Re-invigorated, after the prolonged explorations of the last chapter, by a much-needed rest at the hostel of “The Bull,” we now prepare for our final round of visitation among the still remaining objects of interest in the neighbourhood. And first we may seek enlightenment as to the meaning of “the sign” of our inn, for such signs are ofttimes significant. For this we have not far to go. Looking out of the window of the snug little parlour we are occupying, we see before us what an Irishman might call a triangular square—a sort of “Trivium,” where three ways meet, and where men not seldom congregate for trivial converse, although on market days it is the scene of busy barter, and at mart, or fair, transactions in horse, and other, flesh are negotiated with dealers of many kindreds, peoples, and tongues; but more of this anon. On the far side of this open space, “the Red Lion” bravely faces us, lashing its tail in rivalry. In the centre we notice a large lamppost (recently erected by the Urban Council; in 1897). At this spot, well within living memory, was to be seen a large iron ring, securely embedded in a stone in the pavement, of goodly dimensions. This was “the Bull King,” and the open space still perpetuates the name. Here the ancient sport of bull-baiting was practised annually for the brutal, but thoughtless, delectation of the people of town and country side. [178] I find a note that on April 21, 1887, I conversed with an old woman, and, as a link with what is passed, never to return, I may here give her name,—Judith Thornley, daughter of W. Elvin, farmer, of Baumber,—and then 84 years of age, who remembered the Bull ring, as I also do, and who, as a child, raised on her father’s shoulders to see over the crowd, witnessed more than one bull-baiting. On one such occasion she saw a woman gored by the bull, its horns piercing her bowels, although it was secured by the nose to the ring, the crowd being so great that she was thrust within the dangerous area by those pressing upon her from behind. This, she reckoned, would be about the year 1809 or 1810. As Mr. Weir, in his “History of Horncastle,” dated 1820, makes no reference to this practice, we may assume that the old lady was about right in her calculation.

Nearly opposite our hostel may be noticed, at the corner, a saddler’s shop. This was established in the year 1760, and, situated as the shop is in the centre of the great fair, Messrs. H. and W. Sharp receive orders for various articles, in connection with horseflesh, from foreign as well as English customers. Conversing with the head of this firm at the time of this writing, I found that within the last few months they had received commissions not only from various parts of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland, but from Belgium, Norway, France and Germany; some handsome harness, which I recently saw being made by them, was for Berlin. Opposite the entrance to the Bull is a smaller inn, the “King’s Head,” which is thatched; one hundred years ago nearly every house in the town was thatched, and by the terms of the Will by which this particular inn was devised to the present owner, it is required that it should always remain thatched. This, surely, is a proviso which might be legitimately ignored; and, doubtless, in a few years’ time, thatching will be a lost art. The street to the right, running north, and now named North Street, was formerly called “The Mill-stones,” from two old abandoned millstones which lay near the northern end of it. Half-way up this street, a back street branching off to the left is called “Conging Street,” and formerly near it was a well named “Conging Well.” This term is derived from the old Norman-French congÉ, a permission, or licence; from very early times the lord of the manor levied a toll on all who wished to traffic at the great fairs which were established by ancient charters of the Sovereign. There formerly stood, near the present Dispensary, an old house called the “Conging House,” where these tolls were paid for the licence to trade. [179]

A curious custom which formerly prevailed in the town at the time of the great fairs, and which continued to later than the middle of the 19th century, was the opening of what were termed “Bough-houses,” for the entertainment of visitors. Horncastle has still an unusually large number of licensed public-houses, and not many years ago had nearly twice the number, many of them with extensive stabling, for the accommodation of man and beast, at the fairs for which it is famous; but, beyond these, it was a custom, from time immemorial, that any private house could sell beer without a licence, if a bough, or bush, was hung out at the door. [180] This, no doubt, gave rise to the old saying, “good wine needs no bush,” i.e., the quarters where it was sold would need no bough or bush hung out to advertise its merits, as they would be a matter of common bruit. This, as was to be expected, was a privilege liable to be abused, and, only to give one instance, a couple living in the town and owning a name not unknown at Woodhall Spa, are said to have ordered for themselves a goodly barrel of beer to be ready for the fair, but, the barrel having been delivered two or three days before the fair commenced, they had themselves tried its merits so frequently, that when the day arrived there was none left to sell, and the barrel was unpaid for, with no means received to pay for it, while they themselves were no better for the transaction.

On “the Millstones,” about half-way up the street, a friend of the writer witnessed, in the forties, a man selling his wife by auction, [181] who stood on the top of a barrel, with a halter round her neck, and a crowd collected round, examining her merits, as might not long ago have been seen in a slave market in Egypt. She was sold for £30, in the street, opposite a small inn then called “The Horse and Jocky,” and kept by a man commonly called Banty Marshall. I am not aware that it is more than a coincidence, that, although the inn has now a different name, a device in the window represents a cat on a barrel. The parish stocks stood at the top of this street, where the Court House now stands; they were last used in 1859, and were only removed on its erection in 1865. The present writer can remember seeing persons confined in the stocks; as also in a neighbouring village, where the parish clerk, after his return from the Saturday market, not uncommonly was put in the stocks, to fit him for his Sunday duties.

In connection with the fairs, deeds of violence were not unknown. At a house on the north side of the Market-place, which was formerly the “Queen’s Head” inn, but is now occupied by a veterinary surgeon, while alterations were being made, two skeletons were found under the bricks of the kitchen floor. The men had doubtless been murdered for their money at fair-time, and the bodies placed there for concealment. Of the cheating practised at the fairs I can give a sample or two. It is recorded, I believe, that the late Dr. Dealtry, Archdeacon of Calcutta, preaching on the different ideas of honesty or fraud, gave point to his argument by a humorous illustration. “For instance,” he said, “my worthy friend, who occupies the reading desk beneath me, would see no dishonesty in misrepresenting the qualities of a horse he wished to sell, even to his dearest friend.” And honesty has by no means always been deemed the best policy in the streets of Horncastle. Edmund Yates, in his personal “Recollections,” relates that he was dining with the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Alexander Cockburn, when his host told the following story:—A man saw a handsome-looking horse at Horncastle Fair, and was astonished at the low price asked for it. After some chaffering, he bought it, taking it without a warranty. Having paid his money, he gave an extra five shillings to the groom, and asked what was the matter with the horse that he was sold so cheap. After some hesitation, the man said that the horse was a perfect animal, but for two faults. “Two faults,” said the buyer, “then tell me one of them.” “One,” said the groom, “is, that when you turn him out, in a field, he is very hard to catch.” “That,” said the buyer, “does not matter to me, as I never turn my horses out. Now for the other fault.” “The other,” said the groom, scratching his head and looking sly, “the other is, that when you’ve caught him he’s not worth a rap.”

Another story is as follows:—Some yeans ago a Lincolnshire clergyman, advanced in years, had an old horse which had run in his antiquated carriage from being four years old, till he was fourteen or fifteen. He would still have satisfied his master, but that he acquired a very bad habit, to which, like other old animals not four-legged, he obstinately adhered. He would jump over the dyke (the locality being in the marshes) into a neighbour’s field. The said neighbour complained of this so often that the pastor decided to sell. The old coachman took the horse to Horncastle Fair and sold him for £26. The old gentleman and his coachman then looked about the fair for another that would suit them. They presently saw a horse of the same size and style as the old favourite just sold, but with shorter mane and tail, and lacking the star on the forehead which marked the old horse. They asked, the price, and were told it was £40. After much haggling the horse was bought for £35, and his reverence drove home with the new purchase. After tea his wife said, “Well, so you have not sold?” “Oh, yes,” he replied, “we have, and have got a younger and more spirited animal, very like the old sinner, but with shorter mane and tail, and no star on his forehead.” “Well,” said the wife, “I think you were taken in, for the new horse is already, like the old one, grazing in neighbour Brown’s field”; and there, sure enough, he was. The dealer had docked the tail, trimmed the mane, and dyed the white star brown; and had “gingered” the old horse till he played up like a colt. His reverence, in short, had been “sold,” and the old sinner had been returned on his hands with the loss of £10.

My third story relates to a former Vicar of Horncastle, Dr. Loddington, who died in 1724, but whose name survives on one of the church bells, cast during his incumbency.

We are told, on authority, [183] that at one time all kinds of traffic went on within St. Paul’s Cathedral, and its precincts, in London. It was the common lounge of gallants and their female friends; and even a horse might be bought there; and such a transaction actually did take place in St. Mary’s Church, Horncastle. The Vicar had a chestnut mare which he wished to sell. Two dealers at the fair bid for her up to £35, which he refused to take. Sitting together at breakfast on the Sunday morning at their inn, Brown said to Robinson, “I bet you a bottle of wine I buy that mare of the Vicar’s.” “Done,” said Robinson. They both went to church, which was more than many dealers do nowadays. Brown took his seat just under the pulpit. Robinson, not knowing this, sat near the porch, intending to intercept the Vicar as he went out. The sermon ended, Brown waited till the Vicar descended from the pulpit; as he reached the bottom step of the stairs, Brown went to him and said, “That was a good sermon, but your reverence has not yet sold that mare; the fair is over, and I am leaving in the afternoon. Won’t you take the £35? You’ll never get a better bid.” The Vicar thought for a moment, and then whispered, “You may have her.” He went out, was met in the porch by Robinson, who found that he was too late, and owed Brown a bottle of wine; his only consolation was that he resolved himself to drink the better half of it.

At these fairs good bargains may be made by one who has an eye to the points of a horse, and can use his opportunities. The writer knew a curate in the south-west of Lincolnshire, whose stipend was £50 a year. He came regularly every year, for many years, to the August fair. His first purchase was a young horse, for which be gave the whole of his year’s stipend, £50. He kept it a year, and hunted it. I have ridden with him, when mounted on that horse, with the Belvoir hounds, and the next year he sold it for £300, a pretty good percentage on the original outlay. A cousin of the writer picked out a young horse from a number and gave £24 for it; he afterwards refused to take £300 for it, offered by “Lord Henry”; but he lent it to his lordship occasionally. Another, which he bought cheap, and for which he refused £400, broke its leg in jumping the river Bain, in a Horncastle steeplechase and had to be shot on the spot. Both these horses I have ridden to hounds, the one a bay, the other black.

Connected with the fairs is the so-called “Statutes,” a day in May for hiring servants. It was formerly the one general holiday in the year, but now that the Bank Holidays have been established, the statute-day is dwindling in its proportions. Of old all the servant girls, and all the clodhoppers from the country, used to gather in the town dressed in galore fashion, crowding the Bull-ring. Anyone who wanted a servant, as an old farmer once told the writer was his invariable custom, used to walk into the crowd and hire the first lass against whom he stumbled. The “fasten-penny,” a silver coin, was then given, and the bargain was then struck. Wild beast shows, and enormities such as lambs with two heads or a dozen legs, and other attractions, were provided, and the day ended with music and dancing at the different inns in the town; some of the proceedings having after-effects not desirable. At the present time, when there is more regard for our domestic servants and their characters, and cheap postage prevails, this mode of haphazard engagement has nearly died out, and the Statute will soon be a thing of the past. It was first enacted by Ed. III. in 1351; again by 13th Richard II., and, in later times, was held under “a precept” from the Chief Constable of the Division. To those who wish to read a humorous and graphic description of the doings on this day, in comparatively recent times, I would recommend the poem “Neddy and Sally; or, The Statute Day,” by John Brown, “the Horncastle Laureate, [184] of which I can here give only the opening lines, which breathe of the spirit inspiring the occasion.

“Cum, Sall! It’s time we started now,
Yon’s Farmer Haycock’s lasses reddy,
An’ maister says he’ll milk the cow.”
“He didn’t say soa, did he, Neddy?”

“Yees! that he did; soa make thee haste;
An’ get thee sen made smart an’ pritty;
Wi’ yaller ribbon round thee waist;
The same as owd Squire Lowden’s Kitty.

And I’ll goa fetch my sister Bess;
I’m sartin sewer she’s up an’ ready;
Cum! gie’s a buss! Thou can’t do less.”
Says Sally, “Noa, thou musn’t, Neddy.”

There have not been wanting, in this old town, some eccentric characters, whose doings have been peculiar, and have been traditionally preserved for the entertainment of a rising generation. Of these two or three may be recorded here, but for obvious reasons I avoid mentioning names. One individual, exulting in his strength, undertook, for a wager, some time in the thirties, to drag a dung cart from Lincoln to Horncastle, a distance of 21 miles, and successfully accomplished the feat in eight hours, but he is said to have suffered from hÆmorrhage for the rest of his days. Another man made a bet that he would start from Lincoln on horseback when the moon rose there, and would have his horse in his own stable at Horncastle before the moon had risen there. Lincoln being on a hill, the moon would be seen earlier there than at Horncastle, which lay in a hollow. As he galloped along he is said to have shouted, “Now me, now moon,” as the chances seemed at intervals for or against the one or the other. He just, however, missed the success which he might have achieved, as he had to pull up, late in the evening, at the toll-bar on the Lincoln road, about a mile from Horncastle, the toll-bar keeper being in bed; and this slight delay caused his failure, for, as he opened his stable door, he saw the moon shining in a bucket of water which was standing ready for his steed. The writer is informed that one, if not both, of these individuals was considered to be a little “short” of the full modicum of brains. Another person, still resident in the town, remembers the burning, in the street, of the effigies of Bayock and Demont, two of the witnesses in the trial of Queen Caroline, in 1820. They were Italians. There were great rejoicings and illuminations, in London and throughout the country, on Her Majesty’s acquittal; and this was the demonstration of Horncastrians. An old song was popular at the time, beginning thus:

False witnesses from Italy, they came to London town;
And all they had against her was to keep her from the crown.

Wharrie, a shoemaker in the town, was inspired to preach a sermon in the Bull-ring, from a cart, denouncing the trial. This sermon was printed, and a copy was long in the possession of my informant.

A character of a higher type than those yet named, was the late proprietor and manager of “The Bull” hostel, at which we are now supposed to be staying, Mr. Clement James Caswell, a genial, generous, and cultivated gentleman. He came of an old and highly respectable stock located in the county of Herts., his father being for many years landlord of “The George,” at Barnet, a stage on the Great North road, through which, in the old coaching days, scores of coaches passed daily. He was a coach proprietor, and handled the ribbons himself. The son was educated at the Spalding Grammar School, and acquired antiquarian, tastes while yet a boy. After having held some important public offices in that town, and then managing some mills at Aswardby, he bought the Bull at Horncastle. Though the inn had previously held a high position, he still further raised its character; and his spare time was devoted to reading, and research of various kinds. He had a very valuable collection of coins, the result of many years of careful selection. His garden, just out of the town, had an observatory, furnished with telescope, books, and other appliances for amusement and relaxation. He supplied the illustrations for a book entitled “In Tennyson Land,” by J. Cuming Walters, published in 1890. He was a member of the Architectural Society of Lincolnshire, Notts. and Leicestershire; a member of the Spalding Gentlemen’s Society, one of the oldest antiquarian societies in the kingdom; and he was continually corresponding, in various directions, on subjects of antiquarian interest. He had a valuable library of books bearing on these and kindred studies, and indicating the wide extent of his reading. Especially, perhaps, as a Tennysonian expert, he was consulted by almost everyone who has written on that subject, as in the case already named, and in Napier’s “Homes and Haunts of Tennyson.” It was a treat to get a quiet, genial hour with him, when he would run on with a stream of informing converse, but on few themes did he warm up with so much inspiration as that of the late Laureate, witness these lines of his own composition:—

SOMERSBY.

Bright Somersby! the sometime summer haunt
Of Norsemen and of Dane, whose bards mayhap
Foretold—a nest of nightingales would come,
And trill their songs in shades of Holy Well;
Prophetic bards; for we have lived to see
Within your bounds a large-limbed race of men;
A long-lived race, and brimming o’er with song,
From lays of ancient Greece, and Roman eld,
To songs of Arthur’s knights, and England’s prime,
And modern verse, in graceful sonnet sung.
Each of the brood was clothed upon with song;
Yet some had stronger pinions than the rest;
And one there was, who for thy fame will long
Send pilgrims to thy cross in loving quest.

Mr. Caswell passed away in August, 1896, much valued and much missed by many friends who knew his worth.

A trace of the Saxon still survives in the name of a field, to the south of the town, and lately given to the town by the Lord of the Manor, which is called “The Wong.” This is an old Saxon word for “meadow.” In the “Ancient English Romance of Havelok the Dane” (Early English Text Society, London, 1868), we find in line 397, “Casteles and tunes, wodes and wonges,” i.e. castles and villages, woods and fields. In Stamford a back street, formerly in the suburbs, retains the name Wong street. In North Yorkshire is a hamlet named Wet-wang, and in our own neighbourhood, at Halton Holegate, near Spilsby, there is land called “The Wongs.”

