The hamlet of Holworth is, indeed, worthy of being a portion of the parish that is acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful places in Dorset. The village of Milton lies enfolded between richly-wooded hills, at the foot of a wonderfully picturesque descent. Sir Frederick Treves, in his Highways and Byways in Dorset, says that “there is nothing like to it in any part of England.” He calls it a “surprising” village, “a toy town.” The first impression on seeing it “is one of amazement, for the place is both extraordinary and unexpected.” Each of the houses is of the same pattern, and each is separated from the others by a chestnut tree. The builder of this unique village, as will be seen, was Joseph, Lord Milton (afterwards Earl of Dorchester). The old town of Milton lay near the south side of the Abbey Church; but the ancient town was pulled down by Lord Milton about the year 1780, as it was too close to his new mansion (in which he had incorporated the magnificent fifteenth century monastic refectory), and proved an annoyance to him. The death, in 1775, of his wife (“the most noble and most excellent Lady Caroline, Lady Milton, daughter of Lyonel, Duke of Dorset, the wisest and most lovely, the best and most virtuous of women”), to whom he was passionately attached, and the suicide, in the following year, of his eldest son (the husband of “the beautiful Anne Seymour Damer”[37]), probably had a hardening influence on Lord Milton’s character, and made him use his giant’s strength tyrannously like a giant. At any rate, he swept away the old town, and the “new town” was then built, further off, as a substitute. Some fragmentary particulars of the old town of Milton have been gathered together,[38] which perhaps are of sufficient interest to be reproduced here.
The old town was one of the most ancient in Dorset. It grew up with the Abbey, and was known as Middleton (of which Milton is a contraction), because it was the middle town of the county. It contained shops of all kinds, four inns, a pre-Reformation Grammar School, almshouses built in 1674, and a brewery, which helped to supply Weymouth, Poole, and other large towns in Dorset. Milton Abbey ales were at one time among the most famous in the county; they could also be obtained in London. The tradesmen of old Milton were prosperous, but the “working classes” were very poor. Their staple food was barley cake; and to keep down expenses they saved every morsel of fat and made their own candles in pewter moulds. Two, if not more, of the leading shopkeepers issued “tokens” in the seventeenth century,[39] specimens of which exist; and among the old parish papers are a number of apprenticeship indentures which bound poor boys to various tradesmen in the place. The girls of the parish were taught to spin.
Milton Abbey, in the Year 1733.
Showing the old Monastic house on the left, and the old town on the right of the church.
The handsome fifteenth century market cross was one of the finest in the kingdom, quite worthy of its position near the Abbey Church. It had an ascent of no fewer than thirty steps. Its site is marked in the present park by a very massive octagonal socket stone, which is said to be a portion of the original cross. The parish registers state that, in the days of the Commonwealth, banns of marriage were published “in the markett.”[40] The weekly market was well attended, it being the central market of the county, and was held around the market cross. The annual fair was held on St. Sampson’s Eve and Day, July 27th and 28th, St. Sampson being the chief patron saint of the Abbey. This fair, like the market, was granted by King Athelstan; but it was practically discontinued when the old town was pulled down.
The sports in old Milton were badger-baiting under the cedar trees in the Abbey churchyard; cock-squailing, cock-fighting, and “fives,” outside the west end of the church; bowls were played on the bowling green, and ringing was very popular. The ringers only claimed “bread and beare” for their services each year—on the Restoration Day of Charles II. (May 29th), on Guy Fawkes’ Day (November 5th), and on Christmas Day. They were also paid on special occasions, such as “for ringing ye Bishope throu Towne”; but episcopal visits were rare. During Lent the children went “shroving” and “Lent crocking.” On Shrove Tuesday the children, carrying sticks, knocked at the doors of the principal residents and repeated this doggerel verse:
Please I’ve come a-shroving
For a piece of pancake,
Or a little ruckle cheese
Of your own making.