Chapter X (1)

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.