A WIMBORNE LEGACY

Wimborne Minster's ancient saxon tower

The access to the massive central tower in Wimborne Minster is gained via a narrow winding staircase behind a discreet and sturdy door. This steep passage has been climbed for centuries to access the now empty belfry above the ornate blue ceiling. However, the first part of the ascent pre-dates both the tower and the bulk of the building by many years, as the winders on the staircase spiral up inside the ancient round Saxon Tower.

The best place to view this piece of our heritage is from the outside of the building where it’s conical turret can be seen rising alongside the adjacent roof. Being of Saxon origin it is thought to be a surviving part of the twin monasteries that once stood here. And as such would have been familiar to the many nun’s and helpers who left Wimborne at the request of Boniface to help evangelize vast regions of the then barbarian Germany.  There are many stories concerning these early missionaries, and their work has been well recorded. However, in amongst them is a strange and controversial tale that was repressed for many years, but, possibly for that very reason, keeps coming back to us - most recently through a German film. It is the controversial tale of Pope Joan.

St Michael's Fulda, built between 817 and 822

Ancient chroniclers recorded Joan’s life - some in vivid detail - and historians over the centuries have tried to unravel the truth behind the legends. She was also known as Joan the English as, although born in Mainz, Germany, she is said to have come from English stock, her parents being either helpers, or missionaries from right here in Wimborne. However, German society was somewhat different to that which her parents had left. Here, in Wimborne, women lived in a scholarly mixed community and held positions of power in the church, but that was not the case on the continent where women were relegated and girls denied all but a rudimentary education.

Hungry for learning, Joan’s solution to this prejudice was to disguise herself as a boy and, apparently showing outstanding ability, she swiftly rose through the church hierarchy, eventually being chosen for the papacy, where, one chronicler informs us, she may have ruled as Pope John for two years around the date of 850. By any standards this was some feat, and just how she kept her secret is not recorded.

Fulda Cathedral

Joan’s young life was spent in the Benedictine abbey in the cathedral town of Fulda.

The Abbey is long gone, however a fragment of ninth-century Fulda still exists in the form of St Michael’s Church. This ancient chapel has a small Saxon turret containing a staircase leading up to a gallery. It is remarkably similar in style and period to the Saxon tower of our Minster. In this building, the young Pope Joan might well have knelt and prayed.

Early chroniclers tell us that Joan’s downfall was the birth of her son during a Papal procession through Rome. They all seem to agree on this point. However, her future after this revealing event becomes confused, ranging from death by an affronted mob to merely being deposed and living to see her son rise through the ranks of the church.

 

From the film Pope Joan, starring Johanna Wokalek and David Wenham



These stories are difficult to corroborate, and arguments for and against Joan’s very existence, have raged throughout the centuries - and so historians, fascinated by this story, are still searching for the truth. Proof of her life seems obvious to many by the simple fact that Joan’s name is mentioned frequently in many ancient documents, and reinforced by curious facts, such as the street named the Vicus Papisa (the street of the woman pope), which lies on the very route she was said to have taken in Rome.

I hope that one day there will be a conclusion. It would be very interesting if such an obviously powerful woman - possibly once the most powerful leader in the western world – was indeed a Wimborne lass.  

       

Beneath Our Feet

One of Wimborne’s great attractions and strengths is the unique fact that we can boast an unusual number of significant open spaces right in the heart of our town - the Minster Green, the historic Corn Market, and of course the area we all know and refer to simply as The Square. It is these open spaces that shoppers and tourists find so attractive and often so different from other shopping centres.

 Here in Wimborne the visitor is offered a charm and openness from which to view the sky above, the abundant flowers and well tended green spaces between, and the pleasant period architecture of which we have in spades. It works so well.

The Corn Market exists for obvious reasons - space was needed to barter and sell goods until 1876 when the towns markets and fairs were abolished and the weekly corn market became relegated to the Corn Exchange - known by locals for many years as the Oddfellows Hall. And of course the Minster Green, or to give it its original name, the churchyard, once served a very different purpose than the leisure area that many enjoy today.

It is not that long ago that the area was cleared to the grassy space that we see now. But it wasn’t for the first time. The churchyard had been levelled before in the late 1800s. Thomas Hardy and his wife Emma were living in Lanherne, number 16, Avenue Road, at the time, and it was in response to the levelling work and the redistribution of the tombstones, that he wrote one of his few humorous poems, The Levelled Churchyard.

Where we are huddled none can trace,

And if our names remain,

They have some path or porch or place

Where we have never lain!

Here’s not a modest maiden elf

But dreads the final trumpet,

Lest half of her should rise herself,

And half some sturdy strumpet!