Horncastle was the Roman station Banovallum, or fortress on the Bane, mentioned by the historian Ravennas. Fragments of the massive walls of the old castrum, or fort, can be distinctly traced by those who know where to look for them; but they need looking for, since, for the most part, they are hidden in the back premises of shops or residences, which face the street. Briefly stated, the western wall runs along the western boundary of the churchyard of the Parish Church, and may there be seen, as well as a fragment of it in a yard at the end of the road which passes north of the churchyard. It continued northward to within a few yards of the bridge over the northern branch of the canal. The southern wall runs almost parallel with the south branch of the canal, portions being visible at the back of the Grammar School, and at a corner of St. Mary’s square close to the churchyard. This runs eastward through various back premises, and may best be seen in a coalyard near the canal. At that point the eastern wall begins, and runs northward, passing under some houses, and yards, and under the High street, the most north-easterly point being found in a small yard at the back of the shop of Messrs. Carlton and Sons, Chemists, adjoining Dog Kennel yard; so called because Lord Fitz-Williams’ hounds were kennelled there when he hunted the South Wold country nearly a century ago. The northern wall runs through back premises an the north of the Market place, and at the back of Mr. Overton’s and Mr. Lunn’s premises. In the fields on the south-west of the town, and beyond the south branch of the canal was formerly a maze, such as have been found at other Roman stations. [188a] This was named “Julian’s Bower,” and thought by Stukeley to be Roman, but the late Bishop Suffragan, E. Trollope, in a Paper read at Horncastle, June 3rd, 1858, [188b] pronounced it to be mediÆval. In the Roman maze the youths played at “Tory Town;” and as this game was first taught by Ascanius, called also Iulus, the son of Æneas, from him it acquired the name “Julian.” [188c] At the west end of the town, in the angle between the roads leading to the railway station and Edlington, is a site called Maypole Hill. Here the boys and girls used to march in procession on May day, bearing flowers, “with wands called May-gads in their hands, enwreathed with cowslips,” and dance around the Maypole; a relic, as some authorities say, of the Roman Festival of the Floralia; [188d] others say it was a practice introduced by the Danish Vikings, with whom the Maypole, often a fixture, represented a sacred tree, around which councils were held and human sacrifices were offered. [188e] These games in Horncastle, Mr. Weir, in his History, [188f] says, were given up about 1780. Several Roman roads converge at Horncastle. The old Roman castle, says Leland, [188g] quoting an old mysterious chronicle, “Vortimer caused to be beten doune; and never sin was re-fortified; the which castel was first enstrengthened by Hors, Hengist’s brother.” The modern name, Horncastle, is the Saxon Hyrn-Ceaster, or “castle in a corner,” as it is placed in the angle formed by the two streams, the Bain and the Waring. The word Hyrn, or Hurn, occurs at other places in the county, representing an angle or promontory, as well as a recess or bay.

To come to a later period, it appears, from Domesday Book, that Horncastle, at one time, had been the property of Editha, the wife of Edward the Confessor, but at the date of that Survey it belonged to King William himself. In the reign of Stephen it was the demesne of Adelias de Cundi, daughter and heiress of William de Chesney, Lord of Caenby and Glentham. On her death it reverted to the Crown, and the manor was bestowed by Henry II. on Gerbald de Escald, a Fleming. He was succeeded by his grandson, Gerard de Rhodes, during whose minority it was held, in trust, by Ranulph, Earl of Chester. Gerard was succeeded by his son Ralph de Rhodes, who, in the reign of Henry III., sold the manor to Walter Mauclerke, Bishop of Carlisle, and Treasurer of the Exchequer. This was afterwards confirmed by the King, who conferred upon the Bishop, by a succession of charters, various privilege’s and immunities, which tended to the growth and prosperity of the town. Among other powers bestowed upon the Bishop was the right to seize and try felons, and on the south-east of the parish there is a place, still called “Hangman’s Corner,” where criminals were executed by his order. The bishops long had a palace, their chief Residence, in Horncastle, which was situated at the rear of the Black Horse inn and the premises of Mr. Lunn, grocer. It was demolished in 1770. The manor continued their property till the reign of Ed. VI., when Bishop Aldrich sold it to Edward, Lord Clinton, who, however, was compelled by Queen Mary to re-convey it to the See of Carlisle, and the bishops continued lords of the manor till 1856, when it was transferred to the Bishop of Lincoln with the patronage of the benefice. The lease of this manor was held by Queen Elizabeth and her successor, James I., who assigned it to Sir Henry Clinton. This lease was held for nearly a century by Sir Joseph Banks and his family, ultimately passing to James Banks Stanhope, Esq., late of Revesby.

Of the Church not a great deal need be said. It was thoroughly restored in 1864, at a cost of £4,000, and is now in an excellent condition. The east window is almost a copy, on an enlarged scale, of the east window of Haltham church, in this neighbourhood. It exhibits, in stained glass, events in the life of the Saviour; beneath it is a carved reredos of Caen stone, the central subject of the sculpture being the agony in the garden, with figures of the four Evangelists, two on each side. The organ is a costly and very fine instrument, mainly due to the liberality of the late Henry James Fielding. In the north aisle is a brass of Sir Lionel Dymoke, in armour, kneeling on a cushion; on either side are two shields, and beneath, figures of two sons and three daughters. His hands are placed together as in prayer, and from his left elbow issues a scroll, with the inscription, “Sc’ta trinitas unus deus miserere nob.” The shields display the arms of Dymoke, Waterton, Marmyon, Hebden, and Haydon. The antiquarian, Gervase Holles, gives, from the Harleian MSS., several other inscriptions, which no longer exist, but which are found in Weir’s “History of Horncastle.” Near this, attached to the wall above the north-east door, and on each side of the arch between the aisle and chancel, are some rude weapons of war in the shape of long knives, or scythes, supposed to have been used at the Winceby fight, when it is known that the troops of the Royalists were very badly armed. [190] There are several memorial tablets on the walls. In the floor of the south aisle, towards the east end, is the tombstone of Sarah Sellwood, wife of Henry Sellwood, Esq., and mother-in-law of Lord Tennyson, the Poet Laureate. She died Sept. 30th, 1816. The roof is of Spanish chestnut, which was formerly completely hidden by a flat plaster ceiling. On the north wall of the chancel, over the north-east door, is a tablet to the memory of Sir Ingram Hopton, who, after unhorsing Cromwell, was himself slain at the battle of Winceby, the date of which is there wrongly given as “October 6th, a.d. 1643,” whereas the fight really took place on October 11th. Cromwell is also there designated as “the arch rebel,” whereas at that time he was only a colonel; but, to quote two words from the Latin inscription, he was then an instance of “celata virtus,” his future greatness not yet known; and the epitaph, of course inscribed afterwards, is a slight solecism, and we may here venture to make the remark that this monument is now itself a further instance of “celata virtus,” for it is placed in a position where no light falls upon it, and the writer actually looked at it recently without recognising what it was. On the wall between nave and chancel, on the south side, is a small stone bearing the names of Thomas Gibson, Vicar; John Hamerton and John Goake, Church-wardens, 1675. Walker, in his “Sufferings of the Clergy” (1714), gives an account of this Vicar, which is here abridged. Born at Keswick, educated at Queen’s College, Oxford, he was appointed Master of the Free School at Carlisle; thence to that of Newcastle, and preferred by the Bishop of Carlisle to the Vicarage in 1634. In consequence of a sermon preached by him, at the election for convocation, he was seized, in 1643, and carried as a prisoner to Hull. Being released, after four months’ detention, and returning to Horncastle, he was charged with teaching “Ormanism” (Arminianism), and committed to the “county jayl” at Lincoln, and a Presbyterian minister appointed in his stead at Horncastle. In 1644, Colonel King, the governor of Boston, ordered a party of horse to seize him (he apparently having been released from Lincoln) and to plunder his house, but an old pupil, Lieut.-Colonel John Lillburn, interceded for him with his superior officer, Col. King, and the order was revoked; on Lillburn, however, presently going to London, the order was repeated, and Mr. Gibson was made prisoner, his house plundered, and his saddle horse, draught horses, and oxen, taken from him. He was imprisoned at Boston, then in Lincoln, and in “Tattors-Hall-Castle, where he had very ill usage for 17 weeks.” He was sequestered from his living, and an “intruder,” one Obadiah How, put in charge. He was now accused by the Puritans of obeying the orders of the Church, defending episcopacy, refusing “the covenant,” etc. He retired “to a mean house,” about a mile from Horncastle (supposed to be at Nether (Low) Toynton), where he and his family “lived but poorly for two years, teaching a few pupils.” He was then made master of the free school at Newark; two years later removed to the school at Sleaford, being presented by Lady Carr. There he lived until the Restoration, and then resumed his Vicarage at Horncastle, until he died, in 1674, aged 84. “He was a grave and Venerable Person, of a Sober and Regular conversation, and so studious of peace, that when any Differences arose in his Parish, he never rested till he had Composed them. He had likewise so well Principled his Parish, that of 250 families in it, he left but one of them Dissenters at his Death.” [192a] There is an inscription painted on the south wall of the chancel, with gilt and coloured border, commemorative of this worthy Vicar, which truly states that he “lived in times when truth to the Church and loyalty to the King met with punishment due only to the worst of crimes.” The church of St. Mary is not named in Domesday Book, and probably at that time no church existed on this site. But in the Record of an Inquisition post mortem, taken at Horncastle, Jan. 21st, 1384–5, Richard II., it is stated that the King gave to a certain Gilbert, Prior of Wyllesforth, and his successors, two messuages, &c., and the site of the Chapel of St. Lawrence, with appurtenances, in Horncastre, on condition that “they find a fit chaplain to celebrate mass in the chapel aforesaid, three days in every week.” [192b] This chapel probably stood in or near the street running northward out of the Market place, and called St. Lawrence street, near which bodies have been exhumed at different times. When the clump of shops were cleared away in 1892, to make the present Market place, through the liberality of the late Right Hon. Edward Stanhope, several large fragments of Norman pillars were found, which probably once belonged to the old Norman chapel. [193c] St. Lawrence is the Patron Saint of Horncastle; and as he was martyred on a brander, or gridiron, the arms of the town are a Gridiron. The “canting” device of a castle on a horn has no very ancient authority. The “pancake bell” is rung on Shrove Tuesday, at 10 a.m.; the Curfew at 8 p.m. from Oct. 11 to April 6, except Saturdays at 7 p.m., and omitting from St. Thomas’s Day to Plough Monday. The Grammar School bell used to be rung, and the writer has often assisted, as a boy, in ringing it at 7 a.m.; but it has been given up of late years, as the governors of the school declined to pay far it.

In one of the Parish Registers appears the following entry:—“On the Vth daie of October one thousand six hundred & three, in the first yeare of our Souvraine Lord King James was holden in Horncastle Church a solemn fast from eight in the morning until foure a clock in the afternoone by five preachers, vidiz. Mr. Hollinhedge, vicar of Horncastle, Mr. Turner of Edlington, Mr. Downe of Lusbye, Mr. Phillipe of Salmonbye, Mr. Tanzey of Hagworthingha’, occasioned by a general and most feareful plague yt yeare in sundrie places of this land, but especially upon the cytie of London. Pr. me Clementen Whitelock.” A Record at the Rolls Court states that Horncastle Church was resorted to by a robber for the purpose of Sanctuary, as follows:—“22 August 1229. The King (at Windsor) commands the Sheriff of Lincolnshire (Radulphus filius Reginald) to send two coroners of the county to see that a robber who keeps himself in the Church of Horncastle, abjures the kingdom.” [193] Among some MS. Records in the possession of Mr. John Overton, I find it stated that in December, 1812, the vestry room was broken open and robbed of all the money, and other valuables; and that £50 reward was offered by the Vestry for the discovery of the culprits.

Although the Manor of Horncastle was at more than one period Royal property, it has only once, so far as we know, been visited by Royalty. Leland states that “in the year of our Lord 1406, on the 12th of September, on Saturday at 6 o’clock, Henry (IV.) by the grace of God, King of England, came from the town of Horncastle, to the Abbey of Bardney, with a great and honourable company on horseback”; and that “the Abbot and Convent of the aforesaid Monastery went out to meet him in procession at the outer gates.” [194a] We have no further known record of this visit; but as Henry IV. was the son of John of Gaunt, and born at Bolingbroke, we may assume that he passed through Horncastle on his way from Bolingbroke to the palace of his father at Lincoln, and that John of Gaunt’s stables, still standing at the present day in the High street of that city, sheltered the steeds of the company at the end of their journey. Doubtless he adjourned a night, if not more, at Horncastle, and the loyal old town, probably headed by the Champion Dymoke of the day, would give him as hearty a welcome as that which awaited him from the abbot and monks at Bardney.

Two or three more short remarks may be made about Horncastle. When Sir Ingram Hopton, whose tablet we have mentioned as being in the church, was slain at Winceby, the body, by Cromwell’s order, was brought to Horncastle for burial. It was placed in the house, or, rather, a previous house on the same site, in West Street, now named Cromwell House; and it is said, on what authority we do not know, that Cromwell himself came to Horncastle, that he might personally instruct the churchwarden, Mr. Hamerton, that the opponent, whom he pronounced to be “a brave gentleman,” should be properly honoured in his obsequies. [194b]

A house at the south-west corner of the market place, where Mr. R. W. Clitherow, solicitor, now lives, was formerly a public-house, but was burnt down and the present one erected. At this house, then occupied by Mr. Sellwood, solicitor, Sir John Franklin visited, and was entertained at a public dinner, a few days before he set out, in 1844, on his final Arctic expedition; and the writer remembers his father going to attend this dinner.

We have said that, 100 years ago, almost every house was thatched. A record in Mr. Overton’s possession states that the two first slate-roofed houses in the town were one built by Mr. Storr, a gardener, afterwards occupied by Mrs. L’Oste, widow of the Rev. C. L’Oste, rector of Langton, and now occupied by Dr. Howes; and the house of Mr. Titus Overton, now occupied by Mr. John Overton, being erected in 1793.

Having completed our perambulations of the town, let us betake ourselves once more to the country. We remount the hill, which we descended on leaving Thimbleby for Horncastle, but by a different road, viz., one running due west. Half way up the ascent of this, the westernmost spur of the chalky Wolds, we have two roads, either of which would bring us to Woodhall Spa, almost equi-distant by either; but that is not, as yet, our destination. We continue the ascent, due westward. The summit reached, we have a wide prospect before us. To the left, on a clear day, Boston Stump is visible, the Tower on the Moor rises above the woods, beyond that Tattershall castle and church; in the dim distance the graceful spire of Heckington points, like a needle, to the sky. Straight in front of us woods on woods band and bar the prospect, relieved by the spires of Old Woodhall and Horsington. To the right, the horizon is crowned by the almost pyramidal shape of Lincoln Minster, the seeing eye also detecting the lesser pyramid of the Chapter House, other spires, with the factory chimneys of the now busy city, more than its old prosperity being revived. Further to the right the plantations of Fillingham Castle, some miles beyond Lincoln, on the “Spital road,” fringe the view. Truly, it is a wide-ranging outlook, embracing little short of 30 miles, with many a village and hamlet, buried and unseen, in its entourage of wood. Immediately in the near front is Langton mill, a conspicuous object, which I have distinguished from the top of Lincoln Minster itself. Half-a-mile farther lies the village of Langton, one of three of the same name in the neighbourhood—one near Spilsby, one near Wragby, and this “by Horncastle.” As to the meaning of the name Langton, Dr. Oliver refers the first syllable to the British “Lan” (Welsh Llan), meaning “place of worship,” and so corresponding to Kirkby, or Kirkstead. In this particular case, however, the ordinary meaning of “Lang,” or “long,” would be specially applicable, since the village has evidently at one time been larger than at present, and the parish extended, some six miles, to the Witham, until, quite recently, the distant portion was included in Woodhall Spa. Here again we had, until recent years, in the rectory, another moated residence, standing almost on an island, being surrounded by water except for the space of the churchyard and the width of a drive to the house. The moat was drained for sanitary reasons about 50 yeans ago, to the regret of many, since, as has been mentioned in a previous chapter (Chapter VI.), it contained an abundance of large pike, and other fish, from which the lake at Sturton Hall was stocked. The Queen was the lady of the manor until, in 1860, much Crown property was sold in this neighbourhood, and the manor and most of the land in the parish, except the glebe, was bought by the Coates family, who have a substantial residence here.

In three fields at the west end of the village are traces of ponds, mounds, and hollows, indicating large buildings existing at one time. And we have sundry records of men of rank who have owned land, and probably resided, in the parish. Dugdale [196a] tells us that this “town” was given by the Conqueror to the then powerful Bishop of Durham, whose name was William de Karilepho. He was Chief Justice of England. This gift the Conqueror may be said to have “confirmed with an oath,” for the charter, conveying the land, sets forth that they “shall be preserved inviolable for ever,” and concludes with an anathema on whosoever shall profane the charter, or change anything therein, unless for the better:—“by the authority of the Prince of Apostles, I deprive them of the society of the Lord, the aforesaid Pope Gregory, and the Church; and reserve them by the judgment of God, to be punished by everlasting fire with the devil and his angels. Amen.” This fearful threat of Divine vengeance, however, seems to have lost its terror after a lapse of time of no very great length, since, according to the historian Banks, [196b] in the 9th year of Edward I. Philip de Marmion held the manor.

There was formerly not only Langton, but an outlying Langton-thorpe, and this is probably referred to in Domesday Book as the “Berewick” of Langton, for it is there stated that Robert Dispenser held in this Berewick [197a] of Langton one carucate in demesne, eight soke men (tenants) with half a carucate, and four villeins with two carucates, and twenty-four acres of meadow, and two hundred and eighty acres of wood containing pasturage.

