CHAPTER VI.

THE FEN COUNTIES, AND THEIR PICTURESQUENESS--ELY--CAMBRIDGE--HUNTINGDON--MARKET BOSWORTH--BEDFORD--ADVANTAGES OF WATER POWER--LINCOLN--GAINSBOROUGH--GRANTHAM--STAMFORD--ANGEL INN, GRANTHAM.

The Fen countries in Bedford, Cambridge, Lincoln, and Northampton, have a certain amount of picturesque beauty of their own that is well suited for an artist, and out of which an architect, with a proper feeling for his subject, may make anything. There is a peculiar interest in the thought that all has been reclaimed by human labour from the wilderness. These counties do not present such insuperable difficulties for cultivation as Holland, because they are above the level of the sea, and do not require to be pumped dry like the Low Countries. The latter, indeed, would be flooded over if human energy were to cease in protecting them for one single year. The most curious feature in these vast dreary flats is the splendour of the ecclesiastical buildings that rise up above the horizons at great distances. Peterborough is hardly out of sight before the towers of Ely appear, vast and gray. The homesteads on these flats are generally good, for the farmers, to make amends for their solitude, can always procure plenty of good land at a comparatively low rental, and their dwellings have a picturesqueness of their own among stacks of turf and stunted orchards. After passing Chittisham, on the Ely road, all begins to mend--the land gently rises, hedgerows reappear, marsh willows give way to beech and elm, and the towers of Ely stand grandly out against the sky. The entrance to the close here shown is a wonderful example of picturesque beauty; as for architecture, in the modern sense of the term, it possesses none, but it simply owes its pleasing appearance to the quaint combination of its parts, all of which are plain. There is nothing whatever to prevent its being adapted to an entrance for workshops or a builder’s yard, and so enlivening a dreary street. The only difficulty is in always being able to find the architect capable of designing anything so picturesque.

The Rev. Mr. J. Petit raises the question of what constitutes picturesqueness in architecture. An artist, he says, will instinctively fall into the best method of treating his picture, and that, he says, is the way with the best architects; their task either comes naturally, or is so formed by study as to take its place, while at work, and the charm of their designs is that they do not seem to be weighing or adjusting every little bit of light or shade or projection. “An architect who thus forms his taste, and then follows it without too apparent reference to rule, produces works of far higher merit than one whose evident aim is either fantastic grouping on the one side, or conventional correctness on the other.”

This is, as Mr. Petit remarks, the real charm of mediæval work; and the reason why our own imitations of it, clever and careful as they may be, are seldom satisfactory. We cannot mediævalise our tastes, the nineteenth century forbids it. “Lords of Misrule” or “Jesters” would be intolerable in modern society, and even the revivals of religious rites and ceremonies can never be quite separated from a feeling of burlesque, perhaps almost among those who participate in them. So if we attempt mediæval architecture, though less difficulties are in our way than other essays at revival, we must have our copy before our eyes--and our work looks like a copy too.

The same difficulties never lay in the way of a revival of the classic styles. In all countries where this was attempted, great men were found who could mould their works in harmony with their prototypes, and they display a genius far beyond the mere imitator. In fact, the modes of thought of the Romans of old were more in accordance with our own than were those of mediæval monks. Roman laws are yet the models of advanced European law, and Roman liberty is the father of our own liberty; and though the fantastic attempts that prevailed in the reign of the Georges, to imitate the externals of classic art and literature, when every illiterate rustic was a Phyllis or a Corydon, may have reduced the style to contempt, and cast, as has been said, a discredit upon all classical architecture, this cannot sully the creations of such men as Alberti, Michael Angelo, Wren, or Vanbrugh. In the item of picturesqueness, however, to which further reference will be made hereafter, our own mediæval architecture must bear the palm far away, and the abandon about it makes it exactly suit our old cities and towns.

