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General

Where Dinosaurs Walked

Had you been able, 140 million years ago, to stand where Studland, Worth Matravers or anywhere else in Purpeck now are, your surroundings would have been as terrifying as they were breathtakingly primeval. You would have been thrown back to the age of the Dinosaurs, but at a point approximately half-way along in their reign on earth, with almost as long again before the catastrophe in which they perished.

By the end of the much-publicised Jurassic period, south east Dorset was covered by a swampy lake in which the sediments now forming the Purbeck beds were deposited. Here the water margin was frequented by the great reptiles of the day, who left their multi-ton imprints in the soft mud, a substratum which periodically dried out, setting footfalls in what today is the solid rock of the Purbeck cliffs and promontories.

Because of this unfortunate accident of nature in remote antiquity, Purbeck today is not just the centre of a long tradition of aggregate extraction. The course of nature has made it simply one of the world’s premier dinosaur sites. It is a treasure house of prehistory, but one more noted for the traces of these monsters than for their bones. The Purbeck hills have yielded more sets of saurian footprints than any other area of Britain. And the bones which have been found – usually washed up by the sea – hint powerfully at the presence of a dinosaur graveyard somewhere beneath Swanage Bay.

Through excavation and quarrying activity however, it has become apparent that one formation above all others has preserved the great majority of the saurian traces discovered in the Purbeck Series. This is a scorious, pink sandy limestone packed with casts of numerous spire-shelled snails, called the Roach (or Pink) Bed. This bed lies only a few feet below the surface and is fissured horizontally and vertically. In 1962 Geologist J.B. Delair had noted the high frequency of reptilian prints in this bed, but such traces from any other Purbeck beds would not be proved until 1965.

Delair noted that the prints occurred along the bedding. Other clues suggested the saurians were in shallow water just deep enough to keep their tails buoyed up as they waded in deeper, for there are sets of tracks starting well-defined, but which become less distinct with immersion.

In all instances the prints show action: the reptiles were not simply standing or grazing passively. Some appeared to be running or changing direction. Six-inch prints exposed in a quarry near Acton have been attributed to a creature named Purbeckopus pentactylus . Two prints facing away from each other at 90 degrees were discovered in 1936 and another set forming an almost complete circle on the rock bed has also been found.

Delair noted, in a quarry between Worth Matravers and Acton, prints orientated in all directions around a saucer-like depression on a bedding plane. Although several dozen saurian prints in all have been found in Purbeck, barely a handful has been saved for posterity, and most of these have been erased or partly obscured by weather conditions. In 1961 at Herston a fine set of double tracks saw the light of day when E.W. Shuttle re-opened Mutton Hole Quarry. There were 26 prints, and a further trail was discovered here in 1962 which attracted much more attention from the scientific community. The prints were interpreted as those of a Megalosaurus, but no attempt was made to preserve them. The Natural History Unit of the British Museum excavated a further 70 prints from an undamaged section at Mutton Hole.

A quarry at Queensground, Lytchett Matravers, revealed prints of Tri-dactyls, one of which came not from the Roach Bed but a freestone bed four feet lower. This made it the first saurian footprint ever to be found in a bed other than Roach.

Upon the great extinction and geographical change which ushered in the Tertiary era, the dinosaur remains were engulfed in torrents of water bearing sediments which buried their carcasses and traces. But Purbeck’s fossil record bears witness to the next great evolutionary leap – the emergence of the mammals.  One of the earliest deposits of mammalian remains is in the cliffs at Durlston Bay. The remains are disarticulated bones and teeth of some of the earliest marsupials, heralding the scion of evolution that, 50 million years later, would result in the appearance of ourselves.

Princess Victoria’s Tour of Dorset

July 1833. Fourteen years before the first railway tracks are to be laid in Dorset, travel is by horsepower or by sea and at Weymouth the population is in festive mood, excited at the prospect of greeting a 14-year-old Princess who will one day be Queen. It was the start of a royal tour to acquaint the people of Dorset and Devon with the woman who one day would rule over the greatest empire the world had ever seen.

Guns were fired as her yacht appeared off St. Alban’s Point and as the ship dropped anchor off the Esplanade buildings and the royal party came ashore in the royal barge, Royal Salutes were fired

Princess Victoria’s home was Kensington Palace, but Norris Castle on the Isle of Wight was her summer base. Accompanied by her mother, the Duchess of Kent, the yacht “Emerald” was towed by a naval steam packet from Portsmouth. With the Princess was her adored King Charles spaniel “Dashy”. The Duchess was “dreadfully” sea-sick on the journey along the south coast, according to Victoria’s diary, which she kept assiduously throughout and which is today preserved at Windsor Castle.

The townspeople of Weymouth turned out and greeted their royal highnesses as illustrious visitors.  It seemed the whole population was proceeding from the King George III statue to the Quay. God Save the King was played as the royal party mounted the King’s Stairs used by King George III on his frequent holidays in the resort; they were then driven in carriages to the Royal Hotel facing the beach.

The following day after an official reception the princess and duchess travelled in a carriage to Melbury House in north Dorset to be entertained there by the Earl of Ilchester.  They were accompanied out of town by many of the inhabitants and a detachment of Lt.Col. Frampton’s Troop of Dorsetshire Yeomanry. Every prominent building in Dorchester was decorated with flowers, and there were flags waving and the sound of bells and cannons as horses were changed en route to Maiden Newton and Melbury, where according to Victoria’s diary they arrived at about 5 p.m.

A visit to Sherborne Castle had been suggested but did not take place. While at Melbury their royal highnesses ascended a tower and had the shapes of their feet cut on the leads. They enjoyed the park, the lake, the great house, and the church.

After a two-night stay the party was on the road again at 9.15 a.m. on August 1 to be “enthusiastically received” at Beaminster, where there were arches of flowers across the road. The carriage passed through the recently opened Russell Tunnel. The Dorset County Chronicle told of “spontaneous outbursts of enthusiasm” being received everywhere the royal party went.  This was at a time when there was pressure for a republic; it was the period of the Reform Act and agricultural disputes, which in a few months would become illuminated as several agricultural labourers from a small Dorset parish would emerge to become those Dorset heroes forever remembered as the Tolpuddle Martyrs.

At Bridport the ‘royals’ were given a hearty reception by the inhabitants but, according to Hine’s History of Beaminster, were angry that they were “not received by the Mayor and Corporation”.  Then onto Charmouth and Lyme Regis, where there were triumphal arches – and where the “Emerald” was waiting. Every boat in port was filled with paying spectators. Here, in 1685, the Duke of Monmouth landed to lead a revolt against King James II. Mayor John Hussey, in his public address, noted that the princess’s visit was taking place on the anniversary of the Protestant Succession to the throne.

