Highways and Byways in Lincolnshire

In Short

This volume serves as both a topographical guide and a historical companion to one of England’s most underrated counties. Rather than a dry catalogue of landmarks, it is a curated journey that follows the arterial roads radiating from Lincolnshire’s major towns, pausing to explore the architecture of its myriad churches and the remnants of its monastic past. The writing captures the quiet majesty of the flat fenlands and the rolling wolds, grounding the reader in the local legends and social history of the region. It has lasted because it treats the county not merely as a collection of places to visit, but as a living landscape where the layers of Roman, Saxon, and Norman history remain tangible, preserved in stone and folklore by a dedicated observer.

The Story

The narrative begins with an admission of reliance on the labor of predecessors, signaling an intent to synthesize the vast history of Lincolnshire into a coherent, manageable route for the modern traveler. The journey is shaped by the author's choice to travel by motor car, a decision that allows him to cover the breadth of the county while emphasizing that Lincolnshire is a land to be viewed from the road rather than traversed primarily on foot. The arc of the book follows the county's geography, starting in the south with the historic town of Stamford and moving systematically through the Fenland regions, where the struggle against water—the draining of the land and the building of embankments—defines the character of the inhabitants.

As the journey progresses, the focus shifts to the architecture that punctuates the horizon. The reader is led through a series of "splendid churches," which the author views as the primary glory of the county. The narrative weaves through these ecclesiastical sites, detailing Norman chancel arches, intricate font carvings, and the rise and fall of monastic orders like the Templars and Hospitallers. The author moves from the bustling life of market towns to the somber ruins of great abbeys like Croyland and Thornton, using each site to anchor a discussion of the people who shaped them—from the legendary "father of fen farmers," Richard De Rulos, to the poets and soldiers whose names are etched into local history.

The middle section of the work delves into the social and intellectual life of the county. There are vivid accounts of local traditions, such as the duck-shout shooting on the sands and the folk songs of the Fenmen. The narrative also finds room for the literary heritage of the region, focusing on the Tennyson family. The author paints an intimate portrait of the poet laureate’s upbringing in Somersby, moving from the family’s genealogy to the modern commemorative efforts, including the bronze statue that stands in the cathedral close.

The story does not shy away from the darker or more mundane aspects of the past, offering insights into the harsh realities of seventeenth-century justice, such as the public whipping of "vagrant rogues." By the time the journey reaches its conclusion in the northern divisions and the coastal marshes, the reader has been guided through a complete cycle of Lincolnshire life—from the prehistoric mazes carved by monks to the industrial progress of modern drainage and library building. The book ends not with a final destination, but with a lingering sense of the county’s depth, leaving the reader with a clearer understanding of how the land, the church, and the people have intertwined over the centuries.

How It Unfolds

The foundation of the journey The author sets the stage by acknowledging the collaborative nature of travel writing and defining the scope of his exploration. He establishes the motor car as the essential tool for navigating the county’s expansive topography and varied landscape.

The Fenland perspective The narrative moves into the low-lying regions, detailing the historical efforts to reclaim land from the sea and the marshes. Here, the focus is on the long struggle of the Fenmen and the development of the earliest settlements that eventually became market towns.

The ecclesiastical record A significant portion of the journey is dedicated to the study of the county's parish churches, focusing on their architectural evolution. The author highlights the craftsmanship of Norman arches, the iconography of stone fonts, and the intricate wood carvings that define the region's spiritual heritage.

The human and literary backdrop The narrative turns toward the personal histories of the area, including the long lineage of the Tennyson family. These chapters provide a human context to the land, connecting the physical environment to the poets, soldiers, and rectors who once walked its lanes.

The historical residue The final stages of the book explore the crumbling ruins of great monastic houses and the markers of ancient battles. The author concludes by reflecting on the intersection of the past and the present, noting how even the most remote corners of the county hold a deep, resonant connection to English history.

The People

The figures inhabiting these pages are a mix of historical architects, local landlords, and poets. Richard De Rulos stands out as the "father of all Lincolnshire farmers," a model landlord whose efforts to drain the fens and build the local church transformed the landscape and set the tone for centuries of agricultural life. His legacy is one of industry and community building, though he remains a distant, almost mythical figure from the Norman era.

In contrast, the Tennyson family provides a more intimate look at the county’s nineteenth-century life. Alfred, Lord Tennyson, emerges not as a distant genius but as a man deeply rooted in the Somersby parsonage. The author details the family’s complex social standing and their interactions with neighbors, creating a portrait of a "singularly fine family" that reflects the landscape’s quiet, serious nature. We see the poet through the eyes of his contemporaries, including his family members who were shaped by both the beauty of the Wolds and the rigid, often harsh, religious views of the time.

Finally, the religious figures, such as the bishops and abbots, are treated as the primary custodians of the county's cultural history. Whether it is the industrious Bishop Hugh of Lincoln, who guided the cathedral’s construction, or the anonymous hermits serving in the pay of noble families, these figures represent the intersection of faith and power. They are the ones who commissioned the art and the stone that the author meticulously documents. Through their actions, whether in founding colleges or in maintaining the "Dyxonary" of parish life, they leave behind a testament that the author spends the entire volume uncovering.

In Its Own Voice

“It is a land of constantly occurring magnificent views, a land of hill as well as plain, and, as I hope the book will show, beyond all others a county teeming with splendid churches.”

The author provides this summary of the landscape to justify why the reader should look beyond the common perception of the county as merely flat or uninteresting.

“Their lives would not have been taken if their lands could have been got without; but the mischief was, the honey could not be got without burning the bees.”

In discussing the downfall of the Templars, the author uses this sharp, historical observation to highlight the greed that drove the dissolution of the order.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the "layering" of time. It argues that Lincolnshire’s true character is found in the persistence of its past within its present. The author is less interested in the flashy or the grand than in the persistence of the ordinary—the way a medieval maze in a grassy field, a tombstone inscription, or the carvings on a font provide a direct, unmediated link to the people who inhabited the land centuries prior. It is an argument for the importance of "local" history, suggesting that by observing the small, overlooked details—the specific carving of a gargoyle or the wording of an epitaph—one arrives at a more truthful understanding of the English identity than any sweeping national history could provide. The book asks the reader to look closely, to read the landscape as one would a text, and to recognize the profound continuity of human life in a changing world.

Why Read It Today

Readers who find joy in slow travel—those who prefer the quiet discovery of an ancient church to the loud attractions of a tourist hub—will find this a deeply satisfying companion. The prose is warm, scholarly, and unpretentious, feeling like a conversation with a knowledgeable friend who is eager to share the secrets of the countryside. It captures the rhythm of the English landscape with a precision that has become rare in modern travel writing.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the author’s perspective, which is firmly rooted in the early twentieth century. His attitudes toward class, the "vagrom men" of history, and the use of the motor car as the ultimate arbiter of value are artifacts of their time. There are also stretches of dense architectural detail—descriptions of font panels and window tracery—that may tax the patience of a casual reader, though they serve as a reward for those with an eye for design or history.

What lingers after reading is the sense of place. The author manages to convey the atmosphere of the Lincolnshire Wolds and the expansive silence of the Fens with such clarity that the reader feels the weight of the history described. It is a book that demands you stop rushing, that you pull over by the churchyard wall, and that you take the time to notice the specific way a stone is carved or the way the light falls over a "storied shire." It remains a perfect manual for anyone who wishes to look deeper into the foundations of the English landscape and finds the quiet beauty of the past more compelling than the speed of the present.