CORFE CASTLE - Cover Page: Feb. ‘97 British Heritage Feature

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CORFE CASTLE

By Marc Cramer

CORFE CASTLE HAS WITNESSED BOTH TREACHERY AND
VALOUR IN THE CENTURIES SINCE WILLIAM THE
CONQUEROR BUILT THIS NOW-RUINED ROYAL FORTRESS

While time diminishes humanity’s lesser achievements, it enhances the few that are genuinely great. Corfe Castle, perched atop a windy knoll overlooking the Purbeck Hills near Wareham, Dorset, is just such a place. Since its destruction in the 17th century, the castle’s weathered stones have taken on an air of melancholic grandeur.

Corfe began quietly as a Roman settlement at nearby Bucknowle, not far from some of the first marble quarries in Britain. Later, under the leadership of Alfred the Great, Corfe served as a centre of West Saxon resistance to Viking invaders. Although the site reveals traces of a pre-Conquest structure, the castle itself can only be reliably traced to the reign of William I.

Corfe, however, carries a much earlier, much more violent, royal association. In 978, King Edward set out to visit his notoriously inadequate half-brother Ethelred, who lived at Corfe. Blind to her son’s limitations, Ethelred’s mother Elfreda had but one burning desire–to see her son on the throne of England. Elfreda cared little about the means by which this lofty goal might be achieved. Tired from his long journey, an unsuspecting Edward rode into the Market Square. Looking forward to a warm reception and a mug of mulled wine, the young king instead found Elfreda’s assassins, who stabbed him in the back and then threw his body down a well.

In the century following Edward’s death, William the Conqueror built the castle that soon became a favourite of succeeding kings–in particular John, brother of Richard the Lionheart, who made it his home, treasury, and prison. Wishing to consolidate his power in the third year of his reign, John used Corfe to imprison his politically suspect niece Eleanor, the sister of John’s rival, Prince Arthur of Brittany, whom he openly despised and secretly feared.

Along with Eleanor, John also incarcerated 25 French knights loyal to their lady. After an attempted escape, 22 of the knights had the misfortune to be captured. John, living up to his reputation for vindictiveness, had the miscreants locked into the dungeon and starved to a slow, sadistic death.

Despite his cruel behaviour, John undertook the most ambitious building programme in the history of Corfe Castle. In the early years of his reign, between 1201 and 1204, he added an expensive new royal residence called the Gloriette. The vault beneath the Long Chamber survives, but suggests little of the rich tapestries, ornamented cabinets and Persian carpets that once filled the royal quarters. The gilded leather and blue silk damask have long since rotted, leaving only portions of the grey stone walls to testify to days of pageantry past.

By the end of the 16th century, Corfe’s once-prosperous marble industry was in irreversible decline, and the seat of royal power shifted to London. In 1572, Elizabeth I, having no further need for the castle, sold it to Sir Christopher Hatten, dancing master and paramour of the ‘Virgin Queen’. After Sir Christopher’s death in 1592, the fortress passed through numerous hands until, in 1635, Lord Chief Justice, Sir John Bankes, bought it. Sir John, an ardent royalist, spent most of his time at court in London. His wife, Lady Mary Bankes, one of the great unsung heroines of British history, ran the castle in Sir John’s absence.

As the flames of civil war spread across England, King Charles’ base of power rapidly eroded. The nobles, quick to exploit the King’s misfortunes, soon sided with Cromwell. As always, Corfe remained loyal, this time at the cost of its own destruction. Soon, heavily armed Parliamentary troops marched on the castle, expecting little more than token resistance from Lady Bankes. Fighting as if oblivious to the overwhelming odds against her, Lady Bankes defended the castle for six weeks by pitting a handful of untrained villagers against a battalion of battle-hardened soldiers. Much to Parliament’s horror, she triumphed. The attackers lifted the siege after more than 100 Parliamentary soldiers forfeited their lives. Remarkably, Lady Bankes’ garrison of cobblers and merchants lost only two men.

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