Tetford, which adjoins Belchford, lies to the north-east of Horncastle,
at a distance of about 7 miles; though a village with a population under
500, it almost aspires to the rank of a small town, as it possesses more
than one street; has several shops, and a number of fair residences.
Letters _via_ Horncastle, arrive at 10 a.m. At the date of Domesday
Book, it was one of the limited number of parishes which then possessed a
church. Saxon thanes, by name Elmer, Arnwi and Britrod, held lands here.
Thomas, Archbishop of York, formerly a Canon of Baieux, in Normandy, and
one of the Conqueror’s Chaplains, received a grant of land here from his
Sovereign; and we find his vassal, Gilbert, occupying under him two
carucates with eight villeins and seven socmen, who had two more
carucates (240 acres) among them. The Norman Gozelin, son of Lanbert,
also held land here, which was occupied by his vassal, Walter, with five
socmen, and three villeins. At a later date (13th century) the family of
De Hesele were proprietors in Tetford, and benefactors to the church,
also presenting to the benefice of Somersby, as well as to that of
Tetford (“Linc. N. & Q.” 1894–5, pp. 228–29). Then we find the Cormayles
family holding lands here, and presenting to Somersby. The Crevequers,
and the Brayboeufs had the presentation to a chapelry here, of St.
Bartholomew, besides owning land. After them followed the Barkworths,
and to them succeeded the Thimbelbies. In the Court of Ward’s
Inquisitions (3, 4, and 5, Edwd. VI., vol. v., 91) we find Matthew
Thimbleby, who married Anne, daughter of Sir Robert Hussey, about 1521,
seised of the advowsons of Tetford and Somersby; and his widow married
Sir Robert Savile, Knt., who (through her apparently) was seised
(according to Chancery Inquisition, post mort., 28 Eliz., 1st part, No.
116) of the manors of Tetford, Somersby, and several others. Sir Robert
disposed of some of the property thus acquired, selling Tetford to George
Anton, Esq., through whose daughter Elizabeth, married to Sir Edward
Hussey, the property passed to the Hussey family, whose head, Lord
Hussey, of Sleaford, for his treachery at the time of the Lincolnshire
Rebellion, was attainted and executed, by Henry VIII. A widow, Elizabeth
Hussey, presented to the benefice as late as 1690. For many years a
branch of the Dymoke family were located at Tetford, until, under the
will of the late Lionel Dymoke, they succeeded to the Scrivelsby
property, and removed to Scrivelsby Court. Sir Hugh A. H. Cholmeley is
now lord of the manor, but the principal landowners are Meaburn
Staniland, Esq., F. S. Dymoke, Esq., the executors of George Westerby,
and many small freeholders. There was formerly a Tetford Literary Club,
having as its members most of the gentry of the neighbourhood; one of
whom, Langhorne Burton, of Somersby, celebrated the association in an
amusing poem, of some 200 lines, published in 1772. It is given in
Weir’s History, of date 1828. Dr. Samuel Johnson attended the meetings
of this club, when visiting the Langtons of Langton Hall; and he is said
to have played skittles at the White Hart Inn, in Tetford. There are
traces of an ancient encampment in this parish, probably the scene of
struggles between Britons and Saxons. It lies between the two main
streets, to the south, and on one side is skirted by a beck which forms
one of the feeders of the Somersby stream, sung of by Tennyson as “The
Brook.” Here, Leland (“Collectanea,” vol. i., pt. 2., p. 509) states
that Horsa, brother of Hengist, the Saxon General, was defeated by the
Britons, under Raengeires; and the name, like that of Belchford, would
seem to be of British origin; “Tat” being a Druid deity, and “fford”
meaning a road.
The church, dedicated to St. Mary, is a structure of Spilsby sandstone,
of some considerable antiquity, and of larger proportions than most of
those in the immediate neighbourhood. For many years it has been in a
sadly neglected condition, although of late it has been somewhat
improved. It is capable of being made an edifice fully worthy of divine
worship. The Puritan square pews survive for the most part; and a
western gallery, or singing loft, now disused. The nave has north and
south aisles of three bays, and a clerestory above. These, with the
tower, are in the Perpendicular style; the south aisle has some Decorated
features; and a lancet window in its west end, in which a crocheted open
canopy has been introduced, tells of a still earlier church. The north
aisle was rebuilt on the old foundations in 1826. The chancel arch has a
continuous moulding, without capitals. A closed arch in the north
chancel walls shews a former chantry on that side. The east window is
modern. There are traces in the south aisle indicating a former chantry
altar. The font is a plain octagon, the basin relieved by foliage at
each angle. On the south wall of the nave is a monument to Captain
Edward Dymoke, cousin to Champion Lewis Dymoke, who died 1739; with
breastplate and helmet suspended above. There are three other Dymoke
tablets; and one to J. Emeris, Fellow of Corpus xsti. College, Rector,
and Head Master of Louth Grammar School. The tower is massive, somewhat
low, though well-proportioned. It has small corner pinnacles, and
immense gurgoyles. On the right of the doorway, within the west porch,
is a stoup, rising from a stone bench. There are three bells; one weighs
1 ton, 1 cwt., 3 qrs., 7 lbs., and has the inscription “Sancta Maria, ora
pro nobis”; the second bell weighs 16½ cwts.; the third weighs 11 cwts.,
cast at Barton, by Harrison. The Sanctus bell stands on the floor. One
of these bells is said to have formerly belonged to the church at
Fulletby, when there was a larger fabric there than at present. In 1887
a Jubilee clock was put up, by subscription, made by Messrs. Maddison and
Blythe, of Horncastle. In 1903 the present rector, the Rev. W. Wood,
inaugurated, by a bazaar, a scheme for the much needed restoration of
this church, in which, it is to be hoped, he may be successful.