The Plough Inn at Ely is a fine old specimen of an English roadside hostelry; it appears to date back to Henry VIII.’s time. The chimney is peculiarly bold and striking, and the composition might very well be adapted to any roadside building of the present day. The remaining drawing of Ely is a very noble group of architecture. The College Chapel occupies the foreground, beyond it is the Deanery, and above that the Cathedral Tower. The chapel is splendidly carved inside, and the long irregular grammar school is a fine example of Tudor architecture. The chapel here shown appears to date back to the fourteenth century.

Ely fair is a thing of the past, but it used to be a very picturesque memorial of St. Etheldreda, the saint to whom the city owed its importance in the first instance. It commenced at the latter part of October, on the day that was dedicated to the saint, and lasted several days. Many-coloured ribbons were sold, and called St. Audrey’s ribbons, a corruption of the saint’s name, and their merit seems to have been that they had touched her shrine. When we consider how very isolated Ely was before drainage had improved the surrounding country, we can more readily understand how Hereward held it so long against William the Conqueror, and caused him so much loss. The monks of Ely were said to have been at all times noted for their kindness and hospitality. On one occasion when William had collected the principal gentry of the neighbourhood to accompany him on an expedition to Normandy, he quartered them in the monastery, and they soon became extremely friendly with the ecclesiastics, though they were there hardly as invited guests; but when the time for their departure came, the monks expressed the deepest regret at losing their friends, and accompanied them in solemn procession as far as Hadenham, a village about five miles distant.

No illustrations have been given of Cambridge, which is about fourteen miles to the south of Ely, as the author hopes to be able to produce at some future time a work of illustrations of that town. In some respects it is more picturesque even than Oxford: the quaint old courtyards and entries, and the old-fashioned gabled houses, give it a peculiar charm. The University had a chancellor and masters many centuries before the charter of incorporation in 1231, but up to the close of the thirteenth century it contained no college buildings. St. Peter’s was the earliest, and that was built by the Bishop of Ely; and Downing, founded by Sir George Downing, the latest. The annual income of the colleges in all is about £185,000.

Near the town of Huntingdon is the beautiful Hinchinbrooke House. It was built by the Cromwell family, probably by Sir Henry Cromwell, the great-uncle of Oliver Cromwell, and Queen Elizabeth was entertained here by the “Golden Knight” as he was called. Oliver Cromwell’s house is still pointed out, and the church of All Saints contains the register of Cromwell’s birth. It is in Latin, and an exact translation would read, “Oliver, son of Robert Cromwell, gentleman, and Elizabeth, his wife, born on the 25th day of April, and baptized the 29th of the same month.” Hinchinbrooke House is a very noble specimen of baronial architecture, and it must often have been visited by Oliver Cromwell. There is a description of Cromwell in the _Remains_ of Sir Philip Warwick that is not often quoted, and may be interesting here. At the commencement of the Long Parliament, he says, “I came one morning into the house well clad, and perceived a gentleman speaking (whom I knew not) very ordinarily apparelled; for it was a plain cloth suit that seemed to have been made by a country tailor; his linen was plain and not very clean; and I remember a speck or two of blood upon his little band which was not much larger than his collar; his hat was without a hat-band; his stature was of good size; his sword stuck close to his side; his countenance swollen and reddish; his voice sharp and untunable; his eloquence full of fervour.” The house at the farther end of Huntingdon where Cromwell once lived is still pointed out, and the room where he was born is preserved, but the building itself has been much modernised, and ordinary sash-windows have been inserted.

Hinchinbrooke House used to be the residence of Sir Oliver Cromwell, the uncle of the great Protector, and it was sold to Sir Edward Montague, in whose family it has remained till the present day. There is one magnificent room in it built by Sir Oliver Cromwell to entertain James I. in, on his coming from Scotland to succeed to the English throne. Oliver Cromwell’s mother was Elizabeth Stewart, and her brother left him a good estate, valued at £500 per annum, of course an ample sum in those days.

Part of the castle which Edward the elder built here in 917 is still to be seen; traces of the outworks are very visible. Before the Reformation, Huntingdon contained fifteen churches, but these are now reduced to two.

The poet Cowper lived for some time in this town, and his house is still called “Cowper House.”