A powerful family of the Angevines lived here at a later period. There is, extant among the Records of Lincoln, [197b] the Will of Robert Angevine, Gent., of Langton by Horncastle, dated 25th April, 1545, in which he requests that he may be buried in the church of St. Margaret; he bequeaths to his daughters, Millesancte, Grace, Jane, and Mary, “vli. apiece,” the money to come out of Burnsall, Hebden, Conyseat, and Norton, in Yorkshire; to his wife Margaret “xli. a year for life out of the said lands”; and to his son William lands in Hameringham. The family acquired their name thus:—Ivo Tailbois was at the head of the Aungevine troops of auxiliaries which William the Conqueror brought over with him from Normandy; and this name, in time, took the various forms of Aungelyne, Aungeby, and Angevine. There were Angevines at Whaplode, in the south-east of the county, in the 12th century. There was a branch of them at Theddlethorpe, and at Saltfleetby, in the 14th century. The one at Langton had a brother at West Ashby. They appear in the Visitation of 1562 among the leading families of the county gentry; but in 1592 the name does not appear, and they dwindled away, and at the time of the Commonwealth are nowhere found. The old families of Scroope and of Langton are also said to have resided here. A member of the family of the Dightons, who owned Stourton, Waddingworth, and other properties in this neighbourhood, if not actually residing in Langton (although he probably did), had an interest in the place, as, in a Will, still at Lincoln, dated 15th July, 1557, having requested that he might “be buried in the quire where I die”; among other bequests, he leaves a sum of money “to the poore of Langton by Horncastle.” [198]

From 1653 to 1656 Justice Filkin resided at Langton, and before him persons of Horncastle and the neighbourhood were frequently married, the law at that time recognising only civil marriages.

The church of Langton (St. Margaret’s) is a small edifice, and, until recently, was in a very poor condition, with no pretension to architectural beauty in any of its features. It had been rebuilt in the 18th century, at the very worst period for such work, and so badly done that it was almost a ruin when the writer, as rector, undertook its restoration. Though still small, it now has several interesting features. The pulpit, reading desk and lectern have been carved by the Rector, in old oak, in Jacobean style, in memory of his father, who was rector 49 years. In the chancel there is an Aumbrey containing an ancient stoup of Barnack stone, said to have formerly been the holy water vessel of Spalding Priory. On the Communion table is a curious old alms dish of “lateen” metal; the device in the centre is the temptation by the devil of our first parents; an inscription in old Dutch runs round,—Vreest Goedt honderhovedt syn geboedt; or, Fear God, keep his commandments. The font bowl is Early Norman, of Barnack stone, discovered by the Rector among rubbish in some back premises in Horncastle, and supposed to have been the font of the Early Norman church of St. Lawrence, once existing there; the pedestal and base are fragments from the ruins of Kirkstead. In a recess, or aumbrey, behind the west door, is a very interesting relic, found, a few years ago, in the moat of the old hall at Poolham, which we described in the previous chapter. We there mentioned the remains of an oratory, or chapel, still standing in the south-west corner of the kitchen garden at the old Hall. Some men were employed in cleaning out the mud from the encircling moat, the season being a very dry one, and the moat almost empty of water. This had not been done for many years, if ever before, and the mud was some feet thick. Below the above-named chapel ruins an object was thrown up among the mud, which the men took to be a broken seed vessel formerly belonging to a birdcage, but as it was curiously marked, one of them took it home, and asked the writer to go and look at it. He did so, and, seeing its antiquity, he obtained it for a trifle, and communicated with the Society of Antiquaries, and other authorities, about it, with the result that it was pronounced to be a mediÆval chrismatory. It was made of coarse tarra-cotta of a greyish buff colour, ornamented with patterns of squares, diamonds and crosses, with a fleur-de-lys in the centre of one side, emblematic of the Trinity. It contained in the body two square wells about an inch deep, which were originally covered with arched roofs, but one of these had been broken off. At each end was a spout from the cellar. Its total length was 7 inches; its height, including the roof, 4 inches; breadth, 3 inches. The use of the chrismatory was this:—When a child was to be baptised, as it was brought into the church it was sprinkled with salt, and at baptism it was anointed with oil; and the two cellars were intended respectively to hold the salt and oil. This object has been exhibited on various public occasions, and has excited much interest, as it is considered to be quite unique. The church was at one time considerably larger, as, at the restoration in 1891, the foundations of a north aisle were found, as well as of a tower. The Land Revenue Records mention that, in 1553, it had “three gret bells and a sanctum bell.” [199a] The only remaining bell bears the inscription “Anno Domini 1579, R. G.” [199b] Considerable neglect has been allowed in the past, as is shown by the Archdeacon’s Visitation in 1606, when the rector, Wm. Kirk, was presented “for the decay of his parsonage house”; while Wm. Newport, Thos. Goniston, and John Hodgson, guardians, were reported as “collecting monie to ye value of iijl, vjs, vijd, to buy a Co’ion Cup, and not p’viding one, and for not p’viding a sufficient bible, and a chest with two lockers and keys.” Uriah Kirke, rector, was also presented “for suffering a barne of 3 baies to fall down belonging to ye parsonage, and for his chauncel being in decay, and the chauncel windows all broken.” And Charles Johnson and Augnes, widow of Robt. Thurnhill, late guardian, were reported as “selling away ye Communion Cup belonging to ye church.” This larger church had several windows in the chancel, instead of the one window of the modern church, and an old document thus describes them and their colouring:—

Boreales fenestrÆ in Cancello. Arg. Crosse Crusilly a lyon ramp. double queued. G. a lyon ram. very crowned or, Everingham. Arg. billetty a lyon double queued G. Rob. de Seyrt me fecit fieri. Blue a bend 6 mullets of 6 poynts or. Fenestra Austualis—Barry of 6 arg. and gules in chief, a greyhound cursant sa., collard or.—Skipworth.

In Campanili gules, a cross sarcelly arg. Beke sa. a crosse engrayled or, Ufferd (Willoughby).

These windows were evidently fine, and indicate a connection with the parish of the ancient families Everingham, Skipwith, Deseyrt, Bec and Willoughby. [200a] The architect for the restoration was Mr. W. Scorer, of Lincoln; and the roof of nave and chancel was painted in panels, with emblems of the Passion, and texts, by Mr. Powell, of Lincoln. The patronage of the living was vested in Mr. Willoughby West, who also founded and endowed a couple of Bede houses, but the family is now extinct, and by lapse the patronage is with the Bishop.

A walk of a mile farther through fields, one of which is known as Dog-fight, another Broad moor, and a third Pry-close, brings us to the church (St. Margaret also) of Old Woodhall. The name of this field “Pry-close” would seem to be an interesting Norman survival; “Pre” is a meadow. Near Northampton are “the verdant meads of De la PrÈ.” And this may have been the home pasture of the old Wood-Hall. Praie, however, is an old word meaning coarse grass, which is still to be seen in the field. This church again, of which the writer is vicar, was in a dangerous condition when he entered on the benefice in 1890, but was restored in 1893. It possessed an interesting feature in the spire, one, according to an old saying, of the only four spires existing on this, the eastern, side of the river Witham; that of Louth being the chief, and one of the finest in the kingdom, which took 15 years in building; that of South Somercotes being a third; and that of Linwood being a fourth, of which Gough, in his additions to Camden’s “Britannia,” (vol. ii., p. 267), says it “is the only one to be seen in a round of 59 parishes hereabouts.” [200b] The spire of Woodhall is a modest imitation of that of Louth, having flying buttresses. Half-way up it is encircled by a battlemented corona. Its structure is peculiar, as it rests entirely and solely on two buttresses on each side of the west door. It dates from the 14th century. The body of the church is modern, being rebuilt in the worst style in 1807, partly of brick and partly of stone, the roof throughout being of one elevation, without any distinction between nave and chancel. At the restoration, the Vicar, as at Langton, carved the pulpit, reading-desk, font cover, and desk for Communion table, in memory of his father, who was 50 years vicar. The font was formerly in the little chapel, or oratory, in the garden at Poolham Hall, previously referred to, and left there neglected. It is here restored to its original sacred purpose, and is supported by four handsome columns of serpentine, from the Lizard quarries, Cornwall, the gift of the Rev. J. A. Penny, vicar of Wispington. The church has two bells. Further details of Woodhall were given in a previous chapter, in describing the old moated Wood-Hall. It was at the farm close by the church that a well (also previously mentioned) was sunk to a depth of 33 feet, which tapped a saline spring, resembling, it was said, the Woodhall Spa water, but which soon lost its salt taste from the inrush of fresh water. [201] Beside a pond just outside the churchyard there is a very large ice-borne boulder, measuring about 4½ feet in length, 4 feet in width, and 1½ feet in thickness.

In an old charter “dated at Edlington on Wednesday next after the feast of St. Michael, 1285,” by which William, son of William de Wvspington, grants to William Hardigrey of Edlington, clerk, certain properties, one of the witnesses is Aluered de Wodhalle, along with several others. This would probably be a descendant of Alured of Lincoln, who, in Domesday Book, is said to be possessed of 51 lordships in Lincolnshire, besides property in other counties. The last descendant died without male issue, 48 Henry III., leaving his three sisters his next heirs, and so the name perished.

We now retrace our steps as far as Langton mill, and there taking the road which branches off to the right, southward, we soon arrive at Thornton. The church, dedicated to St. Wilfrid (Archbishop a.d. 709), which replaced a mean structure, built about 1730 in the worst of styles, with flat plaster ceiling and wooden window frames with large square panes of glass, was entirely rebuilt in the Perpendicular style, and thoroughly well done, in 1889–90, by Canon J. Clare Hudson, vicar, and the leading parishioners, at a cost of £1,000. The only objects of any antiquarian interest are some quaint wrought-iron double crosses affixed to the north and south walls of the nave, having eight iron hat pegs on each. The font is modern, its bowl octagonal, with the monogram I.H.S. and other devices on alternate sides. In the chancel are modern frescoes executed by Miss Alice Erskine, an amateur artist of much taste. The subject on the north wall is the visit of the Magi to the Infant Saviour, while on the wall to the south of the east window are representatives of the Archangels St. Michael and St. Gabriel. Gifts of handsome brass candlesticks for the Holy Table, and service books have recently been made by H. R. Elmhirst, Esq., and Mrs. Elmhirst. The Communion table is of Indian teakwood. We may here observe that the Records at Lincoln shew that there were rectors in this parish (though now a vicarage) in 1232 and downwards, and a list of the incumbents from that date to the present time has been compiled by Canon Hudson, and may be seen in the parish chest. The Parish Registers date from 1561. Among the gentry mentioned in the Registers as residents in the parish are several members of the very old county family of Maddison, who intermarried with the Dymokes. In digging in the churchyard on the north-west of the old church, the base of the west tower of the pre-Reformation church was found, which was said also to have had two aisles. In the churchyard is a tombstone commemorative of Penelope Gunnis, who died in 1826, at the advanced age of 107 years. The western portions of this parish, which stretches from within 150 yards of St. Mary’s Church, Horncastle, to within 100 yards of the Witham at Kirkstead wharf, are now included in the Civil parish of Woodhall Spa.

In the reign of the Conqueror the powerful Robert Despenser had in this parish eighty acres of meadow land, three hundred and fifty acres of wood, and two mills, with sokemen, velleins, and bordars; other land, with dependents, being owned by Gozelin, a vassal of Alured of Lincoln, named above in connection with Woodhall. The Champion Dymoke is lord of the manor in the present day. A Roman urn, as has been stated elsewhere, was dug up in this parish when the railway was being constructed. The only public notice in connection with Thornton of an unusual character, in modern times, is the following, which appeared as an advertisement in the “Stamford Mercury” of January 5th, 1810:—Sacrilege.—Whereas the Parish Church of Thornton, near Horncastle, has been lately broken open and a thin silver half-pint cup stolen out of the chest, any person giving information of the offender or offenders, shall, on conviction, receive from the parishioners of Thornton five guineas reward, and if there was an accomplice in the above sacrilege who will turn King’s evidence, he shall, on conviction, have the above reward, and every endeavour will be used to obtain his Majesty’s pardon.—“Lincs. N. & Q.,” Oct., 1896.

In a list of gentry who furnished “launces and light horse” for the defence of the country in 1584, given in the Melbourn Hall MS., we find the name of Edward Dymmock, of Thornton, Gent., put down for “j light horse” for the master at Horncastle, and among those who were summoned for the Sessions there, according to another list, we again find Edward Dymmock of Thornton, Gent. (“Architect. S. Journal,” vol. xxii., pt. ii., pp. 214 and 221). In a grass field, on the south side of the road through Thornton, there are mounds and hollows, indicating a large residence, which this Dymmock probably occupied.

Proceeding three quarters of a mile further southward, and passing Martin Hall, we turn up a lane to the right and find the church of Martin, St. Michael’s, in a secluded spot, like many a flower born to blush unseen. Yet it is worthy of a visit, having features of more than ordinary interest, which were well preserved on its partial restoration in 1869, and again by the late W. J. Gilliatt, of the Hall, and his sisters, in 1877. For many years it was a thatched edifice, but now has a slated roof. The south doorway is Early Norman, with broad, receding semi-circular arch, with a double band of zigzag moulding; on each side, Norman columns, with, quaint heads as capitals. The church is entered by two descending steps. The font is modern, Norman in style, the bowl having eight semi-circular fluttings, being supported by eight columns raised on a stone pediment. The west window is filled with good modern glass from Munich. The central subject is the Saviour’s body being taken down from the Cross; the left subject is the Saviour bearing His Cross; the right, the body being borne away. This was a memorial, placed in the church by Miss Spalding, of Lincoln, commemorative of the Rev. J. B. Smith, D.D., the rector, who, in returning from paying her a visit at Lincoln, fell out of his railway carriage at Kirkstead and broke his neck, although, strange to say, he lived for several weeks afterwards. [204] In the north wall of the nave is a plain arched Easter sepulchre, which was probably the founder’s tomb. The pulpit is of Caen stone, plain, and massive; behind it is a curious semi-circular recess, in the east wall. The chancel arch is Early English, and very narrow, only 3ft. 9in. in width, which makes the chancel very dark, an effect further increased by the great thickness, 3ft. 4in., of the chancel arch wall. The east window has two trefoiled lights, small and narrow, their total width only 2ft. 3in. In the south wall of the chancel are two deeply-recessed small square-headed windows, partly built up, and having a stone seat at the base, but too high for use. There are several flat tombstones of Hughsons and Oldhams in the floor. The Early Norman doorway and the massive chancel arch wall and gloomy chancel are the special features of this interesting little church. At the time of the restoration, in 1877, the original large altar slab, decorated with four crosses, was found in the floor, face downwards. It was taken, up, and now forms the base, or dÄis, of the Communion table. The Parish Register commences with 1562. Under the year 1649 occurs this entry:—“This yeare ye lordship of Marton was inclosed; no consent of Bishop or Rector.” The unusual name, “Ingelo,” specially known in connection with the poem, “The Bells of Enderby,” occurs frequently in the Registers from 1673 downwards. The names of Norreys Fynes, and other members of the family, resident at White-Hall, in this parish, occur frequently. There is an engraving of the church in the “Church of England Magazine” for 1849. We must not omit to mention that the fine fragment of brickwork called the “Tower on the Moor,” and co-eval with Tattershall Castle, although now included in the Civil parish of Woodhall Spa, stands in what was part of Martin parish till 1897. There only remains the staircase of what was once a much larger structure. Leland says, “One of the Cromwelles builded a preaty turret caullid the Tour of the Moore: and thereby he made a faire greate pond or lake brickid about. The lake is commonly called the Synkker” (Itinerarium, vol. iv., p. 58).

Scott, the celebrated commentator, began his ministerial labours in this parish.

In early times. Martin was in the “soke” of Kirkby-on-Bain, i.e., it was under the jurisdiction of the lord of the manor of Kirkby, who, in the time of the Conqueror, was Eudo, son of Spirewick, the founder [205a] of the Tateshall, or Tattershall, family in Lincolnshire. This Eudo, as Dugdale relates, [205b] with his sworn brother in arms, Pinso (though no blood relation), came into England with the Conqueror, and the two merited so well of him in that service that they obtained for recompense the lordship of Tattershall, with the hamlet of Thorpe, and town of Kirkby. He held direct from the king certain lands in Martin; and as the Clintons, shortly after the extinction of the Tattershall family, received their estates, this would be the way in which the Whitehall estate in Martin came to the Clintons.

Journeying on still southward, some mile and a half from Martin, we reach the parish of Roughton. The church has no pretensions to architectural beauty, being a mixture of brick and sandstone. It has nave, chancel, and castellated tower, and small castellated parapets at the north and south ends of the chancel wall; a large west door, and small priests’ door in the chancel. It was newly roofed and fitted with open oak benches in 1870, the chancel being then also paved with encaustic tiles, the tower opened to the nave, and most of the windows partly filled with stained glass. The font is plain, circular, upon a circular pediment; it has an old font cover, cupola shaped, octagonal, of oak, plain, except some slight carving round the rim. There are some fragmentary remains of a carved rood screen, and a plain old oak pulpit. In the chancel is a lengthy inscription, commemorative of Norreys Fynes, Esq., which has already been given to a previous chapter in connection with Fynes of Whitehall. There is also a mural tablet to the memory of the Rev. Arthur Rockliffe, who died in 1798; and another to Charles Pilkington, Esq., who died in 1798, and Abigail his wife, who died in 1817. The register dates from 1564, and is therefore a fairly good one, since parochial registers were only first enjoined in the reign of Henry VIII., 1530–1538. The registers contain some peculiar entries, and exhibit a remarkable orthography, if such a term can be applied to what would more correctly be called orthography. Of these entries one is as follows:—The churchyard fence was repaired by lengths in 1760, each parishioner (of any substance) taking a length; a list of their names is given, closing with the words “a piece to the Lord,” i.e., the lord of the manor. In the year 1631–2 there were 43 burials; among them the rector, Randulph Woodinge, on Oct. 23nd; his daughter Ann, Oct. 23rd; and daughter Thomasine, Nov. 1st. There were two of the family of Carrot, two Lincolns, two Applebys, two Grogbys, three Hawards, two Burches, besides other single cases. Though it is not so specified, this would doubtless be the epidemic called “the Plague,” or “Black Death.”

