Memorials of Old Lincolnshire

In Short

This volume is a compendium of historical and architectural studies dedicated to the heritage of Lincolnshire. It functions as a formal, multi-contributor survey, meticulously cataloging the county’s Roman fortifications, Saxon towers, monastic legacies, and the shifting fortunes of its manors and towns. By focusing on physical remains—from monumental brasses and church carvings to the layout of ancient streets—the work preserves a record of local continuity. It remains a valuable reference for those interested in the granular, material history of rural England and the evolution of its ecclesiastical landscape.

The Story

The narrative of this book unfolds as a geological and architectural excavation of Lincolnshire, moving chronologically through the artifacts left by successive civilizations. It begins in the deep past, examining the Prehistoric Iron Age, where evidence of human presence is found not in grand ruins, but in the subtle traces of smelting furnaces at Manton and the remnants of iron implements recovered from the river Witham. The text establishes that while Lincolnshire lacks the megalithic stone circles associated with other parts of Britain, its early history is defined by industry and the practical tools of survival.

The focus then shifts to the Roman occupation, specifically the transformation of military outposts into civilian hubs. The town of Ancaster is presented as a prime case study; once a strategic camp on the Ermine Street, it matured into an agricultural center. The account details the discovery of foundations beneath the modern turf, such as the votive figures of the Deæ Matres, which provide a glimpse into the religious life of a provincial garrison town.

From the Roman period, the lens narrows to the structural evolution of the Saxon towers. The text provides a technical critique of these buildings, noting that while they lack the polish of later architectural eras, they reflect a distinct, sturdy engineering. The description moves toward the medieval era, marked by the influence of monastic power. The reader is guided through the history of priory churches, such as those at Weston and Holbeach, where the patronage of powerful figures and the internal politics of the church determined the landscape’s aesthetic development.

The scope expands to include the turbulent history of towns like Grantham, which weathered the disruptions of the plague and the Civil War. The narrative tracks how the town’s identity was shaped by the rise and fall of political factions, the sequestration of church property, and the intellectual footprint of historical figures like Isaac Newton.

The closing sections focus on the preservation of local memory through the study of monumental brasses and family estates. The book catalogues the effigies found in remote churches, using them as indices for social standing and artistic trends from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries. It concludes with the history of the Spalding Literary Society, illustrating the effort of nineteenth-century scholars to document the "supellex literaria"—the literary and historical furniture of the region—to ensure that the county's heritage is not lost to the inevitable cycles of decline that affect all communities.

How It Unfolds

The prehistoric foundation The account opens with an assessment of ancient iron-working sites and river finds, arguing that the county’s earliest history is written in metal rather than stone. It emphasizes the need for personal cataloging of private collections to build a comprehensive historical record.

The Roman administrative legacy The focus shifts to the strategic importance of towns like Ancaster, where military camps evolved into permanent settlements. Archaeological evidence, such as buried foundations and votive statues, is used to map the daily life and religious habits of early residents.

The evolution of stone architecture Detailed examinations of Saxon towers and medieval parish churches reveal the limitations and ambitions of early builders. The text evaluates these structures by their technical merits, distinguishing between mere decoration and genuine architectural expression.

The impact of political strife The narrative examines the transformation of regional hubs like Grantham, detailing the physical and social damage caused by the Civil War. It explores how Puritan governance and local resilience reshaped the town’s civic and religious institutions.

The memorial of the past The final chapters focus on the preservation of history through monumental brasses and the records of local literary societies. It underscores the responsibility of the community to document and safeguard the remnants of the past for future generations.

The People

The figures who appear throughout these pages are primarily historical agents—builders, clergy, and local benefactors—whose individual lives left lasting marks on the landscape. Thomas de Multon emerges as a significant patron of the twelfth century; his gift of the church at Weston, signaled by the dramatic gesture of placing his knife on the high altar, serves as a testament to the intersection of personal piety and ecclesiastical authority. Sir John Hussey-Delaval and the broader Delaval family represent the later aristocratic influence on the county, their tastes and family traditions etched into the architecture and internal decor of the great houses.

The scholar Maurice Johnson stands as a pivotal modern figure. As the founder of the Spalding Literary Society, he dedicated his life to the preservation of local records and artifacts. His struggle to maintain the society’s vitality in the face of inevitable decline highlights the tension between the desire to archive history and the transitory nature of all human institutions. Alongside these are figures like Thomas Tailor of Doddington-Pigot, whose eccentricities—such as his habit of hiding money in a "chist" and his refusal to apply for a coat of arms despite his status—provide a human, often comedic, counterpoint to the more formal historical accounts. Together, they represent a cross-section of the people who built, governed, and ultimately sought to explain the story of Lincolnshire.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the visual nature of the county's landscape, the preface describes the unique atmospheric quality of the fenlands:

"Flat and low though her shores may be, yet there is a fascination in the great extent of 'yellow sands'; and there is a recompense for the level plain of marsh or fen in the vast expanse of sky."

In discussing the early efforts of Saxon masons to create stone architecture, the text offers a sober assessment of their technical capabilities:

"Saxon builders had little architectural knowledge or skill; and buildings like Stow impress us more by their height and mass of wall than by any very striking architectural feature."

Reflecting on the inevitable decline of local institutions, the founder of the Spalding Literary Society provides a somber, philosophical perspective:

"Before his death Johnson, with reference to the state of this Society, observed in a letter to his friend Gale, 'realms and all communities have their periods.'"

What It's Really About

The book is primarily a study of continuity. It argues that history is not merely found in grand, singular events but is embedded in the physical fabric of a region—in the placement of a village church, the design of a porch, or the remnants of an ancient smelting furnace. It poses a fundamental question: what is the duty of the present to the past? The authorial voice suggests that history is a fragile inheritance that requires active, diligent preservation. The themes of decline and renewal permeate the text, positioning the county not as a static entity, but as a living record that is constantly being interpreted, restored, and, at times, forgotten by those who inhabit it.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for the reader who enjoys a deep, unhurried dive into local history and architectural topography. If you find satisfaction in the meticulous details of church renovations, the heraldry of old brasses, and the precise, scholarly tone of early twentieth-century antiquarianism, you will find this volume a rewarding companion. It moves at the pace of an old-fashioned gazetteer, prioritizing factual description over narrative speed.

However, the reader should be prepared for the book's specialized focus. Its language is formal and academic, reflecting a period of scholarship that assumes a high level of familiarity with architectural terminology and ecclesiastical history. There is little in the way of modern emotional framing; the text is resolutely concerned with dates, stone types, and the names of long-dead donors. Furthermore, some of the period-specific attitudes—such as the dismissive remarks regarding the "Saxon mason's" skills—require the reader to recognize the lens through which these histories were being written in 1911. It is not a book for a quick overview, but rather a quiet, dense, and deeply researched record. It serves as a reminder that the world we walk through is built upon layers of human effort, and it leaves the reader with a heightened awareness of the history hidden in the red-tiled roofs and local fields of the English countryside.