Seeds of Stories 2 // St Catherine’s Chapel

Local poet and The Stones Sing librettist, Anna Rose-Prynn, reflects on the places that inspired each of her Dorset operas.

‘The Best View’ © Graham Wiffen Photography

“Where shall we ride?” - if the answer was “The Best View”, we immediately knew what was being talked about. There’s a big, wide bridleway along Dorset’s coastal ridgeway with a long sweep approaching the hillfort known as Abbotsbury Castle. You can gallop all the way along. On your left the dramatic drop, the sparkling sea, but the best bit - you need to turn in the saddle for it - the falling and undulating cloak of green and shadowy coastal hills hemmed by the Fleet and Chesil Bank, with Portland in the distance (the Weares above which St George’s Church stands clear on a bright day) and on the summit of one of the hills, the dark dramatic edifice of St Catherine’s chapel, anchoring and centring the view.

“Many times I’ve nearly crashed the car, when the ravishing light falling on a turbulent sea and silvering the Fleet and casting dramatic shade on the slopes has made me start and gasp.”

I only knew the Chapel from a distance for a long time: as the focus of that view, which you can also see from the road below the Ridgeway. You drive over the crest of Abbotsbury Hill and it takes your breath away. Many times I’ve nearly crashed the car, when the ravishing light falling on a turbulent sea and silvering the Fleet and casting dramatic shade on the slopes has made me start and gasp. I’m not the only one. There are two big lay-bys at the key point and more and more frequently over the years they’re full of cars and sometimes an ice cream van so people who just have to stop to gaze on the landscape and the Chapel can lick a 99 while they’re doing it.

The steps up to the chapel © Chris Frost

I was intrigued by the building but think it was a friend of mine who actually comes from the Midlands who said that when she visited Dorset once she went, of course, to visit the Chapel to ask St Catherine to bring her her true love, as local women had always done. It was the first I had heard. I read a bit about it after that and went to visit it. From the beautiful village of Abbotbury it’s a short sharp sheep-accompanied climb and the wide scope of the sea views as you stand next to the towering walls, east to Portland, west to Lyme Bay, tell you why the Chapel was a beacon to those out at sea. And those who approached it on pilgrimage, en route maybe to Whitchurch Canonicorum a dozen miles to the west to visit the shrine of St Wite, must have been heartened by the sight of the high edifice, a sacred stop on their journey.

“I think it was a friend of mine who actually comes from the Midlands who said that when she visited Dorset once she went, of course, to visit the Chapel to ask St Catherine to bring her her true love, as local women had always done.”

It’s empty now, a hollow but sturdy shell, golden motes of dust floating in slices of light falling through tall vents, your footfalls echoing. But there, by the door, the worn stones like latter-day fossils, cradling a way of life: here a hand, here a knee, the ages of wearing from the women who came to ask St Catherine for a husband, the attrition of supplication as if the stone was memory foam to mould to the shapes of humankind. 

So, did it work? (I don’t ask for my personal purposes!) I hardly know how but the story was rounded and fleshed out in my head over time. Small incidental snippets of conversations. Mentioning that making this plea might sometimes turn out to be a case of “be careful what you wish for” a local friend said yes, she (St Catherine) had a bit of a reputation for making that the case. And the traditional words of the prayer -“Arn-a-one’s better than narn-a-one” - does rather make the supplicants hostages to fortune. But, with superstitious or faithful believers, easy to give Catherine the credit if the desired husband was found, and to blame her subsequently if things went wrong. 

“Would St Catherine of Alexandria have approved of the women coming and begging her for a husband, any husband, instead of taking responsibility for making a life for themselves?”

St Catherine’s in the clouds © Tony Gill

It makes sense to me in the context of St Catherine being a bit of a contradiction. She gave a good account of herself as a teenager (so her legend goes) in the court of the pagan king Maxentius, arguing successfully for her faith against a multitude of his philosophers and scribes. So, she is the patron saint of female scholars. Notable that she has colleges in both Oxford and Cambridge named after her. She had shown herself to be a double danger (clever and learned, and a young woman); when her violent suppression by Maxentius failed, his next tactic was to marry her, presumably to control her, but she refused; she never married; she is the patron saint of unmarried women. She was promptly martyred after that, in the process giving her name to the ubiquitous post-based firework. Would St Catherine of Alexandria have approved of the women coming and begging her for a husband, any husband, instead of taking responsibility for making a life for themselves? I’m inclined to think not - although, socially and legally the economic powerlessness of women in certain places and times may have inspired some sympathy. But perhaps that’s why her benevolence might have come with a sting in its tail. 

Anna Rose-Prynn, February 2021