An entry on “Aprill the 15 1707” gives “The Church More lying in Well sick cloase was leten for 4 & 6.” This is moorland near Well Syke wood belonging to the church, from which peat was cut for church fuel; and two other entries refer to this practice: “Simon Grant of Dalderby for 1 days work of bages (i.e., sods) . . . 2 ,, 6.” “Simon flinte for 1 days works of bages . . . 2 „ 6.” This was good pay according to the rate of wages in the early part of the 18th century, to which these entries refer. But it was “skilled” labour, and, moreover, hard work, as anyone will understand who remembers the instrument used on the moor forty years ago. It was a large, flat, and broad kind of shovel at the end of a long pole with transverse handle a foot long, which was placed against the workman’s waist or pit of his stomach, and he thus thrust the tool forward through the turf with the whole weight and force of his body. Those who were much engaged in this kind of work usually suffered from rupture of the lower muscles of the body.

For some years before 1657 none but civil marriages were valid in law, and Justice Filkin is mentioned in the Register as marrying the Rector of Roughton, John Bancroft, to Ann Coulen. Persons were often married in the church, as well as before the Justice; the civil marriage was also often neglected, and the feeling was generally so strong that marriage should be a religious rite, that in the year 1657 marriage by the minister was allowed by Act of Parliament.

A peculiar entry in the parish account book is “Mary Would overseer of ye poore gave up hir accountes” (1707 Ap. 15). We are now, at the beginning of the 20th century, admitting women to a limited number of public offices, yet the people of Roughton were evidently in advance of the times, and forestalled us 180 yeans ago. One or two curious instances of spelling may here be given, showing that the schoolmaster was not then much in evidence:—“1703 Beuerils, &c.”; “1705 Bearths, Robert ye son of bniamen hehuhinson (Benjamin Hewinson) and jane his wife was borne ye 15 day of january.” “Burial. John Snow, Inn-holder, July 3d., 1765”; “1707 Rebekah Leach was beureid July the 10”; “1708 John Bouth and Doryty his wife”; “Rebekah Langcaster 1725, the douter of Joseph Langcaster.” “John Swingo the sun of John Swingo and Ann his wife howous (was) Baptized the 17 of Aprill 1709.” This name, in another entry, 1733, is given as Swinsgo; the modern spelling is Swinscoe.

The names of some good families appear, as “An the wife of Will Hennag was buered ye 9 of Feberery, 1729”; “Madame Elizabeth fines was buered May ye 29, 1730”; “George soun of Mr. Clinton Whichcote 1624”; and, later, “Mary the wife of John Gaunt, and Anthony, son of John Gaunt, were buried Dec. 16, 1803.” The Hall, not an ancient moated mansion, like so many described in these pages, but yet one of some antiquity, has been occupied at different times, by members of several leading county families, as Fynes, Whichcote, Heneage, Dymoke, Pilkington, and Beaumont. It has belonged to the Dymokes, as also the patronage of the benefice, although Sir H. M. Hawley is lord of the manor.

In the reign of Elizabeth a family of Eastwoods was located here, as the Records shew that Andrew Eastwood of Roughton was among the gentry who contributed £25 each to the Armada Fund for the defence of England. [208a] By a Chancery Inquisition, post mortem, 22 Richard II., No. 13, taken at Market Staynton, the feast of St. Luke the Evangelist (1399 a.d.), before William Bolle, escheator, it was shewn that “Ralph de Cromwell, chivaler, held jointly with his wife Matilda, besides other property, the manor of Tumby with appurtenances in Rughton, Wodehall, Langton,” etc. And again, in a later Inquisition, post mortem, 13 Henry VII., No. 34, taken at Burwell, it was shewn that “the said Matilda Willughby died seised in fee tail of the manor of Kirkeby upon Bayne, and lands in Roughton, Woodhall, Langton,” &c. [208b]

In Domesday Book, the powerful Robert Despenser is named as having in Roughton twelve oxgangs rateable to gelt, with three sokemen, and a half sokeman holding two carucates of land with three draught oxen; also fifteen acres of meadow land, a fishery worth 2s. yearly, and forty acres of woodland, containing pasturage in parts. The name is there given as “Roc-stune,” whether from any Druidical boulder, or sacred stone, or landmark, does not appear to be known.

From Roughton, going eastward by a ford on the river Bain, or returning to Horncastle and taking the main road south-eastward, we arrive, a little over two miles distant, at Scrivelsby, a village which is unique in the kingdom, since there is but one King’s Champion, and he is “Lord of Scrivelsby.” As we approach Scrivelsby [208c] Court, by a road shaded by stately trees of hoar antiquity, with the well-wooded park on our left, and fields, nicely timbered and interspersed with copses, on our right, we pause, after a slight ascent, at a point where three ways meet. Before us stands the “Lion gateway,” a substantial arched stone structure with sculptured Lion “passant” surmounting it; the Royal beast indicating the official hereditary honour of the head of the family as the Sovereign’s Champion. On our right, in a humbler position of less prominence, under the shade of trees, and green with age, still survive the parish stocks. Thus the emblems of civil and military power confront each other. The Court itself, standing some 150 yards from this gateway, is approached through another arch in the wall of the Courtyard. The present building is not one of large proportions, the chief part of the old baronial residence having been destroyed by fire about 130 years ago; to replace which modern additions were made, on a smaller scale, early in the 19th century. Of the portion destroyed a chief feature was a very large hall, with wainscoted panels, on which “were depicted the arms and alliances of the family through its numerous and far-traced descents.” [209a] The chief features of interest now remaining within are some of the suits of armour worn by Champions, and a collection of “Champion Cups.” The collection of armour was much finer a few years ago, but, on the extinction of the line of the late Sir Henry Dymoke, most of these were dispersed by sale, and the Cups were bequeathed to the Queen, although Her Majesty, through the intermediation of the late Right Honourable E. Stanhope, most graciously restored them to the father of the present Champion. On the wall of the “Lion gateway,” to the right of the arch, is a rebus, or “canting” device, formed of a rude representation of a tree dividing in a Y shape referring to an old-time emblem of the family. As the Plantagenets had their “planta genista,” the broom; so the Dymokes would seem to have had their “oak.” [209b] The descent of the early Dymokes may be briefly given thus:—Scrivelsby, forming part of the Soke of Horncastle, of which the Conqueror held the manor, was given by William to Robert Dispenser, his steward, whom we have several times named in connection with other neighbouring parishes. From him it passed, by some process unknown, to the Marmions. The last Lord Marmyon died in 1292, and the Lincolnshire portion of his estates,—for Sir Walter Scott describes him as

“Lord of Fontenay,
Of Lutterworth and Scrivelsbay,
Of Tamworth tower and town.”—

passed to his younger daughter, Joan, whose granddaughter, Margaret de Ludlow, married, in the reign of Edward III., Sir John Dymoke, who acted as Champion at the coronation of Richard II., and from that time, more than 500 years, the Dymokes have acted in that capacity for their respective Sovereigns, down to the last century, the ceremony, however, having been dispensed with, to the regret of many, on the accessions of William IV., Queen Victoria, and our present Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII.

As this, formerly, State ceremony was so imposing, and of such antiquity, it deserves more than a passing notice. We here give a description of it, as observed at the coronation of Queen Mary, from the account of PlanchÉ, in the Royal Records. “At the close of the second course of the Coronation Banquet, the Champion, Sir Edward Dymoke, entered Westminster Hall, riding on a roan destrier (war horse) trapped in cloth of gold, with a mace in one hand and a gauntlet in the other. He was escorted to the upper end of the hall by the Lord High Constable, and the Earl Marshall, and the Herald of the Queen with a trumpet; and after he had made obeisance to the Queen’s highness, he turned him a little aside, and with a loud voice made proclamation, ‘If there be any manner of man, of what estate, degree, or condition soever he be, that will say, and maintain, that our Sovereign Lady Queen Mary, this day here present, is not the rightful, and undoubted, heretrix to the Imperial Crown of this realm of England, and that of right she ought not to be crowned Queen, I say he lieth as a false traitor, and that I am ready the same to maintain with him, whilst I have breath in my body, either now at this time, or at any other time, whensoever it shall please the Queen’s highness to appoint; and thereupon the same I cast him my gage.’ Then he cast the gauntlet from him, the which no man would take up, till that a herald took it up and gave it to him again. Then he proceeded to another place, and did in this manner, in three several places in the said Hall. Then he came to the upper end, and the Queen drank to him; and after sent to him the cup, which he had for his fee, and likewise the harness and trappings, and all the harness which he did himself wear, and then he returned to the place from whence he came, and was gone.” On the last occasion, when this ceremony was observed, viz., at the coronation of George IV., the rightful champion being in Holy Orders, his son Henry, afterwards Sir H. Dymoke, Bart., was allowed to act for his father, who was the eighteenth of the hereditary champions of his family. Sir Walter Scott was present, and, writing to a friend, says, “Young Dymoke is a fine-looking youth, but bearing perhaps a little too much the appearance of a maiden knight to be a challenger of the world.” But he adds, with the eye of an antiquary, “His armour was in good taste, except that his shield was out of all propriety, being a round ‘Rondache,’ or Highland target, impossible to use on horseback, instead of being a three-cornered, or leather, shield, which, in the time of the Tilt, was suspended round the neck. However, on the whole . . . the Lord of Scrivelsby looked and behaved extremely well.” [211]

One contre-temps, however, occurred on this occasion, which Sir Walter, perhaps, thought it polite, or politic, not to mention; others have not had the same scruples, and hence an incident is recorded which may have had something to do with the future omission of the ceremony. The Duke of Wellington, as Lord High Constable, had to ride by the Champion’s side, with the Deputy Earl Marshal on the other side. It was part of the observance that, in withdrawing from the Sovereign’s presence, the riders should back their horses, keeping their heads towards the King. The Duke, in his anxiety that all should go without a hitch, had hired a horse from Astley’s circus, which had been specially trained for that part of the ceremony; but, unfortunately, the intelligent animal chose the wrong stage in the ceremony for the performance, and most conscientiously and obstinately persisted in turning tail and backing towards the King instead of from him, and was with difficulty slewed round by the attendants. [212a]

It were much to be desired that this picturesque and interesting relic of feudal custom’s might be restored. The present may be an age of new-born energies, and even revolutionary ideas, but the spirit of “Reverentia Cani” is by no means extinguished, and the interest in old institutions seems ever widening and deepening in the general sentiment.

As a curiosity I will give here a bill, sent in by Sir Edward Dymoke to Sir William Cecil (he spells it “Syscell”) for the cost of some of the articles necessary to him as Champion at the coronation of Mary, which he seems to have had a difficulty in getting paid, although he was, by custom, entitled to them.

Stuff yt Phyllyp Lenthall have delyvered to Sir Edward Dymocke.

Item for a showrde (a) and gerdyll (b), and scabbart (c) of velvet . . . xls

Item for ij pardeynzyns (d) gylte (e) . . . xls

Item for a poll (f) ax . . . xxs

Item for a chasynge (g) staff . . . vis viiid

Item for a gylte payre of spowres (h) . . . xvis

Sm total VI£ .. IIs .. VIIId. [212b]

It may strike us as singular that so high an official as the King’s Champion should perpetrate such spelling as the above; but those were days in which many a baron bold found it easier to inscribe his name on the scroll of fame, by dint of his trusty sword, than by the clerkly crowquill.

The church of Scrivelsby was thoroughly restored in 1861, and further improvements made in 1876, the previous structure being a poor one. Sir Henry added, at his own cost, a spire. The most interesting features of the former building were carefully retained. There is an aumbrey, in a curious position, near the north-west door. The font is octagonal, on pedestal, apparently modern, the faces having poppy head and other simple devices. There is a tomb, of Lewis Dymoke, under the reading desk, in the nave; in the north aisle, having Early English columns of three bays, and eastward two bays with Norman columns, there are recumbent figures of a knight and lady (supposed to be Sir Philip Marmion and wife), the male figure with shield, delapidated, the female entire. At the east end of the same aisle is the tomb of Sir Robert Dymoke, “upon whose soule Almightie God have m’ie. Amen.” There is a good rood screen in the chancel. In 1899 a beautiful window was given, of coloured glass, by Mrs. Dymoke, of the Court, in memory of her husband, Francis Scaman Dymoke, the Hon. the Queen’s Champion. The subjects illustrated are (1) Our Lord preaching the sermon on the Mount, and (2) in the act of blessing little children, under the former of which are the words “Blessed are the pure in heart,” and under the latter “Suffer little children to come unto me.” In the chancel is also a rich mural monument to Lewis Dymoke, “who performed the service at the coronation of George I. and George II. He was the youngest son of Sir Charles Dymoke and Eleanor eldest daughter of the first Lord Rockingham.” There are two other tablets, on the north and south walls, of Dymokes, and others in the floor; also a tablet to John Tyrwhitt, Esq., of Pentre Park, and his wife Sophia, a Dymoke; and another of the Rev. I. Bradshaw Tyrwhitt, of Wilksby. In the churchyard are also tombs of Dymokes, one a massive structure opposite the east window, containing the remains of the late Sir Henry Dymoke, Bart., and Emma his wife. There are also many tombstones of the Gilliat family. Some years ago, when repairs were being made in the church, the flooring was removed, and a skeleton was discovered without a head, a block of clay lying in place of the skull. This was supposed to be the remains of Sir Thomas Dymoke, who, with his relative, Lord Welles, was beheaded by Edward IV., in London, at the time of the Battle of “Loosecoat field,” near Stamford, 1470, when the fugitive rebels threw off their coats to expedite their flight.

Among the privileges of the Champion family was the right to hold a market and fair at Scrivelsby, first granted, 42 and 43 Henry III., to Philip de Marmyon, to which he proved his claim in the 9th year of Edwd. I.; also the right of free warren over the Manor of Scrivelsby, and to erect a gallows for the punishment of felons at Scrivelsby. Where the gallows were erected is not known.

Sir Edward Dymoke, Sheriff of Lincolnshire 27 Henry VIII., and also 1 Ed. VI. and 2 and 3 Philip and Mary, married Anne, sister and coheir to Gilbert, Lord Taillebois of Kyme; by which alliance the castle and manors of North and South Kyme came to the Dymoke family, and members of the family resided there until it was sold, about 1730, to the Duke of Newcastle. This Sir Edward had issue Sir Robert Sir Charles, and a daughter Elizabeth, who married Henry Ascough, a member of a very old and distinguished family. Sir Robert Dymoke, Champion to James I., married well, the daughter of Edward Clinton, Lord Clinton and Saye, afterwards created Earl of Lincoln and a K.G. Her mother had been the widow of Gilbert, Lord Taillebois, previously a mistress of Hen. VII., by whom she had a son, created Duke of Richmond.

Charles Dymoke, who died, unmarried, at Oxford in 1644, was a zealous supporter of his unfortunate Sovereign, Charles I., and by his Will bequeathed £2,000 (a large sum in those days) to relieve his necessities.

Sir Edward Dymoke, at the time of the Commonwealth, being, from his office and his loyalty, obnoxious to the Republican party, was fined, for his “delinquency,” £200 a year, and yet was obliged to pay the further, then enormous, sum of £4,633.

His son, Sir Charles, was highly esteemed for his loyalty, and was put down among those who were to be created by Charles II. “Knights of the Royal Oak,” in grateful remembrance of the King being saved in an oak at Boscobel in Staffordshire, resting on the lap of Colonel Careless, afterwards Carlos.

The Dymokes’ estates were greatly reduced by sale in the year 1871, when most, if not all, the lands not entailed were disposed of. Within the writer’s memory the Dymokes shot over lands extending from their own door (with the exception of the Ostler ground) to Kirkstead wharf.

We must here, however, pass on our way from Scrivelsby, although we shall meet with Dymokes again in the next parish.

Taking an accommodation road [215] which branches off westward from the main road opposite the Lion gate, and going through some fields, past the modern rectory, a substantial residence, we emerge, by an old cottage, whose roof, covered with ancient drab-coloured slates or slabs, reaches, on one side, to the ground, upon another main road leading to Boston. Pursuing this about a mile and a half, and passing a disused churchyard, with two or three gravestones and no church, at Dalderby, we reach the village of Haltham. Here we have a church of considerable interest. Taking the exterior first, we find a remarkable semi-circular tympanum over the door, within the porch on the south. It has a kind of Maltese cross within a circle, with a second circle running through the limbs of the cross. Below this is a small round object, with an oblong on each side of it; and below them, to the east, is an oval figure like a buckle, while below, to the west, is a square, having three-quarter circles at its corners, and semi-circles in the middle of its sides, which form the extremities of a cross, and between the limbs and the sides of the square are roundels. Below this is a curious lobated object, with what may be called a fish placed perpendicularly on it; east of the circle containing the Maltese cross are four rows of inverted triangles, of different lengths; below them, within a circle, is a curious figure, made of twelve unequal curved lines, arranged in four groups of threes, and forming a triple Fylfot or Swastica. Touching the east side of this circle is another, which cuts into the border of the base of the tympanum at its eastern corner, containing a cross within a square similar to that on the west side. This very curious tympanum is Early Norman, or possibly Saxon. [216] There is a priest’s door in the south wall of the chancel. There was once a north door in the nave, now bricked up. There was a large western door, round arched, with triple moulding, now also bricked up. Over this door are two stone gurgoyles, one above the other, let into recesses in the west wall, which is mainly of brick. The length of the nave, externally, is 150ft.; and its breadth, with the porch, is 150ft. The length of the chancel is 30ft. The east window is a fine, decorated, flamboyant specimen, its date being about 1350, which has been copied on a larger scale, in St. Mary’s Church, Horncastle.