Here, as she boarded the yacht, Princes Victoria was reunited with Dashy her dog. Sailing to Torquay, she remarked on the beautiful coastline and cliffs but both she and her mother were sick on approaching Torquay. From there, after an overnight hotel stay it was off by sea to Plymouth for several days in Devon.

On August 7 an informal return trip was made by coach, changing horses at six places including Bridport and Dorchester, with a military escort from Winfrith to Wareham and Swanage. Passing Corfe Castle, the princess noted in her diary some of the climactic events in history that had taken place there. The reception at Swanage was unforgettable for the young princess, and she must have been sorry to leave Dorset as she embarked with her mother on the “Emerald” for “dear Norris.”

It had been close on six weeks of strenuous activity since they left London. The ‘Royal Progress’ was one of a number leading up to the crowning of Queen Victoria. When that happened, exactly five years after her tour of Dorset, the county must have been proud to have been part of the grand design.. In Sturminster Newton, Gillingham, Cerne Abbas, Sydling, and Evershot, there were demonstrations of loyalty on the occasion of the “beloved Queen’s” coronation, but most of all perhaps in those communities the Queen had visited as a girl. Celebratory dinners were held in Ilchester and Lyme Regis, and at Dorchester there was a ball and much merriment at the King’s Arms and a gathering at the Antelope Hotel and a band wound its way around the streets.

Residents of an almshouse in South Street were regaled with roast beef, plum pudding and beer. At Weymouth, meanwhile, all the shipping in the Bay and Portland Roads was gaily attired and there was a procession along the Esplanade. Along the coast at Poole no less than 2,000 Sunday school children gathered for a “substantial dinner”, while vessels at Bridport Harbour were dressed overall.

Victoria, who first learned of her destiny at the age of 10, moved into Buckingham Palace. Her marriage to Albert was to come. She served as queen until 1901, becoming Empress of India in 1876, creating a new ceremonial style of monarchy, with social rather than political emphasis, and thus preserving it, and giving her name to a whole new age of modernism and expansion.

Notes: Extract from Dorchester’s Municipal Records relating to this story:

1833: Aug 2nd. Locket, for ringing on occasion of the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria passing thro’ Dorchester (Per order of the Mayor) £1.0s.0d.

Paid Oliver, Churchwarden of The Holy Trinity (Per order of the Mayor) expenses incurred on the above occasion £1.17s.0d.

Christmas 1890 – Railway Disaster

Standing at the controls of his Somerset & Dorset train’s engine, driver Frank Cribb was tired. A Bournemouth man with sixteen years work experience on the railway, Cribb had been on duty since 5.10 a.m. that morning of Tuesday, 23rd December 1890, driving the engine of a regular Bournemouth to Bath service. Now he was approaching Broadstone station at 5.20 p.m., nearing the end of yet another return run from Bath and a gruelling shift of over twelve hours. The train’s engine, which was fitted with Westinghouse vacuum brakes, accordingly maintained a steady speed, and although noted for pulling into stations fast, had always stopped in time – at least, it always had up to then.

In the front carriage behind the engine’s tender, sisters Sarah and Elizabeth Worthington were sitting in a spirit of buoyant anticipation, looking forward to the days ahead. The two women were on their way to spend the festive season at the home of Edith Lowe, with whom they had become friends when Miss Lowe was teaching at a school in Birmingham; now she was living in Poole and in post as Principal of the town’s British Girl’s School.

The Worthingtons were nearing their destination after a journey in which they had travelled down from Birmingham to join the SWR line at Mangotsfield near Bristol; from here another engine took the Bournemouth carriages to Bath, where the sisters caught the S&D connecting service for Bournemouth. They were pleasantly tired, but in their excitement Sarah and Elizabeth were blissfully unaware that within minutes they would be keeping an appointment with destiny.

Frank Cribb was approaching Broadstone station on the single track from Baillie Gate (or Western Curve,) a safety improvement for the line opened just five years earlier in 1885 to eliminate a hazardous reversing manoeuvre for Bath trains joining the L&SWR line to Bournemouth at Wimborne. Standing beside Cribb fireman Edward White suddenly cried out “Whoa mate – there’s something in front!” Dead ahead on the down line stood another engine with tender in the way of their train, but it was too late to avoid a collision.

The Worthington sisters and the other passengers in the forward carriage were then jolted out of their seats by the tremendous recoil force of over 140 tons of train ramming the stationary Wimborne engine. The rear wheels of its tender were knocked off as the tender was compressed concertina-fashion, sending the engine hurtling back down the gradient towards Poole, ripping up the track as it went. The engine with Cribb and White inside came to a halt 55 yards on at Broadstone station with the tender’s four foot diameter wheels wedged beneath it and skewed across the track from platform to platform. The collision’s magnitude was such that the tender’s buffer was later found 40 yards away in a garden! The engine’s boiler was displaced 11 inches backwards; the sound of the crash could be heard two miles away.

Thrown back by the shock of the impact the Worthington sisters and their fellow passengers had sustained horrific injuries. Sarah sustained facial contusions and abrasions, a broken leg and was in shock – but at least she would live; her 33-year-old younger sister Elizabeth however, was not so fortunate. She too suffered head injuries, but also with whiplash injury that had broken her neck, killing her instantly.

Outside the shattered front carriage it was dark, cold and snow lay on the ground. The conditions made rescue difficult and it took some time for emergency service teams to tear frantically through the wreckage. Victims had to be carried to safety on broken doors pressed into use as stretchers. Two other ladies in the first compartment were taken to the nearby Railway Hotel suffering fractures, cuts, concussions, bruising and severe shock. The hotel’s owners did all they could to help the doctors staying the night to tend the wounded. A breakdown train from Dorchester and a steam crane from Northam were sent to the accident site. An emergency team of 200 men had to work through the night to relay 200 yards of damaged track and restore normal service by 8 a.m. the following morning for the seventy-five trains that used the line daily.

Finding the cause of the collision and derailment at Broadstone then fell to the ensuing inquest, which opened at the Railway Hotel on Boxing Day. William Squires, the driver of the light engine, had been stopped at a signal before Broadstone station, but after a two or three minute wait had moved on when he saw the red signal change to green. As he passed the signal box, signalman Walter Gosney yelled out to him to stop. Squire’s fireman applied the brakes as soon as he realised that Cribbs’ Bath train was approaching from behind; Squires closed the regulator, but was then thrown back when the passenger train struck his tender. The fireman then jumped from the cab, leaving the driver to be pushed in his engine 300 more yards along the track before stopping.