The bridge here shown is six-arched, and connects Huntingdon with Godmanchester. It is extremely massive and picturesque. The old inn at the farther side has a steep roof with a break in it, to give more head room to the upper floors, and that style is again being adopted in many parts of England.

The George Inn, of which the quadrangle is shown, is a brewery as well as a large hotel. The ancient part of it is here given, the more modern portions resemble any first-class hotel. Here we have the same arrangement as in other inns of the mediæval period--a gallery running round an open court, approached by an external staircase. I was unable to collect much information about this interesting hostelry; but, doubtless, the scene here

given differs but little from what it did when Oliver Cromwell saw it. St. Neots is an extremely interesting old town with a very noble church, which contains a peal of eight bells, but it is often inundated by the rising of the Ouse.

Katherine of Arragon, after her divorce from Henry VIII., resided much in Huntingdonshire; sometimes at Kimbolton, now the seat of the Duke of Manchester, and sometimes at Buckden, on the west side of the Ouse, about five miles from St. Neots. This is a very interesting little country town, and the ancient palace of the bishops of Lincoln (for the Abbot of Ely granted the manor to the bishops of Lincoln) stands in the middle of the village. The mansion is beautifully built in brick, and had been erected about half a century before the divorce of Queen Katherine. Kimbolton is a small market town on the Kym, a tributary of the Ouse, and can of course boast of a fine old church. The second scene of the fourth act of “Henry VIII.,” already alluded to, is laid here, where Katherine hears from her attendants of the death of Wolsey at Leicester Abbey. Very little is left of Leicester Abbey; it certainly shows by the foundations that are left of it what a grand old building it must at one time have been, but the gardens and park are

turned into a market-gardener’s premises. They are very comfortable, and the excellently worked stone that lies about indicates pretty well how carefully the Abbey had been built. Wolsey had reached Sheffield Park when he was struck down by a mortal sickness, and then “by slow and easy stages came to Leicester.” His last words to Lieutenant Kingston much resemble his speech in Shakespeare, where the reverend Abbot

“With all his convent honourably received him, To whom he gave these words--‘O father Abbot, An old man broken with the storms of state Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity.’”

The recorded speech to Kingston doubtless suggested this passage in Shakespeare. “I pray you,” he says, “have me commended most humbly to his majesty, and beseech him, on my behalf, to call to his gracious remembrance all things that have passed between us from the beginning, especially respecting Queen Katherine and himself, and then shall his conscience know whether I have offended him or not. He is a prince of most royal courage, and hath a princely heart, for rather than miss or want any part of his will he will endanger the one half of his kingdom. And, I do assure you, I have often kneeled before him in his privy chamber, sometimes for three hours together, to persuade him from his appetite, and could not prevail. And, Master Kingston, this I will say, had I but served God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have given me over in my gray hairs. Howbeit, this is my just reward for my pains and diligence, not regarding my service to God but only my duty to my prince.”

Market Bosworth is twelve miles west of the county town, and here the last great battle of the Wars of the Roses was fought. The scene of the battle was Redmoor plain, nearly two miles from the town. When the conflict took place, in 1485, it was a moor grown over with thistles and scutch grass. King Richard’s army encamped at Elmsthorpe and Stapleton; they numbered some 16,000 men, and his officers made their head-quarters at Elmsthorpe church. Richmond’s were at Atherstone in Warwickshire. Here the seceders from Richard III.’s army met him, and joined their forces before the decisive battle. The whole tale is tremendously told in Shakespeare, and the well where Richard slaked his thirst during the battle is pointed out on a farm in the neighbourhood. This place is well worth a visit, and, singularly enough, the country people are tolerably versed in the details of the conflict, and are able to point out the localities with some probable accuracy. The house where Richmond stayed on his road to Bosworth has already been engraved in the account of Shrewsbury, and unhappily the “Blue Boar Inn” at Leicester, where his stone coffin was used for a drinking-trough for horses and cattle, has been pulled down; many persons are able to recollect it, and say it was picturesque, but I have not yet found a drawing of it.