Taking the interior, the sittings are all of very old oak, many of them with rudely carved poppy heads. There are very fine, heavy, old oak, carved canopies over two long pews in the north aisle for the Champion Dymokes and their servants. These, probably, were taken from a former rood screen. There is now a low screen, fragmentary, in the chancel, and an oak pulpit, old but plain. There is a piscina, with two fronts, in the south wall of the chancel, and a series of three sedilia and an aumbrey in the north wall; also carved brackets on each side of the east window. The font stands in the north-east corner of the north aisle, on a very broad base which serves as a seat. The north aisle has three bays with round arches, and two eastward with pointed arches. The windows throughout are perpendicular, but either square-topped or debased, except the fine east window, and one in the south wall of nave, of two lights. There is an incised slab to one of the Dymokes. The bell chamber is closed by ancient boarding adorned with the Commandments in old characters, and very curious Royal arms of Charles I. There are three bells, and a very curious old ladder, constructed of rude beams, leading up to the belfry. Miss Spurrier, the Rector’s daughter, assisted by the coachman, have improved the church by renovating the screen. This lady has also carved a cover for the font in very delicate pattern, the ironwork being done by the village blacksmith, Mr. Priestley.

In the village is an old hostel, partly of the Tudor style, with pointed gable ends, projecting upper story, and constructed, externally, of brick and woodwork.

In the parish register, at the bottom of the page containing the entries for the year 1584, by way of accounting for the number of funerals (51), is the following note: “This yeare plague in Haltham.” Although Haltham and Roughton are ecclesiastically united, and, in position, contiguous, there were, in that year, no extra deaths in Roughton; while in the year 1631–2 there were 43 burials at Roughton, and no increase of mortality at Haltham. The only peculiar record which I can find in connection with Haltham is a “Feet of Fines, Lincoln, 9 Henry III., No. 52,” too long to be quoted in full, which contains an agreement between Henry del Ortiay and Sabina his wife on the one hand, and Ralph de Rhodes on the other hand, tenant of lands with appurtenances, in Horncastre, Upper Tynton, Cuningbye, Holtham, &c., whereby the said Henry and his wife recognise the said lands &c. to be the right of Ralph; he on his part granting to Henry and Sabina other land with appurtenances, in Upper Tynton; certain of the lands being designated Pese-wang, Leir-me-Wang, Whete-wang, and Krunce Wong, with Hethotenacre (Heath of ten acre), Sexacre, and other names. These names illustrate what was said on a previous page regarding the field named “the Wong,” at Horncastle. A very curious feature of the agreement is that the said Henry and Sabina are “to have and to hold” these lands “of the aforesaid Ralph and his heirs forever, rendering therefor, by the year, one pair of gilt spurs, or 6d., at Easter, for all service and exaction.” [217]

Having thus made our halt at Haltham, we bid adieu to the place, and push on southward. Passing Tumby Lawn, the residence of Sir H. M. Hawley, surrounded by leafy groves, within whose shade (teste scriptore) Philomel doth pour forth (malgrÉ the poets) his flood of song, while a whole coterie of other birds in “amorous descant” join; and sheltered from the east by the extensive woods of Haltham, Fulsby, and Tumby, remains of the whilom “Tumby Chase,” we find ourselves, at the end of some three and a half miles, entering the main street of Coningsby. Here again, we might ask, with love-sick Juliet, “What’s in a name?” But, in sooth, a name may be an epitome of history. There is an old proverb that “knowledge is power,” and we might say, the name of Coningsby is a territorial exemplification and perpetuation of this adage. In the language once spoken in these parts, [218] the conning, cunning man and the king were one and the same; the king was king because he was the conner, the thinker, and so overtopped his fellows in cunning. He embodied in his own person the moral of every age of progress, that brute force must yield the palm to skill and judgment. Mob-rule may for a while snatch at, and hold, the mastery; but ’tis the man who has the cunning to bide his time, and then seize the opportunity, who will be borne in triumph on the shoulders of those who once hustled and jostled him. Within some miles northward of where I am writing lies Kingthorpe, “the king’s village”; and at just about the same distance southward lies Coningsby, with precisely the same meaning. Both names imply the presence at one time of a king; who he may have been we do not know, but he put down his foot there, and the stamp remains. There was once a castellated residence here, the home of the Coningsby family; and one of them, Thomas, was created Earl of Coningsby, but, dying without issue, the title became extinct in 1729. I may here mention that the tomb of the last Countess of Coningsby is in the north chantry chapel of Heydour church (between Sleaford and Grantham); it is a marble monument by Rijsbrach. There is also a slab to the last Viscount, 1733, who is traditionally said to have been taken from his cradle by a pet monkey, and dropped by it, in the terror of pursuit, from the roof of the house on to the stone pavement below, and so killed. The position of this old Coningsby mansion is not precisely known; but in a field on the south side of the main street there is an ancient dove-cot, and some fine trees, such as one might expect about a baronial residence. The Coningsbys moved from Coningsby to Hampton Court in Herefordshire more than two centuries ago. [219a] There was a very fine collection of pictures at this place, a list of which was given in the “Gentleman’s Magazine” of April 26, 1826. Among these was a painting of the old mansion of Coningsby. Hampton Court is now the residence of John Arkwright, Esq., and is situated between Hereford and Leominster. But “vixere fortes ante Agamemnona,” and there were men of mark at Coningsby long before those who took its name as their patronymic. In Domesday Book we find that Sortibrand, the son of Ulf, the Saxon, who was one of the Lagmen of Lincoln, and had “sac and soc [219b] over three mansions in that city,” as successor to his father (loco Ulf patris sui), held a berewick (a corn farm) in Coningsby.

When the powerful favourite of the Conqueror, Robert Despenser, laid claim to a fishery and certain land in Coningsby, the Jurymen of the Wapentake of Horncastle decided that his claim was good, because Achi, his Saxon predecessor, had held the same in the time of Edward the Confessor. Moreover, the said Robert Despenser already held in Coningsby a berewick—“bere” (barley) land—of nine oxgangs, or some 225 acres, of meadow and wood, besides land in a score more parishes. And, again, from the same source we learn that a noble Fleming, Drogo de Bruere, who fought under the Conqueror at the battle of Hastings, and was rewarded by the gift of the whole of Holderness in Yorkshire, and other manors in Lincolnshire and elsewhere, also held land in Coningsby. Of this noble, Camden relates that the Conqueror valued his services so highly that he bestowed his own niece upon him in marriage; but that he destroyed her by poison, and then fled the country, all attempts to discover him having failed down to the time of the Domesday Survey being taken. [220a]

In the List of the Gentry of Lincolnshire, made on the Herald’s Visitation of the county in 1634, and still preserved at the Herald’s College, are the names of John Carter and Clinton Whichcote, of Coningsby. [220b]

In a Chancery Inquisition, post mortem, taken 31st May, 10 Henry VII., No. 72 (1495), it was found that Robert Taillebois, Knight, and John Gygour, Clerk, Warden of the College of Tatteshale, were “seized in their demesne as of fee of the manors of South Kyme, North Kyme, Conyngsby, Dokdyke, Byllingay,” and other properties. [220c] While, as an evidence of the trade of Coningsby, in a list of “Lincolnshire Town and Traders’ Tokens,” made by the late Mr. C. J. Caswell, of Horncastle, there occurs one of a Coningsby tradesman, bearing on the obverse side, “John Lupton—The Baker’s Arms,” and on the reverse side, “Of Cunsby, 1663—J. A. L.” [220d] Mr. Caswell adds a note that “where three initials are given, as in this case, the issuer’s wife is included, sometimes joined in a true lover’s knot. Mr. John Lupton (in the present day) is a well-known and respected farmer of Pinchbeck West. His daughter married T. A. Roberts, Esq., M.R.C.S., late of Coningsby.”

I have already, in connection with Haltham, quoted an old Record, Feet of Fines, 9 Henry III., No. 52, which gives an agreement between Henry del Ortiay and Sabina his wife, as plaintiffs, on the one part, and Ralph de Rhodes on the other part, holding lands in Coningsby, Haltham, Marynge (Mareham), and other places; by which they recognise these lands as his by right, and, in return, he assigns certain land to them in Upper Tynton, to have and to hold for ever, by the tenure of a pair of gilt spurs, given annually. This brings this powerful baron into connection with Coningsby. [221a] While further, in a Feet of Fines, 19 Henry VII. (1503), on the Octave of Holy Trinity, an agreement is given between Sir Edward Ponyngs, Knt., Sir Thomas Fenys (Fynes?), Knt., Sir John Peeche, Knt., John Mordaunt, and others, plaintiffs, on the one part, and Sir George Nevyll, of Burgavenny, Knight, and Joan his wife, deforciants, whereby George and Joan recognise certain lands in Conysby, Halton, Belcheford, and elsewhere, to be the right of John Mordaunt, for which the plaintiffs gave them £l,000. [221b] Here we have another proprietor, John Mordaunt, brought into connection with Coningsby, and that he was a man of substance was shewn by the fact that this recognition of his property was not confined to Coningsby, but extended to the manor of Estwardesbersoke, etc., in Notts.; the manors of Halton, Aukebarow, and Burton Stather; lands in Winterton, Theylby, Hybalstede, Barnaby, Eyrby, Crosby, Gunnall, Donyngton, etc. Further, by Feet of Fynes, 21 Henry VII. (1505), an agreement is given between Richard, Bishop of Winchester, Sir Giles Daubeney, of Daubeney, Knight; Sir T. Lovell, Sir R. Emson, Sir James Hobart, Humphrey Conyngesby, one of the King’s Sergeants at Law, and others, as plaintiffs, and Robert Ratclyfe de Fitzwater, and Margaret Ratclyfe, widow of Sir John Ratclyfe de Fitzwater, deforciants; whereby Robert and Margaret recognise the castle of Egremound, and various other manors and properties, to be the right of the Bishop.

Further, it is known that the manor of Coningsby was formerly held by the Marmyons, and they and their descendants, the Dymokes, were largely commemorated in stained-glass windows once existing in the church; and a tombstone records the “Hic jacet” of Anna, daughter of Thomas Dymoke, and his wife “que obijt A° Dni 1462.” The manorial rights ultimately passed to the Heathcotes, and are now the property of the head of that family, the Earl of Ancaster.

Let us now look at the church; and, taking the exterior first, we are struck by the fine tower, which is visible for many miles round. It is of the Perpendicular order, very plain; indeed, almost without ornament, except for the roses on the cuspings of the upper window; but it is of solid, good ashlar work, well supported by buttresses, and its outline relieved by several set-offs. It is pierced, below, by an arched passage, through which there is a public thoroughfare, existing from time immemorial, [222] the supposition being, that the monks of Croyland and other southern monasteries, on their way to Kirkstead, and their more northern brethren, “baited” at the rectory hard by, where there are still traces of a large refectory in the presence of an arch of wide span, which runs through the oldest part of the house, from top to bottom. In the east and west walls, on either side of this tower arch, is a sex-foiled, circular window; that on the east being in the west wall of the nave, and filled with coloured glass; that on the west, being in the outside wall of the tower, has never been glazed. In the south-eastern wall of the porch is a stoup, which formerly was open both within the porch and outside, though now it is closed outside. Built into the west wall of the south aisle, probably at the restoration in 1872, is a block of stone, carved with a closed hand, having a finely-laced cuff. This is, doubtless, an importation from elsewhere. Near the top of the wall of a cupola-shaped south finial of the rood-loft turret, is an old sun-dial. Taking now the interior, we find a massive heavy roof, of beams somewhat rudely hewn, with traces of former colouring still perceptible. The four western bays of the arcade are Early English, with low arches rising from octagonal piers; the easternmost bay seems to have been an addition at a later date; some of the piers, two on the north and one on the south, have been heightened, and the arches are higher and wider. The moulding between two of the north arches terminates in a head, on each side of which an evil spirit is whispering. Another terminal is the head of a woman wearing the “branks,” or scold’s bridle. [223] The clerestory windows were spoilt at the restoration, when their height had to be reduced. Externally their original design remains—two lancet windows over each arch; but internally the lancets have been cut short and converted into triangular lights with curved sides. On the south side of the chancel arch is a rood-loft staircase turret, of which both the upper and lower doorways remain. The chancel east end is apsidal, modern, and out of keeping with the rest of the structure. There are three two-light windows in the three faces of the apse. In one of these the present rector, Canon Arthur Wright, has placed a two-light memorial window, to his deceased wife, of some beauty. South of the Communion table, attached to the wall as a credence table, is an Early English capital, with piscina behind. The windows in the north aisle are decorated with reticulated tracery. Those of the south aisle are Perpendicular, with segmented heads. The windows throughout the church, and extending even to the rectory house, were, at a former period, unusually rich in stained glass,

With varied hues all richly dight,
In radiance and collateral light,
Of knight’s and baron’s heraldic scroll,
And prayers invoked for manie a soule.

The marvel is, what has become of it, since there is no record of any act of spoliation such as is known to have been committed in the neighbouring church of Tattershall. We give here extracts from Gervase Holles’ “Notes on Churches,” descriptive of these windows, etc., from the Harleyan MSS., No. 6,829, as they are given in Weir’s “History,” pp. 50–52, ed. 1820.

In fenestra Orientali Cancelli

Quarterly Verry a fesse G. fretty d’or Sa. 2 lyons passant arg. crowned d’or	Marmyon
Empaled G. a frett of 8 pieces d’or B.3 garbes d’or	Dymoke
G. a lyon rampant d’or
Sa. a sword in pale arg
Sa. 3 lyons passant arg crowned d’or	Dymoke
Arg, 3 flowres de lize between 6 crosse crosslets, fitchy sa. a border G.	Hillary
Arg. a playne crosse G.
G. a playne cross arg

Tumulus lapideus.

‘Hic jacet Anna fillla Thome Dymoke Militis D’ni . . . et Margaretis consortis suÆ que obijt A° Dni 1642 &c.
Empaled } Verry a fesse G. fretty d’or	Marmyon
Empaled } Or a lyon rampant double queue sa	Welles

In mure boreali aere sculptum.

Orate pro a’i’a M’ri Joh’is de Croxby quondam Rectoris istius ecclesiÆ. qui dedit annualem redditum xxs annuatim in p’petuum, et in secunda, FeriÆ primÆ hebdommadÆ quadragesimÆ habitantibus in Conningsby sc’am formam evidentiÆ suÆ distribuendorum.

“This charity hath ceased for many years, the evidence having been sacrilegiously stolen out of that monument within the wall, as by the loosening of the plate of brasse may appeare.

In fenestra Occidentali CapellÆ Orientalis

Orate pro a’iabus . . Hatcliffe . . . Ux’is suÆ	Fenestram
Sa. 3 welles arg. bis	Wellis
Empaled } Sa. 3 welles arg	Wellis
Emplaed } B. 2 bars d’or over all a lyon rampant . . . G.	Hatcliffe
Sa. a sword in pale arg
Arg. a fesse daunce betw. 3 talbots’ heads erased sa.
Arg. a fesse betw. 3 cootes sa
B. 2 bars d’or over all a lyon rampant G	Hatcliffe
“Orate pro bono statu H. Wellis notorii publici	Hatcliffe
Uxoris suÆ et sequelis eorum, . . . hanc fenestram fieri fecerunt A’no D’ni 1460.

In superioribus fenestris Borealibus.

G. a cinquefoil pierced betw. 8 crosse crosselets d’or	Umframyille
Quarterly Sa. a cross engrayled d’or . . . Ufford G. a cross sarcely arg. . . Beke	Willoughby.
G. 3 Waterbougets arg	Ros
Or a lyon rampant double queue sa.	Welles
Arg. a crosse patonee G.
Arg. a chiefe G. over all a bend engrayled B
Chequy or & G. a chiefe ermine	Tateshale
Ermine a fesse G.	Bernake
Arg. a chiefe over all a bend B.	Crumwell
Sa. 2 lyons passant arg. crowned or	Dymoke
Or on fesse G. 3 plates	Huntingfield
Quarterly or & G. a border sa. bezanty, on the 2nd quarter a garbe arg.	Rochford
Quarterly &c. an annulet on the 2nd quarter	Rochford
B. crucilly a lyon rampant arg. bis
Arg. 3 shell snayles sa.
Dymoke Crumwell Holland
Quarterly France & England a label of 3 arg.
Quarterly France & England a label of 3 ermyne

In fenestra Orientali.

“Orate pro a’iabus fratrum and sororum GildÆ be’Æ MariÆ de Cuningsby qui istam fenestram fieri fecerunt.

“This a fayre Window, adorned with the genealogy of the Kings of Israel and Judah, David lying along through the whole bottome, from whose roote branche out the several stems. In one part of it below the Picture of King Edward the first, crowned, &c., &c.