Squires, the inquest heard, had been a railwayman for 15 years, yet had only 18months driving experience. On the day of the crash he had clocked-on at 6.25 a.m. for a tiring day of shunting, and hauling the Wimborne to Bournemouth afternoon passenger service. He would not return to Bournemouth West to clock-off until 7.20 p.m., by which time he would have worked a 13-hour day. But not all the culpability for the tragedy rested upon Squires’ shoulders. The competence of Walter Gosney was also brought into question when it emerged that at the time of the accident a railway carpenter was visiting him in the signal box, prompting the implication that the signalman may have been distracted, though it was certain that he had not been drinking.

The Wimborne engine was later than usual in arriving and when it stopped Gosney set the signals for the Bath train to come through. When Squires’ engine began moving forward however, Gosney then called out after him to stop and then had to re-set all the signals to danger, though this came too late to prevent a collision.

It took the inquest jury just ten minutes to reach a verdict of culpable negligence on the part of Squires and his fireman and a sentence of manslaughter for the death of Elizabeth Worthington. The two men were then sent up to appear before Wimborne magistrates, who then acquitted the fireman on the grounds that he was not responsible for driving the engine. This acquittal was confirmed at Dorchester assizes in February.

The majority of the evidence then rested upon the driver and his response to the signals. But the presiding judge, Mr Justice Coleridge, started the proceedings by questioning and then rejecting the testimony of the police officer who witnessed, at the inquest, the reported identification of the dead passenger as Miss Worthington. The judge had found no formal proof as offered by the treasury and did not know the deceased was Miss Worthington. Accordingly, Coleridge directed the jury to find Squires not guilty, as if proof was wanting. William Squires then left a court in uproar as a free man.

A week later a report on the accident was issued by the Board of Trade. It stated that it was impossible to avoid the conclusion that the down-line signal was passed at danger by the light engine, and that Squires probably only looked at the junction signal and, seeing it wasn’t on, neglected to check the nearby line signal. Gosney had done his duty in stopping the light engine; as it transpired it would have been better had he not done so! The overall conclusion was that the driver, and to a lesser degree the fireman, was responsible for the county’s worst railway accident after being on duty for 11 hours without a break.

The enquiry passed the signal operations as generally satisfactory, though human error apart, it was thought undesirable and unsafe that the Bath and Wimborne lines to Poole then had to share just one home signal. In future they would each have their own signal.

One can only imagine how Edith Lowe must have felt upon hearing of the disaster and its aftermath, after expectantly waiting up at home in Poole for two friends that fate had determined would never arrive. Of course, it was meant to be a joyous time of merriment. Instead, in the days following that dark and awful snow-bound night over a century ago the school headmistress fell ill with post-traumatic stress, her nerves shattered by an event that left so many maimed and two over-worked railwaymen bearing the stigma of professional misconduct for the rest of their lives.

The Dorset Shepherd

Perhaps it could almost be said that Dorset was made for sheep and shepherding. Indeed, a flock of these animals in a pasture appears at the top of the county council’s website homepage and four hundred years ago there would certainly have been more sheep than people in the county. Of course, from the time of the shepherds watching over their flocks on the night of Jesus’ birth to the updated methods of the present day, sheep have always needed a labourer class to manage them; to pen, breed, feed and shear them. In short, the shepherds job.

Of course, sheep and shepherds are not exclusive to Dorset, though “hill farmer” is the term generally applied to the shepherd up north. For the Dorset shepherd the bedrock for his animals and livelihood has always meant the Dorset Heights, the great tract of Chalk downland spreading through the west and north of the county that has given rise to a native breed of sheep. Today though, the sheep population is but a shadow of what it would have been 400 to 500 years ago, when the implosion of the human population caused by the Black Death created such a shortage of labour for arable farming that it was more economic for landlords to enclose their land for pasture and keep sheep instead. So was laid the foundation of the great woollen industry that lasted until the 19th century.

The earliest reference to shepherds in the county may be attributed to Augustine who, tradition has it, once visited Dorset perhaps early in the 7th century and asked some shepherds tending their flocks in a field whether they preferred drinking beer or water. When the abstemious shepherds replied “water” Augustine is supposed to have struck the ground with his staff crying out “Cerne El” whereupon water gushed forth. The historian William of Malmsbury records that after St Aldhelm had died “Dorset shepherds, from neighbouring pastures” used to use a timber church or oratory the Bishop had built, as a shelter from rainstorms.

Hardy, in his extensive essay ‘The Dorset Labourer’ described the shepherd as “a lonely man of which the battle of life had always been sharp with him.” He is also described as being small frame, bowed over by hard work and who would stand at a hiring fair. His wages would not have exceeded eleven shillings a week. Hardy’s best-known fictional shepherd is probably Gabriel Oak, the ultimate beneficiary of the plot of ‘Far From the Madding Crowd.’ He is hired at a hiring-fair by the heroine Bathsheba Everdene and spends long hours out in the pasture tending her flock day and night. One night Oak shoots his sheepdog dead for stampeding the flock over a cliff while he is asleep, and in another instance cures the flock of “the blasting” after they stray into a field of clover. It is not certain whether the inspiration for these scenarios came from incidents in real life that the author may have witnessed or heard about.

Typically the 18th and 19th century shepherds would have worn smock-frocks and gaiters, though those young or of middle age sometimes wore smocks of a blue material. Only occasionally would they have worn cord trousers. Then there is the standard tool for the job: the crook. These are still made today, lightweight and durable accessories usually with hooks of buffalo horn fitted to shanks made from hazel or blackthorn.

Shepherds have also traditionally lived in purpose-built huts – almost windowless wooden caravan-like cabins on wheels measuring about 8 by 10 feet that could be towed onto the pasture where they would be working in the lambing season. They would have, as Hardy put it “sheltered the shepherd in his enforced nightly attendance.” Shepherd hut-making is a specialist craft that happily has been kept alive mainly through the excellent work of Richard Lee and Jane Dennison, two former students of John Makepeace at Hooke Collage, the school of woodcrafts at Parnham Manor near Beaminster.

At their Plankbridge workshop Richard and Jane use high quality materials locally sourced. Douglas fir is used for the frame and chassis, and the huts are fully insulated with versatile additional space; they can be used for the garden, orchard or filed. Features such as desks, cupboards, beds, heating and wiring may further be added. Te huts are finished off with an exterior coat of green paint and a set of steps for the door at the end are also provided.