These two verses of the poem show a humorous side of Hardy not normally found in his work. It suggests to me that he was suited to Wimborne life.

But how many visitors, and who knows maybe a few locals, are aware that the tarmac covered square, now the home of taxis, parked cars and buses was not created purely by chance, nor was it drawn up by town planners, but that it was once a sacred and wooded place? Indeed a place that perhaps should be known as St Peters Square, as here once stood the ancient, St Peters, Wimborne's second church.

Records of the building are scarce, but it is known that the church was fenced or walled around in 1414 and once stood in an acre of ground. That this area was wooded is contained in a testimony of Churchwardens being paid for timber from the elms in the churchyard. And that gets the imagination racing. The elm is a giant and these trees may well have towered high above the surrounding buildings right in the heart of our town.

The Reformation took its toll on church buildings the length and breadth of the country and Wimborne’s St Peters was no exception. By the 1580’s our second church was in a sad state of repair. However, the grounds were put to grisly use in 1638 when the plague finally reached Wimborne.

Despair would have been rife, no family would have been spared the tragedy and by the time the epidemic passed some 400 people had died and been interred in common graves. These lie beneath the square we see today, once the site of the derelict St Peters Churchyard.

After the plague, dilapidation of the church continued until the building was vested by Thomas Hanham in the name of the Corporation for the building of a Town Hall. This was constructed, apparently abutting the church, with a shop on the ground floor and a tenement on the western flank. But maybe the good folk of Wimborne had little need or perhaps respect for the hall, as these new buildings and the church eventually fell down leaving the area in a state of decay for many years. In fact we had to wait until the 1800’s before the centre was finally cleared and turned into the open area that we call The Square today.

It’s true to say that our town centre spaces are open and pleasant, but they are not empty, they are crammed full of history, stretching back through the mists of time.

 

Above the Blue Ceiling

The Minster inspires me. Its massive. It dominates Wimborne. Yet its a warm and friendly place. It's not the architecture that makes it beautiful, it doesn't point to heaven like Salisbury Cathedral. Wimborne Minsters glory is in the texture of the fabric and the ancient craft of the masons.
The East Tower features in my next novel, and in particular the blue ceiling. I got pretty close to it the other day. That was great. But there's a whole lot more up there that few have seen. I've attached a few pics.

A little story told me by my old friend John

SPECIAL GUESTS IN THE BEEHIVE YARD 

In the balmy summer of 1946, just one year after VE day, Wimborne played

host to one of the greatest double acts ever to appear on the British stage and

screen.

The duo, namely Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise, had arrived to cut

their teeth on Wimborne’s audiences. But they had not come to play the local

theatre, their place of entertainment was somewhat more bizarre.

Eric and Ernie, were amongst the cast of circus and vaudeville acts

travelling with LORD JOHN SANGERS “NEW PRODUCTION” CIRCUS AND

VARIETY show.

John Maton, a well respected local farmer, and one of the mainstays of

Wimborne’s Tivoli Theatre, remembers the occasion well. Although still only

19 years old, John was already a great enthusiast for live theatre. Evenings and

weekends would frequently find him bussing down to Bournemouth to one of

the resort’s theatres to take in one of the pre or post London shows. But this

week his entertainment, which he had found advertised on posters dotted

around his home in Colehill, was for once just a cycle ride down Rowlands hill.

The place of performance was in a yard behind a Public House, known as

The Beehive. This long low thatched Inn – now sadly gone - was situated at

the junction of East and West Boroughs by the ancient Walford Bridge on the

road out of town to Cranborne.

Enterprising landlords throughout the years had rented the space in the

past to other travelling shows, and so to the people of Wimborne the arrival of

the big tent was an exciting event, but back then, not unheard of.

Lord John Sanger’s immense white big-top had been hauled up,

presumably, as happens in the circus business, by the entire troupe lending a

hand, where it altered the skyline of Walford and towered over the roof of the

long low Inn. Around it, filling the rest of the yard, were lorries, caravans in

which the cast and crew lived, penned off runs for the circus beasts, and a pet’s

corner for Wimborne’s children.

John recalls that on arrival for the start of the evening show, he was able

to park his bike safely in the environs of the Beehive yard. This meant that he

could dispense with the need to part with 3d to secure his machines safety at

Carters bike-shed in Westborough. His ticket, bought for 6d, gave him a good

view from one of the tiered wooden benches circumnavigating the big top.

Moths danced in the spot lights and the show began with a cast line-up of

‘We Introduce Ourselves - Sangers Calling You’, then, went straight on to one

of the circus acts with ‘Peter Pan - The Children’s Pet’ before Ernie and Eric

took their places in the sawdust.