On the south side of the church is the base, and part of the shaft, of a
churchyard cross. Upon the former, several shields are cut; one of
these, within a quatrefoil panel, bears three bars in pale, four mullets
bendwise; and upon another is the same bearing, impaling a cinquefoil,
between 6 crosses plain. These were the Thimbleby bearings.
Tetford has been the scene of traditionary witchcraft, the following
anecdote having been related by a quondam inhabitant, whose widow still
survives. It has some resemblance to the story of the phantom hare at
Bolingbroke Castle.
Once upon a time, there lived in Tetford an old woman possessed of
magical powers. It was said that she could assume the form of a hare,
and, emerging from her cottage through the “cat hole” in the door, could
roam the country round at will. She had a son who was given to poaching.
The events on a particular occasion are recorded as follows: “Two men are
walking on the road from Somersby to Tetford in the evening; one carries
a gun. Just in front a hare passes through the hedge, and comes into the
road. “Bang at her, Jack,” says Joe. Jack puts gun to shoulder, and
aims, but for some reason, does not fire. He lowers his gun, then tries
again, but with the same result. “Dal it, Joe,” says Jack, “I cannot;
summat stops me. Tack thou the gun!” Joe seizes the gun, but the hare
is, by this time, nearly out of shot. However, he fires, and exclaims,
“Its noa goa, she’s hit i’ the leg, but it woant stop her.” They quicken
their steps, lest the shot might have attracted a keeper. Jack goes to
the cottage where his mother lives, while Joe goes to his home further
down the “street.” Jack goes to the pantry and empties a very roomy
pocket, inside his fustian coat, of its contents, we will not say what.
He brings out a mug of ale, and sits down by the fire, to enjoy it. His
mother is sitting on the other side of the fire, rather doubled up in her
chair, and with a look of pain on her wrinkled face, “What’s up Mother?”
asks Jack. “I’ve a bad pain i’ my leg,” she says, “it came on all of a
sudden, a few minutes ago.” “Rub it wi’ some o’ them oils ye’ve got,”
says Jack; “Let’s hev supper, and then ye’d better goa to bed.” “I’ve
hed my supper,” she says, “ye were so long o’ coming, that I did’nt wait
o’ ye, an’ I’ll goa to bed now.” She gets up with difficulty, hobbles
across the room, and slowly mounts the “lether” (ladder) to her bedroom.
Jack gets his supper, and then goes out to the ale-house not far off, for
a final pot, and chat, before “turning in.” There he meets Joe, and they
have a pipe together. In the course of conversation Jack says, “Mother’s
bad i’ the leg, she was ta’en all of a sudden a little afore I comed
hoam.” Joe laughs, and says, “I’d upode it, she’s bewitched hersen,
instead of some un else.” Next morning the old woman does not get up.
She calls to Jack, he goes to her, “My leg is worser, gie me some tea,
and then goa to the wise man at the town an’ ask him what’s the matter
wi’ me, for I feel that queer. Get my stocking out o’ yon chest, and
I’ll gie thee a crown to gie him for his fee.” To be brief, Jack attends
to her wants, gets his breakfast, and walks off some miles to the
neighbouring town. There he has a jug of ale, to refresh him after his
walk, and so goes to the wise man. He finds him at home, and tells his
errand. The wise man takes him into a back room, tells him to sit down,
while he lays out a big book on the table, and opens it at random. Jack
cannot read, but he would not be any wiser in this case, if he could, for
the page is covered with curious characters, which none but the wise man
can read, and a sceptic might suggest that he cannot either. The latter
then turns to a cupboard in the corner of the room, opens the door of it,
put his head inside, and _sotto voce_, mumbles something. Having done
this for a moment or two, as if conversing with some “familiar spirit” in
an unknown tongue, he throws the cupboard door wide open, whereupon out
flies a large “bumble-bee,” which circles, buzzing, round the room, and
at length settles on the open book. The wise man examines the particular
letters, or characters, on which the bee has settled. Having studied
them carefully, he says to Jack, “When did your mother first feel the
pain?” “Last night,” says Jack,” afore I came home to supper.” “When
did you shoot that hare?” asks the wise man. “I did not shoot a hare at
all,” replied Jack. The wise man consults the characters again, and then
says “No! I see you did not, but it was your gun that shot her.” At
this Jack is astonished, and tells the whole particulars. The wise man
says, “your good spirit kept you from shooting, because she was your own
mother, but your mate shot her with your own gun. Don’t you know that
your mother’s a witch, and goes out as a hare whenever she likes? Why, I
heard of her running across the road in front of a team of horses, in her
form of a hare and they were so scared that they nearly dragged the
waggon into a dyke. However,” he adds,” she’ll soon be well again.
Here’s the remedy: Catch a hedgehog, take a comb, and with it saw off one
of its legs, and tell her to rub her leg well with the hedgehog’s leg,
and the pain will soon go.” Jack journeyed home in high spirits, taking
a pot or two on the way, by way of self-congratulation; and my informant
deponeth that all came about as the wise man foretold.
Outside the boundary of Tetford, to the west, and strictly speaking in
the parish of Salmonby, a number of flint arrow-heads have been found on
Warlow farm, near a spot named “Warlow Camp.” They are of a trilobite
form, finely chipped, and about one inch in length, three-quarters of an
inch broad at base. They belong to the neolithic period; and from the
very crisp character of the chipping, it is evident that they have not
been used; there was probably a factory of such implements on the spot.
Several specimens may be seen at the house of Mr. Westerby, tenant of the
farm.