One example of a modern Dorset shepherd of the 20th century is Larry Skeats. During a lifetime of shepherding extending across 45 years he folded the flocks in his care over the chalk downland using only dogs and wattle hurdles. At work his home became a shepherd’s hut. His autobiography ‘A Shepherds Delight: Memories of a Downland Shepherd,’ is a celebration of a bygone way of life by one of the last of the traditional shepherds.

Similarly, Ted Riglar began work aged twelve in 1901 as a shepherd at East Farm, Bincombe. Just two years later he sheared his first sheep, then went on to win a first prize of £4 at a shearing competition during a Bath & West Show in Dorchester in 1908. He then went on to acquire his Instructor’s Certificate in 1918. Born in 1891 Ernest Lovell was another ‘shep’ who started at age thirteen and by the mid 20th century was tending a four-hundred strong Dorset Horn flock at South Farm, Spetisbury. Lovell also bred sheep specialising in breeding rams and for this work won ten prizes at agricultural shows.

On occasion shepherds formerly may have delegated the responsibility of tending a flock to a hireling. Many shepherds would have smoked clay pipes and piped out folk tunes on a long-blown flute to keep themselves occupied throughout their long uneventful hours in the pasture. Early in the 20th century sheep used to be sheared at Upwey, where shearers at work were photographed in 1909. The prevalence of pastureland in Dorset is attested to in place-names such as Shepherd’s Bottom on the Ashmore Estate, and the shepherd is immortalised in a statue now standing in Dorchester.

Dorset’s Roman Mosaics

Mosaics can be traced as far back as the third millennium BC and were widely applied in Greek and Roman homes of the classical period. They are a pictorial form of enduring decorative ceramic for floors or walls, and demanded considerable skill in their assembling. Until the classical period only coarse pebbles were used, but in the 3rd century BC square, trapezoidal, or triangular glazed tiles or tesserae, varying from a few millimetres to 1 square centimetre in size were introduced.

When Britain became a province of its empire Roman techniques and designs were inevitably imported into the country through growing trade and commercial links with the continent. Mosaic floors were then laid in villas of the civil zone including in Dorset, and several examples of the art have come to light during the excavations of the residences of which they were once a part.

The mosaics found in the Dorset villas were not necessarily contemporary with the original building. A floor could have been laid after many generations of occupation, perhaps at a time of greater status attainment or affluence. Since the floors are usually the only part of the buildings to survive, the mosaics are often all that is known about a villa. But in any event the villas in Dorset seem to date mainly from later in the Roman occupation period, i.e. from the late 3rd century onwards. From the 1st century onwards there appeared a recognised Durnovarian school of mosaicists.

The Durnovarian school was based in Dorchester and at Illchester, now in Somerset but then well within the canton of the Durotriges (the native people of Wessex.) their style is characterised by fine-figured work of common themes and unusual reliefs which point towards a quite restricted cliché or school of expert artisans. The motifs employed are not so much geometric as concentric and were routinely framed by elaborate inter-twinning or guilloche.

While most of the floor would have been laid under the direction of a single mosaicist, there is at least one example of a villa floor in Dorset, which shows traces of completion by another worker of inferior skill to that of his master. There is also evidence to show that parts of some floors were repaired sometime after they were laid. Although more than half a dozen villas are known in Dorset, four in particular have yielded remains of mosaic pavements of sufficient extent to be worthy of conservation and description. These came from Frampton, Hinton St. Mary, Dewlish and Hemsworth.

The villa at Frampton was one of the earliest to be discovered and excavated, in 1796. It was found to have considerably large areas of well-preserved mosaic flooring laid around 350 AD, which were subsequently cleaned and drawn. Here dolphins are a prominent element in the designs, a motif also popular in Christian art. Hinton St. Mary is perhaps the most famous of the villa sites following its fortuitous discovery by the village blacksmith in 1963. As at Frampton virtually all that is known about the villa in through the mosaic, later bought by the British Museum.

But what is most interesting about the floors at both here and Frampton is that they include the earliest yet known icons of Christianity to be found in Britain as well as – and in tandem with – traditional pagan motifs. At both villas the mosaics featured the popular scene of the god Bellerophon slaying the monster Chimaera, as well as other hunting scenes and the popular inclusion of the wine god Bacchus. Yet at Frampton there is also the singular appearance of the Chi-Ro monogram – so called after the first two letters of Christ’s name in Greek (a reverse “P” superimposed on an “X”.)

This monogram appears again in the Hinton flooring, but here it was taken a stage further by the inclusion beneath the symbol of a portrait, which is difficult to interpret as anything other than a likeness of Christ himself. This element of the design appeared to be accorded special status, for it was positioned within an apse or semi-circular embayment seemingly provided for the purpose.

The villa at Dewlish was discovered in the grounds of Dewlish house and found to have almost complete mosaic floors in several rooms. In the entrance passage was a Greek key pattern, while a floral motif bordered by a guilloche with vines adorned the dining room. A room (numbered 11) showed a leopard killing a gazelle. Users of the bath suite changing room would have stood on a design with Cupid, a ram, leopard, dolphin, and a sea creature procession or Theasos. These probably surrounded a centrepiece showing perhaps Neptune, though this detail was missing when excavated, presumed destroyed in antiquity. The leopard and Gazelle fragments were mounted for display in Dewlish House; some of the other pieces went to Dorchester Museum, but the remainder was re-buried.

Excavation of the villa at Hemsworth exposed a fine, complete rhomboidal mosaic laid for the plunge bath in the bath-house. This piece was lifted and presented to Dorchester Museum by the executors of Lord Allington in 1905. In the museum’s conservation section is a roundel of Neptune or Oceanus lifted from the centre of a pavement at Hemsworth in 1908 and presented by the Allington estate executors. This shows the head of a sea-god with crab legs and claws growing from the forehead.

Apart from villa floor sections the County Museum also displays a number of other mosaic fragments discovered during excavations of townhouses around Dorchester, or during the laying of foundations for new buildings. For example a townhouse found in the grounds of the former county hospital yielded a rich 13’x21’ geometric mosaic of rope and diamond patterns in black, white, red, grey, blue and yellow tesserae. This was re-laid in the entrance to a residential home on the site.

In the Victorian Gallery can be seen a fragment from Durngate Street lifted and re-laid in 1905. This shows typical Durnovarian work with crested serpents and leaves similar to a design in the Hinton mosaic in the British Museum. This Durngate piece however is one of the few to show a fruit and leaf motif signature. Also in the gallery is a mosaic unearthed at a site in Olga Rd in 1899. Alfred Pope presented the fragment, which shows a vessel with ornate handles similar to a motif on a Cirencester mosaic, to the museum.