Bedford is built on both sides of the Ouse. The principal street is about a mile in length, and it contains but little antiquity. The Ouse was crossed by an extremely picturesque bridge taken down in the present century; a gate-house at one end was

the jail where Bunyan was imprisoned.[7] This jail was the first to excite the interest and compassion of Howard. Near Bedford is the picturesque village of Elstow, where Bunyan was born; the house is pointed out, though it has been refronted. Bunyan took the side of Cromwell in the civil wars, and his escape from death at the siege of Leicester is well known; we are indebted to his incarceration for what Macaulay declares to be incomparably the finest allegory in our language. There are several drawings of the jail preserved, and nothing could be more picturesque: there are projecting roofs and overhanging storeys, and apparently a quaintly-tiled roof of different levels. A flat archway spanned the bridge, and there was a sundial over it. Such gatehouses were not at all uncommon, and they were often used afterwards for prisons.

The bridge over the Dee, leading from the Wrexham road to Chester at Handbridge, had two similar gatehouses, but, from drawings that have been preserved of them, they must have been immeasurably more picturesque: one of them was gabled, and covered with tiles similar to those that are common in Holland, and the other had a portcullis and bastions, and a fine tower four storeys high, in which was a large clock. Unfortunately, these were all demolished in 1782, and a new gate called Bridgegate, a rather unsightly structure, given to us instead.

In a drawing by Randal Holme, made about the middle of the seventeenth century, in which these gates are shown, are some curious water-mills. It is difficult to form any very definite idea of the way in which they are worked, or what their general appearance may have been, but the wheels seem to have stood out from the sides not dissimilarly to the paddles of a steamer, and probably could be lowered or heightened according to the level of the water.

Ruskin has said that picturesque beauty cannot exist with any manufacturing district where coal is the propelling power. The requirements of such a condition effectually prevent it; but what would be the saving, not only to the picturesque character of the landscape, but the purses of millowners, if water power was more commonly taken advantage of! It has long been a crying reproach to the country that all round our coasts, and in our inland streams, water-power exists that would drive all the machines in the world without exhausting a tithe of its force, or even beginning to do so. This power also is ever at hand, a ready servant, wanting no fee, depending on no forced prices from colliers, and leaving the atmosphere it works in healthy and bright. In one mill alone I know of, a saving of £5000 per annum could be effected by using water-power, and yet this power is flowing by the doors of the establishment; but coal was used sixty years ago, and things have prospered, so why try to mend what is well? Not only would water be a great economiser in works where force is necessary, but it might be a great social reformer, and this is quite in concert with the opinions of scientific men who have given the subject their study. The acrid nature of an atmosphere among chimneys is depressing and exhausting, and is often--too often--counteracted by a remedy which might be less imperative if water-power were used,--a remedy too, indeed, in which water does not play a very important part. The science of economy in water-power is increasing continually; indeed, it can by turbine wheels be used and re-used so often that a small stream might become a mighty engine, and the saving in coal be placed to the credit of the housekeeper. Every one knows this well, but there seems to be a general dislike to put the knowledge they possess into practice; and though it may be hardly in the scope of the present work to make the remark, there can be no doubt that the sudden and high rise in the price of coals has taught the value of economy in that article, much to the advantage of the exteriors and interiors of our streets and homesteads.

At the time of the Norman conquest Lincoln was one of the wealthiest and most populous cities in England. It has passed through many rulers, and its commanding situation has always marked it out for a place of importance. It was a city of the ancient Britons before the Roman period, and the Romans built a wall round it with posterns. One of these, Newport Gate, yet remains, and is a model of massive masonry. The stones are cut to a radius to form the arch, and are extremely massive and strong. The arch appears to have been built without mortar, and was the portal of the celebrated Ermine Street, which is described in page 248. It is a very pleasant entrance to the city from the north. There are some good trees about it, and the Cathedral towers rise high above it, while several antique gables of neighbouring houses give it a very picturesque effect. Lindum was the name the Romans gave it, and some derive its present name (_Lindum-colonia_) from this. The Roman wall, of which there are many traces, was quadrangular.