Edwardus primus regnavit annos . . .

“Orate pro Matilda de Padeholme et Alicia . . .

On a gravestone

“Hic jacet D’nus Thomas Butler, quondam Capellanus Gilda be’Æ MariÆ Cunningsby, qui obiit 10 die mensis Decembrie A’no D’ni 1510. Cujus a’iÆ &c., &c.

On Another

Pray for the soule of John Smith of Cunsby sometime M’chant of the staple of Calis, which died in the yeare of our Lord God 1470, and Jonet his wife which died the 24 day of November in the yeare of our Lord God 1461.

And all goode people that this Scripture reade or see
For their soules say a Paternoster, Ave Maria, & a creed for Charity.

“On another the pourtraytures of a man and his two wives on either side of him in brasse with this inscription, viz’t.

Pray for the soules of Richard Whetecroft of Coningsby M’chant of the Staple of Calice, and sometime Lieutenant of the same, & Jane & Margaret his Wives, which Richard deceased the 23d day of November, A’o D’ni 1524.

In the Parlour of the Parsonage House

Arg. a crosse engrayled G. betw. 4 water bougets sa.	Bourchier
Quarterly & Quartered with Quarterly Gules billetty d’or a fesse arg. Crumwell and Tateshale	Lovayne
B. a manche d’or
Empaled Sa. 3 lyons passant guardent arg. Sa. 2 lyons passant arg. crowned d’or	Dymoke
Empaled Dymoke Marmyon
Verry a fesse G.	Marmyon
Or. a lyon rampant double queue sa.	Welles
Empaled a coate defaced Welles
Empaled Verry a fesse G. B. a manche, d’or.

“All these Escucheons are in 2 windows, in which 2 windows are also these verses:—

Alme Deus, cÆli Croxby tu parce Johanni
Hanc Ædem fieri benefecit sponte Jo Croxby
Anno milleno quater C L X quoque terno

In the other windowes

Barry of 6 ermyne & G. 3 cresents sa.	Waterton
Quarterly Ufford & Beke	Willughby
Verry a fesse G.	Marmyon
Ermyne 5 fusils in fees G	Hebden
Arg. a crosse sarcely sa.
Empaled } Quarterly Crumwell & Tateshale	Crumwell
Empaled } B. fesse betw. 6 billets d’or	Deyncourt
Empaled Dymoke Welles
Sa. an arming sworde pile in poynte arg
Empaled Arg. 8 bulls passant G. on a chevron arg. 3 pomeis
Empaled Arg. a fesse daunce betw. 3 talbots heades erased ca. Arg. a fesse betw. 3 cooks sa.

Harleyan MS., No. 6829, pp. 179 to 182

The font is plain, octagonal, Early English. In the centre of the nave are two slabs, once having had brasses, but these are no longer in situ. Over the porch is a parvis, as a priest’s chamber, or school. The church has a clock and six bells. The curfew, or ignitegium, was rung down to within the last thirty years. Among the Rectors have been two poets, one of them the Laureate of his day (1718), the Rev. Laurence Eusden, who died in 1730. A man originally “of some parts,” by inordinate flattery he obtained that distinction, which, however, invited criticism; and his mediocre abilities, accompanied by habits somewhat intemperate, provoked ridicule. Among other productions, he translated into Latin Lord Halifax’s poem on “The Battle of the Boyne.” Pope refers to him, in his “Dunciad,” thus:—

Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise,
He sleeps among the dull of ancient days;
Safe, where no critics d---n, nor duns molest

Another writer says of him,

Eusden, a laurell’d bard, by fortune raised,
By very few men read, by fewer praised;

while the Duke of Buckingham, describing, in a “skit,” the contest for the Laureateship, says,

In rushed Eusden, and cryed, “Who shall have it?
But I, the true Laureate, to whom the king gave it?”
Apollo begged pardon, and granted his claim,
But vowed that till then he’d ne’er heard of his name.

John Dyer, born 1700, was a much more reputable person. He was educated at Westminster; began life as an itinerant artist, with a keen eye to the beauties of nature, when that taste was little cultivated. He was appointed to the rectory by Sir John Heathcote in 1752, and in 1755 to Kirkby-on-Bain, for which he exchanged Belchford, where he had formerly been. He was the author of “Grongar Hill,” “The Fleece,” and “The Ruins of Rome.” He was honoured with a sonnet by Wordsworth; but his longer poems are somewhat wearisome reading.

The place-names in this parish indicate the condition of woodland and waste which formerly prevailed. Immediately south of the church and its surroundings we find the “Ings,” or meadows, the Saxon term which we have noticed in several other parishes. Further off, we have “Oaklands” farm, and “Scrub-hill,” “scrub” being an old Lincolnshire word for a small wood; as we have, in the neighbourhood, ‘Edlington Scrubs’ and ‘Roughton Scrubs.’ “Reedham,” another name, indicates a waste of morass. “Toot-hill” might be a raised ground from which a watch, or look-out, was kept, in troublous times; and Dr. Oliver says, in his “Religious Houses,” Appendix, p. 166, “‘Taut’ is a place of observation; ‘Touter’ is a watcher in hiding;” but it is more likely to be from the Saxon “tot,” an eminence (“totian,” to rise), in which case the second syllable, “hill,” is only a later translation of the first. However, Toot-hill, Tothill, or Tooter’s hill, are not uncommon in other parts, and are said to have been connected with the heathen worship of Taith. Langworth Grange, in this parish, would probably be (as elsewhere) a corruption of Langwath, the long ford over some of the fenny stretches of water. The most peculiar place-name is “Troy-wood.” It is possible that, as at Horncastle, this may have been a place where the youths gathered to play the old game of “Troy town”; but is more likely of British origin, a remnant of the Fenland Grirvii. Troy Town is a hamlet near Dorchester, but there are several spots in Wales named Caer-troi, which means a bending, or tortuous town, a labyrinth, such as the Britons made with banks of turf.

We have now about done with Coningsby. We are welcome to enter the rectory, where we notice the large arch, already referred to, of the former refectory. Other objects of interest may be shewn us by the Rector, but we turn to the western window of the drawing-room to gaze upon a sight unparalleled. Not a mile away there rises up before us the stately structure of Tattershall Castle, “the finest piece of brickwork in the kingdom”; and, close by, beneath, as it were, its sheltering wing, the collegiate church, almost, in its way, as grand an object. L’appetit vient en mangeant; and, as we devour the prospect, we hunger and thirst for a closer acquaintance with their attractions.

Leaving Coningsby, and proceeding westward, we reach the bridge which spans the Horncastle canal. Here we pause to turn round and take a look behind us eastward. The massive tower of Coningsby rises far above the trees of the rectory precincts, themselves of a considerable height. Looking along the canal, the eye rests upon a very Dutch-like scene; the sleepy waters of the so-called “Navigation” fringed by tall elms growing on its southern margin, and on its northern by decaying willows, studding the meadows, which are richly verdant from the damp atmosphere which it engenders; a slowly-crawling barge or two might formerly have been seen, with horse and driver on the towing path; but they are now things of the past. The canal, on its opening in 1801, was expected to be a mine of wealth to the shareholder’s, but, having been ruined by the railway, it is now disused; in parts silted up and only a bed of water plants; in other parts its banks have given way, and the bed is dry. Its only present utility is to add picturesqueness to a scene of still life. Following the towing path westward, with the straggling street of Tattershall on the other side of the water, we reach what is called a “staunch,” a weir, over which the surplus carnal water discharges itself into what was the original channel of the river Bain, [228] which, between Horncastle and here, has been more than once utilised to replenish the canal. Not far off, down this small stream, are some favourite haunts of the speckled trout; and beneath overhanging willows fine chub may be seen poising themselves in the water sleepily. We now leave the towing path and enter the main street, with church and castle close at hand to our left, but first we will go a hundred yards to the right, and make for the Marketplace. By the gift of “a well-trained hawk,” Robert Fitz-Eudo, in 1201, obtained from King John a charter for holding a weekly market; and the shaft and broad base of the market cross, bearing the arms of Cromwell, Tateshall, and D’Eyncourt, with a modern substitute for the cross on the top, still exists. An old brick building, in a yard on the south side of the Market-place, now used for malting, is traditionally said to have been the original, and smaller, church, before the present one was erected in the 15th century.

As prefatory to our examination of both castle and church, we give here a brief notice of the owners of this barony, and the founder of both these erections. Among the Norman knights who accompanied the Conqueror in his great venture against Harold for the throne of England,—and we can hardly help reflecting on the vast deviation in the stream of English history which would have followed if that “bow drawn at a venture” had not sent a shaft through the eye and brain of Harold at Hastings,—there were, as Camden tells us, [229a] two sworn brothers in arms, Eudo and Pinso, to whom William, as the reward of their prowess, assigned certain territories, to be held by them in common, as they had themselves made common cause in has service. They subsequently divided these possessions, and the Barony of Tattershall, with Tattershall Thorpe and other appendages,—among them two-thirds of Woodhall,—fell to the share of Eudo. He was succeeded, in due course, by his son, Hugh Fitz-Eudo, surnamed Brito, or, the Breton; who, in 1139 founded a monastery for Cistercian monks at Kirkstead. The male line of this family continued for some eight generations. His grandson Philip died, when sheriff of the county, in 1200; his great grandson Robert married, first, Lady Mabel, eldest sister and co-heir of Hugh de Albini, [229b] 5th Earl of Sussex and Arundel, represented now by the Dukes of Norfolk (Earls of Arundel), hereditary Earl-Marshals and Chief Butlers of England; and, secondly, a daughter of John de Grey. This Robert obtained, in 1231, permission from Hen. III. to rebuild the family residence of stone. As to this permission, it may be observed that castle-building had been carried on so extensively in the reign of Stephen, and the powerful barons, backed by their fortified residences, had proved themselves so formidable, that it was deemed politic to prevent further erections of this kind, except with the Royal licence. [229c] This would be the first substantially-fortified structure at this place, but of this building there is not now left one stone upon another; views, however, of the castle, drawn by Buck, in 1727, shew that there were then remaining extensive buildings, whose style would seen to correspond with the date of this licence. This Robert, having married two wives, who were heiresses, would be a wealthy and important personage; he died in 1249. Two more Roberts succeeded in their turn; the second of them being summoned to Parliament, as 1st Baron de Tateshall, in 1297, died in the year following. On the death of his grandson, another Robert, and 3rd Baron, without issue, in 1305, the estates reverted to his three aunts, Emma, Joan, and Isabella, the second of whom, married to Robert de Driby, inherited Tattershall. Their two sons dying, the property again reverted to a female, viz., their daughter Alice, married to Sir William Bernak, Lord of Woodthorp, co. Lincoln, who died 1339. His son, Sir John Bernak, married Joan, daughter and co-heir of Robert, 2nd Baron Marmyon, who died 1345; and, on the death of his two sons, the property, for a third time, passed to a female, in the person of his daughter Maude, who married Sir Ralph Cromwell. He was summoned to Parliament as Baron Cromwell in 1375, and died in 1398. His grandson, the 3rd Baron, also a Ralph, married Margaet, sister and co-heir of William, last Baron D’Eyncourt. These several marriages with heiresses had largely augmented the estates and wealth of the successive families, and this Ralph, being made Lord Treasurer in 1433 by Henry VI., levelled the older castle to the ground, and, having obtained the Royal licence to rebuild, he erected the present majestic pile in 1440, at a cost, as William of Worcester informs us, [230] of 4,000 marks. At this palatial residence, and in London, he lived in great state, his household consisting of 100 persons, and his suite, when he rode to London, commonly comprised 120 horsemen; his annual expenditure being £5,000. In a previous chapter we quoted a charge made upon Lord Clinton, when living at Tattershall, for 1,000 faggots. At Hurstmonceux Castle, a similar building to Tattershall, the oven is described by Dugdale (“Beauties of England—Sussex,” p. 206) as being 14ft. long. In such a furnace the daily consumption of faggots would not be a trifle.

To speak here for a moment of building in brick. From the ordinarily unsightly character of brick structures it is usual to regard brick-building disparagingly, but we have only to go to Italy, the hereditary land of Art in various forms, to see edifices unsurpassed for beauty in the world, which are constructed wholly, or in part, of brick. The Cathedral at Cremona, with its delicately-moulded Rose windows and its Torrazo, 400ft. in height; those of St. Pantaleone, Pavia; of the Broletto, Brescia; or the Ducal Palace at Mantua, with its rich windows; or the Palazzo dei Signori at Verona, with tower 300ft. high; not to mention more, are all splendid specimens of what can be achieved in brick. In England, nothing like these has ever been attempted; the only modern church of brick worth a mention is that of All Saints, Margaret Street, London, with its graceful spire. In the 15th century, and slightly earlier, a few substantial and finely-constructed erections of brick were made, of which one of the earliest, if not the earliest, was the magnificent Gate Tower of Layer Marney in Essex, built by the 1st Lord Marney, and for which he is said to have imported Italian workmen for the moulded bricks. Owing to his death the entire structure was not completed. But the gateway, flanked by two octagonal towers, each of eight stories; and the summit, chimneys and divisions of windows, with their varied mouldings, are a very fine piece of work. [231a] Another of these brick structures, of about the same date, was Torksey Castle, in our own county; another was Hurstmonceux Castle, in Sussex, said by Dugdale [231b] to be the only one at all rivalling Tattershall; while, by a curious coincidence, its founder was Sir Roger de Fiennes, one of the family, which, at a later period, owned Tattershall.

As we stand before Tattershall Castle and gaze on its stately proportions, we cannot but feel that brick, properly, treated, can rival stone. What remains now is probably barely a third of what the building originally was, and stands, doubtless, on the site previously occupied by the Keep of the earlier castle. It is a type of a particular stage of construction, when the palace was superseding the grim feudal fortress, although retaining several of the warlike features. Besides an inner moat, completely surrounding the castle, there was also an outer one, protecting it on the north and west. [231c] Both these moats were supplied with water from the river Bain, and they had an inter-connection by a cut on the north side of the castle, close by which there was a small machicolated tower, probably connected with a drawbridge. On the space between the moats were buildings detached, serving for barracks, guardrooms, etc., and one of these, now used as a barn, opposite the north-west angle of the castle, is still fairly perfect. The entrance to the inner castle court, on the north-east, was defended by a lofty gateway, with portcullis, and flanked by two turrets, which were still remaining when Buck’s drawings were made, in 1727. This noble keep, in Treasurer Cromwell’s time, had at least five groups of noble buildings about it; so that we can now hardly conceive the imposing appearance of the whole. What remains is 89ft. in length, by 67ft. in width, rising boldly into the air, slightly sloping inwards as it rises, to give a greater idea of height, until its turret parapets are found to be 112ft. from the ground; while its massive walls, the eastern one 16ft. thick at the base, are in keeping with its large proportions. The variety of outline in the well-set windows, the shadow-casting angle turrets, and the massive machicolations, all serve to relieve the structure of monotony. The red bricks, too, are varied by having others of a dark grey tint introduced in reticulated patterns, which relieve without being obtrusive. As I have observed elsewhere, a geologist of experience states that both the bricks and the locally-termed grouting, or mortar, are alike made from local material. [232] The covered gallery on the summit of the keep, surrounded by battlements, pierced with windows, and partly pendent over the machicolations, though said to be unique in this country, is a feature not uncommon in France and Germany. The internal arrangement of four grand apartments, one above another, is similar to that of Kirkby Muxloe, but it is now difficult to assign to them their particular uses. Nothing remains of these apartments beyond their windows, three beautiful stone mantelpieces, and two or three massive oak bauk-beams. Of one of the latter, now gone, the writer has a rather gruesome recollection. In the reckless hardihood of youth, there were few parts of the castle which were not reached by himself and his not less daring companions; and, in a moment of heedless adventure, on jackdaws’ eggs intent, he walked across one of these beams from the eastern gallery to the western wall, with nothing but empty space between him and the ground, 70 or 80 feet below. He performed this feat safely, but a few days afterwards the beam fell. At that time, in the forties, [233] three of the corner turrets had conical roofs covered with lead. The writer’s name was cut in the lead of the most inaccessible of these, as well as on several other places, still to be seen. The lead has been sold, and the roofs removed, long ago. Within these roofs was a complicated network of supporting beams, crossing and re-crossing each other, among which pigeons, and even owls, nested. A schoolfellow of the writer clambered up into one of these, bent on plunder, but the beams were too rotten to bear his weight, and he fell to the floor, some 15 or 18 feet, on to the hard bricks. No bones, fortunately, were broken, but he sustained such a shock that he was confined to his bed for some weeks. But a more remarkable escape occurred at a later date. Visiting the castle, a dozen or more yeans ago, while the writer was looking down to the basement from the topmost gallery, close to the foot of the small staircase which leads to the flat roof of the south-eastern turret, the son of a farmer in the parish came up to him and said, in the most unconcerned manner, “Sir, my brother fell from here to the bottom yesterday.” I replied, with surprise, “Was he not killed on the spot?” “No,” was the answer, “he was only a little shaken.” The boy, probably about 10 or 11 years old, was wearing a smock frock, loose below, but fastened fairly tight about the neck. In search of eggs, I presume, he sprang across the open space below him, from the eastern gallery to a ledge running along the south wall, but, in attempting to do this, his shoulder struck the brickwork of the corner turret, which spun him round, and he fell. His smock frock, however, filled with air, and buoyed him up, thus checking the rapidity of his descent, and he alighted on the ground upon a heap of small sticks and twigs dropped by the jackdaws, and the result was little more than a severe shaking. We have noticed the handsome mantelpieces, which are referred to and engraved in several publications. They are ornamented with the Treasurer’s purse and the motto “N’ai j’ droit,” and other heraldic devices of the Tattershall, Driby, Bernak, Cromwell, D’Eyncourt, Grey of Rotherfield, and Marmyon families, a study for the genealogist. Nor may we forget the vaulted gallery on the third floor, with bosses of cement and beautifully-moulded brickwork in its roof. This fine old ruin has not only suffered from the ravages of time, but the elements have also played havoc with it. On March 29, 1904, at 2.30 p.m., in a violent thunderstorm, it was struck by lightning. The “bolt” fell on the north-east corner tower, hurling to the ground, inside and outside, massive fragments of the battlemented parapet. The electric fluid then passed downward, through the building, emerging by a window of the third storey, in the western side, tearing away several feet of masonry, and causing a great rent in the solid wall beneath. The writer inspected the damage within a few days of the occurrence, and was astonished at the violence of the explosion.