Fordington High Street has yielded a polychromatic mosaic also similar to one at Cirencester, and possibly dating from the 2nd century AD. Found in 1927 it was set up in the temporary exhibition gallery and shows a repair carried out in antiquity to the 3-strand guilloche surrounding one of the circles containing a stylised flower. Six red tesserae of a figure once occupying the central octagon are also present.

A fragment of orange-brown guilloche with flowers can be seen in the Roman Section of the museum. The then Devon and Cornwall Bank (now Natwest) discovered the piece when laying foundations for the new bank. By the main staircase is a fragment of mosaic from near South Street found in 1894 – the first piece to be acquired for the museum by Alfred Pope. Halfway up the staircase a geometric mosaic from the prison burial ground is displayed. It was found in 1858 when a grave for an executed man was being dug and was re-laid in the Prison chapel until that was re-built in 1885, whence it was moved to the museum.

The museum’s entrance lobby is laid with a mosaic made up in 1908 with tesserae from a mosaic surround found behind 45, South Street in 1905. The floor of the Dorchester Townhouse conserved in Colliton Park remained under cover after its excavation between 1937 and 1939 until 1997, when the mosaics were re-exposed and conserved.

Storm – 1824

“Dreadful Effects of the Late Tempest”….The “Western Flying Post, Sherborne and Yeovil Mercury and General Advertiser for Dorset, Somerset, Devon and Cornwall” made much of its reports of the great storm of November 1824 and the associated tidal wave which swept far inland.

“We have rarely had a more melancholy duty to perform than the recital of the tremendous effects of the gale of Monday night last” began the account in the weekly newspaper of November 29th. “A tempest teeming with more frightful terrors is scarcely within the memory of man.” The storm beginning at 4 a.m. on November 22 appears to have come from the SSW direction and to have been accompanied at times by rain, lightning and thunder.

The pier at the entrance of Weymouth harbour was demolished by the sea, and the quays inundated. The esplanade was destroyed, and a stone bench carried over 200 yards. Lower apartments were filled with water and boats seen floating in all directions. Two smacks were lost and seamen were drowned. A 500-tonne vessel went down with all hands, and a Dutch galliot broke from her moorings and went ashore. Other vessels rode out the storm but were dismasted.

At Portland, in the village of Chisel 80 houses were swept away by the sea and 30 people died, while the ferry passage-house was almost demolished and the ferryman drowned. Along the coast to the west, a ship was wrecked in West Bay and 17 men from her were picked up and buried at Portland. To date 25 bodies had been picked up on the Isle of Portland. The fishermen had lost all their boats and nets.

Among the wrecks was that of a West Indiaman laden with rum and cotton, which foundered opposite Fleet, the whole of the crew perishing. The water swept over the barrier of Chesil Beach and inland to the village of Fleet, where it demolished the church only leaving the chancel or east end. Later the church was to be replaced by another nearby. Many houses were destroyed.

Although well inland, Dorchester did not escape. “The devastating effects of the storm were felt in every quarter of the town,” says the newspaper report. Here a heavy chimney stack fell on the home of the Rev. H.J. Richman, rector of Holy Trinity church, crushing him to death.

At Poole a roaring wind broke windows; trees were torn up by the roots and blown down, together with around 50 chimneys. The tide flooded the quays and craft were at the mercy of the wind and waves, and the town was surrounded on all sides. Some captains sank their own vessels to avoid them being damaged. Some £7,000 of damage was estimated to have been sustained before the tide retreated.

The Cobb at Lyme Regis was damaged, and a large number of houses were carried away at Bridport and sheep drowned. Damage there estimated at £20,000. And the effects of the storm were felt in Southampton and Portsmouth and even inland as far as Salisbury.

Dorset County Gaol

A prison sentence today has been cynically likened by some people to being at Butlins when compared with the austere conditions of penal servitude in the 19th century. Assuredly, conditions were a lot harsher then, and nobody living at the time would likely have doubted that one stretch in prison was an effective deterrent against recidivism. But what would conditions have been like in the county goal at Dorchester during the period from about 1800 to 1950? What follows is an account of those conditions based on documentary research.

Dorchester’s present prison stands behind a high and thick redbrick wall just off the town’s North Square. In 1773 the penal reforms of Thomas Howard were about to change the nature of incarceration here as everywhere else. Prior to 1795 the gaol was a much smaller institution in a ruinous condition elsewhere in the town which, in 1784, prompted William Tyler of Vine Street, St. James, to draw up plans for an entirely new penitentiary for an estimated £4,000. Howard had a strong link with Dorchester, and plans were drawn up for a larger, more secure prison on the present North Square site, the building contract being secured by John Fentiman of Newton Butts for £12,000. By a contractual agreement the work was scheduled for completion in March 1792, but the building was well in arrears by December 1793. It was eventually opened for occupation by inmates in 1795.

When viewed in elevation from the front (beyond the perimeter wall) the main building comprises three elements: a central, five-storey block flanked by three-storey wings to each side. In the central block the floors are accessed via a well of alternating metal staircases. In the north block however, the stairwell is positioned at the end, while in the south block it runs up the middle. In total the prison was constructed in six blocks, the entrance block comprising the keeper’s office, brewhouse and bath-house, all within the retaining perimeter wall. This part fronted by a broad, high archway in austere Portland stone ashlars and with thick, double doors painted black, accesses three courtyards, one each for the keeper, the women felons and the women penitentiaries.

The centre block houses the keeper’s quarters, the prisoner’s visiting rooms, the debtor’s custody area and several single working cells. Above them on the first floor are the chapel, the cells for condemned and refractory prisoners, the debtors sleeping rooms and single sleeping cells. At each corner of this main block are four smaller blocks having single cells for working and sleeping. There are seven inner courtyards for separating each category of prisoner.

According to the penal system and administration of prisons at the time convicts were distinguished both by sex and as felons (those awaiting trial for either jailing or transportation.) Besides these there were other categories such as those in prison for debt, bigamy, vagrancy, idleness in domestic service or apprenticeship, for breach of contract or under the terms of a bastardy order. As far as was possible all these categories were kept apart from one another and the building had separate sleeping cells each 8’5 x 6.5 x 9 feet in size. The debtors had working cells, a day room 18 x 13.5 x 12 feet in size and slept four to a room though they were not kept in separate confinement.

