History

TALL TALES

Cindy Chant & John Drabik

High on the ridge above Cerne Abbas, stands a little known 6ft tall Neolithic stone, called the Bellingstone. This Megalith may have been a marker, or perhaps used for ritual purposes, but in recent times it has become a ‘wishing stone’ used by generations of locals and visitors. Travelling pilgrims, taking their rest by this ancient stone, would have enjoyed a spectacular aerial view of the Giant on the opposite hill, before walking down to the magnificent Benedictine Abbey.

But what of this unique and intriguing, club-wielding, figure carved in the chalk hillside – is it really that old?

It is feasible that our ancestors, having the ability to dig massive ramparts, and move huge stones, could have created this impressive 180ft fertility image. Growth and productivity were paramount in the lives of our pre-historic ancestors, and it is easy to imagine elaborate religious ceremonies imploring the various deities to help in this matter. So, was he a sacred symbol to ensure a productive harvest, and the healthy growth of the tribe?

There is no documentary reference to the Giant until the 17th Century. However, this is not to say that something similar may have been created here by older civilisations, perhaps altered and changed through the centuries, and at times, allowed to grow over with vegetation.

There are numerous theories regarding the origins of the giant. He may have been carved as a devotion to a Celtic fertility god, or as a fierce ‘guardian’ to the local tribe. Some historians suggest the phallus was a symbol of luck and prosperity, in keeping with similar figures of this period.

It is not surprising he is associated with the ancients, as there are traces of settlements nearby, and just above the Giant’s head is an Iron-Age earthwork known as The Trendle. This site was used annually for maypole dancing - an ancient ritual with pagan roots. In recent times, on the dawn of May Day (Beltane), the Wessex Morris Men dance their fertility traditions here, accompanied by the huge horned Dorset Ooser, which is brought out for special occasions. After descending the hill, they dance in the streets below followed by wellearned refreshments in the taverns. The Ooser, we are

told, was there for ‘scaring away wives and children.’

Some historians have suggested he was re-shaped by the Romans, and converted into the figure of Hercules, brandishing a club and a lion skin. Others think it was not a cloak but a severed head dangling, by the hair, from his outstretched hand. Other stories are that he was a caricature of Oliver Cromwell, or that the monks created the Giant to poke fun at the notorious womanising Abbot, Thomas Corton, expelled from the Abbey for his misbehaviour.

Although the origins of the Giant are uncertain, and despite recent excavations, there are many traditions and tales about him, which have been kept alive through generations. Legend has it, a giant once roamed the Blackmore Vale, terrorising the inhabitants, eating sheep and ‘rashers of child’ for breakfast. One day, after gorging himself and taking his rest on a hill, the local inhabitants tied and pinned him to the ground with heavy ropes and killed him. To commemorate this victorious event, and as a warning to other giants, they cut the turf around the outline of the deceased figure.

On dark nights, he is said to rise from his slumber, and quench his thirst in the millstream below. On occasions, after smelling blood, he strides down the valley, bellowing ‘Fe, fi, fo fum…’ and referees the local, extremely bloody, Cudgel fighting contests. Sometimes, he would even stride over to Bullbarrow, claiming this to be part of his domain, and stretch himself on the grassy hill to watch the setting sun.

Majestically surveying the fertile lands around him, there is little doubt that the Giant represents ‘life force’, and some claim that there are healing properties within the surrounding area. What is certain, is that his obvious sexuality, and virility, were put to use in folk magic.

Did we mention his phallus being 30ft in length? No wonder that so many stories regarding conception and pregnancies abound. Over the centuries, barren women wishing to conceive a child would ascend the hill and sit on the giant phallus. Spending the night there during a new moon would also guarantee conception. Young couples would have sexual intercourse there, to consummate their marriage, and maidens would walk around the Giant to ensure a good husband and a long and happy marriage.

It seems that many people know somebody who has benefited from their intimacy with this enigmatic figure. Thoughtfully, the National Trust have erected a fence around the site, fearing romping couples may wear out this poor old Giant.

