Memorials of Old Dorset

by Unknown

The floor of the presbytery is raised considerably above that of the choir, and this is itself higher than the floor of the nave, so that the altar stands at a considerable elevation. One peculiarity is noteworthy—there are no altar rails, but their place is taken by three massive oaken benches, covered at all times with the “houseling linen,” fair white cloths—the use of which goes back to very early times. The benches which now stand across the presbytery floor, close to the topmost of the flight of steps leading up to it, are the remains of ten such benches, which were made in Puritan times for communicants to sit on as they received the sacred elements. When the custom of kneeling was revived, these benches were placed on the steps; and on “Sacrament Sundays,” the clerk, after morning prayer, went to the lectern and bade those who were prepared to receive the Holy Communion to draw near, whereupon intending communicants left the nave and knelt at the benches, or in the choir stalls, until the officiating clergy brought them the sacramental bread and wine. In 1852, when sundry changes were being made in the arrangements of the church, all these benches except three were removed—the three which were in use as altar-rails.

The beautiful triplet of windows, over the altar, end the long vista seen from the west. Beneath the presbytery floor is a vaulted crypt. This is not, as many crypts are, dark and gloomy, but well lit by triangular windows, which from the outside are seen to be just above the level of the churchyard. This crypt does not retain its original altar, but its place is marked by a piscina on the southern side; two arches open out into the choir aisles, through which those kneeling in the aisles might look down on the priest officiating at the altar of the crypt.

There are several monuments worthy of notice, but by far the most interesting is the Beaufort altar-tomb on the south side of the presbytery. This was erected, to the memory of her father and mother, by the Lady Margaret. foundress of Christ’s and St. John’s Colleges, at Cambridge, well known for her many benefactions, and from the fact that she was the mother of Henry VII. As the history of this family—the Beauforts—is interesting, and its details little touched on by the writers of English history, it may not be out of place, especially as they were connected with Wimborne, to give an outline of it here. Everyone knows that John of Gaunt was the third son of Edward III. and the father of Henry IV., but many know only in a general way that the House of Tudor traced through him their claim to the English crown. John of Gaunt married Blanche, great-granddaughter of Edmund Crouchback, second son of Henry III., who was created Earl of Lancaster in 1257. Her father, on account of his valour in the French wars of Edward III., had been made a Duke—a new title as far as England was concerned, for the only English Duke that had been previously created was the Duke of Cornwall, better known as the Black Prince. Through Blanche, his wife, John of Gaunt succeeded to the estates of the Duke of Lancaster, among them to the Castle of Beaufort, in Anjou. He was himself in 1362 created Duke of Lancaster. Among Blanche’s maids of honour was one Kate, daughter of Sir Payne Roet, and widow of Sir Owen Swynford. When Blanche died, John married Constance of Castile, but took unto himself Kate Swynford as his mistress; by her he became the father of four children, all born at Beaufort Castle. As they were illegitimate, they took the name of their birthplace as a surname. The eldest of these was John de Beaufort, and the second, Henry, the celebrated Cardinal Beaufort. When Constance died, these four children were legitimatised by a Bull of Urban VI., then by Richard II., then by Act of Parliament. The Duke then married Kate. On January 13th, 1396, John de Beaufort was created Earl of Somerset. He died in 1410, leaving four sons and two daughters; the eldest, Henry, did not long survive his father, and his title and estates passed to his next brother, John. He greatly distinguished himself in the French wars, and was made Duke of Somerset, Earl of Kendale, Lieutenant of the Duchy of Aquitaine and Captain-General of the whole realm of France and Normandy. In 1436 the Duke of Bedford, the Regent, died, and as the King, Henry VI., was still a minor, another regent had to be appointed. The Duke of Lancaster thought he should have obtained this important post, but it was conferred on the Duke of York, and Lancaster therefore retired from active service, and in 1440 married Margaret, widow of Oliver St. John, and daughter of John, Lord Beauchamp, of Bletsoe Manor, Bedfordshire. This John, Duke of Somerset, and Margaret, his wife, are they whose figures lie side by side in alabaster on their altar-tomb at Wimborne. Their right hands are clasped together; angels guard their heads; his feet rest on a dog, hers on an antelope; he is clad in complete armour, the face and right hand alone bare; the left hand holds the right-hand gauntlet, which he has taken off before taking the lady’s hand. On the apex of the arch, above the tomb, hangs the helm which he, during his life, used to wear in tournaments. Their only child was born in 1441—Margaret, of whom mention has been made. Her father died in 1444, aged thirty-nine years, and the Duchy of Somerset became extinct in the Beaufort family. His death took place at Kingston Lacy, an estate close to Wimborne, belonging to the Beaufort family. His widow and daughter went to live on the Bedfordshire property. In about four years time, the widow married her third husband, Lord Welles. Young Margaret, when only nine years of age, was sought by the Duke of Suffolk as a wife for his son, John de la Pole, and by King Henry VI. as wife for his half-brother, Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond, son of Catherine, the Queen of Henry V., by her second husband, Sir Owen Tudor. Margaret was a clever girl, well educated, knowing even then Latin and French; but sorely distraught was she to know which of the two suitors to choose: so she consulted an old gentlewoman, who advised her to commit the matter to St. Nicholas. She took the advice, prayed to the saint, and fell asleep, and about four o’clock next morning, whether sleeping or waking she could not tell, saw one standing in her room, habited in a bishop’s robes, who bade her accept Edmund Tudor as a husband. She told her mother, and she was betrothed to the Earl of Richmond, and they were married in 1455, when she was fourteen years of age and he twenty-four. They lived at Pembroke Castle, which belonged to Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke. In 1456 her only son, Henry, afterwards Henry VII., was born, and shortly after this her husband died. He was buried at Caermarthen Abbey, and when the monastery was suppressed, his body was removed to the Cathedral Church at St. David’s. His mother, anxious to keep quite aloof from party strife (for the War of the Roses had already broken out), lived on at Pembroke, educating her son. In 1459 she married her second husband, Sir Humphrey Stafford; widowhood, for one of exalted rank, not being a desirable condition in those times of war and turmoil. It has been seen that her mother was thrice married, and Margaret followed her example, for when Sir Humphrey died in 1481, she, at the end of a year, being then about forty years of age, married Thomas, Lord Stanley. After fifteen years she separated from him with his consent, in order to devote herself to a religious life, and retired to the convent at Woking, in Surrey. It must not be supposed that she had a peaceful or happy life. Her thoughts were centred on her only son, and many were the years of separation from this son that his mother had to endure. The story of his wanderings, his dangers, his detention in Brittany, are too long to be told here—suffice it to say that Richard III. became so odious to the chief nobles that at last it was arranged that Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, Margaret’s son, should be recognised by the Lancastrian party as their leader, and should claim the throne; and that in order to gain the adherence of those members of the Yorkist party who were opposed to Richard, a marriage should take place between Henry and Elizabeth, the daughter of Edward IV. Both the mothers agreed to the union: but the first attempt at invasion by Richmond was a failure, and Richard seemed free from all danger; and with a view to win over his Yorkist opponents, he made up his mind to marry Elizabeth himself, although she was his own brother’s child. This step led to a fresh invasion—this time a successful one—and the death of Richard on Bosworth field virtually placed the crown on Henry’s head (1485). So at last the Lady Margaret’s troubles were at an end, and she saw her son crowned and wedded, and the red and white roses twined together. It remains only to speak of her benefactions. Those at Cambridge are well known; and the writer of this chapter, who once held at Christ’s College one of the scholarships she founded, cherishes the memory of the royal and pious lady with all due gratitude. But it is of her benefactions at Wimborne that mention must now be made. About 1498 she built the beautiful monument to her father and mother in the Minster; founded a chantry, where, for her own soul, and for those of her son, her parents, and ancestors, Mass was to be duly said. She founded and endowed the Grammar School, though, as its endowments were greatly added to by Queen Elizabeth, its name was afterwards changed from the Lady Margaret’s to that of Queen Elizabeth’s Free Grammar School.