It is noted that the prisoner’s daily rations of food consisted of one-and-a-half pounds of bread, though this was a day old, despite being baked in the prison itself using flour from which bran had not been extracted. Those prisoners who worked however, were entitled to an extra ration of food and from the Keeper’s account records it appears that 9d worth of meat was permitted, later increased to 2/6d worth a week. However, it is probable that this increase reflects the sharp rise in the price of bread caused by the French wars early in the 19th century rather than any increase in amount of the ration.

By 1813 the special meal that had cost 6d in 1794 had risen to 2/6d. Broth to the value of 10d was also served. Children were fed on a special diet, but prisoners were treated to a special meal at Christmas and Whitsuntide. Prisoners brought to the sessions were permitted to buy meat, fish, fruit and pastry, but following conviction only bread was allowed. Sick convicts were given food and drink of better quality, including jelly, wine and gin. In addition to a special diet when ill, prisoners were given rush-lights or candles; those “affected by itch” were given special nightshirts.

Because of sickness special measures were taken to ensure the prison was kept clean. The gaol appears to have been organised into eight wards, each of which was overseen by a warder responsible for sweeping out the cells and washing them out once a week. Several women cleaners were also paid to carry out this work. Sometimes gunpowder was used for fumigating and, once a year, parts of the building were lime-washed. Prisoners themselves were washed upon admittance and provided with clothes. Prisoners working outside the gaol were issued with “small frocks” bearing the lettering “DORSET GAOL” on the back. Women prisoners were issued with dresses, aprons, petticoats and bed gowns, while men had shoes, shirts, trousers, shifts, hose and clogs bought for them.

The cells were furnished with iron bedsteads fixed four inches from a wall and equipped with straw-filled bedding. Prisoners could be subjected to enforced discipline by means of solitary confinement in a dark cell, though the governor was under an obligation to visit such prisoners at least once a day. The Chaplain would have read prayers three times a day and distributed religious books as thought necessary. He had to visit and counsel the prisoners in private to assess their mental states and keep a log of his findings. To prevent escapes, all prisoners had their clothes confiscated each night.

Of course, until as late as 1965 when the death penalty was abolished in Britain, prison would often be just a temporary custody facility pending a time of execution to be fixed for those sentenced to death. As in other county gaols Dorchester would have had its own facilities for carrying out executions: in this case, gallows set up outside the main building. Consequently, the current “cell-block” or overcrowding crisis now facing the penal system could never have arisen over a century ago. At Dorchester those sentenced to death were kept in cells near the chapel. Early in the 18th century, long before the present prison was built executions were very public affairs in public places. Until 1766, when the gallows there were removed, hangings were routinely carried out at Maumbury Rings on the outskirts of Dorchester, that of Mary Channing in 1706 being a particularly high-profile case of the time.

But notable executions were carried out behind the present prison wall as well. Especially tragic was the highly public hanging of Elizabeth Martha Brown on August 9th, 1856, attended by a crowd of several thousand including a 16-year-old apprentice architect called Thomas Hardy. Martha had been found guilty of bludgeoning her husband to death with the kitchen wood-axe in anger upon discovering his adultery. James Seale was hanged on August 10th, 1858, for the murder of a girl called Sarah Guppy, but the last execution of all in Dorchester took place in 1887.

Today, under the prison’s present governor, Serena Watts, its operational capacity is about 260, with all males except category A being held there. There is no segregation unit. The regime includes provision of workshops, and the prison is currently running a programme of full education including courses on thinking, life and social skills and substance awareness. Strong emphasis is also placed upon physical education.

In conclusion, one interesting feature of the prison’s location is the fact that it was built where a Roman townhouse had once stood, but this was either disregarded or overlooked when the foundations were laid. It was not until the grave of Martha Brown was being dug within the prison precincts 64 years later that a floor mosaic was uncovered, though this was not lifted and removed to the County Museum until the burial of James Searle two years later re-exposed it.

Note: Fuller accounts of the Channing and Brown cases can be found on the site.

Note:  The last execution to be carried out at Dorchester was on the 24th of July 1941, when David Jennings was hanged; our thanks to John Grainger for bringing this to our attention.

My Brief Wartime Escape to Dorset

It was the autumn of 1943, the blitz over London and its suburbs was intensifying when my parents decided it was time to find somewhere a little safer for us. When I say us, I mean myself a lad of 7 years, and my baby sister who at that time was around 9 months.

We lived in a little end of terrace house in Norbury, South London and every night we were obliged to scramble into our air raid shelter for protection, but the introduction of Germany’s ‘flying bombs’ meant that our safety could no longer be guaranteed. My Mother’s brother and sister had already made the move to Dorset with my cousins, and it was therefore quite natural that she should write to them to see if any accommodation could also be found for us.

It was not long before my mother, myself and younger sister found ourselves in the village of Leigh. How we travelled there, I cannot remember, but we were evidently expected and were taken to stay at the vicarage in the centre of the village. Reverend and Mrs Back made us welcome and gave us a large downstairs room at the rear of the property as our ‘bed-sit’ for as long as we needed it.

The vicarage was reached by a drive from the main village street and the local school was situated to one side of the gateway. Village life was strange for me, and I didn’t make friends or see much of the local children outside of school. The school was very small by comparison with the one I had left behind and consisted of only two classes. As a Londoner, I was treated with suspicion and it took me some while to get used to the mixed ages of my classmates, and the fact that our teacher taught us on every subject.

It was my role, every morning before school to walk down the vicarage drive to the farm which lay on the opposite side of the road on the corner of the road leading to Yetminster. I took a milk can with me and this was filled up with fresh cows milk by one of the two ‘foreign’ men who were working there. I subsequently learned that they were Italian and although resident in this country at the start of the war they had been taken into custody and then assigned to work on the farm at Leigh. I still remember their funny accents as both they and I grappled with payment for this daily milk supply. My mother used to take us out for walks at the weekend, and we walked for miles all around the local lanes and when necessary as far as Yetminster where they had a few more shops.

Staying in the vicarage, we felt obliged, of course, to attend the parish church services. The church was a little way along the village street and then down a side turning. The services were strange to me and I soon became bored. On the other hand, my uncle who was living in the nearby village of Evershot was a Methodist lay preacher and would come over to Leigh every few weeks to take a service in a little chapel. I looked forward to those times as it was good to see someone who I knew and also I would more easily follow the service.

It was after the finish of one of my uncles evening services that there was great excitement. On coming out of the chapel we were greeted by smoke and it was soon obvious that the thatched roof of one of the cottages was on fire. The cottage was opposite the chapel and backed onto the grounds of the vicarage. After returning to the vicarage I was permitted to go and stand in the garden and watch the firemen at work. The old thatch had, for economic reasons, been covered with corrugated iron sheets and the firemen had to get these off before they could hose the burning straw. Sadly they were unable to prevent the fire spreading throughout the cottage and come next morning only the walls were left standing. I remember the stench of burnt wood and straw was around for days and I still clearly remember the lady and her family who occupied the cottage throwing their belongings out of the windows into the garden in a desperate attempt to save as much as possible.