Specialist Matthew Denney will be in the Sherborne area on Thursday 29th July to value your objects & antiques

A VICTORIAN DIAMOND TIARA Estimate: £15000-20000 to be sold 22nd July 2021

Forthcoming July Fine Art Sales

19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd & 23rd July 2021

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To make an appointment call or email 01460 73041 matthew.denney@lawrences.co.uk

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LOST DORSET NO. 13 LULWORTH COVE

David Burnett, The Dovecote Press

Recent newspaper photographs of the crowds at Durdle Door, and on Dorset’s beaches, are a reminder that its coast has long been a magnet for holidaymakers. The Cove’s popularity was well-established in Victorian times, due mainly to the Cosens paddle-steamers that plied between Bournemouth and Weymouth during the summer, at a stately twelve knots. Stops were made at various beauty spots – Studland, Swanage, Lulworth Cove, Osmington Mills – so their passengers could go ashore for refreshments. On the left is the aptly named Victoria, launched in 1884, requisitioned for service in both world wars, and finally scrapped in 1953. On the right is the Majestic, launched in 1901 and lost whilst minesweeping during the First World War. The only paddler still sailing is the Waverley, now afloat again after the installation of new boilers and, hopefully, due to return to the south coast later in the summer.

Lost Dorset: The Villages and Countryside 1880-1920, by David Burnett, is a large format paperback, priced £12, and is available locally from Winstone’s Books or directly from the publishers.

dovecotepress.com

OBJECT OF THE MONTH THE BUSTLE

Elisabeth Bletsoe, Curator, Sherborne Museum

This month’s object is an iconic piece of Victoriana; a woman’s bustle, or tournure, covered with black silk and stiffened with twenty horizontal whalebones and five vertical. There is a black silk frill around the basal edge, which is gathered at the centre back. Internal eyelets and tapes allow for it to be laced and tied at the front, in the manner of a corset.

Though the bustle was first patented in 1857, the popularity of the crinoline prevented it from taking off until the 1860s. There had, however, been hints of its arrival with the appearance of ornate peplums and bows at the centre back of the waistline. As the stiff, caged petticoat evolved to unlikely proportions of up to six feet in diameter, this fashion then quite swiftly disappeared, since it was also dangerous, uncomfortable, and horribly impractical with many women losing their lives to fire-related incidents. Skirt fabrics were then swept up and gradually back, making the adoption of the bustle a necessary manoeuvre. They were worn on the lower part of the body and fastened round the waist, enabling the back of the skirt to be thrust out like a shelf from the small of the back with elaborate drapes and folds, leading to trains and complex ornamentation.

The original late 1860s bustles were small, worn low and made to provide extra support for the flowing drapery, producing a softer, rounded shape. Our bustle supports the skirt of a two-piece lichen-green, silk moiré dress, made c. 1870, and emphasises the tails of its bodice and large central bustle bow.

There followed an interim period where a more natural form was preferred, and the one-piece princessline dress fitted sheath-like over the hips; alternatively, there was a figure-hugging cuirass bodice and separate skirt. Fullness at the back was achieved through the use of inner ties in petticoats. Around 1883, the bustle went through a reprise, becoming more rigid and architectural through the use of steam moulding to create a curvaceous contour, emphasising a narrow waist and exaggerating the shape of the buttocks. The ensemble was more restrictive than the crinoline; with its flat front and fastenings at the back of the body, the possibility of movement was less easy, and the wearer had to either push the bustle to one side in order to sit down, or perch on the edge of the seat, leaning forward. The fashion became an object of satire, with Punch magazine featuring cartoons which portrayed women as snails or beetles. This more extreme style fuelled the burgeoning rational dress movement which argued for reform on the basis of health and comfort above all else. As reformer Mary Haweis observed: ‘The heavy tail or confined train is not allowed to soften and enhance the movements of the body, but in walking will jerk at each step, increasing the lady’s resemblance to a clogged cow.’

By the end of the 1880s, even though to some women a dress without a bustle was inconceivable, many more were coming forward wearing diminutive versions or even none at all. While these quickly changing fashions were not adopted universally by all women, the bustle dress remains an extraordinary garment: Striking, provocative, immediately recognisable, and still a source of inspiration to designers today.’ Lydia Edwards, Fashion Historian.

Sherborne Museum currently remains closed; we will open as soon as it is safe for our volunteers and visitors.