The Lady Margaret just outlived her son; both died in the same year, 1509, but she rather later than he.

Of the other monuments space forbids mention of any, save that of Anthony Etricke, if it can be called a monument, for it is really the sarcophagus that contains the body of this eccentric magistrate, who lived at Holt, and was recorder of Poole. He desired, for some reason, to be buried neither above the ground nor under it, neither within the church nor outside of it; and in order to carry out this strange wish, he got permission to cut a niche in the south wall, partly below the level of the surface of the churchyard, and in it fixed a slate sarcophagus. In this he ordered his coffin to be deposited when he died; and he made all the preparations he could beforehand, even to the painting of the date of his death on the side of the slate coffin. He had a presentiment that he should die in 1691, but he lived till 1703, so that the real date of his death had to be placed on the coffin. The other date was not obliterated, but the new one was painted on the other, and the two may be seen there to-day. The arms of his family are painted on the lid, and, as he left twenty shillings per annum to keep coffin and niche in good repair, the sarcophagus is bright and smart as paint, gilding, and varnish can make it.

The Chained Library, Wimborne Minster.

The chained library, as it is called, is placed in a chamber above the vestry, rebuilt when the church was restored. It was formed by the Rev. William Stone, Principal of New Inn Hall, Oxford, afterwards one of the “three vicars” of the church. By his will he left some land to St. Margaret’s Hospital, and his collection of books to the Minster. These were brought from Oxford in 1686, and placed in what was then known as the Treasury. They were chiefly the writings of the Fathers, with certain other theological books, and were intended for the free use of the people of Wimborne. In these days few would care to pore over these dry and heavy tomes, or make use of the library, for it does not contain any novels, standard or ephemeral; but there were days when it was used for study. In 1725 a catalogue was made, and the number of the books was then two hundred; when next catalogued, about one hundred and fifty years later, the number had dropped to one hundred and eighty-five, despite the fact that ten books not mentioned in the former catalogue were on the shelves. There is but one MS., bearing date 1343, “Regimen Animarum,” written on vellum, and containing some illuminated initials. The majority of the books were printed between 1520 and 1710. The most interesting are: a Polyglot Bible (1657), a Breeches’ Bible (1595), and Sir Walter Ralegh’s History of the World (1614). No less than one hundred and four pages of this History have had a hole burnt through them. Tradition says that Matthew Prior, the poet, was reading this book by candle light, and fell asleep; when he awoke he found that some snuff from his candle had fallen on the book and done the mischief. He stuck small pieces of parchment over the hole in every page, and inserted the missing letters or words with pen and ink. But the interesting tradition has been controverted in modern times.

The books were originally chained to the shelves, one end of the chain being fastened to the edge of the binding, the other to a ring which would slide along a rod. Many of the books had got loose in the course of years, and lay dusty and uncared for; but at the restoration, new rods were fastened along the new shelves, and the old chains repaired and put to their former use.

In two oaken chests in this room many deeds relating to the Collegiate Church (the earliest dating from the time of Henry III., the latest from that of Henry VIII.) are preserved. Among them is the deed founding the Chantry and Grammar School, drawn up by the executors of the Lady Margaret’s will; and also the charter granted by Charles I. to the Governors of the church, from which they derive the powers of appointing clergy, choristers, clerk, vergers, etc., which powers they use to-day.