My mother found it very difficult living in the confined space of the bed sitting room and eventually arranged for a sort of holiday for us in Evershot. We walked with my sister’s pram to a little railway station called Chetnole Halt, where we boarded a Great Western Diesel Railcar painted chocolate brown and cream, and travelled to the next stop which was another little halt at Holywell. This no longer exists. We then walked some distance over East Hill into Evershot. We were put up by a lovely lady who lived in Summer Lane opposite the farm on the corner of The Common. Her name was, I believe, Mrs Gilham and she lived there with her son who must have been in his teens at the time.

Although I only stayed at Evershot for two weeks and visited the village on perhaps only two or three other occasions, I remember more about it than Leigh where we stayed for several months. Having my cousins already living there meant that I was soon caught up with village life and they made sure I was not left out of their activities. As our break was during normal school term time they were all at school during the day, but I remember waiting for them at the school gates and then going off with them to explore the countryside around the village.

My uncle was working on the local Melbury estate and lived in a lodge with his family. I remember visiting them and seeing all the good things that my uncle was helping to grow. My Aunt from the other family, together with my cousin David were living in a cottage in Fore Street that was the home of the local bus driver. Whether or not he owned the bus I do not know but he regularly ran a one man service to the towns of Dorchester, Yeovil and Sherborne. I never got a chance to go on this bus, and I was very envious of cousin David who was allowed to go with him, and was given the task of issuing the tickets to the passengers as they boarded the bus.

Mrs Gilham made us very welcome, and the cottage was very cosy. Her son, who name now escapes me, often played a game of ‘lotto’ with me which I thoroughly enjoyed. Lotto, of course, subsequently evolved in ‘Bingo.’ We never played for money but just for our own amusement, and as a seven-year-old with time on his hands any thing like that was very welcome. I also remember the pictures on the wall of the cottage which I found fascinating and was forever asking questions about them.

Sundays in Evershot were different. We all went to a little chapel where I found the services much easier to follow. To be able to sit with my cousins and just enjoy their company seemed to make this strange existence much easier to bear.

I recently returned to both Evershot and Leigh for the first time in 63 years. I was surprised to find that I did not recognise much of Leigh. It did not help to find that the vicarage has now become a nursing home, the old school along side the drive to what is now a nursing home has been turned into housing, and the farm to which I trotted each morning to collect milk is now derelict. Sadly, I did not recognise any other building or road in the village; so much had changed in the intervening years.

Evershot was different. As I drove down Fore Street I immediately recognised the row of cottages where my cousin had lodged with the bus driver, although I must admit to having totally forgotten the raised footpath all alongside one side of the road. It was also strange to see the road full of parked cars. To see private cars in those rural locations during the war years was very rare and I think we used to walk along the roads as there was just never any traffic.

Then reaching the junction with Summer Lane I immediately recognised the turning and especially Mrs Gilham’s cottage. I did not attempt to find out who lives there now or to ascertain whether her son is still around. I just took some photographs to remind me and then drove away leaving those memories behind me.

As my wife and I drove on to our home in Sussex we marvelled at how far my mother and I used to walk in those days and how much we enjoyed the countryside. It is a different story now with so many vehicles travelling along those once quiet byways that it is just not the same.

Busy Skies over Tarrant Rushton

The highways and byways trailing through the Tarrant Valley are quiet and peaceful. They serve to link the Tarrant villages and hamlets of Hinton, Gunville, Launceston, Monkton, Rowston, Rushton, Keyneston and Crawford that stretch along the route of the pretty valley stream: it has been this way for centuries. But 70 years ago the necessities of war disturbed this tranquil scene.

In May 1942 work commenced on the building of an airfield at Tarrant Rushton. So urgently was it needed flying operations begun even before it had been completed and continued until 1945. The 300-acre site became home to hundreds of airmen from Britain and Commonwealth countries and their support staff all contributing to the defence of Britain and the battle for freedom in Europe.

Halifax and Stirling bombers left Tarrant Rushton on sorties stretching far into the skies over occupied Europe. Glider pilots were trained here: for these men there was no ride home; it must have taken a special kind of courage. The Glider Pilot Regiment despatched its huge Hamilcar and Horsa gliders from here full of equipment, some destined for French Resistance fighters and on occasions they would quietly drop secret agents from the Special Operations Executive deep into enemy territory.

Men and women of great courage – heroes and heroines – passed through this place.

The main runway at Tarrant Rushton was over a mile in length and able to service the enormous Hamilcar glider. This aircraft could carry a seven-ton tank and still have room for guns and ammunition needed by our forces in Europe: Halifax bombers towed them.

Constructed on an area of flat and windy agricultural land 300 feet above the Tarrant Valley it was an ideal site for an airfield. The 18th century Crook Farm was lost to the project. The construction statistics are staggering. The endeavour meant laying twenty miles of drains, a six mile water main, ten miles of extra roads and ten miles of conduit and in difficult times half a million tonnes of concrete, over thirty thousand square yards of tarmac and four million bricks were used.

This massive enterprise employed workers from the Irish Free State and involved building three runways, concrete hard standings for fifty aircraft, a four-mile perimeter road, accommodation for 3,000 personnel, hangers and a control tower, and it was all completed in under a year.

Flying operations at Tarrant Rushton Airfield – call sign ‘Cheekbone’ – and known as the “secret airfield” because of all the undercover work it did, were led by Squadron Leader Joe Soper and a team of officers, airmen and WAAF’s working from the control tower.

Aircraft from Tarrant Rushton played an important role on D-Day. The first of the six glider-borne troops set off at 2300 hours on June 5th and a few minutes into June 6th 1944 landed the very first Allied troops in Normandy. Tarrant Rushton’s 298 and 644 squadrons flew 2,284 missions into occupied Europe between April 1944 and May 1945.

After the Victory in Europe the airfield was stood down but before it could become derelict it was taken over in June 1948 by the commercial business ‘Flight Refuelling’ who stayed for 30-years.

The airfield was quickly back in the thick of things when ‘Flight Refuelling’ became involved in the Berlin Airlift between July 1948 and August 1949 when they flew over 4,000 sorties using Lancastrians and Lancasters. The airfield went on to welcome more modern aircraft including Meteors and F-84’s visiting to be adapted for in-flight refuelling.

