be reckoned as starting in March, so in this example the month is not (today’s) October, but the December of that time when the document was written. At this point it may be pertinent to remind ourselves that the name “December” (meaning the tenth month) is a hangover from the time when it was just that under the more attenuated Julian Calendar.

Now suppose that a family member or genealogical researcher wants to find the date of baptism, marriages or burial of a Dorset ancestor in a parish register (though this would apply to anywhere else in the country). From what as gone before there is clearly no need for any conversion calculation if the date in question is after 1752 as both past and present are Gregorian and are therefore “in sync”. However, any date before Lord Chesterfield’s parliamentary act of that year which adopted the Gregorian Calendar will not be “in sync” with the present. If a parish register entry for the right person sought indicates that he or she was born on, for example, February the 5th 1649, then to conform to the Gregorian Calendar one year must be added, making the revised date February the 5th 1650.

On the continent and some other countries the further back in time one could go before conversion from the old to the new calendars becomes necessary would be that much greater, since beyond these shores use of the Julian Calendar was abandoned during the latter 16th century. Since family documents dating from before this period are likely to be rare or non-existent the Julian-Gregorian anomaly is a problem mostly confined to British genealogical research.

Since 1752 a number of improvements in the methods and efficiency of record keeping and conservation have inevitably been made. In 1801 the ten-yearly population census was begun in England and Wales, though until 1841 names were not collected, and that year’s census results were unreliable or, because they were only recorded in pencil, often illegible. For the 1851 census another seven pieces of information were required, and further improvements followed in 1891. In 1837 civil registration began in England and Wales, although it did not become a legal requirement until 1874. Since 1538 the Church of England had compiled parish registers, though few of the earliest of these records have survived. However, these records are very uncomprehensive, as they only record church responsibilities, i.e. the baptisms (not births), marriages, and burials (not deaths) of parish natives. Before 1538 there was no official system for recording the events in people’s lives.

It can be seen then that conversion from a written date to the Gregorian date will be necessary for parish records before 1752, but would not concern any national census dates.

For over fifty years people have been seeing things in the skies over Britain, many of them in southern England. Popularly known as UFO’s these sightings seem to be outside the realm of our familiar terrestrial aircraft of whatever kind.

Dorset’s Moigns Down is one such area, an ideal spot for a fine Sunday afternoon’s stroll in the country. Certainly Mr J.B. Brooks, a local of this area between Dorchester and Wareham considered it so. He regularly walked his two dogs over the Down on fine days, probably with no thought in his head regarding ancient legends concerning the area, or of its history.

And nothing seemed out of the ordinary when, on the morning of the 26th of October 1987, Brooks left home as usual to exercise his dogs on the chalk hill. By about 11.25 however, high winds which were prevailing that morning had accelerated into a force 8 gale, forcing the walker to shelter up in a timely and conveniently placed ditch or hollow in the ground. Here Mr Brooks rested up, gazing skyward and waiting for the wind to abate so he could resume his walk.

Suddenly into his view intruded an airborne object the like of which Brooks had never before seen or could have imagined. The thing took the form of a small disc or hub, from which a fuselage-like girder or antenna extended forwards, while another three identical projections aligned parallel to each other extended backwards on the other side. But the observer barely had time to comprehend what he was seeing before the next thing happened. In an instant the four girder-arms extending from the disc were seen to separate from one another, forming an equi-dimensional cross, which then began rotating around the central axis.

In his later report of the incident Brooks estimates that the revolving, but stationery object remained in view for about 22 minutes before the extended arms closed up again and the strange, unearthly device left the area of the hill at phenomenal speed.

At this point it is temping to think that the walker out exercising his dogs genuinely bore witness to some sophisticated surveying or reconnaissance devise possibly under the control of an advanced alien intelligence. Certainly from the description of its appearance and modus operandi, the UFO (if that’s what it was) displayed a technological level at least a few decades ahead of our own, for the hub around which the arms rotated appears to have been no more than a few feet across. Yet it was large enough to incorporate a drive mechanism capable of hovering, revolving and accelerating away at very high speed.