In few cities in England can ancient street architecture be better studied than in Lincoln. There are not only traces of Roman work, with baths and many other remains, but the Normans have left their mark here also, as have many of the Kings of more recent date.

Nothing can exceed the beauty of Lincoln as it is approached from the south, and nearly every step unfolds some grand picture that differs from the last. There is a sort of harbour on the Witham, at the south end of the city, which is generally pretty well filled with picturesque barges, and the sails of these, red and white, reflected in the water, are at all times extremely pleasant to see. A small island covered with willows is in this harbour, and the city rises grandly above it, crowned at the top by the full length of the cathedral. The only cathedral that can compare with Lincoln for situation is Durham. As we enter the city from this point we soon come to the Stone Bow, a very stately gateway crossing the street, and finely carved towards the south side. There seems to be some little uncertainty about the date and origin of this structure; some accounts assert that it was built in 1592. This is, however, obviously incorrect, and Britton attributes it to the reign of Henry VIII. With all respect, however, for such an authority, it would seem to be rather older than this. A French style of ornament often appeared in England in the reign of Henry VI., and something very similar to this may be noticed on the arch.

The view here given is after the archway has been passed some little distance, and the scene alters. The house on the left is the celebrated Jews’ house that has so often figured in song and fable. This is a fine specimen of a Norman town residence, the most perfect specimen in fact that we have left. It is built of stone, and not wood as many of the houses of that period were, and until lately there were numbers of immense beams in the recesses of Lincoln streets hidden away in cellars and back premises that dated to the Norman period. Indeed some few parts of wooden fronts also that have been swept away by improvement.

Winwall House is detached, and dates back to the same age as the Jews’ house. It is much less elaborately carved, but the two form the most complete picture that is left us of Norman domestic architecture. Winwall should have appeared in these pages, but Britton has engraved it well in his fifth volume of _Architectural Antiquities_, from a sketch by the late G. Cattermole, and as this volume is not found in every library I venture to quote some extracts as illustrating the accommodation of a Norman mansion.

“Winwall House,” says Britton, “may be considered the most ancient and most perfect specimen of Norman domestic architecture in the kingdom. I visited it with the Rev. Mr. Forby, a well-informed antiquary, about ten years ago. It must suffice to remark that the walls, the buttresses, with cylindrical shafts at the angles, the form and situation of fire-hearth and chimney-piece, the moulding and angular columns, are all indicative of Norman design. The ground-floor is entered by a small doorway on the south side, and lighted by three windows,” etc. etc. Britton then mentions that a thick partition wall cuts off a chamber which some have supposed to be a chapel, though Britton doubts it; but the most suggestive part of this house is its size and importance, and, if this is borne in mind, many things we come across in history will be more readily understood. The total length of Winwall House is 35 feet, about the frontage of a small semi-detached villa, and its breadth 27 feet; from this walls of 3 feet in thickness must be deducted, and then we shall have some idea of its small size. Yet William the Conqueror granted the manor of Wereham, of which this forms a part, to one of his followers, who sold it to the Earl of Clare, or from whom, at any rate, it passed to that family, and we find that the Earl of Clare in King John’s reign held a court here. There is little wonder that great baronial castles might take the place of such houses where there was so much insecurity, in the same way that a great landowner will sometimes absorb cottage holdings into a larger farm, to the mutual advantage of every one on his estate. Remembering the size of this manor-house, we can the more easily understand how it is that chroniclers state that, in order to clear the ground for Lincoln Castle, 166 mansions were destroyed, and furthermore, in order to give this castle the advantage of standing alone, 74 more were also demolished, yet this is on the authority of Domesday Book.