After the extinction of the Cromwell line the estates probably reverted to the Crown, as we find that Henry VII. granted the manor of Tattershall, and other properties, to his mother, Margaret, Countess of Richmond; and in the following year he entailed them on the Duke. On the Duke dying without issue, Henry VIII., in 1520, granted these properties to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, by letters patent, which were confirmed by Ed. VI. in the year 1547. On the deaths of the two infant sons of the Duke, shortly after the father’s decease, Ed. VI., in 1551, granted the estate to Edward, Lord Clinton and Saye, afterwards Earl of Lincoln, whose descendant, Edward, died without issue in 1692, when the property passed to his cousin Bridget, who married Hugh Fortescue, Esq., whose son Hugh was created Baron Fortescue and Earl Clinton in 1746; and the estates have continued in that family ever since.

We now pass to the church. As the castle was a sample of transition from the feudal fortress to the baronial palace, so the church, although of the Perpendicular order, is not quite of the purest type, being of the later Perpendicular period. Begun by the Treasurer Cromwell, it was not completed at his death in 1455, but the work was carried on and finished by his executors, one of whom was William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, the most famous building prelate of his time. It has been noticed, by competent judges, that there is “a remarkable resemblance in points of detail, in the churches built or enlarged by Ralph, Lord Cromwell, at Colly Weston, Northants; Lambley, Notts.; and Tattershall,” as is the case with other groups of edifices erected by the same parties. (“ArchÆolog. Journ.,” No. 12, 1846, pp. 291–2.) It was established as a collegiate institution, with provision for a provost, six priests, six secular clerks, and six choristers. Dedicated to the Trinity, it is a noble stone structure, in shape cruciform, with nave, aisles, and north and south transepts, chancel, north and south porches, and tower at the west end. There were formerly cloisters on the south side, but they were demolished. The tower is supported by buttresses, having six breaks reaching to the base of the embattled parapet, and angle pinnacles, with a square-headed west door; on the whole it is rather heavy. The best external feature of the church is the clerestory. Internally the nave has six lofty bays with very slender pillars and a low-pitched roof. It is very spacious. It has been recently supplied with chairs, and the old pulpit revived. But for many years the chancel was the only part used for services, and, indeed, as regards accommodation, the only part needed. The chancel is separated from the nave by a very unusual arrangement,—a massive stone rood screen, the upper part of which was, some years ago, used as the singing gallery; and a former old female verger used to refer, with keen enthusiasm, to the time when, under the late Mr. Richard Sibthorpe’s ministrations (whose perversions and reversions between Romanism and Anglicanism were, at the least, remarkable), this gallery reverberated with the inspiring strains of the fiddle, the trombone, the hautboy, the clarionet (“harp, sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer”), and other kinds of music, to the hearty enjoyment of all. This massive screen was the gift of a member of the collegiate body, one Robert de Whalley, in 1528. Little survives of the original choir but some stalls and sedilia. In the north transept, removed, for preservation, from their original positions, are some of the finest brasses in the county; only half, however, of the once very fine brass of the Treasurer Cromwell and his wife remains, remarkable for the ape-like “wild men” on which his feet rest; and in the course of years, since Gervase Holles wrote his “Notes on Churches” (1642), no less than 14 brasses have disappeared, and only 7 now remain. Gough, in his account, says that, on the brass of Maud Willoughby (1497), one of the small figures, with book and keys, at the side is inscribed “Sta Scytha.” St. Osyth was the daughter of Frewald, a Mercian prince, was born at Quarrenden, Bucks., and became the virgin wife of an East Anglian king. She is a saint not often mentioned. “Sithe Lane (says Stow the historian) at the east end of Watling Street, London, is known as St. Scythe’s Lane, so called of St. Sithe’s church.” [236] The windows of this church were originally filled with beautiful stained glass of the Perpendicular period, much of which survived the barbarism of the Commonwealth, only to be removed by Earl Fortescue in 1757, and presented to the Earl of Exeter for St. Martin’s church in Stamford, where some of it may still be seen, more or less damaged by transit. This spoliation so enraged the parishioners that they, with some justification, raised a riot to prevent it; and the glass was only, it is said, got away under cover of night. For 50 years afterwards the windows of the chancel remained unglazed, and being thus exposed to the weather, the finely carved oak stalls, rich screens, and other ornamental work, fell into a state of decay. The chancel was restored several years ago, and fitted up in a neat, plain manner by the present Lord Fortescue, at a cost of £800, £1,000 being further spent on the nave. Some very interesting fragments of the old glass were collected, and they are now chiefly in the east window. In both transepts are piscinas, shewing that they were formerly used as chapels. The north transept was enriched by Edward Hevyn, the agent of Margaret Countess of Richmond, as was evidenced by “a fayre marble within it,” when Holles visited the church, bearing this inscription:

Have mercy on ye soule, good Lord, we thee pray
Of Edward Hevyn, laid here in sepulture.
Which, to their honour, this chappell did array
With ceiling, deske, perclose, portrayture,
And pavement of marble long to endure
Servant of late to the excellent Princess,
Mother of King Henry, of Richmond Countess.

As this is not intended to be a complete guide to the church, and all its beauties, but rather to whet the appetite of the visitor to investigate them further for himself, I shall only make some detailed remarks upon the brass of Lord Treasurer Cromwell and his wife, which, while entire, was a fine typical specimen. A good engraving of it, from a drawing preserved at Revesby Abbey and made for Sir Joseph Banks, is given in “Lincolnshire Notes & Queries” (vol. iii., p. 193); a description is also given there, taken, it would seem, from the “Notes” of Gervase Holles, as follows:—Cromwell, with hands in prayer, is in armour of plain cuirass, with very short skirt of ‘taces,’ to the lower end of which are strapped a pair of ‘tuiles,’ or thigh-pieces, pendent over the cuisses genouillieres, jointed with mail, and having edged plates fastened to them above and below, long pointed ‘sollerets’ of plate armour, and rowell spurs, very large condieres, cuffed gauntlets of overlapping plates, with little scales to protect each finger separately; sword hanging from his waist in front by a strap; over all a mantle, once thought to be that of the Order of the Garter, but now supposed to be the official robe of Lord Treasurer, reaching to the ground behind, and fastened by cords which spring from rose-like ornaments, with long pendent tasselled ends. The support of the feet are two “Wodehowses,” or hairy wild men, armed with clubs. On the remaining portion of the canopy pier, on the right, is the figure of St. Peter, in a cope, wearing the tiara, a key in his left hand and a crozier in the right, with canopied niche. In another, above, is a figure of St. Maurice, in armour of the 15th century, in his right hand a halbert, and in his left a sword. Corresponding with these, on the left, is a figure of St. George, in similar armour, thrusting his lance into the dragon’s mouth. Above is the figure of St. Cornelius, holding a bannered spear in his left hand, and a sword in his right. The lost saints were on the right, St. Barbara, St. Hubert, and another, not known; on the left, St. Thomas of Canterbury, the Virgin, St. John Baptist, St. Anne with the Virgin kneeling, and a Saint with short spear and ring, probably Edward the Confessor. Beneath the two wild men is the inscription:—

Hic jacet nobilis Baro, Radulphus Cromwell,
Miles, dux de Cromwell, quondam Thesaurius AngliÆ, et
Fundator hujus collegii, cum inclita consorte sua,
Una herede dni Dayncourt, qui quidm
Radulphus obiit quarto die mens Januarii, ano dni
Milio cccc, et p’dicta Margaretta obiit xv die
Septebv, ano dni milio cccc quor. aiab. p. piture Deus. Amen.

Men rest from their labours, and their works do follow them. The founder has passed away, and the college also is no more; and the once richly-endowed benefice is now little better than a starveling. But the humble Bede-houses, connected with the college, still remain.

One only further record can we give of Tattershall. Most places have had their characters. Tradition avers, and not so long ago either, that a certain worthy farmer, living in the neighbourhood, used to ride into Tattershall, almost nightly, to his hostel, to play his game of cards with certain boon companions. It was before our toll-bars were abolished, and there stood, near Tattershall bridge, a toll-bar with gate made formidable by a chevaux de frise of iron spikes. At times the play ran high, and our friend would return home without a coin in his pocket wherewith to pay toll. But he was well-mounted, and on a moonlight night he would not hesitate to obviate the difficulty by taking the toll-bar at full speed and landing safely on four legs beyond it. Although I cannot set my seal to this tradition, yet, from the style in which he would follow the hounds, I can well believe that not even a toll-bar, spikes and all, would debar him from his “long clay” and glass of wholesome “home-brewed” by his own fireside as a “night-cap.” [238]

We now bid adieu to Tattershall, prepared, presumably, to endorse the verdict of a writer in the “Quarterly Review,” that the castle is indeed “the finest redbrick tower in the kingdom,” [239a] and the best example, except, perhaps, Hurstmonceux, of what good brickwork is capable of in architecture; and, further, that the church is not unworthy of a place beside it; and it is not a little remarkable that William of Waynfleet, who completed it, also built the most beautiful college in the world, viz., that of Magdalen, Oxford.

Our itinerary is now approaching its conclusion, yet we shall finish with a bonne bouche. We turn our faces northward, and, passing by land still called “Tattershall park,” though now under cultivation and broken up into fields; and, where formerly were two ancient encampments, British or Roman, but now obliterated, a walk of some three miles brings us in view of a tall fragment of stone-work, two fields distant on our left. This is the last remaining portion of Kirkstead Abbey. It is now some 50 feet high and 18 feet, or so, in width, but an engraving by Buck gives it as at least double that width; and the writer has conversed with a man whose father was labouring in the Abbey field when he noticed some cattle, which had been standing under the shade of the ruin, suddenly galloping away in alarm, and immediately afterwards a large portion of the stonework collapsed, and, with a loud crash, fell to the ground, leaving the relic much about the size which we see now.

There are mounds and hollows about the Abbey field which show how extensive the buildings at one time were, covering several acres; and a canal can be traced which had connection with the River Witham, which is two fields distant. [239b] We here give a brief account of the Abbey. The manor of Kirkstead was given by the Conqueror, along with that of Tattershall, as above stated, to the Norman soldier, Eudo; and his son, Hugh Fitz-Eudo, surnamed Brito, founded here a Cistercian monastery, in 1139, dedicated to the Virgin. The Abbey was very richly endowed from more than one source. The Harleyan MSS. (144) give a full account of its possessions (29 Henry VIII.). Its lands were situated in the city of Lincoln, and in Horncastle, Nocton, Blankney, Branston, Metheringham, Canwick, Sheepwash, Billingham, Thimbleby (where the Abbot had gallows), Langton, Coningsby, South Langton, Scampton, Holton, Thornton, Stretton, Wispington, Strutby, Martin, Sudthorpe, Roughton, Haltham, Benniworth, Hedingley, Woodhall (with the advowson), Wildmore Fen (45,000 acres), etc., besides property in the parishes of St. Andrew, Holborn, St. Botolph, Aldersgate, and St. Nicholas, in the city of London; and the further advowsons of the benefices of Covenham and Thimbleby. The Abbots exercised the rights of hunting, fowling and fishing; an old Cartulary of the Abbey [240a] states that “Robert son of Simon de Driby . . . grants to the Abbot of Kirkstead to have their ‘mastiffs’ in his warren of Tumby all times of the year, with their shepherds, to take and retake their beasts in the said warren, without any contradiction of the said Robert or his heirs.” “Witness Robert, son of Walter de Tatessal.” The demesne in Wildmore was granted to the Abbey by Baron Robert Marmyon of Scrivelsby, and William de Romara, Earl of Lincoln, jointly, on condition that he should not allow any other parties to pasture on the lands, but only themselves and their tenants. [240b] This William de Romara also founded the Abbey of Revesby in the 8th year of Stephen, and both to that Abbey and to Kirkstead he granted a Hermitage in Wildmore; and to show the power of the Abbots of Kirkstead, it is recorded that when, in course of time, Ralph de Rhodes, “the Lord of Horncastle,” succeeded to the manorial rights in Wildmore, he, contrary to the grants of his predecessors, “did bring in the said Wildmore other men’s cattell”; thereupon a plea of covent was sued against him by the Abbot of Kirkstead, with the result that a “fyne” was acknowledged by the said “Ralfe de Rhodes.” Similarly, a Marmyon, successor of the one who made the grant, “contrary to the graunt of his ancestors, did bring into Wildmore other men’s cattell, whereupon a like plea of covent was sued against him.” And in both these cases these secular lords had to yield to the Abbot. “From which time,” the old Record states, “the said Abbots have bene Lords of Wildmore, and peaceably and quietly have enjoyed the same as true Lords thereof, without impedimte of any man.” [240c]

These successes, however, seem to have elated the spirit of the Abbots of this monastery, and to have led them, in the pride of power, not always to have due regard for the rights of others. As early as the reign of Edward I., it was complained, before Royal Commissioners, that the Abbot was guilty of sundry encroachments; that he obstructed passengers on the King’s highway; [241a] that he made ditches for his own convenience which flooded his neighbours’ lands; and that, from his power, inferior parties could get no redress; [241b] that he prevented the navigation of the Witham by any vessels but his own; [241c] that he trespassed on the King’s prerogative by seizing “waifs and strays” over the whole of Wildmore; [241d] that he had hanged various offenders at Thimbleby; had appropriated to himself, without licence, the assize of bread and beer. [241e] Further, he refused to pay, on certain lands, the impost called “Sheriff’s aid,” [241f] or to do suit and service for his land, either in the King’s Court or that of the Bishop of Carlisle at Horncastle. [241g] Against none of which charges does it appear that he returned any satisfactory answer. Yet, while thus acting with a high hand, he was not above worldly traffic on a considerable scale, as is shewn by certain Patent Rolls, [241h] where a note is given to the effect that, on May 1st, 1285, a licence was granted, at Westminster, for three years, “for the Abbot of Kirkstead to buy wool throughout the county of Lincoln, in order to satisfy certain merchants, to whom he is bound in certain sacks of wool, his own sheep having failed through murrain;” while it was further alleged that he carried on an extensive system of smuggling, whereby it was calculated that some £2,000 a year were lost to the corporation of Lincoln. Proceedings like these do not give us a very favourable impression as to the virtues of these spiritual lords, their charity, or their standard of morality. Yet, on the other hand, we have to make allowance for the times and circumstances in which they lived. I quote here a letter written by a Lincolnshire man who had viewed matters from the different standpoints of an Anglican and a Romanist. [241i] “You say ‘the monks were not saints.’ I have no doubt but a small proportion were. Yet, taking them as a whole, the wonder is they were as respectable as they were. It is not enough considered what the monastic life was for several centuries. It was the refuge of hundreds and thousands who could find no other occupation. There was no Navy as a profession; the Army was not, in the sense we understand it, a profession. Law and medicine were very restricted. What were men to do with themselves? How to pass life? Where to go to live? There was next to no education, no books hardly to read. How can we wonder that the mass of monks were a very common kind of men, professedly very religious, of necessity formally so, but taking their duties as lightly as they could? The number of them who outraged their vows was wonderfully small. The Inquisitions of Henry VIII.’s time, atrociously partial, as they were, to find blame, found comparatively little. Compare the monks of those days with the Fellows of Colleges in the last (18th) century, and down almost to our own day. Were the former much lower in morals, if at all? Less religious, if at all? I think not.” Nor should we forget their unbounded hospitality, in an age when there were few inns for the traveller, and no Poor Law for the destitute; their skill in horticulture and agriculture, which were a national benefit; or their maintenance of roads and bridges; apart from their guardianship of the Scriptures, and their witness to Christianity. It has been said, “From turret and tower sounded the well-known chime, thrice a day, to remind the faithful of the Incarnation, and its daily thrice-repeated memorial” (F. G. Lee, “Pilgrimage of Grace”). The poor were never forgotten in these multiplied services. When mass was celebrated, it was a rule that the sacristan rang the “sanctus” bell (from its cherished sanctity often the only bell still preserved in our village churches), “so that the rustics who could not be present might everywhere, in field or home, be able to bow the knee to reverence” (Maskell’s “Ancient Liturgy,” p. 95. “Constit.,” J. Peckham, a.d. 1281). If the strict rules of their continuous services were occasionally relaxed by exhilarating sport, or even, as the monks of Kirkstead are said to have done, by frequenting fairs, as at Horncastle, their abbots presiding at the pastimes of the people, [242] the Maypole processions and dances; or getting up mystery-plays, or other exhibitions, perpetuated still at Nuremberg, where our most cultivated Christians go to witness them; surely these were comparatively harmless recreations. It must, however, be recognised that, in time, prosperity had its usual corrupting effects. The Aukenleck MS. (temp. Ed. II.) says, “these Abbots and Priors do again their rights. They ride with hawk and hounds, and counterfeit knights.” As the Bishop of Ely attended divine service, leaving his hawk on its perch in the cloister, where it was stolen, and he solemnly excommunicated the thief; or as the Bishop of Salisbury was reprimanded for hunting the King’s deer; or as Bishop Juxon was so keen a sportsman that he was said to have the finest pack of hounds in the kingdom; [243a] so the Abbott of Bardney had his hunting box, and the Abbots of Kirkstead excluded others from sporting on their demesnes, that they might reserve the enjoyment for themselves. It is stated by Hallam (“History of the Middle Ages”) that, in 1321, “the Archbishop of York carried a train of 200 persons, maintained at the expense of the monasteries, on his road, and that he hunted with a pack of hounds, from parish to parish”; and such an example would naturally be contagious. But it was only when long-continued indulgence and immunity had pampered them to excess, that laxity of morals became flagrant or general. And even when of this very Kirkstead it is recorded that, at the time of the Dissolution, the Abbot, Richard Haryson (1535) was fain to confess, in the deed of surrender, that the monks had, “under the shadow of their rule, vainly detestably, and ungodlily devoured their yearly revenues in continual ingurgitations of their carrion bodies, and in support of their over voluptuous and carnal appetites.” [243b] We cannot but suspect that such language was that of their enemies, put into their mouths, when resistance was no longer possible. They had, however, through long ages, acquired a powerful hold on the respect and affection of the people, and there were hundreds and thousands who were ready to say, what one once said of his country,

