Chapter 8

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 seeFor their soules say a Paternoster, Ave Maria, & a creed for Charity.

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

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

In the Parlour of the Parsonage House

Arg. a crosse engrayled G. betw. 4 water bougets sa.

Bourchier

Quarterly & Quartered with Quarterly

Gules billetty d’or a fesse arg.

Crumwell and Tateshale

Lovayne

B. a manche d’or

Empaled

Sa. 3 lyons passant guardent arg.

Sa. 2 lyons passant arg. crowned d’or

Dymoke

Empaled

Dymoke

Marmyon

Verry a fesse G.

Marmyon

Or. a lyon rampant double queue sa.

Welles

Empaled

a coate defaced

Welles

Empaled

Verry a fesse G.

B. a manche, d’or.

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

Alme Deus, cæli Croxby tu parce JohanniHanc ædem fieri benefecit sponte Jo CroxbyAnno 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 longerin situ. Over the porch is a parvis, as a priest’s chamber, or school. The church has a clock and six bells. The curfew, orignitegium, 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 tallelms 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 remainingextensive 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 variousforms, 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 withwater 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 gruesomerecollection. 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 waslittle 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 “Noteson 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 prayOf Edward Hevyn, laid here in sepulture.Which, to their honour, this chappell did arrayWith ceiling, deske, perclose, portrayture,And pavement of marble long to endureServant 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, etFundator hujus collegii, cum inclita consorte sua,Una herede dni Dayncourt, qui quidmRadulphus obiit quarto die mens Januarii, ano dniMiliocccc, et p’dicta Margaretta obiit xv dieSeptebv, ano dni milioccccquor. aiab. p. piture Deus. Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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