Lincoln Castle yet retains externally many of its ancient features, disfigured, probably, and dilapidated, but yet presenting the general appearance of a Norman fortress of the first class. “Its plan,” says Britton, “was accommodated to the area selected for its site, which comprehends the south-west quarter of the Roman city, consequently it approaches to a quadrangular figure, though not one of its sides is strictly regular. There are two principal entrances, one opening to the town towards the east, the other to the fields on the west; and it is worthy of notice that neither of these gates is placed opposite to the middle of the area, nor do they stand in a line facing each other, but one is set near the southeastern corner of the castle, the other to the northwestern one. The mode of placing the gates was probably contrived for strength; or it might be connected with some internal divisions that cannot now be traced. The eastern gate is the one now made use of. Its original architecture is covered by a pointed arch and turrets, probably erected in the reign of Edward III.” The other gate to the castle has often been supposed by old antiquaries to be one of the Roman gates utilised for the purposes of the castle, but this can hardly be substantiated, as the portcullis grooves and other mediæval traces can be detected.

Nothing more clearly shows the absorbing nature of the feudal system than these old castles; they were in fact often, as one might say, villages in themselves; but we are left much in the dark as to the way in which they were supported. Tribute was exacted in the form of produce and labour, but money must have been very scarce, and probably it is impossible to estimate the relative value of money now and in those days. The common estimates of ten to one or twenty to one break hopelessly down the moment they are tried by known criteria; indeed, there is not a little discrepancy between these two favourite estimates themselves, without going much further. Some of the commonest necessaries of life are even cheaper now than they were then, such as books, or cloth, or travelling, or elaborate iron work, where, at least, cast-iron may be said to stand in place of wrought; but, again, other things, especially labour, are probably so much dearer now, that all kinds of comparison are useless. The remuneration of a first class professional man would be often inadequately stated if pounds were put for pence, and labour differed astonishingly in every part of England. Even now, when we consider that in domestic servants’ wages we find a difference amounting to perhaps 100 per cent in various parts of England, what must that have been in those days?

If, as is stated, Gundulph, the bishop of Rochester, built the keep of Rochester Castle at a cost of sixty pounds--and if this is true, quite as remarkable things are on record--it is clearly hopeless to attempt to reconcile any known money value of things with prices we are familiar with. Even if the amounts paid to great dignitaries were to be assessed according to any scale that has been named, they would be ridiculous, and yet that would seem to be the most natural and neutral test. If the Lord Chief-Justice of England were now offered in the way of fee for his annual labours ten or even twenty times the value of the sum that was paid to Chief-Justice Gascoigne in Henry IV.’s time, he would probably look quite as severely as that judge ever did on the Prince of Wales; so that, when we say the forfeited estates of a monastery, or the rent-roll of a nobleman, were say £500 a year, it is entirely beside the question to attempt to arrive at the value by any rough-and-ready method of multiplication. Perhaps most of this was paid in kind, and very little gold passed, and great allowance must be made for isolation. Of course, leaving railways on one side, we must remember what the state of roads was before the present century. Certainly, when ecclesiastical architecture was in its glory in England, a journey from Liverpool to London would have entailed as much manual labour as from London to Calcutta for each traveller, and this is very much within the mark. In many counties in England £10 in those days would represent £500 now, and in some, of course, the difference would be much less striking. This is introduced here, because, unless such variations are kept in mind, we shall always be at fault in trying to arrive at any comparative estimate of the value of money, and be continually led astray in assessing the nominal rent-rolls of abbeys or manors.

Near the spot where the view of the Jews’ House is taken stands the conduit, a small pretty little building like a chapel, that in all probability was constructed out of the spoils of some ecclesiastical remain. Leland describes it as newly built when he saw it about the middle of the sixteenth century; and as the ornaments, such as the cuspings and other enrichments, belong to a period of some two centuries earlier, this is probably its history. Then as the convent of the Carmelites or White Friars stood on the opposite side of the street, the materials most probably came from there. Some of these conduits still remain in England, and are in use at the present day; and when we remember that only two centuries ago they formed the principal means of supplying water to the citizens, our march of improvement does indeed seem wonderful. The amount now considered necessary for the health and comfort of a city is at least twenty-five gallons per diem for each person, and, even with rain water, we may judge how far short the mediæval supply must have been.