The airfield was officially closed on the 30th of September 1980 and the Tarrant villages returned to the quiet unhurried lifestyle they have enjoyed over the centuries.

Monuments of Prehistoric Dorset

In purely archaeological terms the Prehistoric constitutes the period un-represented by any written record, from when the country was first occupied by man right up to the Roman invasion. Dorset is especially well endowed in this regard. It is as if its topography, climate and geographical position were most highly coveted by the earliest settlers of southern England, and the concentration of their activities and monuments here attains a density unparalleled anywhere in the country. This understandably makes the workload of the county’s archaeology department particularly challenging, for most fieldwork today is salvage or “rescue” archaeology in the vanguard of development.

As elsewhere the prehistoric in Dorset had been organised into five distinct periods on the basis of the type of monument, pottery and other artefacts. Chronologically there were the Palaeolithic, Mesolithic, Neolithic, Bronze Age and Iron Age, collectively spanning the period from before 500 thousand years ago to 43 AD. Of these the first two periods alone covered approximately 496 thousand years, or 99% of the time Britain has been inhabited. These were illiterate periods of hard and short hunter-gatherer living almost entirely represented today by flint tools, bones, or cave art. One site in Dorset above all others, which has yielded evidence of flint working, has been Hengistbury Head.

About 4000 BC a possible dissemination of ideas and practices through contact with the continent brought agriculture to the inhabitants of Britain. This brought with it a more settled way of life, which in turn led to the first appearance of earthworks to define the areas of places established for religion, trade, tribal meeting or even settlement. Several distinct kinds of earthwork make their appearance in Dorset, namely Causewayed Enclosures, Long Barrows and Henges.

Causewayed enclosures are circular or irregularly oval areas defined by up to three ring-ditches accompanied by low banks or ramparts built up using spoil from the ditches. The banks are discontinuous in one or more places to allow access into the enclosure. The ditches have yielded most of the period’s flint tools, bones and sherds of the earliest pottery to be made in England, clearly indicating that the people were habitually using ditches as middens for the refuse from their settlements, whether these were situated within the enclosures or outside them. Elsewhere excavation of some ditches has yielded only human remains, suggesting that at these enclosures only funeral rites were practised.

Causewayed enclosures are mainly distributed on the hilltops of the chalk downland, though some may have been constructed in the wider valleys. Two notable examples are at Dorchester: Flagstones was a causewayed enclosure partly destroyed by the construction of the town’s bypass; the remainder actually lies beneath Maxgate, the home of Thomas Hardy. This site revealed the marks of the antler picks used to dig it, and some burials took place in and around the enclosure. The hillforts of Maiden Castle near Dorchester and Hambledon Hill began their prehistoric record as causewayed enclosures before these were abandoned or superseded by later earthworks.

Long Barrows were or are the earthen prehistoric equivalent to mausolea for communal burial. They can be over 90 metres (300 feet) long, and usually taper towards the end, both in plan and elevation. The majority had a wooden mortuary enclosure and ditches usually flanked the sides. They are generally a feature of the chalk uplands, with two major groupings around and to the west of Dorchester. There are also groups on Pimperne and Thickthorn Downs near Cranbourne, close to the south west end of the special contemporary earthwork known as the Dorset Cursus. The Hell Stone near Portesham is the stone cairn of a long barrow now worn away.

A special class of barrow (and one found nowhere else outside Dorset) is the Bank Barrow, a much elongated variant of the long barrow, but which did not usually enclose a burial. There are three of these earthworks: at Maiden Castle and Came Down near Dorchester and at Martins Down near Long Bredy.

The Dorset Cursus itself was a linear enclosure almost 7 miles long, defined by two sets of parallel banks and ditches. It runs from Thickthorn Down to Pentridge, though only at the later does any part of the earthwork survive today. Its function is a matter of some controversy, though the monument probably reflects an aspect of tribal ritual. Associated long barrows cut the cursus at two points, showing that the burials were later, from a time when the cursus had passed out of use.

The transition from the Neolithic to the Bronze Age was not a sudden event, but a slow process of social and demographic change, which went on roughly between 2,500 and 1,500 BC. Over this period the causewayed camps were abandoned and the long barrows were sealed. During this phase also, the exclusively British innovation of the Henge makes its appearance.

Henges differed from the causewayed enclosures in usually having only one bank with entrances and the ditch usually, though not invariably, on the inside. The interiors were often left without other structures, though some had pits, posts, or standing stones. Mount Pleasant and Maumbury Rings near Dorchester and Eggardon Hill near Winterbourne Abbas being the best examples. Mount Pleasant was 400 metres (450 yards) across and was a major tribal centre with rings of timber uprights inside, though today it is only visible as an earth mark in the chalk soil. Henges usually occur singularly, but at Knowlton near Gussage St. Michael there is a cluster of three or four in close association.

Close to the henges in time were un-enclosed Stone Circles, which may reflect on a smaller scale the function of the more complex monument. There are two examples of these in Dorset, at Kingston Russell near Abbotsbury and Nine Stones near Winterbourne Abbas.

By far the most prolific (and most important) source of the information and artefacts of the Bronze Age Beaker and Wessex Cultures are the Round Barrows. There were six variants on the basic plan, Bell and Bowl Barrows being the most common. Wessex was the heartland of barrow building and there are still some 400 surviving examples to be seen along the South Dorset Ridgeway. They were graves of a rich chiefdom society and have yielded rich hoards of pottery, brooches, and gold and bronze objects, as at Clandon near Martinstown. There are large cemeteries at Oakley Down near Sixpenny Handley and at Poor Lot near Winterbourne Abbas. Further clusters occur around the Dorset Cursus, in Came Wood and around the Knowlton henges.

After 1000 BC there were permanent fields and settlement sites. Around 700 BC the Iron Age in Britain began, when population pressure and increasing inter-tribal warfare may have been the impetus for the appearance of the great revetted and defended hillforts. The earliest in Dorset may be Chalbury near Weymouth (c.600 BC.) Between 200 and 100 BC many of these forts were much enlarged, as at Maiden Castle, Eggardon Hill, Hod Hill, Hambledon Hill, Badbury Rings, Abbotsbury Castle, Pilsden Pen and Rawlesbury.

But the present distribution of these monuments can be misleading as to the pattern of settlement in prehistoric Dorset. Because the monuments and settlements are today found only on the uplands it has been thought that the people of the time only settled and farmed here. But later people have not used the higher ground intensively. It has now been realised that the valleys were settled in prehistoric times also, but here the evidence of activity has largely been destroyed by post-Roman settlement and farming.