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 Marmyon
Verry a fesse G. fretty d’or
Sa. 2 lyons passant arg. crowned d’or
Empaled Dymoke
G. a frett of 8 pieces d’or
B.3 garbes d’or
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, Hillary
fitchy sa. a border G.
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 . . Hatcliffe
. G.
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 Umframyille
d’or
Quarterly Willoughby.
Sa. a cross engrayled d’or . . . Ufford
G. a cross sarcely arg. . . Beke
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 Rochford
2nd quarter a garbe arg.
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 Lovayne
Gules billetty d’or a fesse arg.
Crumwell and Tateshale
B. a manche d’or
Empaled Dymoke
Sa. 3 lyons passant guardent arg.
Sa. 2 lyons passant arg. crowned d’or
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}