As we ascend the hill the road becomes steeper, and we wind through the remains of the bishop’s palace, which are very grand, now broken into picturesque fragments and shrouded with ivy. The next scene is on the Witham as it runs through Lincoln, and wonderfully picturesque it is. The archway is of great antiquity. There is a strange resemblance to some of the Rotterdam scenes in this, the “vulgar Venice,” as Hood called it, hardly with strict justice, even though there may be a vein of truth in the simile.

In Camden’s work, edited by Gough, it is stated that the original magnificence of Lincoln may be gathered from the circumstance that so many Norman doorways and other splendid architectural remains (he says Norman and _Saxon_) are to be found in Lincoln. Every street, he states, contains some, and he says that few private dwellings have not some trace of Norman architecture inside or outside. Certainly this statement is from Camden, but it passes without challenge in Gough’s edition, and Gough died in the year 1809, though then advanced in years.

There is a house in Lincoln called John of Gaunt’s Stables, but it is said that it ought more properly to be called his palace, and whether it was his or not seems by some persons to be disputed; one thing, however, is certain, it is an extremely valuable relic, and, though it is in a shocking state of neglect, the rooms may be easily traced. “Fronting the street we have a round archway that immediately arrests attention, a very fine one of the period. The upper storey is gone, that contained the chief apartments; the lower is only lighted by loopholes, as usual; we pass under the archway, and in its sullen shade dungeon-like portals appear on each side. But the archway admits us to a quadrangle or square court, round the sides of which are hidden, as it were, the stables, a sort of long, low, vaulted, and pillared hall, and the various offices, all of a gloomy confined character, that belonged to such an establishment. It has been thought that the idea of such specimens of domestic architecture might be improved in our palaces, that of concealing all the miscellaneous rooms round enclosed courtyards, and placing the principal apartments connectedly on one grand storey over the ground-floor, and thus the custom, originally prompted by danger, might be made, with modification, to promote harmony and convenience.” The account just quoted says, “Another feature in the Norman residences was the movable staircase on the outside of the house.” This is even yet continued in some of the old farms in Cheshire. I have seen the labourers go to their loft to sleep, and the farmer remove the staircase regularly each night. Surely the necessity for such a precaution has long passed away, as now labourers may rest as securely in any part of England as if they were in barracks. This custom, however, I have repeatedly seen, certainly within the last twenty years.

Another palace, said to be John of Gaunt’s, is still remaining at Gainsborough, in this county. It is used as a corn exchange, assembly rooms, mechanics’ institute, and part of it is a spacious smithy. There is a large amount of “post and petrel” work, as it is called, or oak and plaster, but there is also some magnificent brickwork, which of course in every way fulfils the requirements of design already spoken of for this material. The octagonal tower, of brick, is beautifully designed, and indeed the enormous buildings bristle over with nearly every kind of device to please. The window, which forms a tailpiece to this chapter, is a splendid piece of work, but evidently rather later than John of Gaunt. This quiet old country town, that is nothing but an agricultural mart now, has seen some stirring times. Sweyne, the King of Denmark, sailed up the Humber and Trent, and landed at Gainsborough, remaining in the neighbourhood for two years, and only being bribed with difficulty to go away; nor did the marauders remain more than one year absent. Alfred the Great was married here in 868; and in 1643 Cromwell routed the Royalists under the command of General Cavendish, the brother of the Duke of Newcastle.

Grantham is an important town on the Witham.

The church is one of the most beautiful in England, and the spire rises to the height of 274 feet from the ground. The Grammar School, here engraved, was founded by Bishop Fox of Winchester in 1528, and within its walls Sir Isaac Newton was educated, nor does his career seem to have been very brilliant as a scholar, at any rate for the first part of his time there.

Stamford is a town of great antiquity, and is situated on the Welland; its south side reaches over the border into Northampton. The name is said to be derived from “Stean-forde,” as the ford which crossed the Welland here was paved with stones. Stamford was the meeting place of several parliaments in the fourteenth century, and there were no less than five monasteries there. Gables figure in great variety and shapeliness here, and afford many studies for an architect. The streets are irregular, but well paved and very clean, and the town reminds one generally of an old city on the Rhine; quaint fronts crowd each other down to the water’s edge, and the red-tiled roofs break through in pleasing variety. These are reflected in the river, and interspersed with trees and gardens.