England! with all thy faults, I love thee still. [244a]

That the many virtues and the value of the monasteries came to be recognised by many after they were abolished is shewn by the “Pilgrimage of Grace,” and similar indications of smouldering discontent among the people whom they had long benefited. Yet there was always the danger arising from the perfunctory observance of multiplied services, that the “opus operatum” might oust the living faith; and there can be little doubt that such a result had largely come about. Though greed and plunder were the main motive of the Royal Executioner and his agents, the parties who suffered had certainly become only fitting subjects for drastic measures. But we pass from this digressive disquisition to the one interesting relic of Kirkstead Abbey which is still spared to us, in the little chapel standing in the fields, with reference to which I will here quote the words of a writer to whom I have referred before. [244b] He says, “A mile away from Woodhall is one of the loveliest little gems of architecture in the country, a pure, little, Early English church, now dreadfully dilapidated, which belonged, in some unexplained way,—probably as a chantry chapel,—to the Cistercian Abbey of Kirkstead.” As this little gem is now locked away from public view, I will here give extracts from the description of it given by the late Bishop Suffragan, Dr. Edwd. Trollope, one of our greatest authorities, on the occasion of the Architectural Society’s visit to it a few years ago; and which was handed to me by him at the time. They are worthy of careful examination.

“The situation of this lovely little chapel, on the south side of the Abbey of Kirkstead, and without its precincts, is most remarkable. It has been surmised that it may have served as the Abbot’s private chapel, or for the use of the Abbey tenants; but I can scarcely think that either of these suggestions is likely to be true, as such a chapel, so far from the monastic building, and without its protecting girdle, would not have been convenient for the Abbot’s use, and such an elaborately-ornamented structure would scarcely have been erected simply for the monastic churls. Had it been nearer the other buildings, and especially the great Abbey church, we might have thought it had served as the Chapter-House, on which much pains was always bestowed by the Cistercians, so that, in richness of design, this usually ranked second only to the church itself. I am inclined, however, to suggest that it was a chantry chapel, put under the protection of the Abbey and served by its inmates according to the Will of one of the former wealthy lords of Tattershall and Kirkstead, whose burial place it eventually became.

“This beautiful little structure consists of an unbroken oblong, supported by plain buttresses, insufficient to shore up its side walls and bear the weight of its vaulted roof. A plain plinth constitutes the footing of the structures, above which is a bold boutel string, below the window sills, and it is surmounted by quarter round corbels which originally supported a corbel table and a higher pitched roof than the present one, not long ago (in the forties), covered with thatch. The side windows consist of very narrow little lancets. At the east end is a triplet, and at the west end structural ornaments of a most beautiful kind have been most lavishly supplied. Owing to the loss of the gables of this chapel, and its present hipped roof, its appearance at a distance does not promise much, but, when approached, the remarkable beauty of its design, and especially of its western elevation, will most assuredly command admiration.

“From its own architectural evidence we may safely assume that it was built during the first quarter of the 13th century, and it nearly resembles the contemporary work in the north transept of Lincoln Cathedral. The western facade is supported by a buttress on the south, and a larger buttress on the north in the shape of a staircase turret, the upper portion of which is now lost. Between these is one of the most lovely doorways imaginable. Its jambs are first enriched by an inner pair of pillars, having caps from which spring vigorously, and yet most delicately, carved foliage; and then, after a little interval, two more pairs of similar pillars, carrying a beautifully-moulded arch, one member of which is enriched with the tooth mould. Above this lovely doorway, in which still hangs the co-eval, delicately-ironed oak door, is an arcade of similar work, in the centre of which is a pointed oval window of beautiful design; but, through the loss of the gable above, this elevation is sadly marred. In the north wall, close to the west end, is a semi-circular-headed doorway, similar in general character to the western one, but plainer. Its arched head, however, is charmingly moulded, and has the tooth ornament worked upon its inner chamfer.

“Within, is a still more beautiful sight than without, for the whole of the interior is, in every respect, admirable.

“A bold, boutel string runs round the walls about five feet from the ground, and from this, at intervals, rise dwarf shafts surmounted by most delicately carved caps, the foliation, of which almost looks as if it might expand, and yield to the breeze. These serve as supporters to vaulting principals, enriched with the tooth ornament, dividing the roof vaulting into four squares, having large circular foliated bosses in the middle, on the easternmost of which is also carved the holy Lamb and bannered cross.

“In each bay of the side walls is a pair of lancet windows, except in the westernmost one of the north wall, where the north doorway takes the place of one of these, and close to this, in the west wall, is a little doorway giving access to the turret staircase. The triplet at the east end is simply exquisite. This consists of a central lancet and a smaller one on either side, between which rise lovely clustered and handed pillars, enriched with flowing foliated caps, supporting, with the aid of corresponding responds enriched by the tooth ornament, lovely moulded arches, on which the nail head ornament is used.

“Towards the east end of the south wall is a piscina, having a triangular head and shelf groove. Towards the west end, on the north side, are portions of some very valuable woodwork, apparently co-eval with the chapel itself. These probably constituted the lower part of a rood screen, and consist of slender pillars, supporting lancet-headed arcading. They are now used as divisions between the seating, and are most noteworthy. [246] There is also a respectable canopied pulpit, of the time of James I., but scarcely worthy of the worship it seems to invite, from its peculiar position at the east end of the chapel.

“I must now refer more particularly to a sepulchral effigy in the chapel. The lower portion of this is lost, and the remainder is now reared up against the south wall. This represents a knight in a hauberk of mail covered by a surcoat, and drawing his sword slightly out of its sheath, pendent on his left. At a low level on the right is his shield, and over his coife de maille, or mail hood, covering his head, is a cylindrical helm, slightly convex at the top, having narrow bands crossing it in front, the horizontal one, which is wider than the other, or vertical one, being pierced with ocularia, or vision-slits, but destitute of breathing holes below. The head, thus doubly protected, rests upon a small pillow, from which spring branches of conventional foliage. These helms began to be worn about the opening of the 13th century; to which breathing holes were added about 1225. Thus the armour of this knightly effigy exactly coincides in date with the architecture of the chapel in which it still remains, and it may well have served to commemorate Robert de Tattershall and Kirkstead, who died 1212.”

To these remarks of the Bishop I here add some valuable observations made by Mr. Albert Hartshorne, F.S.A., in a Paper read before the ArchÆological Institute, [247] and reprinted for private circulation, on “Kirkstead Chapel, and a remarkable monumental effigy there preserved.” He says: “Reared against the south wall at the west end is a monumental effigy in Forest marble, larger than life, of a man in the military costume of the first quarter of the 13th century. He wears a cylindrical helm, a hauberk, apparently hooded, a short surcote, and a broad cingulum. The left arm is covered by a ponderous shield, and he draws a sword in a scabbard. He wears breeches of mail, but the legs, from the knees downward, are missing. The head rests upon a cushion, supported by conventional foliage. The occurrence of a cylindrical flat-topped helm in monumental sculpture is, of itself, sufficiently rare to merit a notice. There are two examples of it at Furness Abbey, two at Chester-le-street, one at Staindrop, and one at Walkern,—seven only in all, so far as appears to be known. They occur in the seals of Hen. III., Edward I., Alexander II. of Scotland, and Hugh de Vere. Actual examples of such headpieces are certainly of the utmost rarity. There is a very genuine one in the Tower, and another at Warwick Castle. Some sham ones were in the Helmet and Mail Exhibition, held in the rooms of the Institute in 1880, and are suitably exposed in the illustrated catalogue of this interesting collection.” “Banded mail,” as it is called, has been one of the archÆological difficulties “of the past and present generations, and the late Mr. Burges took great trouble in endeavouring to unravel the mystery of its construction . . . having casts made from the only four then known . . . effigies (with it) at Tewkesbury, Tollard Royal, Bedford, and Newton Solney; but . . . he had to confess, in the end, that he could make nothing satisfactory of it. Here, at Kirkstead, is the fifth known sculptured example of banded mail in the kingdom, and . . . it is the earliest example of all . . . it resembles most the Newton Solney type; but I can throw no light upon the mail’s construction, though I have long considered the subject, and must leave the matter as I found it, twenty years ago, a mystery. If we are to suppose, as the Bishop Suffragan has suggested, that a local lord built Kirkstead chapel, then I am disposed to think, with him, that that lord was Robert de Tattershall and Kirkstead, who died in 1212. The date of that chapel may certainly be of about the same period, namely, a little after the time of St. Hugh of Lincoln, and co-eval with the Early English work of the second period in Lincoln Cathedral. The effigy may very well have been set up to the memory of Robert de Tattershall, a few years after his death.”

So far the Bishop and Mr. Hartshorne. We have only to add that, some time in the forties, certain alterations were made, such as removing the thatched roof and covering it with slates, taking away much rotten timber and replacing it with fresh. Some so-called “unsightly beams” were also removed, but they had probably been introduced at a very early period, and it was, probably, also mainly due to them that the walls had not fallen further outward than they had done. Whereas now, without any such support, and with the massive stone roof pressing upon them, the destruction of the building must be only a question of time, and that not a very long one, unless some remedy is applied. I have a note, from Baron Hubner’s “Travels through the British Empire,” [249] that “when the town of Melbourne, in Australia, in 1836, was yet a small scattered village, with wooden houses, wooden church, &c., a tree was the belfry.” At that same period the bell of Kirkstead chapel also hung in a tree, still standing at the south-west corner of the churchyard. Climbing up, a few years ago, to examine the bell, I found the following, cut in the lead under the bell turret: “Thomas Munsall, Nottingham, August, 1849; Edward Gadsby, Nottingham, Aug., 1849. George Whitworth (of Kirkstead), Joiner.” The two former slated the roof, and the last was the local carpenter. The history of this church in modern times, as a place of worship, has bean peculiar. The estate, having been bestowed upon the Fiennes Clintons by Henry VIII., passed, in the 18th century, by marriage, to the Disneys and the benefice, being a Donative and, therefore, almost private property, Mr. Daniel Disney, being a Presbyterian, appointed a minister of that persuasion to officiate; also endowing it with lands which produced a stipend of £30 a year in 1720. This gift was confirmed by his Will. Presbyterian ministers continued to hold it till the death of a Mr. Dunkley in 1794. The manor had then been sold to the Ellison family, and a suit was instituted to recover the benefice to the Church of England; the case was tried at Lincoln Assizes in 1812, when, by a compromise, the fabric was restored to the Church of England; but the Presbyterian endowment remained in the hands of trustees, who subsequently erected a Presbyterian chapel at Kirkstead, and in more recent times, a manse was built in connection with it, now occupied by the Rev. R. Holden. Dr. John Taylor, of Norwich, was one of the ministers appointed by Mr. Disney. He held it some 18 years, from 1715, and here composed his Concordance, in 2 vols. In 1876 the church was visited by the Architectural Society, when, in consequence of its dangerous condition, it was closed by order of the Bishop, awaiting restoration, and it awaits it still.

Of this interesting structure no one can get any view of the interior beyond (strange to say) what can be seen through the keyhole. May we hope that the Rontgen Rays may soon be sufficiently developed to enable us to photograph it through the boards of the ancient door, the hinges of which, we may add, are worthy of notice. I conclude these remarks upon it with the words of a former owner, [250a] who was inspired to write of it thus:—

This ancient chanel! Still the House of God,
And boasting still the consecrated sod,
’Neath which, where ancient oaks, wide-spreading, shade,
The rude forefathers of the place were laid.
Fair, too, as ancient, is that holy place,
Its walls and windows richest traceries grace;
While clusters of the lightest columns rise,
And beauties all unlooked for, there surprise.
’Twas well, when Ruin smote the neighbouring Pile,
It spared this humbler Beauty to defile.
. . . . . . . . .
O! ’Tis a gem of purest taste, I ween,
Though little it be known, and seldom seen.

The writer may add that he has himself twice made strenuous efforts, backed most earnestly by the late Bishop Wordsworth, and has sent out many hundreds of appeals for aid, to prevent this little gem going to ruin; but, owing to apathy and indifference, where they should not have been found, those efforts proved futile. He can only reiterate the warning words of Mr. Albert Hartshorne:—“I know not whether such aid will be forthcoming; but of two things I am quite certain: if nothing is done the chapel must collapse, and that very soon; and when it does so fall, it will become such an utter ruin that it would be quite impossible to put it up again.” [250b]

One more historical incident, of more than local interest, may here just be mentioned. It has already been stated that after the Dissolution the Abbey lands were granted by Henry VIII. to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and that, on the death of his issue the King granted them to the Fiennes Clinton family, in the person of Lord Clinton and Saye, afterwards Earl of Lincoln. In this family they remained for several generations, until by marriage they passed to the Disneys. In the time of the unhappy King Charles I., families were often divided, one party remaining true to the Sovereign, and a relative espousing the cause of the Commonwealth. But Henry Clinton, alias Fynes, remained staunch to his King, providing horse and arms for the Royalist cause. This, no doubt, brought him not a few enemies; and in consequence he had the great compliment paid him of being granted a deed of “Protection” by his grateful sovereign. We cannot give the whole here, but it is entitled “Protection of Mr. Henry Fynes & his Wyfe.”

“(Endorsed) by Major Markham of ye Lyfeguards,” and is headed “Charles R . . . whereas Wee are informed that Henry Fynes of Christed Abbey . . . and his wyfe are, and have been, in all these rebellious times, persons very loyall and well affected to us and our service, wee are graciously pleased to grant them this our speciall Protection, &c., &c. . . . given at our Court at Oxford ye 7th day of February, 1643.” A fac-simile copy of the original is given in “Linc. N. & Q.,” vol. i. (1889), p. 22.

To any of his kith and kin who may still be living among us, and they are not few, it may be a pleasure and a pride to reflect that their ancestor “of Christed” shewed himself a true man in times when it needed some courage to do so. None of them could have a better motto to abide by, in all things, than that of the head of the House, “LoyaltÈ n’a honte,” Loyalty is not ashamed.

Our lengthy peregrinations have now brought us, once more, within a mile of Woodhall Spa; thither let us proceed, “rest and be thankful.”

* * * * *

And now, gentle readers, it would seem we have arrived at a fitting “period, or full stop,” in our somewhat arduous undertaking; and here we might well shake hands and finally part company,—we would fain hope, with a hearty “au revoir.”

I find myself much in the mood of the Alpine guide who feels that he has had more than one long day with his trusty alpenstock, although with a willing heart in the work, and, we might say, even proud that he has been able to show his party through so many attractive scenes. He stands, as it were, before them, hat in hand [251] awaiting the “pour boire,” the due recompense of his services. Freely he has given, freely he hopes to receive, that he may retire to his quiet chÂlet on the hill, where he may rest awhile, till perchance he finds a fresh engagement. But, at this juncture, he is accosted by one of the party to this effect: “Mon cher Guide Walder, you have taken us through more than one enjoyable round in your interesting country. We have looked with pleasure upon many a long vista in the past, and on many a wide-spreading prospect of varied character. You have, indeed, given us a bonne-bouche, to finish with, in Kirkstead, but we would ask, ‘Why have you omitted Somersby, Somersby not so very far away, and hallowed as the birth-place of the Bard of the Century, who is reckoned as one of the High Priests of Poesy, wherever our English tongue is spoken?’” We confess the omission. Our apology is, that our excursions have already, in the more immediate neighbourhood, been only too long. As to Somersby, as its associations are sui generis, so it lies in a direction of its own; not easily to be combined with other places of interest; but the fault can be remedied. Quid multa? A short supplementary excursion is arranged; and we are to muster on the morrow for the last, but not least, of our Looks at Lincolnshire.