While UFOlogists may well favour the alien/space theory, other sceptical experts had an altogether more anthropocentric explanation for the sighting. For instance, it emerged that Mr Brooks had recently undergone a cornea transplant. Debunkers of the space/alien hypothesis ruefully considered the possibility that what Brooks actually saw was a ‘floater’ just a detached piece of skin on his eyeball! It is not known whether the proponents of this medical solution to the mystery were ever asked to explain how a floater was apparently able to unfurl itself and stay revolving for over twenty minutes.

This rather fanciful line of reasoning however is far removed from other technocratic considerations, which could shed some light on the enigma. Moigns Down occupies an area not far to the west of one of the most intensively used military ranges in the country, as well as lying not far west of the Atomic Research Establishment on Winfrith Heath. And it may be significant that in its extended form the Moigns UFO would have been comparable to a helicopter’s main rotor without the helicopter. Could Brooks then, have seen just the rotor of an army helicopter otherwise obscured by a cloudbank, its sound equally drowned out by the gale?

The Moigns incident, however, is not the only recorded sighting in Dorset of an object that does not fit the conventional UFO stereotypes of fiery or glowing – or pulsating – discs, cones spheres or triangles. Thirty-two years later on August 12th 1999 Brian Jones was looking seaward while attending an open-air event near Weymouth when he saw what he likened to a very odd microlite. The object was described as being oblong but with rounded ends and of a dense, dark colour. From the underside Mr James could see that something was suspended. As he was fortuitously carrying a camcorder at the time, he was able to video the object moving slowly on a course north-west towards Bridport, following the line of Chesil Bank while framed against the setting sun. The object did not descend, maintaining a height of approximately a kilometre before disappearing from view after about five minutes.

However, the resolution of the image on Brian James’ video was less than sharp, owing to the lack of available light, although the lens was at maximum zoom. The video footage therefore, was too indistinct for any positive identification to be made, even when shown on local TV news. It was thought the object may have been a parachutist, yet there was no aircraft in the area at the time from which a parachutist could have jumped. Also the fuselage and motor of a normal microlite could not be identified. Neither was any sound heard to come from the object, though the PA system of the nearby function James was attending could have drowned this out. The canopy was the wrong shape for a normal paraglider and furthermore there was no high ground in the vicinity to launch one from other than the risky outcrops of Portland.

The only possible man-made explanation tendered is that Brian James probably saw a powered paraglider, but one with the pilot wearing the motor and propeller as a backpack. But aside from these two unusual cases, there are significantly more which fall more easily into the conventional UFO mould. Six interesting sightings to occur in Dorset can be noted here.

One witness, Jim Horbury, was in Bournemouth on the 2nd of March 2001, when at 2 p.m. he sighted a large slow-moving triangular craft bearing bright lights but making no sound as it crossed the sky at approximately 100 feet. The object was afterwards described as “very frightening.” Then on the 2nd of May 2003, “two orange orbs” were seen to descend rapidly in a double helix formation “as if intelligently interacting with each other” over Bournemouth University. Two sauce-shaped gold-coloured craft were seen to swiftly and silently cross the sky over Parkestone, Poole at 10.15 p.m. on August 9th, 2001.

A flying triangle approximately 100 feet long with blue lights down its left side, red lights down is right. And a pulsating circular light changing colour in the centre was logged at Lyme Regis (10.55 p.m.) Portland (11 p.m.) and at Hengistbury Head (11.05 p.m.) on February 28th, 2002, after having first been sighted in Cornwall. At Winterborne Stickland a 9-year-old boy playing football around 8.20 p.m. one day in August 1991 saw “a large silver disc with a raised centre and red and yellow lights around it” tilt 45 degrees and then head earthwards. A man driving his girlfriend home through Broadmayne at midnight on July 28th, 2002 saw a phosphorescent cone-shaped green light silently and rapidly shoot across the sky.