The description of a ride into Stamford in _Nicholas Nickleby_ is very graphic. The scene is supposed to be at night, when the snow was

beginning to fall, in January, and right well Dickens has hit off the description of a snow-storm in those regions. “The night and the snow came on together, and dismal enough they were. There was no sound to be heard but the howling of the wind, for the noise of the wheels and the tread of the horses’ feet were rendered inaudible by the thick coating of snow which covered the earth, and was fast increasing every moment. The streets of Stamford were deserted as they passed through the town, and its old churches rose dark and frowning from the whitened ground.” The George Inn, here given, is a good example of an excellent old hostelry, and the signboard across the street is very characteristic of some of the older inns. “Twenty miles farther on” Dickens says, “two of the front outside passengers, wisely availing themselves of their arrival at one of the best inns in England, turned in for the night at the George at Grantham.”

The Angel Hotel, here shown, is a fine piece of Tudor architecture, with bow windows, and an oriel over the doorway. It is situated at the head of the principal street, and overlooks the celebrated market cross.

The Romans, during their tenure of the island, constructed dykes, one of which in part remains at Wainfleet. The car-dyke, also a canal sixty feet wide and twenty miles long, reaching from near Bourn to the Sleaford Canal, and the Foss Dyke, extending from the Witham to the Trent, are the works of Roman hands.

Lincolnshire is celebrated for the number and grandeur of its ecclesiastical remains. Every one is familiar with the celebrated Croyland Bridge, built, it is said, long before the Conquest; this is triangular in form, and the arches meet at the centre, but the style of building points to a somewhat later date than tradition ascribes to it. Croyland is situated in one of the dreariest spots in England, and, excepting the bridge, has nothing of interest.

The Danes have left their mark in Lincolnshire, as the number of places ending in _by_--like Spilsby, Wragby, Grimsby--testify.

Boston was at one time second only to London itself in commercial importance, and in the reign of Edward III. it was made a staple port for wool, tin, lead, and other commodities. A staple town, from which the word staple is derived, was a town fixed by authority and privilege, to which merchants of foreign countries brought their ventures--cloth or manufactures--and they were either sold or bartered away for English goods or produce. The celebrated church of Boston is dedicated to St. Botolph, and the name Boston is said to be a corruption of St. Botolph, a Saxon saint, who established a monastery here. The tower of Boston church is nearly 300 feet high, and can be seen at a great distance either by land or sea. From its blunt appearance it is familiarly called “Boston stump.”

Oakham is a quiet old country town, in the middle of an agricultural district, and it contains many highly respectable houses, inhabited by local gentry. The market-place is here shown, and the covered market is built of strong oak. There is another old oak market in the town, of very singular construction; it is octagonal, and is supported on strong oak uprights; the roof rises to a point, and is shingled strongly with oak. This second market-place, over which the great church spire rises, is extremely picturesque, and on market days it would form a splendid subject for an artist’s brush. There is a singular custom at Oakham: every peer of the realm, on first passing through the town, has either to pay a fine, or else present the town with a shoe from his horse; the shoe is then nailed up on the castle gate, or in some conspicuous part of the building. Queen Elizabeth has left a memento of this nature behind her, as also have George IV. and her present Majesty. These shoes are often gilt and stamped with the name of the donor and his arms. The scene here given is taken from the windows of the Crown Hotel, and is very characteristic of the place.

Uppingham is a clean neat market town, to which a railroad has not as yet penetrated. It consists principally of one long street, nearly at the middle of which is a large square used for markets. There is a fine old grammar school here, founded by the Rev. Robert Johnson, archdeacon of Leicester, in 1584; he also founded one at Oakham, and became rector of North Luffenham in this county, where he died and was buried in 1616. The property with which he endowed it has increased in value enormously, and the funds are very large. The celebrated Jeremy Taylor was rector of Uppingham.