Of course – once they got on the telly - we all knew their names in a

different order, but at this stage in their career Ernie’s name came first. John

recalls the two comics played twice in the first half, at number four on the bill

with a sketch entitled ‘Tapping In Tempo; The Pearl Moss Girls; Ernie Wise

And Eric Morecambe Select Their Own Jobs’, then later with ‘Ernie Wise, Eric

Morecambe And Eddie Ross, Try Their Hand At Multiplication’.

After the interval however, Ernie Wise, always an accomplished

comedian and never just ‘the straight man’, came on twice; unbelievably Eric

didn’t make it onto the bill. Presumably, John Maton muses, Eric would have

been left in the caravan with his mum who reputedly used to accompany the

pair everywhere as a chaperon when they were on tour. John can’t confirm theth act – golly they

thought but it conjures a picture of the well loved entertainer - and it makes a

nice story.

However, without Eric at his side, Mr Wise came back on with a sketch,

titled ‘Ernie Wise Deceives’, then, finished the show as the 18

got their monies worth - bizarrely billed as ‘Ernie Wise The Star of the Forces -

ENGLANDS MICKY ROONY’.

John – always ready with a smile - considers his Wimborne evening

couldn’t really have been improved. 6d for the show, a drink at the bar during

the interval, a bike-ride through the warm summer night home, and change

rattling in his pocket from a shilling piece.

A few days later the tent was dropped and folded, animals loaded,

caravans hitched and the circus left town. Eric and Ernie went too – it’s nice to

know that our Wimborne audience had played its part in their apprenticeship.

Clock

A fascinating find. But unfortunately I can't publish.

I guess I'm still in search of Mr Gulliver.

It's been a few years now since I wrote the Gulliver book, and the research was great fun. But even now I meet people who have yet more unrecorded information which I just have to follow up on. The latest comes from a talk I gave recently, where I learned about a clock that promises to be an amazing find. From the description, the date and the makers address its provenance fits like a glove. I'm viewing the piece tomorrow, my camera batteries are charging, and I've got to say I'm excited.

In search of ISAAC GULLIVER legendary Dorset smuggler

 

WIMBORNE MINSTER has a fantastic independent bookshop that trades under the name of GULLIVERS.

It was this treasure of a shop and the mystery of its name that led me to research this book. I soon found that Smugglers wrote little down - well I guess they wouldn't would they - and I had eighteen months of travel and research throughout libraries, museums, private archives, churchyards and near forotten memories, ahead of me. It was a journey into the past, which blew some legends, put flesh on the bones of others and uncovered the remarkable life of one of Wimborne's most mysterious residents. 

I found that whereas there may be some truth in the legend of Robin Hood, that here in Dorset was a man who brought bread to the mouths of the starving peasants. His trade was not legal but it kept communities alive. And the letters uncovered by The Revenue show a grudging admiration for a man they describe as 'a most notorious smuggler' in one breath and 'A man of great speculative genius.' in another.

From the latter half of the eighteenth century, until the year of his death in 1822, Isaac Gulliver rose to become the most notorious and successful smuggler on the south coast of England. A figure of legend and mystery and a hero of romance, Gulliver and his army of moonrakers harried the Kings preventative officers along the coast of Hampshire and Dorset, from Christchurch in the east to Lyme Regis in the west.

The smuggling of goods from across the channel was at its peak in this period, and Dorset’s coastline, with its wooded creeks around the Bournemouth area and wide sweeps of deserted shingle and sand further west, made it ideal for clandestine moonlit landings. Behind the beachheads, running for many miles inland, the broad wild sweep of Dorset heath-land - some of which is still visible today - was the smugglers route to the towns, hamlets, farms and coach houses within.

Stories tell of entire communities supplementing their meagre farm wages with earnings from the illegal contraband trade. Cheating the taxman was seen as fair game, after all most of the monies collected
went purely to finance a succession of foreign wars, and the Dorset agricultural worker - kept poor by wealthy landowners - had their own war to fight. For the peasant it was a constant struggle against disease and malnutrition.

It was during Gulliver’s time that the Dorset labourer became ‘enclosed in poverty’ when, in 1770, the rural landscape of the English countryside began to change forever. From this date, and into the next decade, the landowners - greedy for even greater wealth - proceeded to annex vast acreages of land. After these land ‘enclosures’ the peasants no longer had the commons on which to graze their sheep or single cow for milking, even their plots to grow vegetables had been taken from them. As a result the peasant’s basic diet became one of potatoes and bread, leaving them with a mean and undernourished existence.

Smugglers such as Gulliver were revered in such society, their trade in cut price black market goods, payment for handling, and employment in their gangs, made the difference to many lives, and in so doing bought them fame and, above all, great loyalty. ISBN 9780956071507