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| Treves, equivalent of Clive Hannay was Joseph Pennell, who added another dimension to the book with his black and white illustrations. This is his view of Broadwindsor. |
When Sir Frederick Treves published his book, Highways and Byways in Dorset, in 1906, he called one of the 23 chapters ‘Marshwood Vale and the West Border’. Here is an extract: ‘To the North of the Vale [of Marshwood] are the twin hills of Lewesdon, 894 feet above sea level, while Pilsdon is about 909 feet. In these eminences the Dorset Heights end. So like are the two hills when seen from about Beaminster that there is, or was, a local rhyme dealing with the peculiarity: “As much akin As Lew’son Hill and Pilsdon Pen”.’ However, some commentators say that Treves had hold of the wrong end of the stick and that the rhyme was used to refer to people or things that were different from each other: the West Dorset equivalent of ‘as alike as chalk and cheese’. This seems more probable, as the tree-clad summit of Lewesdon is as different as could be from the windswept moorland of Pilsdon Pen, although they are such close neighbours.
Treves’s version differs slightly from that of Hutchins’s much earlier History of Dorset, originally published as two volumes in 1774, which reads: “As much akin As Lewson Hill to Pilson Pen”.’ The difference, however subtle, is probably down to the individual the respective writer had asked to recite the rhyme!
Something not really down to individual opinion is the relative heights of these two ’eminences.’ This has been a contentious subject. For many years the hill fort of Pilsdon Pen was considered the highest point in the county, with Lewesdon being 15 feet lower (just as Treves described in 1906). Locals have apparently always called Pilsdon ‘the cow’ and Lewesdon ‘the calf’ and again Hutchins refers to this, describing how seamen used the same names for the two hills ‘in which form it appears first to their fancies, being eminent sea marks.’ Hutchins continues, ‘Pilsdon, according to the latest [late 1700s] trigonometrical survey of England, is 934 feet above sea level.’
However, the latest Ordnance Survey data states that Pilsdon has mysteriously shrunk to 277 metres (909 feet) whilst Lewesdon is at 279 metres (915 feet). So it seems it is not just the local rhymes that have changed!
Writing about the village of Pilsdon, Treves observes, ‘In the vale at the foot of the Pen is the very insignificant village of Pilsdon. It consists now of no more than the church, the manor house, certain farm buildings, and a cottage or two.’ Treves would certainly still consider Pilsdon ‘insignificant’; the church, manor house and farm buildings remain with only the addition of a couple of modern bungalows and a metalled road to show that a hundred summers have come and gone. Like the village, the lanes around Pilsdon have altered little since Treves pedalled his cycle, gathering details for his book. These byways are still as Treves described – ‘deep lanes shut in by hedges so high that the narrow way is always in shade’. Cycling would probably remain the best choice of transport, the lanes being so narrow and twisting as to make driving along them a real challenge.
Treves says of Pilsdon church, ‘The church in this out-of-the-world retreat is very small. It possesses an ancient pulpit, as well as a holy water stoup by the door….’ The church interior seems to be the only part of Pilsdon to have altered since Treves’ visit. It appears that the church fell into disuse at the end of the 1950s, being re-dedicated in 2000 after renovation work paid for by the Heritage Lottery Fund and Friends of the Pilsdon Community, a Christian community now resident in the adjoining manor house. The church now possesses a minimalist beauty; the original pews have been replaced by straw bales and a new altar fashioned from highly polished wood. The holy water stoup by the door, mentioned by Treves, is still to be found; unfortunately the ‘ancient pulpit’ seems to have disappeared. Outside, on the gable, a ‘modern’ bell-cote holds one small bell.
‘From an old inventory it would appear that the folk of Pilsdon were not at one time as careful about their church as they might have been, for there is an entry to this effect: “At Pillesdon there lacketh two bells which were stolen.”’ So writes Treves, but this reference to the stealing of the two bells from Pilsdon has caused long hours of fruitless research. There is no mention of this theft in Hutchins’s publication or, as far as can be ascertained, within any other existing literature or records. Where Treves found this ‘old inventory’ is a mystery.
‘At the foot of Lewesdon Hill in a deep hollow full of gardens, is Stoke Abbott, as pretty a village as any in Dorset. Its position is most fascinating. The cottages have walls of light yellow stone and roofs of thatch. Many of them are old and curious. Two pleasant houses, for example, are dated 1613 and 1762 respectively. The church is a graceful type of the simple village church of long ago, and has preserved many of its Early English windows.’ Treves’s description holds good today; Stoke Abbott is indeed in a most fascinating position in a deep hollow which serves to give a real feeling of seclusion. All lanes leading here are again of the narrow and high-hedged type beloved of Treves and a remnant of the Dorset of old. Treves’s two cottages are still there, both sited very close to the church. The house dated 1613, however, is now tiled, no longer possessing a thatched roof.
Regrettably, the village of Stoke Abbott has not escaped the infill of new development amongst its older houses. Some of these additions are of the unsympathetic 1960s/70s type and bereft of any architectural value whatsoever. Sir Frederick Treves mentions throughout his book the steady encroachment of ‘numerous red brick villas’ throughout Dorset and would doubtless be mortified to see some of the buildings that have now appeared in Stoke Abbott. Happily, there are not too many of these and the latest examples appear to be much more considered and to fit better into their surroundings.
The church, according to a later edition of Hutchins’s work, suffered a disaster: ‘The tower is modern having been struck by lightning December 8 1828 and nearly half destroyed, it was subsequently rebuilt.’ Visiting the church, it is easy to see where the original masonry of the tower meets the newer building work. Strangely, Treves makes no reference to this event.
Treves travels on to Broadwindsor; ‘A road passing through the gap between Lewesdon and Waddon Hills leads to Broadwindsor…. The village is large, rambling, and untidy, and is surrounded by singularly featureless country. The chief interest of the place is due to the fact that Thomas Fuller, who died in 1661, was at one time a rector here.’
Joseph Pennell’s picture from Highways and Byways in Dorset does not back up Treves’s indictment of Broadwindsor; the view of roofs nestling amongst trees is charming. Yet whilst Broadwindsor has become a victim of the inevitable expansion of these times, it has retained a certain charm, especially around the area of the church; apart from the busy road; it does not appear to have changed a great deal.
Thomas Fuller was rector at Broadwindsor for less than five years between 1635 and 1640. He became famous during his lifetime for delivering sermons in a humorous style, something unheard of in the 1600s. Fuller’s position within the church meant that he also served as chaplain to both Charles I and Charles II.
Treves continues, ‘With especial care has been kept the ancient pulpit from which Tom Fuller preached. It is elaborately carved with floral designs, and if not as quaint as the preacher, it is at least as florid.’ The pulpit from which the jovial Tom Fuller preached remains in pride of place within the church and is certainly an impressive example of medieval wood-carving.
There have been changes over the last 100 years in this part of Dorset, but thankfully not ones that would make the area unrecognisable to Treves; what he described as ‘one of the most pleasant corners in the far west of the county’ can still be called the same. The ‘deep lanes’, ‘cottages of light yellow stone and thatch’ and ‘simple village churches of long ago’ are still there. Sir Frederick could cycle these lanes today, as he did all that time ago and, apart from a few additional buildings, see what he saw then.